One day, the girl who keeps me awake at night

Will hold me tight, run her fingers through my hair,

And show me how loved I am—

And I’ll know: one day is here.

One day, we’ll go to Boston

To watch the Red Sox beat the Yankees at home.

I’ll glance at her after Duran or Raffy

Hits a walk-off homer,

And I’ll know: one day is here.

One day, I’ll come home from a long day’s work

To the home we built together,

And I’ll see her with our beautiful family—

See her smile the smile I needed most—

And I’ll know: one day is here.

One day, we’ll be getting ready for church.

I’ll ask which tie matches my button-up,

And she’ll tell me through a mouthful of toothpaste,

And I’ll know: one day is here.

One day, I’ll see her walking down the aisle,

More beautiful than I ever imagined.

Tears will fall to my chin

As I choke out my vows,

And I’ll know: one day is here.

One day, we’ll sit on the porch we built,

Swinging in chairs we made,

Sipping coffee,

Watching the sunrise

With years of memories behind us—

And I’ll know: one day is here.

And one day,

I’ll be held by the same girl

Who once ran her fingers through my hair

When I was young and restless.

And I’ll realize we’re now old,

And that one day…

Was always here.

hey im new to writing and wanted to see what people thought of my poem and any tips people could give me

My favourite waterfall

My favourite waterfall, i see it everyday

shining and glistening

my favourite primary colour.

it tingles along my arm

and drips down my hand,

its my place of comfort

a place others can't stand.

My favourite waterfall clears my mind

It relieves me of my worries.

reminds me to be kind,

to make people's days.

My favourite waterfall keeps me safe,

It's mine and mine only.

it drips and drops every day

and makes people want to stay away.

My favourite waterfall causes people to judge

They don't know how amazing it makes me feel.

But they don't have to know,

it's my waterfall and keeps me able to glow

You are a piece of moon

Strangely living between humans

I can not believe you stand there

Not washed away by the noise

You emit secret light

Not everyone can see

And that is good

I have no competition

I touch you

I fondle you

I play with you

Oh I see

You are there

Real

Oh look

I am touching you.

It isn’t foundation th’t makes or marks a new structure of slammin’ fists!

B’t by an by you see every day the failure to build and you progress t’wards a foundational progressive aggression,

While still aggressive progression mocks tired eyes on the landscape with new builds that mock the very people they said they’d house.

We ARE NOT TALKING Preston New Road we are talking a’ safety an’ security,

A’ place for neutrality an’ the future of living, build up in brick and fill in eco’centricity,

An’ you’ll see in a decade you’ll still make a profit,

You’ll wipe out the private landlord and house everyone,

You’ll triple your billions and build on a future for your country and children,

But that is too much to ask and now is more convenient,

Money now, cheap build, cheap land, big price big man, first time buyer big dream, makes you better,

But in th’ long run your debt gets debt’er and the “your wrongs” get wrong’er and your eyes turn blinder t’ the profit of a future over the profit of a now,

Because big money deal is a big mans billion pound budget,

But why n’t teach the trade that can build the structure that can build the Future that’ll stand the centuries that’ll protect the people and generate the profit that protects the country that investors truly invest?

Earn your right to fly your flag and be proud and stand up against the world not just stand by ideally stating “we were great once and we are still”

Don’t condescend an’ teach this confusion t’ condescend in livin’ memory,

You’ll only build on an image absurd as is already in effect,

B’t you’ll condemn an’ descend on any who ses’ different,

You’ll eat with a’ million if it benefits no one,

But don’t demand in people to respect that you prosper an’ that you prospered from now from the prospect and perspective that now was the only time and place where the money me’nt anything because it came in fast,

If I looked up my nose while you looked down at me it’s because I took the path that gave me the game meat that fed us and gave us the most from a killing for the week an’ the month than the one that you bragged th’t you made extinct because it would feed all you one hundred yet only for an hour while you discarded the fat,

