Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Stomped when weakest,
Cried in solace of hurt.
Standing where it all begun.
 Oct 2019 Antino Art
Samuel Fox
the patrol car has left the block once more,
a bull shark circling
nearer to some shore, headlights
blared, a black silhouette steering the vehicle;

night kisses the horizon, pecks it sharp
like a bullet case
scraping the darkling pavement,
only the whitest stars visible above.

many like me stroll sidewalks at this hour,
smoking a stogie
or sitting on empty swings
in playgrounds vacant of laughter; it is better

that children sleep while they can and can dream
before the true night,
that blight of bruise blue, sirens
wailing on their way to steal away some dark man

from the streets. where I stand on an apartment stoop
I count the vehicle
for the fourth time, lurking
out around the corner, like a wolf dressed metallic.

nothing gets better come nightfall. nothing
gets done while asleep.
i slip on my shadow, hood
dark, concealing my face. lean back into the steps

and light another cigarette. inhale.
exhale. most don’t have
to worry: their paleness turns
them ghostly, invisible, to the patrolling cars.

but I wear my darkness. i wish I knew
how to make sparks fly,
have them issue from throat, crack
into splinters of glass. the law tells me to sit

but I refuse. i am a phosphorus
fuse; i am whitened;
but i am impoverished,
and I too have my own reasons to be frightened.
 Sep 2019 Antino Art
hsyclara
every other month,
i fly.
when my mind fills with worries and unease,
my lungs expand with fear not air,
my heart speeds,
and with a single backpack
i take a bus to the airport.
long ride listening to my comfort songs
is just a beginning to my little getaway.
(i already feel calm writing about this moment)

quick 30 mins wait at the gate, then
i fly.
my reality you can wait for me at the airport
right where i left you,
because you deserve a break too.

see you in 5 days.
i'll meet you back at the airport.
 Sep 2019 Antino Art
Diya
They saw the rainbow
In her
Eyes
But never
The rain that
Preceded it.
It's another poem expressing the fact that we just perceive someone in our own way...it's like we know one's name but not their story...and hence we should not judge anyone or have a preoccupied perception on him/her
 Sep 2019 Antino Art
Molly
The sky is falling
head over heels
for a world that doesn't
bother looking up.
Meant for this to be longer, but I'm not sure it really needs to be...
Next page