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Literature
Peruvian KFC
I found peace in KFC,  
And prayed to Buzzfeed.  
I danced for central heat  
And begged the stars for my mom.  
Thought peace would be in KFC,  
Hoping for a greasy home,  
But the skin was not crispy,  
And I still feel alone.  
Plus the sham lacked biscuits  
Albeit they had shoe string fries  
But the Coke was off  
And I knew it was a lie.  
When I got sick, I cried.
The pharmacy did not  
Carry my mom in stock,  
Instead they gave me a shot.  
Fortified blanket stockade,  
I holed up in my room,  
I stared at my laptop  
Until dark evening grew.  
Heatless winter wears coats to sleep.  
You can always feel ten fingers.  
You can shower but shiver,  
Wishing you stayed dirty.  
Paid homage in KFC,
And prayed to Buzzfeed.
I danced for central heat
And begged the stars for my mom.
:iconTheAngstyPoet:TheAngstyPoet
:icontheangstypoet:TheAngstyPoet 2 2
Literature
To somebody
Dear somebody,
I wish some bullshit cards could tell me my future. I deserve it because I already paid that  lady sixty bucks to draw them out of a stacked deck. I googled my horoscope, his horoscope, and my shitty neighbor’s horoscope but those internet crapshoots can’t tell me crap. I used to write the horoscope for the school newspaper, I literally searched the internet to plagiarize astrology. When I was thirteen, I told someone at a wedding that I wanted to be an astrologer because I didn’t know I had meant to say astronomer. I heard the radio one day that said the President of the United States had a political science degree from some ritzy Ivy League school. When we’re young we all want to be a princess, president, or dictator; now my presidential dreams were crushed because I didn’t know a thing about politics. Never in a million years did I think I’d be a political science major. Guess what? My American Presidency final is this Friday a
:iconTheAngstyPoet:TheAngstyPoet
:icontheangstypoet:TheAngstyPoet 1 5
Literature
Blocks
Writer’s block is sucking my soul.
Don’t wanna write wholly.
My ex boyfriend is no fun.
I’m still fat and don’t run.
I study, I study, I study.
But I need someone to fuck me.
I become inebriated and smoke tobacco.
My hangover becomes my shadow.
Money, green, and bread fall out,
But who can hear my screams out loud?
Who wants to read this poem?
My heart blackens to stone.
Foot in front of the other down the road.
I’m too lazy to reap what I’ve sown.
I’m sick of everyone but afraid of alone.
No.
No.
I don’t want to be lonely.
But friendship’s on my terms only.
Solely because I need control.
All my bridges burned become black holes.
:iconTheAngstyPoet:TheAngstyPoet
:icontheangstypoet:TheAngstyPoet 2 2
Literature
Parental Detrimental
When you said you didn’t pay the rent, I felt sick.
Chucking every internal scream out the window
Because I know you can’t it. You can’t help yourself
I can’t help myself from feeling sick.
Stomach gurgles and bubbles threatening to spill words
That shouldn’t be said.
I shouldn’t call you a fucking idiot.
Tripping over other people on the bus
Because I can’t get through, to the exit.
I can’t breathe, I can’t see, I don’t want to
I want a window to crawl through
I need to knot bedsheets together,
And pop out the screen.
I don’t want to hand you the green
Our tether has become an unseen noose.
I can’t fit under the bed anymore.
There’s nowhere to hide and nowhere
To whisper my dark sighs,
Smiling, I dig my nails into my thighs.
I wish I was fifteen again
And put some headphones in.
If I was twenty one, I’d demand a gin.
But all can to do is suck my lips in.
A myriad of times, we could rehearse our lines.
:iconTheAngstyPoet:TheAngstyPoet
:icontheangstypoet:TheAngstyPoet 1 0
Literature
This Is Nothing
Put your hand on my face and lean in until I meet you halfway.
Close your eyes and part your lips. Just slip your tongue in.
Take it out and tease my hair, bite my bottom lip.
Slip your arms around my waist and squeeze a hug out of me.
Nuzzle my neck, cup my breasts, lean me back onto the cushions.
Twist my shirt in your fingers, and tug gently.
Don’t say how much you love me.
Press your weight into me, make me feel your contours.
I feel something and we know it’s not your knee.
Fumble for my pants zipper, but we know you know.
Smooch my stomach, pinch my nipples and suckle.
Make me giggle by tickling my sides.
I slide my hands through your hair
To make you stop searching in my eyes.
Pull my lips apart, slip your fingers in,
Lace your tongue with common language
The only one you and I will ever know.
Your mouth clings to soundless whispers.
My body replies with arches and rebuttals.
There’s the tip and here’s the point.