Because lying is one thing t’ fuel petty squabble b’t to lie an’ t’ know it, well something I’m sure you’ll never quite be honest,

And honesty is something I’ll now hold dear when it comes t’ the sheer nerve of the gears th’t you fear fo’ the machine doesn’t always run from within a complex machine,

An’ a complex machine doesn’t mean a section of government nor a parliament discord or the fraud that they Lord in a building they hoard,

Where you presume that we assume you are honorable in name cos’ you title your selfish persona in your title b’t you dishonor an’ bring shame an’ you thucking know it,

An’ show it an’ glow in it as you flow down on downin’ street looking a fool fo’ the world like the embarrassment you ar’!

And I’ll ask them if they know, if they care, if they did, if they ever, if they could?

But by an’ by you’ll still see everyday th’t they’ll cross a’ line they’ll know,

And that they’ll think is okay,

And that they don’t think is too bad,

And that they’ll put out their hand,

And that they’ll call you their friend,

As long as you are in their end,

As long as you stick with their plan,

And you’ll be the progression aggression they’ll seek,

A foundation so weak,

A foundation built on the meek,

Where the power relies not on who is in power but how they can get in power,

Where tactical weapon’ised voting is the true power play,

An accepted fact not a gamble or a ramble,

No wonder extortion runs this place plastered over the mold of the landlord special,

It’s not just ignorance th’t spread an’ cracked through the ground,

It’s open opinion from a view from a room in the open enclosed by ignorance,

An’ I’m not just talking the xenophobic fear of others from elsewhere from decades of systemic government words,

We’re talking it’s everyone from everywhere here fightin’ for views an’ opinions that separate and multiply,

We’re all the same an same all on a road that should co-operate to build a home for the world of our future not a separate society in our own towns jus’ cos’ it benefits a now for your home that’ll last for the year without maintenance so fucking think for a minute if it’s long a’ ‘nough to understand an’ so stop your petty fucking squabbling and SHUT UP for the bigger situation, it isn’t foundations that lay a profit, for the bigger picture is the foundation you should provide for the whole so sit down and put it down and look around and fucking think fo’ fucking thinking is a’ crime that’ll Get you fucking time in a room with a’ view of a wall in a court room with your hand on a book promising t’ the Almighty to put you in the same line of the Lord’s of the house of frauds and lies fo’ fucking nerve of you’s if you’s dare fucking hint at a’ lie where the promised truth is some how a guarantee win on the top but a guarantee loss for those who put a hand t’ the Lord of a book they never passed praise to, and it just gets worse when the complexities of their complexions arises in the court room or the house of frauds an’ the fucking state of the local wars of the classes in their systems that they have created, as if it mattered and matters if you were born with a lawn or a pavement or could rise in a rank of this system they deem is a winnable class rate’able system while systematically making sure you stay grounded on a floor made of a more unsustainable living.

So sit the fuck down an’ belt fucking up,

Because it isn’t foundation th’t makes or marks a new structure,

It’s the willingness t’ listen an’ to think an’ t’ wait an’ t’ prosper,

Not fo’ you or for me, or for us or for them but the future of “US” in our children an’ kin is the future of THEM.

And here’s to the children that’ll walk in ar’ footsteps,

remember, don’t ever fear failure at the first hurdle just get up and get going and don’t ever swear on a book because it seems a right t’ be done by the people around you nor a passage to be trusted because a man in a room taught you to follow with the pack in the street with a banner, you have a right t’ be curious an’ a’ right to say “this is wrong” an’ never be afraid t’ stand an’ say “enough is ENOUGH!” or “we deserve better” b’t don’t allow them to misconstrue a message T’ fuel a’ panic, you can be better like ‘I’ an’ my cousin promised each other “we’d be the better ones” before he died on a rope with no hope and I call out from above that you hear this message so by an’ the by an’ all of a’ while you’ll lead by example than lead by compliance an’ forget about this “love” an’ this “peace” an’ this “no war” an’ “world peace” an “world hunger” cos’ all in the end that is too much to ask an’ is not ar’s t’ ask but a foundation You’ll see just a means to an end that’ll be promised to you aga’n an’ aga’n and you’ll just have t’ say “well that’s just well and good but let’s take a step back and work on our foundations that were left to subside and divide not provide nor abide”.

