Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Aug 2013 Brock Kawana
Denise G
They tell me I'm crazy for walking alone
But isn't it better than getting chewed to the bone?
Criticized, corrected, and neglected
It's similar to being dissected.
I'd rather enjoy my thoughts
You know the ones that are made up and always sought
I find it a bit more relieving
Though it's sad and naturally deceiving
I miss...
missing you
chasing you
wishing for you
to wish for me.

I miss...
excitedly telling you
who I am
and who I wish to be.

I miss...
not knowing
when I would see you
hold you
exhale your breath.

I love us now...
don't misunderstand...
but the anticipation
and the adventure
at times get over-powered
by the day.

I miss...
our breathless
creativity
and the almost violent need
to be close.
Laying,
                  looking to my right

Overcasts**
                  of stunning delight

Velocity
                  rise, we get lost in ties

Existence
                   only in adjacent eyes

Love,
                   we gather, without word or touch

You
                    and I feel our lovely rush
Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/laniate
Follow me on Tumblr: http://asnj.tumblr.com/
There's no reasonable explanation
To how this all went down
When the world woke up one morning
All made up as clowns

Not a single person in the world
Did this phenomenon not claim
With big red buttons on their chests
Spelling out new funny names

There was Patches and Petunia
Floppy and Cupcake
Winky and Bumper the Clown
Were just a few that they displayed

Everyone went about their business
Only now they all carpooled
You could see clowns piling out of cars everywhere
From businesses to stores to schools

Crime it did die down
Because all the guns that people have
Instead of shooting bullets
Shoot out brightly colored Big Bang Flags

Of course the circus lost its glamour
With an audience made up of clowns
It's hard to tell who's there enjoying
And who's entertaining all the crowds

People stopped taking each other seriously
Over anything they had to say
Pointing at each other and laughing
As they go about their day

Who knew a thing like this would happen
When the world went to bed last night
That the very next morning
They'd wake up clowns for life

Oh, I almost forgot the Politicians
Were the only ones to stay the same
It's already a simple known fact
*When your a clown you don't need to change
 Jul 2013 Brock Kawana
Camila
Who am I?
I'm a dreamer. I'm hopeful. I'm a bag of bones interconected with emotions, through my veins runs as much excitement as blood.

I am messy hair, small eyes and steady hands and my hair is as wild as me, and my small eyes catch all the  beauty hidden in the corners, and my steady hands become an earthquake when I'm about to be kissed.

I'm in my twenties. I'm a teenager in matters of love and I'm a grandma when taking care of my friends. I'm a beast when it comes to fighting and I'm the weakest when it comes to crying. I feel too much and show too little.

I'm a daughter, a sister and a friend. I'm worried. I'm anxious. I'm happy. I'm a rave as much as I'm a book and coffee. I talk until my voice fades but my mouth is a tomb for secrets.

I'm a writer and a reader. I'm a dancing machine and a shower singer.

I'm raising an eyebrow when I don't believe you. I'm a random kiss on the shoulder when I love you. I'm cafuné when I care for you.

I'm optimistic. I'm cautious. I'm becoming what I always wanted to be. I'm strongheaded and lighthearted. I'm in constant wait for the world to show me this is not it and fairytale endings exist.
So we trace the reflection in the mirror
In hopes to construct a better view
Of the person that we hope to be
But every attempt I make
Draws out a picture of you.

The monster that you are to me.

Your eyes end up looking like
The midnight skies
On the beach where you and I
Made a vow to never leave each other
As long as we both were breathing

Now we are both screaming
And taking back everything
Just like a last breath taken
Without any meaning.
This has become
Something that is not worth seeing
Anymore

So I took the mirror down
With a quick hand
And a solid mind
To craft a new reflection
Out of the warped pieces of mine

And I stand in the hall alone
Looking towards the end of time
And wonder where I am going

And you are gone
And your mouth turns into the sun
As I say my last goodbye
To these starry night skies
Where we held each other tight
And made agreements with our
Lips and tongue

To say,
Goodnight twenty three.
Goodbye blue skies,
You never even knew me.
Did you sun?
 Apr 2013 Brock Kawana
Lee
" Will you please pick up your dog's ****?"
"I would but I need you to think about this from my perspective. Think about dog ****, think about what it equates to: to human life. Human life on this planet. The same way fresh dog **** ruins the soul of a shoe, so the human race ruins this planet. Are you against the human race? Against our existence on this planet? Our cosmic **** storm mess that we will some day succeed in tracking through the metaphorical universal living room? You see, to me, asking to pick up this dog **** is like asking to destroy the entire human race. Asking to destroy an ecosystem; is that what you're for? The death of mankind, the death of the unrecognized beauty that is this dog ****. Are you an anarchist or just a man who can't appreciate beauty in all its forms, a man who hungers to destroy life?"
"Your crazy, **** it."
"Says the man who wants to destroy the entire human race, god help us."
Less of a poem more of what I told a stranger who ******* at me about my dogs excrement.
Next page