Anonymous Poetry

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Apr 23

They did this

They did this.
They did all of this.
They did this to us.
Every single one of them set us up.
They did this on purpose.
They did this to see us suffer.
They did this to see us fail.

Text Friends

I have to reread

The message once or twice more

Because why would you tell me that you kissed him

When you know that all it will do is make me miserable

And remind me that you belong to anyone except for me

I do not want to hear of you

Kissing strange boys

Last night in the dark

All I see when I close my eyes

Is his hand

Resting upon your waist

Where once my hand had a home

I have to sit here and remind myself to breathe

Force a smile at my phone

And type

‘I’m happy for you’

Although all I want to do is scream

‘You’re mine’

Talk you through your insecurities

Where once I could have told you all you needed

With a look and a touch

Now I must repeat myself because you don’t believe me

And yet, still

I have to reread

The message once or twice more

Because I can no longer tell you that I think you’re perfect

Whilst his hand still rests upon your waist

And yours remains buried in his hair

Because behind my eyelids

He is kissing you

And I cannot.

The Torch

The Torch

All use the unvaluable term

For time — moment

The sure use the invaluable term

For time — memory

For not a single being

Knows the value of moment

Until it becomes a memory

Be aware of what you speak

For the world bares not a step

Give way, stand aside

Raise your chin high

Surely it will be done

For today is the day

No worries, just Hakuna Matata!

Be yourself and

Ban the thinking of

Hot ‘n Cold

Use your weapon to usher,

You and thousands for whom

 You are the one,

Through cryptic life

Nevertheless the box

Lies in a box that can be past

Determined it is to be, needed

That is this mendacious heart

Yours to be slaughtered 

But this philosophy shall stage no yield

As for the time being

An institute needs a seed

A seed which grows

Grows in the hands of its own nature

This tree shall

Fight the scorching heat

Of enemy fire

Pinned down they decide

And stand up

During the

Transmission to lay down

Their lives in starched khakis

My cohorts!

This seed

That a mother plants

Shall prove Roses and

Amaryllis, Cattail, Dandelion, NasturtiumDetermined soldier. Brotherhood. Love. Passion. Bravery. Martyrdom.

"As far as sight reaches!Unity, Faith, Discipline and Tolerance"

- Quaid-e-Azam

Apr 22

The Siren

Deep down down on a rock by the sea,
A siren sits a-singing her luring plea,
Her beauty is unmatched by mortal souls,
And she makes destruction of ships her goal.
Deep down down she sings a soulful tune,
and knows that her powers will kill men soon,
Running fingers through her locks of gold,
She doesn’t feel the iciness or stilting cold
Deep down down, a sailor’s cry is heard,
Beyond the sound of the albatross bird,
Beauty, he calls, at two o’clock,
And that ship begins to list and rock.
Deep down down, the sailor’s ship is lured,
cries of deepest anguish can only be heard,
As splinters of wood crash upon the rocks,
No more a sailor’s ship at two o’clock.
Deep down down the only calls you’ll hear,
Around the fierce waters are ones of fear,
Beauty they call at two o’clock,
And slowly sink below the hard deathly rock.


He’s swept her off her feet again,
with just one look,
with one small smile,
through the corners of his eyes
he speaks without words.
With the slight upturning of his lips,
he beckons her gaze,
he fills her dreams,
and in his gentle way,
he lights her face with bold sunlight.
Every morning at 7.22,
he fills an empty fantasy,
with his familiar face,
and leaves her again at 8.02,
until the next time they meet,
at 7.22.

Just breathe, it’s okay
It was only a dream
Relax, breathe out
It’s not what it seemed

Her smile, that laugh
Just a memory
Her eyes, her voice
Haunts me temporarily

Nights are meant for dreaming
But my dreams are only of the past
Instead of nights dreaming of new
I dream of those nights I spent with you

Us and them.

We romance our celebrities,

We want them to love us, to know us

Every day we see hundreds- they seep into our homes, our phones,

Our lives.

How can we see them as less than their god-stance?

We love others but it’s never the same, we search for a standing which does not exist.

Unintentionally it happens, our

Passion to please them

Gift wrapped chocolates for those, who do not need it.

Desperately trying to make contact,

A letter

An offering

A tweet;

We place ourselves at their feet

The validation of ourselves depends on this;

Recognition from somebody who is somebody.

For we reach to grasp at their lives, snach a piece of the fame.

Pretend it is us.

