Anxious poems

Anxious poems — a collection of the best works on PoemShip.

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Finley Cecil

0.1

{lungs} I can never tell with you Meanings and words Jumbled confused Lie truth lie Covering and uncovering Strange and irrelevant Every utterance that falls from your lip Carefully penned in your mind Meticulous and odd Jumbled Lie truth lie Deceiving words Words words words words Too many of them Swirling like smoke

Felix Jung

Arcade

The room is dark and hot with sweat. A girl is standing near a boy who’s cursing fire, his fingers groping as they slap and whirl about the buttons. Although his eyes are tired, he’s scared to blink. His hips sway heavily, hypnotically, in time with flashing blue and red, bursts of static white. The game is simple: kill every- thing. The girl beside him turns away and says Let’s go, scratching his neck slowly. He yells God dammit, kicks the machine, and grabs his last remaining coin. She leaves, the sound of mortar shells exploding in her wake. Toward the door, she’ll go past other boys like him: their bodies tilted, a gangly row of jeans and clumsy hands, crying out Oh please, Oh no.

Faryal Gohar

Violence inside my head

Today when I looked around, There was no one who could be found, In this atmosphere full of air, I couldn't breathe, Tears rolled on my cheeks, Everything went blank, I wanted to cry all I want, My body felt frozen and couldn't move, I lost somewhere in the echoes of past, Away from the chaos of this world, Looking at the evening sky coloured fire red, Instead of all this violence in my head, I chose to find peace in silence.

Fallen angel

rain

You imitated rain Cascading down my body Your words cascading down my mind Your kiss cascading down my lips Jams and jellies Filled your words and my hollow heart As you try to own my body

Ezekiel Dean

The End

The end of the end The end of your life The end of the world The end of its strife The end of all war The end of the fight The end of all black The end of all white The end of emotion The end of all time It's the end of your world And the beginning of mine

Ezekiel Dean

The Silence Grew

The silence grew and grew so loud I fell so far I touched the clouds My eyes wide shut I jumped so high I touched the ground and missed the sky

Ernesto Priego

Not Clear

It is not clear what if anything we will leave behind for whom, what for, how long- it is not clear if we will have the right. Instead, even the rain stops falling for a while and filters through the cracks drops do drip and drip, brown into a marmalade jar, bricks rotting away (since the distant past) Everybody is out and about and you are cocooned, indoors shrouded by sirens, and echoes.

Ernesto Priego

Los gallitos

They wear the motley coat of jesters: like fools they tell the truth. Of a feather, the birds do fight together they hold on to your finger like a terrified fiancé. El palenque in Ixmiquilpan sees them clash green and red under the belt: Men and women, make your bets, a way of life as bloodsport in a star-crossed box drawn with lime. They wear the motley coat of jesters: what luck will they reveal?

Ernesto Priego

The Plague

We should have known it well it thrives. indeed, on being human our touching each other; hands on face speak out loud, droplets & breath hold on to the handrail move down the carriage, use all available space it’s proximity & closeness shaking hands, kissing once or twice, (don’t stand so/don’t stand so close to me) the embrace, the popping in, the cup of tea, the walk together, y’alright mate, saying cheers, give me five, would you like a top-up, anytime, here for you.

Ernesto Priego

Milky Way

The Milky Way is moving faster than before– It is likely to clash with other galaxies. In two billion years. Someone will have to go through that.

Erin W

* * *

Sleepless agony, to lie and claw at Air, to gasp for dreams, to drift through flickering Lives of might-have-beens, which pry and draw at Odds with shifting currents where the sickening Bends return you, stepping in that stream And stepping in that stream again, again, Against your will and stepping in that stream Until a thousand pointless lives of men (Which are your own if you will only own Them so) pass by you, and the night is thick With living and reliving, and you, prone Beneath the weight of thoughts and waiting, sick For sleep, can only flail and burn and ache, Reaching, dreaming, praying, breathing, “Wake.”

EmiliaPettersson

now

they thought they wrere saving me from myself however the only thing they did was take away the only restraint I had but now there is nothing holding me back

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