Shades31
Shades31
Dec 6, 2016

Standing
alone
Darkness
and flame
Devoured
his soul
Crippled
and maim
Losing
his mind
as shadows
take over
Losing
all luck
like a small
four-leaf clover
Consumed
by fire,
turning
to ash
A fool
with bounty
turned in
for cash
Betrayed,
back-stabbed
and left
to die
"You were
ignorant
Now you wonder
why...?"
"You trusted
too quickly
Trampled on
Used
Demotivated
Attacked
Demoralised
Abused"
"You wanted
out
but got dragged
back in
Trying
to shout
but end up
in sin"
"One day
there was
a pure
little child
who, when
he passed you
always smiled
Until
the day
he stood
in the meadow
A flame
appeared
Engulfed him
in shadow
Smoke,
impure
as black
as death
destroyed
his body
like crystal
meth.
It looked
to him
like help
arrived
And so
into
the flames
he dived
For a
short while
he took
comfort
until
he saw
he had been
hurt"
His body
turned
into a
crisp
His soul
into a
will-o-wisp
Existed
in
this world
no more
Burnt
it all -
to his
core
until
he had
to eventually
succumb
to the freedom
of drugs
which made him
numb
He lost
his sense
of feeling -
pain
No longer
could he,
greatness
attain
His life
was turned
round 'n
round
until he
wound up
in the
ground
Mentally
- emotionally -
lost,
distorted
Physically
beat
body
contorted
Stuffed
in a hole
Forgotten
about
His very
existence,
a topic
of doubt
Lost in a
world
of shadow
and pain
Where the one
source of light
is the one thing
that drains
Despite
the blazing
flames'
heat
his body -
stiffed
in icy
defeat
A light
so dark
it dis-
emboweled
a kid
who now
from centre
howled
Whose body
was now
completely
disfigured
Whose soul
became
utterly
dismembered
Devoured
by
cannibal -
butcher
He lost
the way
towards
a future
Smog
and smoke
that cloud
his sight
He ended
up
upon a
great height
He knew
that he
had lost
the fight
Below him
was
an ocean
of white
His only option
was to
fall
For there was
no way
to, down
crawl
He stood
staring
at his
defeat
The oceans
were to
about, him
eat
A soft,
sweet land
up in
the sky
Until
you fall
right through
and die
By water
or by
solid
ground
His fate
and soul
were now
unbound
The white
turned to
a sinister
grey
This was
to be
his final
day
And then
to black
did they
then changed
He knew
that this
would be
a dange'
A scorching,
deep flame
from it
arose
And just
like magma
on earth
flows
And like
Abraham
before
the king
But in
contrast
this fire
will cling
And no
small ant
will come
him save
No place
for him
to find
safe have'
A leap
of faith
over
the cliff
His body
turning
lame
from stiff
"Avoid
the flame
into
the river"
His strong
life-force
now slowly
wither
Trying
to hold
the land
in the sky
He thought
to himself
"I'm too young
to die"
As slowly
through clouds
his body
fell
Into
the flames -
the pit
of hell
And like
Moses
before
the sea
Except
that he
would drown
and be
lost
to thought
and mem-
ory
He wanted
to
die eas-
ily
And like
Lot's wife
who turned
on back
Instead
of coals
It was
haze - black
That turned
him back
into
the dust
"This 's what
I get
for over-
trust"
His life
will end
in a
swift fall
The fire
which
promises
all -
The world,
money,
drugs
and fame.
But
truthfully
it is
just flame
He trusted
it
and let
them steal
all his
life
seemed-innocent
deal
Filled
with regret
as slowly
he sinks
It will
be over
soon 's he
blinks
Fading
Dying
It's time
to go
They took
it all
but just
for show
He was then
placed
6-feet
under
and from
the world
did they
him sunder

Thanks to ThePoet/Sarah Ahmed for the inspiration to part of this poem (and to many other of my poetry)
#death   #demons   #darkness   #moses   #shadows   #bible   #lot   #flame   #fame   #abraham  
Joseph Percy
Joseph Percy
Nov 11, 2016

The way I see him treat her,
As they're growing old.
It sickens me, he's changed you see,
He's growing rather cold.

They never used to bicker,
But now he's always rude.
She breaks down when he doesn't look,
Because he doesn't think it's true.

His memory is clearly fading,
I'm scared for both of them.
For if it kicks in, he loses it all,
But she'll lose more than him.

This is a story, I've seen a lot.
I've watched it happen live.
And when I say he's growing old,
It makes me wanna cry.