We offer them gifts, we spend money and time

When those who need money, need time, go unnoticed and unloved


My cell, my prison. My living room.
This couch, relazing. Becomes my bed
I cant stand the silence.
It echoes off these walls.
My apartment. My torture.
This is my hell.
This night I sit here writing this, in the dark.
The only light creeping across the floor seeps from this laptop.
Each tap of the plastic key rings down the hall.
I hear the person above shuffle about their place. Room to room.
Just like my mind.
It shuffles from frame to frame.
Around my apartment I pace.
Dying inside these walls.
A place so warm. So cozy. Now has never felt so cold.
My windows open, I hear the traffic outside. Nearby Kemp St.
The warm spring air whispering through the screen.
Blowing kisses of breeze that brush across my face. Tickling the whiskers on my cheeks. It sends a shiver down my back as it reminds me of a specific memory of you.
I can’t seem to shake your ghost.
You’re long gone.
But I still feel you right here.
Haunting me.
Why can’t I just let go?
Do you want the short answer?
Because I love you. And for me that’s not something that just turns off.
So the button is stuck and I dont have the will to pry it up.
I wouldn’t want to even if I could.
All my friends are busy.
So I’m left to toil here in the dark.
This bottle of Jager fuels the ocean in my eyes.
Pacing.. Pacing..
This restlessness cannot be bought or sold.
It is only earned through heartache and burning eyes.
Sleepless nights and empty days.
Time only creeps like a cockroach.
Favoring the dark. But the dark is the worst.
The lonliest..
I would buy anything to get me through tonight.
Just a little bit faster than right now.
Cause there’s nowhere to go. And no one to see.
Nothing to do. No list to make.
No errands. Just nothing. I’ve become one with this silence.
And I’m trapped. Someone please help me.
I’m begging..

Apr 21

He Belonged To Another

He, like a wave of ‘perfection’

Broke upon the sandy remains of my life

Which I struggle to keep together.

He, with the eyes of a lover

And the touch of a friend

Pulled me from my darkest moments

When the water was neck high

And I clutched to him as though he were my all

For he was all that I wanted

But could not have

You see, he belonged to another

For she loved him and he loved her

And yet,

He kept breaking at my shoreline

Crashing and breaking

And I gave away under him

He caressed, I moaned

I gripped, he groaned

Collapsing in our seafoam

Hand in his, his body against mine

I floated for the very first time

His lips captured my lips,

My face felt his fingertips.

I was hypnotised,

By his eyes

I saw not the colour

But a man yearning to be loved.

A love I wanted to give him

A love that I wanted him to give to me

But that could not be,

As you see..

He belonged to another

For she loved him and he loved her.

- Ronelle King

Slaying the beast.

Rusty red is the blood that coats his sword,
Once shining armor bearing the ravages of his last battle
Steam rising from his body…
Tested to the limits of body and spirit…
Battered but not bowing..
Victory was his but at what cost….

A few paces away lies the great beast, slain at his hand..
The dreaded Beast, bane of many
A bold adventurer, slain in these foreign lands…
Brought low to their knees,
Defeated, ravaged by the fallen
Angel that was fear itself…

Fierce was the battle, both struck mighty blows, one does not come unscathed from such a battle…
The price must be paid…
His sword was called passion
Or desire, a rage in it’s most burning form..
Hope was his shield,
A mortification of sorts, in other ways a purification..
Looking into it’s gleaming red pupils
Blood streaming from his many wounds
Every strong blow scored on its matted hide,
Striking at his fears, destroying them..
Every hammering blow the beast landed on his armor,
Smashing what remained of his Ego,
His limiting beliefs, simple and naive notions from a bygone age..
He nonetheless felt a kinship with his beast which at this moment
Knew him far more intimately than any of his brothers…
A foul fiend, but familiar to him..
As the darkest part of him, his fears given form to fight…
A moment of kinship disrupted by the next mighty blow from a clawed limb tearing at him, rending at his soul…
Tearing away that which was weak, destroying him, remaking him..
Forging something else from the weak stuff of his formal self..
Oh but the pain, his dear friend pain,
His trusty squire on this bloody
Road, all other companions having long fallen by the wayside, not
Passing the tests of time and falling prey to the weaknesses of the ego.

Nonetheless here he stood,
With it’s bleeding head grasped firmly,
A grim trophy to present
To the king of the realm
For what it was
Worth, for what he had become,
For the agonies he had suffered …

In front of the king he knelt with
His bloody trophy
Congealing in his hand,
And threw it to
The floor.
Barely Supporting himself
With his sword and the remnants of his hope and faith.

The Lord of the realms
Looked up at this battered knight,
And considered him awhile
A look passed from man to man.
A look of compassion, of understanding, and of respect..
For the king himself had slain his own
Beasts when he was young…
But none as fierce as the Heroes own..

The clamoring masses lost their tongues…
Gaping at the sight of this battered champion…
This warrior reborn, born from the same stock, but risen and exalted
By the force of his will and the flame of his passion burning white hot, searing through the obstacles a careless fate threw in his path..
Mortified, rended, ravaged and now
Reborn, godlike in stature, with the adoration of all who chanted his name.
They say it was Your name….

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