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Suddenly, the 502s were back
those unexpected disconnects
that make posting whack
and my nerves a wreck

Like blank spots in time
that made me backtrack
unable to use rhymes
I felt trapped and  highjacked

Did the server choke on a bone?
Was 5G stalling me, wordless and postponed?
Did the firewall collapse, did DNS lapse?
Was it my laptop, was it my phone?

People watched me, on the metro,
as I frowned and moaned at my useless iPhone.
The issues seemed flagrant, I was becoming impatient
Was I some kind of nut? I was showing emotion.
We don’t DO that in Paris - have public implosions.

Did it happen to you?
Or was I one of a few.
What were the chances
that it only happened to poets in France?
.
.
Song for this:
Alone Again (Naturally) by Gilbert O'Sullivan
La Vie en Rose by Allison Adams Tucker
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 08/23/25:
flagrant = obvious, conspicuously bad—too bad to ignore.
I remember the cage
Soul slipping
Through cracks
Body trapped
In silent rage
I succeed
These facts
Never forget
Never get back
The less you say
The less they know
So spare the lecture
And off you go
I remember the cage!
Traveler Tim
The smoke dissolves in my lungs. A constellation  of bright stars forms in the depths of your eyes, weaving a language of orchestral, luminous memories—one that cannot fathom the endless possibilities of your devotion.

Maybe if I write these words and keep them inside my dismantled heart, love will come to find me. Maybe in a thousand abysses that grieve love, the heavens and the earth will entwine their fresh waters and frozen tears; faint sheets of light will envelop my already soul-weary skin and thus will seep in like a sun gently fleeting its warm light into the night sky, sojourning in the consoling darkness until dawn.

And if I tell you, that I have so much love to give, would you grow thorns and leave me in the cold, barren night like a stray dog, or would you come running across the ends of the earth—tiptoeing in bedazzling stars and soft sands, rushing into me?
I’ve been productive for the past few weeks, and I don’t understand why there’s still room for me to long for something that I can’t have just yet. I’ve been spending my time writing in my journal for all the times that I feel like I’m yearning for something more than love. Something more than comfort, and I hate to admit this, but I’ve become a prisoner of fantasy, I long for my own fairy tale. That my own heart chokes me.

Sparks - Coldplay
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