True story.
#i   #a   #it   #see   #lot   #happen  
Aspartame
Aspartame
Aug 18, 2016

If parking lots aren't art, they are at least a gallery,
cars as the masterpieces which we gawk at, pretending
to be smart -- "ah, a famous Lamborghini piece."
And if that still isn't art, then call it something else -- a form of beauty beyond our comprehension, made by no one and everyone in this town.
Those construction workers who made this are ghostly sculptors of asphalt.
The yellow lines on the road are delicate brushstrokes, laid down by the most careful of craftsmen.
One day this parking lot will turn to dust,
and that is where the beauty comes from.

#art   #philosophy   #lot   #parking  
JR Rhine
JR Rhine
Jun 26, 2016

The soda can rumbles in the bowels,
tumbling into the gaping mouth
into which I enter a hand
to protrude my sugar rush.

sssni-kah, then the slurp of an obnoxiously pleasing sip.
I let the carbonation tickle my tongue,
reveling in the effervescent sensation.

The smell of old tires,
malodorous oil and gasoline,
and stale cigarettes fill the air.

My vexatious sips go unperturbing the dense atmosphere
that thickens outside the small air-conditioned office
and into the gas station,

where the mutters and sputters of drills,
kakadoo, kakadoo,
the squeaking and squawking of rotors and axles,
the interjections of swears and grunts
fill the air.

I peek through the dirty smudgy glass window in the door
to see grimy overalled ants meandering
under the body of our red mini-van
hiked up into the air like a figure skater,
suspended by the rusty clawed accompanist,
not a tremor of strain, unflinching,
letting the greasy men crawl underneath, hiking up her skirt
to examine her anatomy.

I walk outside and sit on a dusty tire stacked with others
on the side of the building--
some growing forlorn in tall grass
weaving in and out of the aperturous rim,
the fingers latching onto fissures and pulling it down
into the hungry earth.

Another slurp and I set the can down
to step onto my skateboard--
rolling across the gritty pavement,
snapping ollies and pop-shuv-its
to add my timbre to the cacophony
leaping out of the open garage doors.

I look over to the barbershop adjacent to the station--

The off-white single room squat allowing the cylindrical swirl
perpetually pirouetting atop the door-frame
to dazzle in a placid manner.

It is there I get my close trims
and pull a lollipop from the cavernous bowl
sitting atop the counter.

The barber, working silently behind his dull gray mustache
and dull gray eyes.

Outside the barbershop to the left,
Leicester Highway ambles onward,
diverging at a fork just ahead of the lot,
and the road adjacent that winds down my neighborhood,
Juno Drive.

I've never embarked down either divergent,
and I wonder which one is the less traveled.
(Frost, guide me.)

I go to the mailbox teetering on the edge of the highway
and hastily grab our mail,
the wind slapping at my ass as the cars whisk by
in their infinitesimal haste.

I feel like time slows once you step onto Juno Drive.

I turn around and saunter back to the station to see Billy,
my Working-Class Hero,
who I mostly see strolling up to the driver's side window
of our dull red mini-van
to loosely rest his arms crossed atop the window frame,
resting his sweaty forehead on his sticky hairy forearms.

Leaning in,

his blackened hands with his greasy smile
behind a scruffy scattered beard caked with dirt and grime,
atop a dark red leather face--
but eyes bright and merry.

His laugh, a phlegmy two-pack-a-day sputter
hacking and pummeling through the van,
all the way to me in the backseat peeking around mom's shoulders
to catch a look at this superhero anomaly.

And his southern drawl wrenching out of lungs
caked in tar and exhaust fumes,
that torpid slur that executes like the garbled hum
of an Oldsmobile engine chugging restlessly--

His laugh, an engine that won't turn over, sputtering to life
but falling right back down into the dirt,
lying on the oil-stained cold concrete floors dirty boots slipping over
and sticking too like wads of gum.

The charismatic mechanic who knew the answer to all things,
always ready to flash me that crooked greasy smile
stretching across his ruddy leather face.

I step back onto my skateboard, with soda in hand,
mail in the other,
and silently say goodbye to my Greasy Eden
before making my way down Juno Drive
towards the first house on the left,

following the road as it snakes past the trees,
alongside the creek, around the bend,
and out of sight.

