Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Tiny, does the sun go
Followed by the snow down
Ever as a shower in steam

Shallow, goes the systems
Out like a fire, rising
Sparks and they spread throughout the brain

Mythic, misting asteroids are crashing on the brakes
Swerving and you’re missing but you’re christ-like all the same

Glyphs are losing meaning on displays of melted grass
Gasses matronize a pattern, tanning on the mass

Squirming, does the chimp go
Crashing through the planet
Taking selfies with the blood and its core

Comment on my face
See, stressing for this weekend
Acting like you’ve been to space at all before

I would be an astronaut but who would beam me back
As it’s clearly known that Texas ain’t now on the map

Piling into a void, a horror seldom met
Practicing a breathing technique as it’s time for bed

Forward can we all go
Float and look away from
The past as none can spin themselves awise

Sky’s black in eye
And masking in between
A passing glance of our in-passing souls demise

Mourning what’s a bed of little matter accidents
Morning corks the breath in which we sigh its savageness

Storming takes the moon across our bodies limp orbit
Torrenting that morbid, now red heavenly orphan

The tears look dried
We exercise
Our broken, fated pioneer

This sense, this blear
We’ll all ascend
In death us surely owed a new frontier
from november 7 2018
poem from the past a day #8
first of all, sometimes i write poetry while listening to music, and that usually inspires like a rhythmn or a line, but in this case i was listening to Finger Back by Vampire Weekend and i straight up wrote this whole poem to its melody.
second, Vampire Weekend is a GOAT
and uh third, this is just a fun poem as long as you can tell that it's supposed to be satirical. and i wouldn't blame you if you have no idea what any of these words are supposed to mean, i know that it reads like nonsense if you aren't me- that's like one of my whole things.
the vision here is basically: earth explodes and all the people shoot out into space and for a moment before they die they're all very cynical and silly about it
I’m going to do what I’ve seen
Many others apply
To their mind as they watch another’s body just die

Wait and beg after
Under judge of monuments
That are so very quiet in the hearts cradled resonance

Followed, bounding, cold and unfeeling
Sent into the towards
Of winter with, in horror, is rest upon one score

Come God in the next moment
The war you’ll discuss
To snow when it bombards that grave of my trust

You laying and such
Laying my life
Laying, that’s more than I’ve done with a scythe

You pouring me out
And pouring accounts
For more than what little of life I recount

Over and over
You’re sick and I’m sober
Into buckets, begets; we sink only closer

Until,
And I’ve seen,
Until the water’s mixed up

Your blood with,
Nor life, nor
Denying regrets
from november 6 2018
poem from the past a day #7
i tapped into real emotions in this poem. it might not be clearly, surely about anything, but it is about something.
this was made when i started thinking about my dad's mortality when he got and stayed very sick, and how weird it is to feel anything about that because he's an abuser.
anyway, i did good here, for it allowed me to think with empathy and rage rather than think nothing about it at all.
In from the mist of our material plain
Out far in the East lay a trail by the sea
Dotted with wells and the sounds of quails
Crusted jets of shined Earthen fits
Rubbed down from its shear as a mountain
Played out by the watery, rusted brass section

The Cliffs rise and fall on the water
And the Cliffs sit and wait on the water

Slowly lowing pours of passes,
Brooks and weathered ravines showing
Tracing inwards, out to pasture
Winds the coastline to these towers
Birds of Dover hover, soundless
Mixing air gusts line the pipings

Where Cliffs rise and fall on the water
And the Cliffs right down to the bottom

So may a beetle missing wing
Come eventually reach the sea
Gull by way or ever scaling
Geologic clock come sailing
Scoring drums the cheer of tides
Into when years are fossilized

As Cliffs rise and fall on the water
So Cliffs sit and be on the water

And all that stone bore out of time, styled
Dark and plinthed come moored day round
Ornate platters, restful gravel,
Granite or a painting gathers
Art and sky are matched as one, within
Centered over sunset blazing on

And the Cliffs rise and fall on the water
And the Cliffs soar beauty mined on the shores
from october 14 2018
poem from the past a day #6
i was so proud of this when i wrote it.
it stunned me that i could write this.
it's not, like, emotionally injected, but it says *something* about my ability.
there's some sauce to be found in here. there was a melody for it, but it's been so long that i can't remember it anymore.
I remember when I was young
I saw the lights on my knees of the golden sun

Wither. So from night I aged around
Years of a soul to peel apart as I’m found

Singing. Gaze to a wall in its porous decay
What four seal away the few mornings awake

Sitting and wasted on me tending my time
Dies the mind, ignored, drifting unwashed into prime

Apart order, eyeless, and gluttonous grown
And still years pushing faults upon thin root and bone

Based in about the endless same
Best lazed between each days soreing name

Forgotten like what else and frightened of
Change laid before my slowly keeling tree of love

Or supposed love
As I spoke before of: terror comes

I remain as I was
And it shades me as I still am and still am I young
from september 21 2018
poem from the past a day #5
this is a classic young person who doesn't know how to put their trauma into words yet tries their very best to put their trauma into words. it's just a very uncontroversial version of that. nothing weird, mostly intelligible; small wins for my early poetry efforts. cool name, too, huh.
I wanna work at a laundromat
Where the carpets are flat flat flat
And the washers are egg shell white
Soon to find me there overnight

I wanna work across the street
In the dollar store off the beat
Thrifting modernist wood-grain mats
Someone even sold their cat cat cat

Come on and find me with the Pet Stop freaks
Canaries and wild flowers leased in heaps
Pleased to find something that’s pink pink pink
Pleased to come to find that it’s extinct

I wanna work at the registry park
Renewing leaves for sharks sharks sharks
I’ll speak softly but make them spat
For the last pen in their habitat

By night I will toil beneath a black sky
Cough cough and inhale my pride pride pride
Watching the men in my watch-men-machine
Breathing towers where you build your dreams

Somehow, somewhere is a job for me
Come the morning I will scrounge and I’ll bleed
But I’ll look great as I rise to the sky
As there to catch me is that twelve ninety-five
from march 13 2018
poem from the past a day #4
it's a tune, it's cute idk! there isn't much to this.
I was up
Biting scars
In the moon-lit sunlight
The hands-up of stars

Wishing
And curling seams
Of the thought which
Is lost within minutes release

Pour what’s
My cares seep
My total alright
Into where wreathing digital deep

Soil that’s left
Damp, dark and yet
Blinding the night
Stitching up holey, blanket regret

I’m dying
Not now, but
I ball up my feet
Watching, this white heat, lying, will shut

Away
In a little
Stitched skull
Of alright
from march 12 2018
poem from the past a day #3
immediately, i started 2018 by essentially finding my voice as a poet.
it's not very emotionally meaningful, but as far as the feeling of the rhythm, this about sums up my writing for the next few years.
it's like.. got my essence. essence of me.
The data streams
Are in my head
They're in my dreams
That see me pitching
Above, briskly, trees
Like a squirrel does
Jumping my house
When I wake up
The data streams
Have come alive
And now advertise
Directional breeze
Lifting flying machines
Uncaring for my eyes
It's just my hand they
Squeeze to release
My data streams
from august 19 2017
poem from the past a day #2
in 2017 i wrote about 53 poems which is the most i've ever written in a single year. that's what it takes to find your voice, i guess, but i'm only putting two poems from this year on this site- sometimes embarrassment is good.
this is a really simply poem but it's also mostly free from my strangest writing quirks from when i was young. it's just sort of cute enough to share.
Next page