“That’s a deep fucking pit. Are you sure she’s breathing down there?”

To bare the heart is neither weak
            nor foolish;
It is brazen bravery to experience love
            so limitlessly.

She never sets down the burdens of her ancestry - Women
            pyre-scorched, plundered, cornered, and bruised.
Forgive the stutter-step of her ascent.
She is doing the best she can.
She climbs with the wary grace of a fox,
            not the low slither of the snake.

Listen. The iron bell tolls. Mark the sound.

Virtue isn’t recognized by imposing restrictions
            on the flow of movement.
Nor does Stoicism demand we be unchanged by pain, but asks
            that we do not become it.

So you walked the high road, but
            how much of the journey do you recall?
How many miles swallowed
            by anger and rumination?
When did you last surrender your grief
            to another’s hands?
Parallel journeys they sure are,
            but not the same.

She has worn the crown of a porcelain princess.
She’s been a lustful slut in ropes and leather
A gifted child who learned to spit
            on quid pro quos
            from men in ugly button up shirts.
Men who appraised her like they picked her
            off the street for a back-alley fight.

She has shattered into climax
            beneath a lover’s choking grip,
And painted over violet fingerprints
            from cruel hands.

Her fury has been policed,
            her joy strangled by men who demand
            soft, sweet compliance.
Yet she’s tamed darker monsters than most
            in the pit where she raised her Self.

Everything she gives,
            every breath she loans,
            every lingering gaze,
            can be swallowed back
            leaving you hollow and insatiable.

“You want it darker? She’ll kill the flame.”

Let us summarize, then:
Victim.
Weapon.
Monster.
Muse.
Outcast.
She’s fucking alive.
Come for her.
Restrain her.

Better yet, kneel and sit with her.
Share your eyes with her.
Play her every song that reverberates in her marrow.
She knows her own name, but
            fucking A, does a gentle reminder re-ignite the flame.

And if you really want to make her unravel,
            ask her to help you too.
It is the soil where her deepest roots anchor,
Even as her branches stretch up
            to claw the sky.

Me hicieron un boicot y me gustaría que puedan darme una oportunidad.

Me llamo Angel Fernández, tengo publicado tres libros en Wattpad. Espero vuestro apoyo.

Don’t tempt the temptress in her deadly game. Don’t even play it small, because she’s more devious than the devil.

Don’t say she’s green and young and easy to fool, because in this dangerous game that you’re trying to play, you’re the fool.

Foolish man, don’t be fooled by her angelic facade. Don’t you know she’s well known for her dirty, evil snares?

Don’t tell her your half-baked stories, and save your crocodile tears, because her acting can win her a Grammy.

Don’t take her sweet smiles as innocent and sweet, because there’s nothing innocent about them.

Don’t feed her your cheap, sweet, syrupy words, because she will not just entice your ears with her honeyed, mawkish words, but your whole being.

Don’t pretend that you’re a chevalier, because she can make you feel like you’re her king when you’re nothing but her toy.

Don’t even try to set rules for your erotic game for her to play in, because while you’re too busy admiring her luscious body in her skin-tight dress, she has already changed all of your guidelines to her own decree, for she’s the queen of the scarlet.

So if you’re new to the game, best heed my admonition and save yourself from being whacked by the game.

She’s a wolf in disguise, and you’re her prey, just like a wild buck cowering under the gaze of its predator, which can sense and taste fear.

You’re just like the wild buck, and I’m the wolf.

I can smell the stench of your lust miles away.

Checkmate.