Childhood memories.
#memories   #store   #lot   #neighborhood   #gas   #tire   #station   #soda   #mechanic   #skateboard  
Atul Kaushal
Atul Kaushal
Jun 24, 2016

There's a lot
Passing between
You & me
Suddenly

Though we're separate now
On different lands
But we'll walk along
Holding hands

There's a lot
Passing between
You & me
Suddenly

Though we're distant now
We yearn to meet
But we'll meet one day
Holding breath

There's a lot
Passing between
You & Me
Suddenly

A short song I had composed in 2013 when I was loved by her and she seemed like the last girl in my life - and I don't even remember if she had ever listened to this one.

But yes, I have moved on and now I wait for a beautiful and wise woman.

I am now done with my experiments of loving immature women and girls just because they are cute.

My HP Poem #1092
©Atul Kaushal
#and   #you   #me   #a   #theres   #passing   #lot   #between   #suddenly  

Water is our life,
          Which will keep you alive.

Earth gives us coal and oil,
          Don't use it as a mosquito coil.

Leave some some capacity,
           As gas is our basic necessity.

Don't see our facility,
           Believe in unity.

This poetry is a little childish because me and my friend wrote it in grade 6 and this was the first poetry I wrote in my life. This poetry means a lot for me because this poem appreciated me to wrote everything and become a poet to show the world my talent!
#first   #me   #a   #for   #lot   #intiatedmy   #talentmeans  
TERRY REEVES
Apr 18, 2016

There was not a lot to worry about so
nothing could be held up without it being sold
Faberge' brushed shoulders with art deco pieces
money paid guaranteed immediate releases

The reps had phones to their ears getting the nod
there was a clown's outfit which was rather odd
because the clown was still inside - did the body come too?
or was it to be stripped naked like me and you?

We have lost everything - it's all in the room
there was a smile from a man leaning on a broom
I want my sofa back, my favourite armchair
the bed we made love in where you lay bare

Even your smile was for sale, admired from afar
golf clubs, personal effects, my teeth in a jar

#lot   #clown  
ConnectHook
ConnectHook
Apr 12, 2016

∅⚢☢⚧☯✰⚩✿⚥∅☢⚧☯✰⚢✿⚥☠⚩☯⚧✰

We paint your breeding world as queer
and every man a closet queen.
Your days like Noah’s now appear…
our King arrives to crown the scene.

Oh Father of progressive souls
whose neo-pagan mercy reigns,
bring union to fragmented wholes
as lovers rattle rainbow-chains.

We’re clubbing with the scribes of sex
(our fairy-dusted lying press)
who pay out cash for background checks
while prying more and praying less.

The starry heavens twinkle gay
and rainbows end in gold, you know).
To see it any other way
would harsh our high and end the show…

Your family paradigm descends
upon the Roman road to hell
where reproductive reason ends
in demographic show-and-tell.

God’s wisdom pleads in vain. What’s life
when mobs are primed for anarchy –
assaulting yet again Lot’s wife
in Sodom’s dead democracy.

∅⚢☢⚧☯✰⚩✿⚥∅☢⚧☯✰⚢✿⚥☠⚩☯⚧✰

a  poem a day for NaPoWriMo2016

www.connecthook.wordpress.com
Christina
Christina
Apr 9, 2016

I miss him and I shouldn't say bullshit having lost someone I love
I miss him and I should stop thinking how fucked up the world is
I miss him and hiding things is terrible
I miss you and I wish you were here
I wish I could have said goodbye

#loss   #up   #i   #a   #lot   #fucked  
Lavina
Lavina
Mar 28, 2016

i can still see you, no matter how hard i scrub this eraser
your face won't go away.
it's almost as if your death has been tattooed to the backs of my eyelids and some sick bastard has scribbled your name on every wall of this broken home.

i cut your name into my skin so i wouldn't forget it
but now it's the only thing i can seem to remember.

every day i wake up and i see you die,
i eat my breakfast and i listen to your heartbeat come to a halt.
i go outside and i hear your fading laughter in the warm breeze.
you're in every empty room playing the piano,
touching the keys so gently as if they are made of glass.
when the burning sun sets and dresses the world in shades of oranges and pinks i see your coffin being lowered into the ground and when the beautiful dawn breaks over us i don't see you rise with it.
you die in my dreams, you die when i'm awake, you die in every sapphire in every drop of water you die in the skies and the dirt and the raging fires that burn everything i love to the ground. you die in the dazzling storms, you die in the calm, you die in the night and the day and you die every day, day after day.

everywhere i go, i see you die.
you won't rest, aren't you tired of dying?

i want to move past you, but you're stuck in my brain
#pain   #death   #loss   #a   #it   #hurts   #sorry   #lot   #mourning   #every  
 
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