Just don’t call me tonight.
:iconTheAngstyPoet:TheAngstyPoet
:icontheangstypoet:TheAngstyPoet 7 7
Literature
Strokes of Love on the Piano
It’s so sweet and sad. And beautiful. It feels like flowing currents of melancholy overwhelming my soul. My soul drips profound admiration and each note sings its own song. Each of his fingers sweeping the keys make me swoon. It’s like a knife carving its beauty on my heart. Long and short, hands slamming out the chords. Arms flailing in a controlled emotion, your bowtie looks perfect. Each strand shines as it was slicked back on your currently bowed head. This music tells everyone the way you and I feel when we kiss, bicker, and lament over being apart. These keys were meant for your hands. You were made for me.
:iconTheAngstyPoet:TheAngstyPoet
:icontheangstypoet:TheAngstyPoet 3 5
Literature
Rocks in Shoes Hurt the Most
It's the little things that embed into the skin that give us the most pain.
The tones and phrases that constitute affection or disapproval.
Slight flick of the tongue to turn a conversation one hundred and eighty degrees.
Bodies speak more than words do, spilling what you really think.
Arms pressed to your sides, toes pointed nowhere, eyes staring at my own toes.
Glance at everything that moves, focusing on everything but me.
Are the tiny blots of black really the windows to the soul?
Can that camera tell me what you’re thinking?
What your eyes notice and concentrate on is the true answer.
Your whole being, each aspect is like a letter on a page.
I just have to drink coffee with you to read you like a book.
But what I want to know is when can I start editing?
:iconTheAngstyPoet:TheAngstyPoet
:icontheangstypoet:TheAngstyPoet 7 11
Literature
Grinding
Big hands close around mine;
Internal compass acknowledges behind.
Sway with the beat but familiar dance.
Everyone know he wants access in my pants.
Breathe on my neck, sweat on my brow.
Can’t hear his words because the music is loud.
Stumble to the wall and kiss your partner.
Decide through the alcohol, how much farther.
:iconTheAngstyPoet:TheAngstyPoet
:icontheangstypoet:TheAngstyPoet 2 5
Literature
Sobbing Concrete
The last two weeks have been especially hard for my mother and Aunt Mimi (aka Mims). They packed up and moved my grandfather's apartment in a week and a half. The move itself carries its own baggage for another backstory. The move was emotional for all of us. My grandfather had lived there for a good chunk of my life. Not to mention is was the last concrete place to hold memories of my grandmother since she had chosen to die at home.
The Saturday before my grandpa actually moved, I had called my aunt. I wanted to discuss periodic weight loss rewards particularly boots. Once I brought up the subject, she became angry, complaining about money. I knew it was expensive to move my grandfather but it didn’t occur to me before. I reacted childishly arguing back to my aunt’s claims that instead of buying shoes I should be studying. Later I called my mom and told her how upset I was that my aunt yelled at me. Then she told me that Aunt Mimi cried on the phone the night before. Aunt
:iconTheAngstyPoet:TheAngstyPoet
:icontheangstypoet:TheAngstyPoet 1 0
Literature
A Day Early
Mother and grandmother at breakfast
Looking out the window blowing cigarettes
I only remember bacon popping in grease.
But reams of birds flew around the fields
In circles like minds wrapping regrets.
I only remember I forgot to say, "I love you."
Mom cried last time I showed her the poetry.
She ripped out a big sob.
I only remember when you showed me fine china seals.
I don't like to think that you're really gone.
I can close my eyes and see you blowing smoke.
Telling me about Oklahoma or yelling at Gramps.
I didn't mean to make Mom choke on my memories.
You sat beneath a Lenox lamp, you only had the finest.
I remember when Gramps bought the computer.
You damned the thing and refused to use it.
You drove a Lexus with a beaded Indian on the keys.
Only appropriate since we were Chicasaw.
You hooked me onto Ebay and taught me how to snipe.
You taught me right from wrong like black and white.
Even though I saw gray. Gray like today's sky
that you'd say, "It was a moldy day."
You told me S
:iconTheAngstyPoet:TheAngstyPoet
:icontheangstypoet:TheAngstyPoet 0 3
Rubber Duck by TheAngstyPoet Rubber Duck :icontheangstypoet:TheAngstyPoet 0 2
Literature
Javier and Arabella DRAFT
"Wow. That was a great movie," Arabella said, she swung her legs off the bed. She combed through her hair with her fingers. It was messy but it wasn't tangled.
"It's my favorite," Javier replied. His brown eyes watched her as she pulled her boots on. "Are you going already?"
"I don't have to. I have a few briefs with me.  But I really need to get some work done. Actually, yeah I'm going to head back."
