Poems about head


№ 1210055

Monsters in my head

Have you ever wondered what goes on while you're sleeping?
There's nothing but darkness and not a speck of light to help you see the monsters that are gathering patiently standing next to your bed waiting for the right moment to feast on your fear.
They tell you the end is drawing near.
The tooth fairy could still be waiting to collect all your teeth, and the boogie man probably still camps out under the bed haunting your dreams.
And trust me its a lot worse than it seems.
You check every ten minutes to make sure you closed your closet door because you never know what will creep out to torture you.
And now you have a funny feeling that you're no longer a whole, that these monsters are stealing bits and pieces of your soul.
You have that feeling that things just aren't going to go right.
Then there's that moment you decide to wake up in the middle of the night.
You open the door and hear little footsteps echoing though walls.
Then you see the shadows that creep up and down the halls.
Now of course you tell yourself that you're just paranoid, that you're a teenager now you're too old to believe in the monsters under the bed.
Yet you realize that you still have to deal with the monsters inside of your head.
And you know that they are planning to stay.
Then you think hey... maybe controlling the pain you feel will keep these monsters away.
So you start to wonder how do you control the pain you feel?
Because in reality the monsters make it feel just to real.
Then you see the scars that you carved into your wrist last year.
You were controlling pain then but turning back is your greatest fear.
You don't know what to do,
But you the choice is left up to you.
You reach for the blade you have under your bed.
Make a decision; give up or confront the monsters inside of your head.

head,  monsters.

Author: Katalyna Rodriguez
Date: 07/04/2020

№ 1208702

Alternative Song For The Severed Head In 'The King Of The Great Clock Tower'

Saddle and ride, I heard a man say,
Out of Ben Bulben and Knocknarea,
What says the Clock in the Great Clock Tower?
All those tragic characters ride
But turn from Rosses' crawling tide,
The meet's upon the mountain-side.
A slow low note and an iron bell.

What brought them there so far from their home.
Cuchulain that fought night long with the foam,
What says the Clock in the Great Clock Tower?
Niamh that rode on it; lad and lass
That sat so still and played at the chess?
What but heroic wantonness?
A slow low note and an iron bell.

Aleel, his Countess; Hanrahan
That seemed but a wild wenching man;
What says the Clock in the Great Clock Tower?
And all alone comes riding there
The King that could make his people stare,
Because he had feathers instead of hair.
A slow low note and an iron bell.

alternative,  clock,  great,  head,  king,  severed.

Author: William Butler Yeats
Date: 05/04/2020

№ 1207126

Voices in my head

Voices in my head tell me to slap your face when you offend me,
Voices in my head tell me to cut myself when I'm in pain!
Voices in my head tell me to degrade someone for me to feel better,
Voices in my head tell me to compare myself to others...
Voices in my head tell me to only do what pleases me,
Voices in my head are never happy with me,
Voices in my head are never satisfied!
Voices in my head are always enraged,.
But there's one small voice that comforts me,
Its quiet and calm
But very powerful. ,
It only works when I choose to be still and listen...

head,  voices.

Author: Tapiwa Individualist
Date: 04/04/2020

№ 1207001

When doubt rears its ugly head

I saw the world through different eyes today
There was no clouded judgement, fake, pretentious nature
I could laugh at anything
Be anyone
Pity anything
Yet the moon still carried on shining

And although we squabbled over art I realised
Art is nothing but a squabble

For sobriety restrains the person I can be
And the person I am
And those restraints keep me in a place I don't want to be

They lock me down in fear and in shame
For the person I can be is caged
It screams out
Opinions which deter people and denounce

And as I see you run through the streets
Ever searching for a place to fit in
My ankles become weak
They buckle
They cannot carry me

For I find no easier place to fit in
Than my very own skin
The place of an outcast
An ungrateful brat
Who drools at the thought of an empty mindless space

Where no judgement, snobbery or scoff is placed
For the idea of a flee ridden rug,
A broken kettle,
A piercing mattress,
An unread journal

It SCREAMS to me freedom

A natural scribe,
A just life
An unjustified rhyme

It calls to me
It calls on and on

But tomorrow I will be the person
The world destined me to be
An untuned symphony
Beating away with a monotone rhythm

Because doubt rears its ugly head
Churns a putrid dread
Which I carry to my empty cage of a heart

And I carry it on
And on

doubt,  head,  rears,  ugly.

Author: Jasmine Blue
Date: 04/04/2020

№ 1206533

-for Jen Ladwig, I'm trying to wrap my head around the missing

I'm trying to wrap my head around
The missing
Hey i better tell her this funny thing
Its been a week time for lunch
Come look at something on the TV
She will like this
Look at that actor's crazy face
But the falling into fear
I'm trying to wrap my head around
Present presence past gone
One little word matters
What matters is the memories
The good times
The cozy clothes
Trying to do right
And just enjoy
Whatever the cause now
Her end has come
If people can watch over
She's watching over
With cute kitties at her side c hasing their own fuzzy tails
Watching the other cats
Their fuzzy
U can miss someone forever
But have them somehow
Not nearby
But close
-for Jen Ladwig
Jules June 15th 2016
Santa Fe, NM

head,  jen,  missing,  wrap.

Author: Stephen Jules Rubin
Date: 03/04/2020

№ 1206236

Hilton Head

I was singing and writing a song for you—
Simultaneously on the beach—
To the tune of waves & the
Hum of Spanish moss slapping on tree branches—
To the buzz of cicadas & the crunch of seashells
Under the tires of my bike.

& while I am witnessing the dying sunlight
Play across expressionless faces, near the
Encroachment of smoke on still water,
Atop the reflection of plantation house columns—
On a somehow still, yet somewhat motile canvass—
I miss someone I've never met with a fervor I'll never understand.


Author: Azra Shendi
Date: 03/04/2020

№ 1205739

No rest for my weary head

It's three in the morning
I'm awake still.
And so fucking tired.
But things are the same as they've always been.

head,  rest,  weary.

Author: Anna
Date: 03/04/2020

№ 1205444

Just tell me whats in your head

I am the sadness
I am the hurt
I am the thickness of the ammonia
Seeping out the walls
Don't wanna be around it anymore
But what makes me feel best
Is a little bit of yip
A little bit of puff
Somethin small and hard
To slow me down
Zone me in
Clear me up
I don't wanna be around it anymore
*no dear you're not enough
Is that what you wanted to hear?


Author: Rose
Date: 02/04/2020