samuel-sprague - Hello Poetry

A dim shade blankets the black scratched breakfast table Some gloom hangs over the coffeemaker And death cools down in the oven As the sinking furnace burns beneath Blood breaking vessels Dries on skin like paint Paint the wall again pale as red becomes you dawn And the hardwood stained wine wallow wasted winter Again and again Slurs, apologizing for christmas plans

0

Nov 13, 2014

Nov 13, 2014 at 1:44 AM UTC

Adae

A dim shade blankets the black scratched breakfast table Some gloom hangs over the coffeemaker And death cools down in the oven As the sinking furnace burns beneath Blood breaking vessels Dries on skin like paint Paint the wall again pale as red becomes you dawn And the hardwood stained wine wallow wasted winter Again and again Slurs, apologizing for christmas plans

11

Life is a lot like chess: I guess a lot, keep my head up and pay attention, get lucky sometimes, but always die at the end

0

Aug 24, 2013

Aug 24, 2013 at 7:52 AM UTC

Chess

Life is a lot like chess: I guess a lot, keep my head up and pay attention, get lucky sometimes, but always die at the end

1

Pease excuse my excitement when I say I've met a girl Whose face is sweet But not sweet For to say it is sweet is to say it is bitter And to say it is bitter is to say it is tasteless And regardless she is not from here, and does not understand the language And I could teach her But I won't For to teach her is to know her, Put sounds and noises to a face that is more than sweet, A story, a sadness, a soul like my own To destroy the perfect beauty, withheld from the unknown

0

Aug 22, 2013

Aug 22, 2013 at 12:29 PM UTC

More than Sweet

Pease excuse my excitement when I say I've met a girl Whose face is sweet But not sweet For to say it is sweet is to say it is bitter And to say it is bitter is to say it is tasteless And regardless she is not from here, and does not understand the language And I could teach her But I won't For to teach her is to know her, Put sounds and noises to a face that is more than sweet, A story, a sadness, a soul like my own To destroy the perfect beauty, withheld from the unknown

12

I am the overworked ceiling fan, Wishing to drop I am a hallowed out skull in the factory of know-it-alls, I am a deciphered code from nearly 67 years ago I am a pale face in summer, I am of death like the barefoot dancers I am a foe, and I am better off I am low in a canyon I am an unsurprised disaster, and I've already happened

0

Aug 20, 2013

Aug 20, 2013 at 9:09 PM UTC

8/20/13

I am the overworked ceiling fan, Wishing to drop I am a hallowed out skull in the factory of know-it-alls, I am a deciphered code from nearly 67 years ago I am a pale face in summer, I am of death like the barefoot dancers I am a foe, and I am better off I am low in a canyon I am an unsurprised disaster, and I've already happened

8

Seagoat, Let me die in your tugboat, Burn me in your deep waters. I hate, and that's all that matters Your jokes, jump in a frenzy, Around the giving tree, We turned into a stump Is "good luck" to wish it exists, Or to wish that I did not, Or that it does, And I am entitled to your superstition Seagoat, Tug me in your tugboat, Burn me in your deep waters, I love. I am the shallow martyr.

0

Aug 20, 2013

Aug 20, 2013 at 9:02 PM UTC

Seagoat

Seagoat, Let me die in your tugboat, Burn me in your deep waters. I hate, and that's all that matters Your jokes, jump in a frenzy, Around the giving tree, We turned into a stump Is "good luck" to wish it exists, Or to wish that I did not, Or that it does, And I am entitled to your superstition Seagoat, Tug me in your tugboat, Burn me in your deep waters, I love. I am the shallow martyr.

16

I've found myself here again, On new purposes, Is it greed in lust to revenge? The two sorrows married on strict vows As foes we must preach just, On the surface only dust, I gripe the neck of thee, for the giving life should be set free, In treacherous motion, I stand by my notion That nothing was never not to be Some say the news is old-spoken, Yet fluent to some like the lady unspoken, The fruits of my labor are bruised and bleeding, I travel forth at the sidewalk I'm spitting, Some never pay their dues like the man living in masks, He finds the story a menial task, But it's the story not of him, The one where man themselves cannot win, A strong sin, misproud, it happens again

0

Aug 12, 2013

Aug 12, 2013 at 11:44 AM UTC

5/4/12

I've found myself here again, On new purposes, Is it greed in lust to revenge? The two sorrows married on strict vows As foes we must preach just, On the surface only dust, I gripe the neck of thee, for the giving life should be set free, In treacherous motion, I stand by my notion That nothing was never not to be Some say the news is old-spoken, Yet fluent to some like the lady unspoken, The fruits of my labor are bruised and bleeding, I travel forth at the sidewalk I'm spitting, Some never pay their dues like the man living in masks, He finds the story a menial task, But it's the story not of him, The one where man themselves cannot win, A strong sin, misproud, it happens again

18

Pulsing Pulsing All I'm doing is pulsing A tight grip on loose air A fickle taste of lips in the midst of a tragic interwoven memory despite their tastelessness and despite their grievance. Destroy them upon where they stand, and not because you want to but because they have to go. The shimmers of electric signals sending to your brain, seeing stars from a fall or dizziness from the spiral staircase which sends you to where you now seem to be. Desolate and a holiday and a slap and a curfew and a nap in the lake of humanity in the woods of lunacy in the dark of what we fail to see.

0

Aug 11, 2013

Aug 11, 2013 at 2:15 AM UTC

Pulsing

Pulsing Pulsing All I'm doing is pulsing A tight grip on loose air A fickle taste of lips in the midst of a tragic interwoven memory despite their tastelessness and despite their grievance. Destroy them upon where they stand, and not because you want to but because they have to go. The shimmers of electric signals sending to your brain, seeing stars from a fall or dizziness from the spiral staircase which sends you to where you now seem to be. Desolate and a holiday and a slap and a curfew and a nap in the lake of humanity in the woods of lunacy in the dark of what we fail to see.

5

I am a shirt Laying on the floor I don't know what's going on in the room around me I am simply a shirt thrown on the floor

0

Aug 11, 2013

Aug 11, 2013 at 1:39 AM UTC

I Am a Shirt

I am a shirt Laying on the floor I don't know what's going on in the room around me I am simply a shirt thrown on the floor

4

I ate my PB&J; in my PJs Laying in my bed The sandwich was good I enjoyed it Like most people would Except I then wrote a poem about it Like no one ever should

0

Aug 5, 2013

Aug 5, 2013 at 3:01 AM UTC

PB&J&PJs

I ate my PB&J; in my PJs Laying in my bed The sandwich was good I enjoyed it Like most people would Except I then wrote a poem about it Like no one ever should

7

I don't have ADD But she smiled at me And I guess that changes everything I don't speak with two tongues I'm just a sucker who's killing his lungs And I guess that changes everything I don't walk ten miles an hour And when I speak it is without power And I guess that changes everything I forgot my blinker, I wanted to flirt and wink at her, I see now. That changes everything I see now. And I should've known I could fall in love. Now I know that she wants me, And I know she's my everything

0

Aug 1, 2013

Aug 1, 2013 at 11:12 PM UTC

Everything

I don't have ADD But she smiled at me And I guess that changes everything I don't speak with two tongues I'm just a sucker who's killing his lungs And I guess that changes everything I don't walk ten miles an hour And when I speak it is without power And I guess that changes everything I forgot my blinker, I wanted to flirt and wink at her, I see now. That changes everything I see now. And I should've known I could fall in love. Now I know that she wants me, And I know she's my everything

16