"Yeah I'm going to my friend's now." Javier said nonchalantly. He picked his hat off the dresser turning it in his hands. Even though it was winter his hair was still short and bristly.
"The days are packed, right?" Arabella said dryly.
"C'mon don't be mad." Javier tried to gently grab her waist but she swatted his hand away.
She turned her back to him and rummaged around the desk. Grimacing, she jokingly said, "Don't get mad, get glad! Jeez I don't even know who buys that brand. It's so expensive."
Arabella could feel Javier's eyes on her, travelling the memory of the week before wh
:iconTheAngstyPoet:TheAngstyPoet
:icontheangstypoet:TheAngstyPoet 1 10
Literature
my heart
parallel, pulling me in to intersect
his hand pressed against my bare hip
his hand tugs my shirt into place
our bare legs brush
i pout my lips
His desires are housed back in his pants
'sorry' falls from his lips
brown eyes on brown eyes
sincerity coats the air
his face reflects on the laptop
we're parallel
lips moving
sisters and mothers
escape our lips
expectations & needs
slip out the mind
conversation flows
droplets hang onto my heart
movie ends
i am leaving
he is behind me
his hand travels up my front
caress where my heart beats
i sigh
he does not want my heart
but what encases it
he's a caged bird
with clipped wings
ready to break free
i offer a ball and chain
that  can only
be satisfied with 'we'
:iconTheAngstyPoet:TheAngstyPoet
:icontheangstypoet:TheAngstyPoet 0 12
Literature
angels
"Are angels real?" Jack asked picking at a scab on his knee.
"Depends on who you ask," Grandma answered.
"Grandma, do you believe in angels?"
"Yeah." She took a long drag on her cigarette. "But not the kind with wings and halos."
Jack was stumped. He thought maybe Grandma had read the Bible wrong. "What kind of angel doesn't have wings?"
"All of them." Grandma stubbed the cigarette out and looked at the pack of Marlboros. She'd save her last one for after dinner.
"That doesn't make sense," Jack implored. "Father Kenny said-"
"Father Kenny, nothing. Jacks, do you know anyone who's died?"
"No,"  Jack replied quietly.
"Angels are the people who we loved and have now passed on. I remember one time I was getting ready in the morning when I was girl. Brushing my teeth, and I saw a little peek of white near the door. I know that was my MomMom, your great great grandma."
"So when you die, you'll be my angel?" Jack stared at his shoes, twiddling his thumbs.
"Precisely. But angels aren't gh
:iconTheAngstyPoet:TheAngstyPoet
:icontheangstypoet:TheAngstyPoet 8 21
Literature
Behind Locked Doors
Sometimes like my mouth, my knees should be kept shut.
******
Smooth ebony skin wrapped around high cheek bones and stern set lips that hid a pearly white smile. He was so serious about Hyraef's ecological approach. He policed pollution and recycling was his religion. Ryland Ryker had wrestled his way to becoming the CEO of Eco Empire. Ryker  revolutionized the way Hyraef handled its waste disposal, water contamination, and got rid of the ever present smog. He had been revered in scientific journals all over the world and his name would be remembered as the man who fixed the unfixable. And yet after all he had acquired through perseverance, Ryland Ryker still has nothing. Or anything that was of value to him.
Through careful observation and behind several locked doors, I learned all of Ryker's secrets. The ones I was supposed to discover as an intern and the ones that are revealed to a lover. But I don't think 'love' is the right word.
:iconTheAngstyPoet:TheAngstyPoet
:icontheangstypoet:TheAngstyPoet 4 5
Literature
Frozen Love
Let's hang out sometime, you and me.
Let's lay under the trees and make angels.
We can track snow inside and drink chocolate.
We can sit by the fire and read Aesop's Fables.
Let's save the first snowball of the season.
Zip it up in a freezer bag for no reason.
We could keep it till summer before you go.
Keep it till the airport so you can remember snow.
Let's pretend we're children again and make forts.
I know you're too big but just for old time's sake.
Pajamas every Saturday and picking apart time.
Savoring it all, talking and talking till late.
Winter has just begun but it's still not enough.
Spring will fly by, letting my heart become tough.
I'll wake up at four and you'll be dressed in fatigues.
I promise I won't cry until after you kiss me good bye.