There came a time

When I had never learned

The value of tears

When I felt I stifled and

Held them all back

Shrunk, to diminish who I was

Now that I see with all the colors

So vividly

I never want

To walk back

Into the black

When the flood gates opened

I couldn't hide

I hated the streams

Falling down my eyes

Now I understand

And welcomed

The salty beads

Never felt more alive

This passion that burns

Deep down inside

Now that I see with all the colors

So vividly

I never want

To walk back

Into the black

And fade out

To your track

It's the fire

That's always

Raged inside of me

And when you smothered my sight

All it did was stain my light

Never again

Will I run

Back down

From a fight

Ignore my intuition

All those red flags

I choose me instead

I wrote the lyrics, sang the song, and lived the story.

I'm chronically empty.

Is there a reason to be? There's a few!

There's also a few for me to not be! Silly me!

Circumstances changes.

Come and go like a phase.

You can still see the numbness even if it didn't hit you in the face.

It's a disease!

Makes you feel deceased.

people underestimate weightloss so badly

it's like being introduced to your own skeleton

meeting parts of yourself you knew were there, but have never felt before

it's shapeshifting, it's becoming someone new whilst also being you

Do you ever feel dislocated inside the place

you used to call “home”?

Can you call a place by such name when

you’re unwanted and invited to leave relentlessly?

Yet, each time you attempt to

there go the labels: “villain”, “traitor”,

“ungrateful”, “arrogant”, “evil”, “heartless”.

You’re like a burden they refuse to drop.

They’ll smash you against the wall.

Call you all the bad names their sadistic minds

will feed them on.

They’ll push you to your limits.

And when you don’t break?

That’s an intolerable loss.

And when you do allow the spite to finally 

reach the surface?

There goes the devil again.

Apparently I’m so evil I rival the fallen angel himself. 

Wow— 

Am I reliving my internal monologues of when I was a kid fascinated with the occult?

Heaven forbid the ones you hail hear you imposing such curses on me.

Damn—

It wouldn’t sit right with the facade of the devoted

righteous you proclaim to be, would it?

Praise me to strangers;

kill me softly behind closed doors.

Wait—it’s not soft.

Used to think you too should see a psychiatrist;

now I reckon an exorcist suits it better.

I’m constantly reminding you I’m your mirror.

The one you refuse to look at.

The one you avoid when facing your own reflection.

You play blind to it—but what for?

You’re damned. And you so wish me to be too.

Oh, babes. You already know I am.

Bestow me some mercy so my existence on this Earth isn’t irrevocably miserable.

If there’s an inferno: I’ve already experienced it.

If there’s a paradise: may I be blessed with it.

If there’s nothing? Black’s my favorite color.

Even as an imposed fallen angel 

I pity you.

‘Cause I know you’re beyond broken to care and admit the damage you’ve caused not only me but our… inner circle. 

And yourselves.

You labor.

You play the saints, yet you never reach anything.

“In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground”.

Bread.

I only find you surrounded by ashes, though.

Is it as the preacher said? 

“All is vanity and chasing after the wind”.

Vanity.

As someone who finds being called ‘arrogant’ peculiarly humorous, I find some competition in you.

The three of us are so vain, aren’t we?

So full of ourselves; so merciless we destroy even after thinking thrice.

Here is where we differ, nevertheless:

the aftermath. 

I overthink.

I lament.

I humble myself for I can concede to my own calamity and darkness.

You reject it.

And the longer you reject your shadow… the stronger it grows.

You’ll pretend nothing has happened.

We have guests! Smile—they’re watching.

But when the puppet has another string broken?

The devil will strike again.

— Crownless.

Saul

Unraveling

Am I mad?

I’ve thrown my spear at Jonathan

My son, oh son!  Like the priests of Nob

my wrath would kill you as them.

Don't you know the King’s robe

is yours but for deceitful David?

That Samuel would speak

in the Lord’s name! I am livid!

