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


Fictional Guidance

ancient scriptures, opinionated text

historic guidebooks handwritten by man

these writings should sometimes be second guessed

they were written before time had began

the ten commandments are moral guidelines

they should not be abided by word for word

the Decalogue reflected ancient times

to obey it all would just be absurd

don’t believe all the impossible tales

don’t blindly follow in the name of faith

read The Bible and Quran, the details

faith is glorious, but not without debate

don’t just conform to your preachers notions

find faith on your own,  decide your devotion

© 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

Across this Vast Ocean

Across This Vast Ocean Pt. 1

Across this vast ocean, my spirit is being snatched.
I’ve floated away, so alone and detached.

I’ve crossed this ocean in an effort to move foward.
Yeah, I’m on a path, but what’s that path headed toward?

Uncertainty has led me here and uncertainty draws me back.
My will keeps me here and it’s to late to retract.

There is an ocean between us cluttered with wreckage.
I tell you we can cross it but you never get the message.

This ocean is tremendous and I’m on the other side.
Crossing it may seem impossible, if you’ve never tried.

Carina Fosse

© By PollutedPoet


I can see through you
see through your lies
you put on so much armor
but it”s no disguise
your secrets are buried under your flesh
to dig them up is your last wish
you never ask for pity
yet you shame yourself
ashamed of yourself
you never ask for help
the pain inside lingers like purgatory
unsettled and unresolved
an untold story

© By PollutedPoet On 10/20/2009 10:37:41 PM

I AM NOT DEAD (minute poem)

LET GO OF THE PAST, Plan ahead!


I am not stuck

I won”t give up


I need to move on, make things right

This is my fight…

life, defend it

I can”t end it


Stop telling myself that I am done

Change and become

Life is worth it!

I deserve it!


Carina Fosse


© By PollutedPoet On 11/18/2009 1:38:36 AM



I know not to burn bridges,
but I still seem to clutter my paths
I know how to put out the fires,
but I’ll get stuck, knee deep in ash
Every mountain I climb
is just another stone
blocking my path
my path back home
Every bump I hit
I’ll bring it along
Every rock I carry
makes me strong
I pick up every pebble
every stone, every boulder
I just keep adding to the weight
the weight on my shoulders
every rock I pick up
keeps weighing me down
But I’ll never let them go
even if they make me drown
My collection of stones,
my past , my story
my tradegies and triumphs
my sadness, my glory
I’m attached to my stones
I treasure my collection
what every stone represents
I have no recollection
my stones are a part of me
I cannot deny
I’ll carry these stones
until the day I die
—Carina Fosse—
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