Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Jul 2016
Dimitrios Sarris
A crown does not make someone a king.
The woman he loves and call his queen,
prays and stares from afar, for all the blood
and tears he will spill.
All the people he led and promised, craft a
crown for himself. No gold, no diamond
but pure silverlight.
All he survived and almost got him killed
made his spirit bend but never faltered,
for his wounds of honor are self inflicted.
Power did not corrupt him.
Well prepared to lure himself and pick a top.
Heart of a lion, a shrouded armor and a blooded crown,
he is the king...
 Jun 2016
Joel M Frye
Within each shattered shadowed soul
a blinding binding light may grow
when tribulation takes its toll
in ways naught but the dying know.
We live eternity each day
aware of what most will ignore,
that in the end we have no say
when ends life's narrow corridor.
An omnipresent spirit's real,
begging that we keep in mind
the gratitude for wounds that heal,
and lead us down our selves to find
what words we whistle in the dark
to walk through fears which leave their mark.
I really have a good life...mainly because I write the dark times out.
 May 2016
Mike Essig
Let us sink and seek the miraculous,
steal from the clothesline of nostalgia.
The crushing weight of a pith helmet.
The quandary that every exit out opens in.
What is not remembered still exists;
the song never plucked rings still.
Cease stifling epistemological *******.
In the end, very few will comprehend.
Hard feet on a bare-wood floor. Then flush.
Iced sausages and cold blood for breakfast.
French toast boasts an aftertaste of paper.
Sign on cafe: Enter ye and be devoured.
It is always eat up or be eaten up.
What is the reference of it in that sentence.
Converse with horses in a dingy sushi bar.
Horoscopes promise passionate promiscuity.
Sometimes cigars can act like ******.
Two hours of smoke an extended ******.
Purchase a pack of Godzillas. Enjoy.
You are responsible for whatever you read.
Do not assault my ears for explanations.
Pluck pantaloons from that nostalgic rope.
Wear them well where you will wear them.
Feel the miraculous swell and understand.
 May 2016
Denel Kessler
patterns pressed
in old vinyl
needle-scratched
pop and crackle
background noise
just genetic ambiance
old as the blues
smoky aftertaste
blessing     curse
lost fortune
lured fate
lessons earned
the hard way

long playing
at 33 1/3 rpm
I'm humming
no resistance
my will altered
I submit
to inevitable vacillation
accept ambiguity
as sweet song
lyrics unknown
an uneven melody
I can't deny
or disown
 May 2016
spysgrandson
no bison on the menu
at the Buffalo; this diner
never served it  

Big Mike, long gone
named it for the high shelf  
on the prairie behind it  

where Lakota learned
to stampede beasts over the edge, massacring
hordes without bow or sweat

the gully below,
their forgotten bone yard,
left little trace of them

save half a skull
Mike exhumed and hung on the wall
in the time of polio

before the wide whizzing interstates
when truckers still landed on his dusty lot  
their rolling behemoths content in pasture

in a new millennium, the cafe highway is but
an accidental detour; the shack guarded by thistles,
long departed the Detroit steel

the truckers now in the ground, their bones
free from pillage, but the Cyclops on the wall remains,
eyeing the vacant prairie they all once roamed
 Apr 2016
Aoife
the home
we once lived in
with wardrobes in shambles
and drawers with clutter
is now empty.

i packed everyone's bags,
gathered the last pushpins
from the wall in the kitchen,
and went on with my life.

i made sure to grab
the books we'd hidden in the attic
as well as the photo album
you'd stashed under the floorboards.

i opened the curtains
and then swept the floors.
i made our bed for the last time
and collected the closings
of the dust on the mantelpiece
that nobody ever cleaned.

i got two extra boxes
for all of the medication unfinished.
i marked them "fragile", for they were glass capsules
containing the substance needed to keep my daughter alive.
but her illness didn't **** her.

i was well aware of the dog's bed,
and it found a place
in the passenger seat of my suv.
his quiet whimpers and cries
were all i heard that evening
as i drove away from what once was my life.

when i finally got to my feet again,
i returned to making dinner for myself.
i only knew how to cook for seven,
and i found tranquility in washing things in sevens.
now i made food for one
and washed for one.

i accidentally brewed two coffees this morning,
in hopes you were still here to take it
and laugh at me for making it too strong,
but you're not.
i awoke at noon the day before and sobbed,
for i was used to being awoken by child's laughter
and small bodies climbing into our bed.

tomorrow, i will bring your briefcase to work
and leave it on your desk.
i'll collect it when i go to leave
and frown at the fact you never opened it.
i'll dispatch you three times in the field,
but you won't respond.

i used to see our wedding day,
but now i see your funeral.
i used to see our children's births;
but i've gotten used to their bodies in morgues.

your physical features
become the trauma described during your autopsies,
and our family photos
became the ones used in the funeral program.

the home
we once lived in
with wardrobes in shambles
and drawers with clutter
is now a house;

a house with things
that even i can't pack away.
• this is based loosely on a story i am currently working on. my fanfiction is https://www.fanfiction.net/~hotchnerjareau , so check it to keep up with my works!
 Apr 2016
jalc
We met in the winter of our lives
Drawn together by the warmth
And promise of kinship
That helped us brave the season
To usher in the spring
When poisonous fruits sprouted
Hiding behind showy blossoms
Their once sweet fragrance now cloying
As they fought for a last hurrah
In the unforgiving heat of summer
And now autumn is upon us
Who have glutted ourselves on a Judas feast
Filled us full up with the mettle necessary
To take on winter once again.
Nothing gold can stay. It's hard to believe so much has happened in a mere matter of months.
21st Century contraption of a mind , snatched from birth , taught how to "Walk the Line , " Hammered into conformity , Play Doh brains pressed in a mold , dressed , plopped on a conveyor , not one piece out of place ..
Our State cores a whole , pours a mandatory twelve years of robot ideology between our ears , who we should emulate , who we should fear
..  Fed factory Farm swill , sequester our imaginations , zero tolerance , shot full of Ritalin ...
Copyright February 3 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved

Public education ! I spent 12 years trying to de-program my two girls every other day ! Son of a ******* !!
 Jan 2016
axr
+
so much drama
so much negativity
sadness everywhere
and I stand optimistic
My life isn't the best right now. I haven't been feeling great lately which explains my lack of posts here. Optimism is key.
 Jan 2016
axr
he told me he'd love me for a million years.
he took my hand and showed me the whole world.
a million years later, we remained the same. we were reduced to nothing but skeletal ashes.
still, our hands were linked together and our hearts continued to beat as one.
the ink on our skins had faded a long time ago. we were tied to each other with our promises.
he told me he'd love me for a million years.
he loved me for a million more
 Jan 2016
ryn
Palms overhead sway,
nudged by the occasional breeze.
The chatter crescendoes
before dying down...
To make way for the call of prayer.

It called to its followers.
So calm...
So sincere...

People hunched over their tables.
Savouring delights that came on plates.
Wafting aromas,
mingle like the swirls on candy.
Drenching our senses...
As we immerse ourselves further
in such good company.

I looked at the eyes that surrounded me...
Only soft, kind gazes greeted back.

There are no shadows here...
No silhouettes...
Only faces I know
generous with their gift of glow.

A rising warmth
emanates from the pits within.

In this here circle,
no matter how motley,
I feel alive.
I'm drinking up to a stupor...
This lovely band of five.
Next page