Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
we are all plagued by the same
haunting disease.
every step on this wearied road
is just a step in our prison.
esoteric dreams of unchanging bliss
are humanity's liturgy.
the only steadfast thing in
this oxymoronic world is
dissatisfaction.
we are foundering in it,
wishing to drown already.
the romantics looked
to love,
now we look
to apathy;
but this prison
has no escape,
except death.
so we fell in
love
with the grim,
when fantasy
failed us.
now we sit here,
entranced with the mud but
dreaming of beaches.
meaningless,
meaningless,
meaningless.
we are the living dead.
My heart yearns for what once was
   my mind fighting to hold the line in a quiet battle
  
Time, relentlessly persistent in its attempts to erase
   dragging my life forward into fading memory

Moments attenuating, absorbed by the past
   distorted in all but the essential
  
But their essence is distilled in my soul
   dormant in an archived strength and purity

Occasional mindbursts of beauty are released
   refusing to be contained or denied

A certain scent in the air, a certain quality of light
   a lyric of song, a touch of breeze...all catalysts

Spontaneously transported into a joyful state
   I'm consumed by a déjà vu of carefree ambiance

Bejeweled compartments spill their contents
   washing over my mind in a composite nostalgia

Familiar waves of concentrated being saturate
   my existence for a compelling glimpse of the idyllic

In those fleeting reveries of peaceful contentedness
   I feel completely at home within myself
9-1-1, What is your emergency?
I seemed to have lost my sense of urgency
I froze
Which is funny, because undoubtedly
You used to be the one cold as ice
I sat there
My body solidified above the concrete
But my faults began spilling out from my very being
Becoming a temporary repair for the fault lines along the road
9-1-1, What is your emergency?
The operator mimicked her opening line
With remarkable consistency
But my ears are not the problem here
I've always been a good listener
You told me that every now and then
And although I interpreted her question rationally
It was your final farewell that still had me perplexed
My breathe walked with you as you departed
Mostly due to your uncanny way with words
You used your utterances as building blocks
Crafting such a painful path with your magnificent mouth
Your condolences were candy-coated consolation prizes
Awarding my sincerity halfheartedly
And this heartbreak is my podium now
So while I lean on it willingly
Raising fate above my head as my only trophy
Know that I'm struggling with my acceptance speech
I've always had trouble wording my verbage
And expressing my sensations efficiently
So bear with me while I materialize this message

9-1-1, What is your emergency?*
Dispatch sounds distressed at this point
And I'm desperate for a proper resolution
So I try to recollect my mental resources
And muster up the ability to announce my anecdote properly
In order to explain my crisis precisely
And what comes next is nothing
My thoughts hovered around my mouth
But lacked any sort of volume
Thus remaining a mystery to the operator
And typically I turned to you in these situations
When my words became my worst nightmares
You see, you always knew what to say
You always responded with world class precision
And I need an expert's advice every now and then
But since you fled the scene
Fearing the certainty of an imaginary apology
I struggled with summing up my situation
I've been attacked, please help me
Finally I mustered up the energy to form
Sounds similar enough to that phrase
Close enough so this woman could send me
Someone with the proper credentials and
Experience for such misconstrued circumstances
The detectives arrived and investigated the scene
Doing their due diligence while I laid motionless on the pavement
They looked for clues
Studied for anything that could lead them to you
But I guess my words weren't grounded in truth
And although I knew only one suspect remained at-large
They carried on with no substantial leads or possible breakthroughs
The only arrest that occurred
Was the false imprisonment of my heart in yours
There was no bail set and parole will likely be denied
What a deadly criminal at large
This is a repost from an earlier poem I had written... I did some editing and came up with this. Let me know what you think!
One way flights into the sky & let fate control the destination of my destiny.

Sail the supple curves of the oceans waves and may the rocking motion rock me into an everlasting fantasy.

Read about Baldwin's palpable endeavors, cover to cover and marvel at Sylvia Plath's anthologies that run shivers up and down my basketball-court of a spine.                                              

Let Shakespeare educate me on love, heartbreak, tragedy and the reality of all stoicism and cynicism bestowed upon my naiveness.    

Truth is, I don't know where I'm going, but whether it be the sky, the sea or within ink-stained papers, let them guide me to a place of genuine sincerity.
The coquettish full moon, on a cloudless clear sky,
apple of the eyes of lovers from far and wide,
impishly wicked you are, in that avatar enticing
your eyes seek only the one for whom your heart beats for.
At times you are an anorexic crescent wearing a misty veil,
flirting with fluffy clouds, you make each one go  crazy
Curiously I behold the village belle simple, peeping out-
of the window of her cottage, waiting for the lover,
who comes at odd hours with palpitating heart
My love, you are one of a kind, displaying myriad faces
an enchanting presence, I crave, each moment, in whatever form
how could I ever prescribe the way your love to reach me
your love is my never setting moon,
                                      whichever way you choose to express.
I messed everything up again.
I should have kept silent instead;
Should have never spoken my mind.
Never again will my trust be so blind.
Honestly thinking I could tell you anything-
The mistake of my own hopeful dreaming.

I messed everything up again.
I should have kept silent instead;
Now I am left here feeling dead,
And the gray clouds form overhead.
Please tell me that it's okay; it's going to be okay
Tell me we will talk tomorrow and again every day.

I messed everything up again.
I should have kept silent instead.
I am so sorry for anything I've done wrong
Let's forgive, forget, and move along
Look around, look around and you will see the wreckage
Which will remain til I receive your beckoning message

I know I messed everything up again.
I regret not staying silent instead.
But what you want is not what you need
You'll break down tonight and begin to bleed
Cigarette butts lay wasted on the ground,
Burnt up,
Like an old man coming home at the end of the day with a frown,

His retirement funds aren't really up to scratch,
So he has to keep working,
Working to feed the alcoholic addiction that eases the pain in his back,

The yard work is well overdue,
For his brittle home,
Through a white paint chipped windowsill view,
Like a graveyard tombstone,  

He vaguely remembers the days under the summer time sun,
But enjoyed the colder winters,
Watching snow fall,
Exhaling smoke from his lungs,
Climbing the fence getting wood chipped splinters,

He's in the shopping centre looking for the simple milk, baked beans and bread,
Everyone's moving past him at such fast pace, with shoulders bumping into him
And no one turns a head,
To say sorry or to explain why the fast race,

He walks along a path in his home town,
Picking up things from his past,
His memory is in pieces like broken bottles that lay wasted on the ground,
Treading over broken glass,

I don't know where to end this poem,
I guess you can say he spent the rest of his days on his porch watching the cars go past,
Smoking cheap cigars,
And taking sips of scotch from his father’s silver embroidered flask.
Caring burden returning
coming performance journey
morning lurking hurting
forming burden concerning

treasure lesser forever
severed december weather
shiver sweater savior
winter cover endeavor

constant distance persistent
system permission twisted
instant instinct listen
coldest living existence

This style is... 2-2-3, 2-3-2, 2-2-2, 2-2-3(syllables) Each line must be three words. This form seems to make for a good flow.
Next page