He carried me close like a submachine gun
protected me, respected me
and glorified me like the sun
I was the one
The one who could save him
from what he had become.
He was somebody worth saving,
ignorant and young.
He just didn’t understand how to love someone.
He held me close,
afraid I would run.

© By PollutedPoet



… and here I brood

congested thoughts; overwrought
nauseated by what I created

I hate who I have become

gorging anger to keep from swallowing regrets
choking on the force of hopelessness

I am furiously depressed

churning chunks of undissolved guilt
in ulcering acids of anxiety, sparring with society

I am emotionally dyspeptic
I hate who I’ve become

© By PollutedPoet

Epigram for a Bitch

Sarcastic and dark, she has a pessimistic humor
her irony is cold and she is as serious as a tumor

her weaknesses are hidden behind her dark sarcastic wit
she defends herself through insults, she’s a harsh and cruel critic

she’s proud to be a bitch, she calls it her juvenalian satire
but what she doesn’t realize is that we only see her as a liar

© By PollutedPoet On 2/6/2010 6:46:26 PM

Let it Flood, Let it Rain!

I’m welling up, overflowing with shame,
an accidental masochist, I love my pain.
I openly deny that I am self maimed.
My passion, poetry; it’s why I’m insane.
I’m overcome by the thoughts in my brain.
Let these words flow! So, I can be drained.
Let it flood! Let it rain!
Let out this rage!
Let these words spill out and land on the page
These words are the reason I cause myself pain.
Let it flood! Let it rain!
Let this damn break!
So I can create.

Carina Fosse

© By PollutedPoet On 4/6/2010

Wisom of The Birds

a murder of crows
suddenly blacken the desert sky
echoing squaks,
omniscient warnings
what do they imply?

is something coming?
I watch the birds fly by.

A congress of ravens
now flock above me
watchful black eyes
the ravens are wise
What is it that they see?

Something is coming…
I watch the birds fly by.

A wake of vultures
approach and circle overhead
the message is clear
this time, it”s not a sign
I am already dead

Nothing is coming.
I cannot watch the birds fly by.

© By PollutedPoet

My Medium (A Kyrielle)

my thoughts always clutter my mind
guilty fears that I keep confined
there is no way to displace them
poetry lets me embrace them

I brood and dwell on each dark thought
collect them til I’m overwrought
write them down and then erase them
poetry lets me embrace them

my sentiments and memories
thoughts that plagued me like disease
I have found the strength to face them
poetry lets me embrace them

my writing’s best when it’s painful
bless my thoughts, though they are shameful
morbid thoughts, I love to chase them
poetry lets me embrace them

© By PollutedPoet


My world is blurry and surreal
but I’m way to lost to care
Dazed in this hazy fog
bloodshot vision is unclear

Choking through this smog
I try to remain cautious
Searching for fresh air
I’m sickened and I’m nauseous

Why should I even care?
to breathe fresh air once more
since I engulfed myself in this haze
I forgot what the world was like before

Before I was stuck in this smoggy daze
I never appreciated fresh air
I never really acknowledged it
It was always just there

The air, I polluted it
because I didn’t care at all
This pollution can’t be reversed
It will choke me until I fall

Now my cloud is ready to burst
stress built up, I’m saturated.
Toxins struggle to leak out
but are stuck in this fog that I created

The pollutants. I try to let out
but they condense around me
I can never find any air
because this smog has found me.

This polluted haze around my brain
the cloud thickens and drives me insane
when will it rain?
When will I change?

Carina Fosse


© By PollutedPoet

  • Top Posts

  • Top Rated