:iconTheAngstyPoet:TheAngstyPoet
:icontheangstypoet:TheAngstyPoet 13 24

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Literature
thank you, Max Brod
last night I slept in a closet
with my coat made of tangerine desires
and visions of distant permafrost
last night I remembered
white noise in her voice
buried hopeless in bureau of disdain
the apartment on rue Fontaine
has fallen into disrepair
embraced by anarchist movement
embraced by emerald seaweed
embraced by quicksand swirl
embraced by golden doll hair
and transformed itself
into roar inside the hourglass
last night I slept in a foxhole
with ace of spades stuck in my teeth
with joker hidden in my sleeve
last night I woke up to the music
of orchestra playing at riverbed
I woke up to cry from the valley of rivets
there is no time for purple parables
as rocking chairs bring eyes to my tears
they bring the winds of mortal gestures
they bring the equations
they bring the reveries
while my co-existence
remains a mystery
:iconChampMagnetique:ChampMagnetique
:iconchampmagnetique:ChampMagnetique 6 1
right book by ErinBird right book :iconerinbird:ErinBird 1,711 681 Be Strong by Funtoon Be Strong :iconfuntoon:Funtoon 132 26 Closer by sophitschku Closer :iconsophitschku:sophitschku 39 9 Business Meeting by Purple-Twilek Business Meeting :iconpurple-twilek:Purple-Twilek 237 120 MINDY! by joniwagnerart MINDY! :iconjoniwagnerart:joniwagnerart 20 6 Oscars 2014 by Charapoo Oscars 2014 :iconcharapoo:Charapoo 252 4 Mindy by Charapoo Mindy :iconcharapoo:Charapoo 261 15 So Tough by sophitschku So Tough :iconsophitschku:sophitschku 1,904 98 The Warrior by nighty The Warrior :iconnighty:nighty 381 120 Disappear by maybe-bec Disappear :iconmaybe-bec:maybe-bec 69 12 at depth by Grinch7
Mature content
at depth :icongrinch7:Grinch7 79 5
I Was Drizzle and She Was A Hurricane by sawebee I Was Drizzle and She Was A Hurricane :iconsawebee:sawebee 308 74

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I want to be a writer so bad it hurts. For so long I tried to convince myself I wanted to be a lawyer. Now I'm really trying to figure out who I am and what I want to do. I want to write. I want to write in the middle of the night. I want to write on the bus. I want to stop walking and sit down to write. I want to eat my words and sleep with poetry. I want to embody this. It feels good to admit what I want to do. Now I'm trying figure the metaphorical 'how'. Hell, I might give journalism another shot.
  • Listening to: Rather Lovely Thing
  • Reading: Marina Ottaway's Article on Venezuela
  • Watching: Dangerous Liasions
  • Playing: with my hair
  • Eating: nothing
  • Drinking: water

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TheAngstyPoet's Profile Picture
TheAngstyPoet
Chicken Noodle Soup
United States
Hey there.
Thank you for reading my work. I hope u like what I have to write and say.
I love to write, read, and perform poetry, it has become a major part of my life. I love to write about everyday things, obscurities, philosophy, and obscurities. I like to write about ugly, dark things because to me poetry isn't just flowers and rainbows. it can be beautiful and nasty. I love rhymes. I love writing about real things. I write a poem just about every day. And I started writing because when i was sixteen my grandmother (MomMom) had terminal cancer. After that sometime in September I started feeling isolated from my friends and that was my inspiration to write more. I have written over one hundred poems. I write almost everyday and when I'm not I'm usually thinking of rhymes.
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Add a Comment:
 
:iconnotensmsk:
NotenSMSK Featured By Owner Nov 13, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Big happy belated birthady and hope life is good for you :) How are you in general?
Reply
:iconmrs-freestar-bul:
Mrs-Freestar-Bul Featured By Owner Jun 23, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Happy birtjhday :wave: I hope you are good :)
Birthday Cake by KmyGraphic
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:icontheangstypoet:
TheAngstyPoet Featured By Owner Aug 7, 2015
thank you thank you!!!!!!!!
Reply
:iconmrs-freestar-bul:
Mrs-Freestar-Bul Featured By Owner Aug 7, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Happy to hear from you :)
How are you 
Reply
:iconnotensmsk:
NotenSMSK Featured By Owner Jun 23, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Happy birthday!!!!
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:icontheangstypoet:
TheAngstyPoet Featured By Owner Jul 27, 2014
THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!
many belated thank yous!
Reply
:iconnotensmsk:
NotenSMSK Featured By Owner Nov 13, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
You are welcome big time :) Long time no see!! How are you doing? Long time no see :D
Reply
:iconemmanation:
Emmanation Featured By Owner Jan 27, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thanks for all the SanSan faves! :)
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:iconbaishare:
Baishare Featured By Owner Jan 26, 2014  Professional Filmographer
Omg, Thank you so much for the power of faves! I'm so glad that you like my art. 
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:icontheangstypoet:
TheAngstyPoet Featured By Owner Jan 26, 2014
Trust me, thank you. it's all so good.
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