R.D Carter

@rdcarter92.bsky.social

125 Followers 138 Following

33 Full time day dreamer. Armchair poetry. More active on threads đź“ŤMelbourne/Naarm, Australia (All words my own unless otherwise stated)

Poem reads: Words just like a switchblade Lips just like a sewing kit Stitch me back together Patch over the broken bits Or drive the knife a little deeper Let the metal hit the bone Nick an artery or two But fix me when you go Before the cuts turn into scars Thread the needle one last time Because the wounds need some attention I'm even bleeding in my mind
Poem reads: What if the wandering wind could carry us like leaves And pick our weary souls up off the ground What if the sunshine in the sky could fill our tired eyes To make us see what light tomorrow brings What if all the running rivers always led the way back home Where the ocean has a cure for broken dreams What if every single answer is hidden in the trees And written in between each blade of grass
Poem reads: I'm just like Brando If he was anxious and depressed I feel like James Dean If he was only ever stressed And I've got Jimmy Stewart charm When I'm by myself and all alone But I go quiet like I'm Chaplin When I have to leave my home Eyes are like a silver screen Seeing only black and white There's a projector in my mind That likes to keep me up at night
Poem reads: Bought a dictionary Just to find some words But every single entry Is abstract and absurd Pages have been ripped out It's missing I's and U's Recall them from a memory It's all that I can do With the little letters I have left I'll try to spell a name Right next to I'm sorry And please come back again
Poem reads: It would be easier to explain A split lip and a black eye Instead I Push it down Pretend it isn't there I think that's what killed my grandpa In the end Don't let them see you cry But there's no one left around Hereditary disconnect Bottled up and feeling ill Purging on the page To alleviate the symptoms Emotion is a dirty word Keep it stoic for the culture Toxicology report There was poison in the pride
Poem reads: Took pliers to my fangs Now I can't hang with monsters Still got a lust for blood Sins shared with a sponsor Found my own reflection I'm ashamed at what I see Had to learn the hard way Dreams aren't meant to bleed Stains remain and shadows weep Screaming out for more Hear it tapping on the windows And scratching at the door My head is upside down Like bats up in the attic Rats are chewing through me But I had to kick the habit Therapeutic exorcism Tell it all in tongues Scared I might be boring now I'd kill to have some fun
Poem reads: Future archeologists Digging up our bones Discovering bent pinkys For holding up our phones Bury me with batteries Laid over my eyes Another charge for Charon Unplug me when I die Social media séance We never really leave Likes instead of flowers Show me how you grieve Maybe signing out of this Would make me feel alive If only I could comment From the other side
Poem reads: In the mood for self-destruction, something that I miss. I competed in the pro leagues, still got an injured wrist. Forced into retirement, ended on a low. Never won the major, but that’s just how it goes. Survived it nonetheless, alive to tell the story. Replay all the highlights— the rest is kind of boring.
Poem: I lay awake all evening, listening to the sounds of overnight construction, and know I’m not alone. It’s nice to share this moment with machines that move the earth. I imagine that they dig for the bones of fallen stars. A symphony of steel keeps the whole street up. It never bothers me at all— a distraction from my thoughts. I lay awake all evening, listening to the sounds.
Picture of a man (me) playing guitar
Photo of the book 'Ariel' poems by Sylvia Plath
Poem: Heartbreak is flat-pack furniture the instructions don’t make sense pieces scatter on the floor and something’s always missing no tools supplied you force what doesn’t fit too many hands involved leave parts stripped, misaligned a few loose screws rattle where they shouldn’t when it’s finally assembled it’s just pretending to be whole
A photo of a football field with a big Australian flag in the middle
Book cover page. Title: The thirsty muse: alcohol and the american writer Author: Tom Dardis
Poem reads: Heavy days, all the same Life tied to the boulder Pushing for the peak But the mountain laughs again Watch the rock go crashing down Flatten flowers on the way Quiet, Camus Zip it shut That isn't helpful now Another visit to the valley And a disappointed sigh Suck it up, start it over See you when I'm back on top
Poem reads: The lethargy is lethal when you haven’t slept in days. Tired beyond comprehension — Mr. Sandman must have quit. Staring at the ceiling for centuries or more. A pillowcase of razor blades; eyes begin to sting. Toss and turn as time stands still. Thoughts never slow down. Try to find the off switch — lost the damn remote.
Poem reads: I went into the liquor store to picture my own death. Found an old familiar on the shelf. Nice to see you, Jack. It’s been too long, father, forgive me. Tell me what to do. But the bottle, like before, never answered when I asked. Four long years behind me. I force back burning tears. I left the liquor store and was no poorer for the date.
Poem reads: Only ever see the black and white, Makes it kind of hard to see the grey. Binary, obsessed with yes or no, Questions that are only wrong or right. But the left and right are starting to betray, Up and down — directions kept unknown. When people say what they don’t mean And lie on how they feel. I will paint my soul a shade of silver steel.
Poem reads: If it wasn’t for the wandering wind that wanted me to know the scent of the perfume you wear everywhere you go. If it wasn’t for the stars ahead writing out your name — every single night they write, it never seems to change. If it wasn’t for the clock that got me wanting time with you, I'd have nothing left to lay the blame on for my lovesick blues.
Poem title: Cryin’ Lycan The poem reads- I’ve cried wolf so many times the words have lost all meaning. I wouldn’t know what to do if anyone believed me. I walk around the city, and I’m pretty sure it’s cursed, because all my friends are dead or dumb, I don’t know which is worse. Friend or foe, both are known to wear sheepskin as clothes, screaming out for anything to shake the status quo. The mob has lost its pitchfork, and they’ve put away their guns. I’m sick of this old two-bit town, I wish a wolf would come.
Poem reads: Lawyers love an ampersand, American Express, Business suits, polished shoes, A shirt that's freshly pressed. They will love you at your lowest, Extra zeros on the cheques. They will wring you even tighter Than the tie around their necks. So I avoid any trouble, And I keep myself clean, Because I don't want a lawyer Seeing me and seeing green.
Poem reads: A collected assortment of my personal effects left standing lonely at the bottom of the steps. I claw myself up them one last time to leave my key and my heart behind. Bargain this bad blood for a bit of bittersweet? Eating crow all day— see the feathers in my teeth. But like the doorbell, I won’t push it. I won’t even knock.
A poem that reads: Introduction, appetizers. Small talk for starters. “Charmed, I’m sure.” “Enchanted, truly.” The main course comes out shortly after. Then, for dessert, we all take turns pretending that we care, with some gossip. As a nightcap, the liquor tends to burn. Thank you for the invitation. I’ll be back—never. I’d rather dine with cannibals than talk about the weather.
Poem that reads- A minuscule amount of hope, Feel your heartbeat in your throat. Going deep from down the field, Just to tell her how you feel. Shooting from across the court, Love is nothing like a sport. No referees to call a foul, Still you're left to wonder how Anyone could make it pro. Take your time, and take it slow.
A little dog sleeping on the couch
A beach with chairs and an umbrella
Image of a man (me)