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Irate Watcher Aug 2014
The most beautiful hour in L.A.
is 3 A.M., when,
petals
of lavender
peep through
wooden blinds,
lulling restless minds
laid on Egyptian
Cotton candy
clouds amuse me.
Because as I close my eyes,
I realize,
that here,
there is no starry night
because this beautiful haze
is light pollution.

But pollutions' hue calms
a city mind.
Like sirens quell
eager ears,
And liquor tickles
tantalized tongues,
And words flow
from numb knuckles,
And insomnia wets
drying eyes,
I,
am struck,
that this lavender haze
helps me see
that too much
is always what I need.
Irate Watcher Aug 2014
Coffee or tea
perks me.
Too much!
Wine time.
Wind down.
Morning time
is round the clock.

Coffee or tea
perks me.
Too much!
Wine time.
Morning time
is round the clock.

Round the clock
R
  o
    u
   n
d
t
h
   e
     c
     l
    o
  c
k
Time.
Round clock.

Too much!
Wine down clock.
Amy Jun 2014
In a queue for the tube a man is on fire
flames climb up his collar
as he waits for his train.
But he stands unaware
of the smoke filled air
instead he checks his melting watch
and impatiently taps his burning foot
ignited by angst over his delayed route.

The woman by his side tries to tell him to cool down
tries to tell him he's burning
but she can't, she's drowning.
Water soaks up her suit
and seeps through her skin
so that she's coughing and spluttering
and sinking from within.

Two colleagues across the platform pay careful attention
to this storm and from it form conversation,
they judge the gentleman's irritation
and questions the woman's suffocation
but fail to notice the cause of each other's frustration.

Only the driver as his train pulls in closer,
witnesses one co-worker being blown over
whilst a rat races furtively up the other one's leg.
mandy rigby Jun 2014
some of the time
I cannot think straight
and to others I cannot relate

all the times I've almost gone under
heard the lightning strike
the roar of the thunder

I've felt vulnerable and under attack
I've made mistakes that I cannot take back

in desperate times,
I've almost drowned
caught up in the rat race
overwhelmed by the sound

(c) msrigs edited 26.06 2014
Jacob Oates May 2014
There is no objective meaning to life

So how do you expect me to get down and deep

With limited eyes seeing blinders in the corner of my peripherals?

It's residual, I begged to shake these thoughts like snowflakes

in a crystal, they have scattered up and down til I can't

See the image plastered down the walls of my illusions

Confusion? If only that was true, I see more now than I see in you

How can I feel deep and meaningful when all of this contrived highlights

It's all just my brain bleeding, scattered my drip drops of rage

Do they flip flop? The page has hit lift off, I'm out of the realm

of what I knew to be self development hell compelling me

To scatter fragmants of wanton and wear

But see unless I point that out you'd never know it's there

Because I'm supposed to plaster on a smile and feed you lines

that you desire to add meaning to life, or add a voice down the wire

If I sit upon my laurels you'd think that I had nothing new to say or never

thought about abstractions til they bubble and boil to heady

broth overflowing staining the floors screaming "my god make this stop"

I don't wear my head upon my sleeve, I keep my helmet on

So go ahead and think I'm surface level, I also like to be wrong

Talk to your friends, I'm sure they're dark and mysterious

They have such strong perspectives, they're in touch with the furious

I need to voice at all times? Does my bark not befit you

I'm not a dog meant to bark at every meaning that drives through

I take no solace in wallowing in the depth of another

I don't expect you to read this and gain a sense of the other

I'm not writing to bring you a route down back to your soul

Because you're soulless and weary, I don't claim that I have control

We're spinning in the toilet in a chamber of meaning

Whose **** stinks more than others, why lets compare them and eat it

Consuming excretions is all you get from your dealings

Because nothing is deep, when the bottom is fleeting.
Phrank Bobtail Apr 2014
I used to shed light from an ignorant place
Crashing waves with the willows
With a smirk on my face
I fooled fellows for fun, but I'd keep my nose clean
And I'd play it the fool if my shame was unseen

Wiley as I was, I'd be joyous ashtray
At night with the cowboys, Askew by the day
And it started off slowly, with a glint in my heart
When you begin stopping, you stop what you start

In a matter of time, I'd trade matter for time
Pills for my pleasure. My passion for pride.
And my haired pull back tightly, as with time it'd do.
Don't follow their path, or this too could be you.

But alas there is this, an upswing indeed,
There isn't a day or an instance you see.
This isn't the fate of everybody there is,
Don't get lost in the race.
Never forget just to live.

— The End —