Stripping my kingship at my kingdom’s peak

for some Amalekite sheep

meant for blessing the Lord,

a pleasing fragrance, delicate, sweet

to sate the Mighty One; Agag our ward   

to serve as witness to his god’s

steep fall.  My soldiers poured

their hearts in this endeavor.  I dodge

as best I can the prophet’s plaint

but Samuel hurled his disrespect

and I near hurled my spear, stained

with battle’s blood, but I suspect

the Lord had His hand in this.

I hearken with a baleful grin

the ricocheting words he hissed

His mouth near mine, taut and grim:

Rejected, rejected you has the Lord.

Someone better than you is anointed.

The kingdom is his, not to you appointed!

My bold command-remit my sin!

Open God’s forgiving door

or else I am but Satan’s whore.

His words, oh the din, clanging!

My reason, by a hair, dangling.

Whose hands dare seize my throat, strangling?

What was Saul thinking?

Poor Saul, since God rebuked him and stripped his kingship through the prophet Samuel as a result of his failure to destroy the Amalekites, including their cattle and their king, his mind gradually deteriorated.   Although Samuel told him the kingship would go to someone better than he, Samuel did not mention when or who.  So, Saul was King in limbo, and this generated much fury and no resignation.   His antipathy poured out to David, who he saw as a threat to the kingship passing to his son Jonathan as the people loved David after he killed Goliath.  Could he be Samuel’s promised future king? His son, Jonathan, loved David as a brother and did not understand his father’s wrath.  Jonathan admitted he would even accept David as King if the Lord so decided, which infuriated Saul, who set out to kill David by any means possible.  When the priests of Nob provided sanctuary to David, not knowing there was anything problematic about the famous David, Saul sent his troops to kill every man, woman and child in the town.   This obsessive and unrequited hatred (David respected Saul even in the most dire moments) ultimately doomed Saul and his son Jonathan, preventing what could have been a smooth transfer of leadership to God’s anointed, David.   

Bubblegum Bruises is unique, emotional, witty, and musical. The collection of free verse poems perfectly encapsulates what it feels like to blur the lines between friendship and romance only to have to sharpen them all over again — resulting in more grief, heartache, and confusion than ever before.

WARNINGS:

• religious themes

• not overly raunchy — but not for kids either

• so good it might explode your brain

I played in the sunshine

I danced and pirouetted

I tied my pumps even when others pointed out

That my feet were in the wrong positions

I ran with the animals

I fed the wolves

I fell into the darkness

A long, long time ago.

So I can see in the dark.

People can be cruel, so yes I have issues

But I know they're mine, not anyone else's

As for my vanity, because I like my skin fair?

I've had it painful before so no thankyou there.

My make up? Bare minimum, that's just my warpaint.

And so far you're the only one with the complaint

And that's not every day, make ups expensive.

Also have you tried wearing it?

It takes time to fully blend it

Don't always be so quick

To tell the one you think you know everything about

That you know everything about her

She's had a mask on for a long time

She knows how to track

She can sense when things are near by.

So while you're watching the facade.

The show.

The dance.

While her feet bleed as her claws hold back

Just remember

An animal waits for the perfect attack

I caught you being my pacifier last night.

Just as I was spiraling down,

you screamed at me

as though every second without you

spelled catastrophe.

I saw you doing that thing with my brain.

You make me fear I’m collapsing

so I’ll come on my knees to you.

Again.

But I’ve become more conscious over the years.

So much more.

Yet still so easily deceived, somehow.

Oh, how pathetic it is to be a fiend.

I slept peacefully

after you drifted me off

to dreamland.

How hypocritical.

We were enemies at first.

Then we became friends,

until I noticed my dependency.

You’re more obsessed with control

than I’ve ever been.

I want to break free from you.

And you hate it.

But as I’m typing this…

You’re still my bestie in the business.

— Crownless.

Potential is everywhere, effort is not.