At   twilight,  
in my deep slumber, 
 I roused to the rumble of thunder; 
with dense showers soaking me tender,        
Streaks   of   light   sparkling   like   cinder, 
 roaring     with     dander,       down    came     
T
      H
E

B
       O
               L
                    T

                              that       S       RUCK  my fence.

Art of typography.
#poem   #art   #thunder   #lightning   #bolt   #visual   #typography   #typoem  
Daphny Ryan
Daphny Ryan
Dec 5, 2013

Not a moment passes by that I don't miss you
Your warm touch,
The feeling of being safe,
Right where I belong

I long for you,

I miss your face
The way you made me feel like everything would be alright,

The laughs we shared-
The love
I felt would last

Now I'm lost, forever more,
In our memories,
Of us,
Escaping me

I need you here, I need you near

Don't leave my heart without your love.

When i see that bolt turn on

When i see that bolt turn on
I'm excited, afraid, and somewhat confused
Like i'm excited that first of all i got a like
that my poetry might've spoken to a soul out there
that you know i got a like...
i'm afraid of letting success go to my head...
i'm afraid of the torment that i am capable of
afraid of "dependation"
like idk its a personal thing.....
but i'm somewhat confused because i'm a pretty weird ass soul
....and i've never fully been content with myself like right now i love myself but i'm always wishing for better...
and there's a belief in my mind that everyone's out to get me
that i just don't belong anywhere
and i don't know if i'm ok with that....
it's so surprising when i find people who still talk to me
when i say something outta the norm, stupid, when i dress cray cray
but i guess those people are out there
...and i want to thank you for tolerating me
and accepting me

Paul Hardwick
Paul Hardwick
Aug 10, 2012

t
                                                               ­                              l
                                                               ­                   o
My girlfriend went with a man called      B
jamaica no
                                            she
                                     went
                               there
                          on her
                       own.

Pearson Bolt
Pearson Bolt
Aug 1, 2013

though i’ve never smoked a cigarette
i’ve always loved the smell of tobacco.

it reminds me of shows in seedy concert halls
and the gum my father chewed to get sober

minty-fresh nicorette replacing the scent
of the wine that imbued his every breath.

i recall my grandpa, the way he sat on the porch, surrounded
by nana’s garden, listening to the songs of birds

the stub of his last cigarette, poised between frail fingers.
as it withered, he withered with it.

their walls stained yellow from the nicotine
like some vintage sepia photograph.

through synesthetic memories, i can taste the
way cigarette smoke wafted through the summer air when

my friends and i sat on our back porch, reminiscing,
nostalgia suffocating, tightening its grip like a vise about our windpipes.

i’ve never even smoked a cigarette
but they always remind me of who i used to be

before i lost what was left of my innocence.

we are what
we pretend to be

caricatures of recycled
images and refashioned
motifs masquerading without
pretense of originality

carbon copies in dazzling relief
spun through cycles of roguish
vogue realities

you are what you Tweet

we've seen enlightenment dawn
and watched god die while
the planet relay-raced about
a decaying sun
drifting
children of the Digital Age

words are less than wind
they are fingertips tapping
luminous screens
spineless
lackluster and vain
beyond belief

we run our mouths
while the world burns
here's more Tinder for
the fire of distraction
GoFundMy upstart disaster

vegan hippie child of nature
punk anarchist activist
academic film enthusiast
novelist critic intellectual
psychologist pathologist anthropologist

will we practice a
discourse on delusion
or find solidarity with Sisyphus?

we are what
we pretend to be

Pearson Bolt
Pearson Bolt
Jul 31, 2013      Aug 2, 2013

when i was seven
i asked my mother if all dogs went to heaven
because i wanted to be sure that
i’d see old Buddy up in the clouds
once he’d passed on

she told me that i would
she said in fact
all dogs do go to heaven
but my mother had a
penchant for canines
so i secretly wondered
whether or not that was true

then i asked her if my friend Adam would be there too
since he was Jewish and Jews aren’t allowed
to go to heaven

for this had left me so confused
how could god
let dogs into heaven
but abandon all
my friends

she told me in no uncertain terms that
there was only one way
one truth and
one life
and that one way
one truth
one life came through Christ

which was funny
considering Jesus
was Jewish too

 
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