Les plus lus ▸
John Gould Fletcher
Poison ivy crawls at its root,
I dare not approach it,
It has an air of hate.
One would say a man had been hanged to its branches,
It holds them in such a way.
The moon gets tangled in it,
A distant steeple seems to bark
From its belfry to the sky.
Something that no one ever loved,
Is buried here:
Some grey shape of deadly hate,
Crawls on the back fence just beyond.
Now I remember--once I went
Out by night too near this oak,
And a red cat suddenly leapt
From the dark and clawed my face.
AH, woe is me, my mother dear!
A man of strife ye’ve born me:
For sair contention I maun bear;
They hate, revile, and scorn me.
I ne’er could lend on bill or band,
That five per cent. might blest me;
And borrowing, on the tither hand,
The deil a ane wad trust me.
Yet I, a coin-deniиd wight,
By Fortune quite discarded;
Ye see how I am, day and night,
By lad and lass blackguarded!
last night brought back
in the mouth of my fear
we are not rid of our trouble
our whole hate business
where a lie is true
it is so much rope
I have a secret hate
like a private sea
that taste of ships put out to rust
that anything other than desert
for a voyage to white hair and ill health
my head full of how to get rid
of my enemy
one to hate
and one to cheat
who is most fit for us
to condescend to
we met in the cook house
night after lying night
at the cost of finding hate
for what hurt
all old jealousy
made worse
Which garden do I have
as my place, which disown?
I took hate
home with me
but found no joy in it—
the many factions, the ire.
Between two houses,
the common sun.
I found my old lack: me.
with my alphabet of commodities and Xs
a stranger in town
teach me some other
things to hate
hissing as
it burns
Fire breaks the hydrocarbon chains in polyester with a thousand fingers at once. We gaze at the flag’s charred outline on the road as if it were a map to some disaster area: a nuclear test site, a strip mine, the tar sands of Alberta.
fake stars
learning what it means
to shine
i hate talking to you,
but i wish our conversations never end.
the pain of hating the one you loved so.
i hate you
i hate you
i used to tell you that all the time
while secretly hoping you wanted to be mine
but if i were to see you now
i wouldn't say it but to you, i also wouldn't bow
i know why i cant say it
and it's not because i fell back in love with you or some shit
it's because when i used to say it
i didn't mean it
and i've always been non-confrontational
so the reason i can't say it
is because over the years
it became true
so there's only one thing i have left to say;
i hate you
"I hate you!"
I could say that but
That would be too cliché.
When You made your move,
I knew that was that.
I didn't really, I kept hoping,
That you would:
Contact me more
Help me feel wanted
Acknowledge your faults
Never lie to me again
Go get some help and
Engage with me more.