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Graff1980  Nov 2016
Untitled
Graff1980 Nov 2016
I quit
Cause you are not worth
The sea of salted tears
That spill
Assaulting me
You are not worth
The red elixir
That feeds
Your distorted
Vampire needs

I retire
Before my will expires
Because I am tired
Of seeing spires
Of factories
Smoking pollutants
Choking all humans

I am through
With claiming
That the truth
Will set us free
When all I see
Is a bubonic plague
Festering and growing
Tumorous cities
Of infinite stupidity

I am finished
There is not enough spinach
To Popeye my way out
So I exit stage
Flesh and rage
Pull back those skin pages
That life was written on
Letting strangers carryon
As the carrions come
To devour me

Cause I am ******* done
I wrote this in August, cause I saw this coming. Now I am rather apathetic.
LanceSkiies  Aug 2018
CarryOn
LanceSkiies Aug 2018
Carry on, carry on
You, carry on, don't stop
Carry on, carry on,
No breaks, carry on, carry on
Life is restless, death, still
Will yourself, move forward  
Carry on, carry on
Until your final breath
Carry on.

LanceSkiies
Butch Decatoria Jun 2019
There’s a sort of hectic language
Life’s inner city airs
The indigent grime, swearing
They do declare
As heated as Vegas summers
All ‘round the block
On the Chinatown Strip
Spring mountain valley view
The homeless congregations
Rolling their luggage
Like albatross droppings
Migratory fixtures
**** white on black walls
Black in white veins
Rolling luggage
Keeping precious metals
Coin collecting, jewelry
The bling and fake gold rings
Anything a ***** can trade
For foil wrappings
Thick with high grade
Napping in the inferno
Silver state of epidemic
Many rolling “carryon luggage”
Goes without saying
That sort of summertime language
Inner city airs
That begs
Help. To differ.
They do
Declare

It should mean war…
But, come again
welcome to our fabulous city!
Sin ain’t fair.
Love is lost here.
And still in herds, in droves
Conventions packed disinventing us
Folk.
(Frivolous chatter)
Steph Dionisio Nov 2014
I don't know exactly who you are,
or what is the reason behind your scar.
You're not a person whom others think is a saint,
but I can see that something in you is quaint.

The way your eyes look are strange,
it can make some people's mood change.
You see yourself as a distressing person,
but you don't mind and still carryon.

You hide your wounds by pretending you're fool.
Sometimes you think your "**** side" is cool.
I can see that you are hardening your heart,
from Someone who can give you a beautiful art.

Behind every negative things about you,
and the things you are going through,
is a person who's needing an attention,
someone you can share your deepest emotion.

I hope people see, what I see in you,
by the way you look you've given me a clue.
There is always something good in someone,
even when his good deeds are unseen and undone.

My heart is hoping for the best thing to happen,
that someday you will surrender your burdens,
because even when people think you're *******,
I still believe something's beautiful in you.

*-Steph Dionisio, November 11, 2014
Am scary because of scratches
Scratches I got when I dived for her
Her hands were so loose to hold me
Me being the culprit and vulnerable
Vulnerable enough to carryon

I keep seeing and searching
Searching in and out for the best catch
A catch to last with soberly
Sober enough to let go of the past
The past long gone with failure
Failure that takes away happiness
Happiness that I seek in Love
Love that has no house or place
A place I trace and have never found
Found when a heart gets a belonging
A belonging that washes off sorrow
Sorrow that is indiscriminate
Indiscriminate in ideas or acts
Acts that portray little or much
Much of the inside than the out
Out of admiration to desire
Desire so everlasting
Everlasting with memories of love.
Ara Aug 2016
What if my eyes gave a shutter
Like the stars at night
When you looked into my eyes to utter
The words that for once would get me through the night

For once someone had looked
Into this same sky
And only saw the time that would
Repeat itself and still move on
Only believing that our lives meant we could hold time as a carryon

And here I am staring,
Breaking my neck, but worth the fate
To see these stars shutter
And know that time would pass
And at that time those words i need
You would utter
NO WARNING- I SHALL SPAM WITH POETRY

If my only hope was you
I wouldnt mind being in a mental ward
So i would have an excuse to create you
Seán Mac Falls May 2014
Death silences birds  .  .  .
In the plain, carryon fields,
  .  .  .  Crows flying in low.
It was a challenge in thick and forested thoughts
I couldn’t see what lay ahead of me
The fog of bitter memories had blind folded my sight
To see the glory of tomorrow in the bright stars high
In my life you stand as a rainbow
The last green leaf that gave life to a drying tree
A calyptus of hope in my thirsty times
I eat not of your fresh but have strength to carryon
So am believed to be a survivor of your trapping looks
A glowing worm of inspiration.
It was a challenge in thick and forested thoughts
I couldn’t see what lay ahead of me
The fog of bitter memories had blind folded my sight
To see the glory of tomorrow in the bright stars high
In my life you stand as a rainbow
The last green leaf that gave life to a drying tree
A calyptus of hope in my thirsty times
I eat not of your fresh but have strength to carryon
So am believed to be a survivor of your trapping looks
A glowing worm of inspiration.
It was a challenge in thick and forested thoughts
I couldn’t see what lay ahead of me
The fog of bitter memories had blind folded my sight
To see the glory of tomorrow in the bright stars high
In my life you stand as a rainbow
The last green leaf that gave life to a drying tree
A calyptus of hope in my thirsty times
I eat not of your fresh but have strength to carryon
So am believed to be a survivor of your trapping looks
A glowing worm of inspiration.
Maria  Jul 2
3 Suitcases
Maria Jul 2
My good friend taught me that all you need is three suitcases.
A life can fit into three: two checked bags and a carryon.

What if I packed up all my possessions:
1.
My clothes.
My apprehension, doubts and fears tucked tightly away in packing cubes.
2.
My electronics.
My independence, self reliance and self love radiating brightly.
3.
My books.
My excitement, joy and optimism for a new chapter.

What if I did not renew my lease in September?
Whose approval am I waiting for?
Who do I think I will disappoint?

It does not have to be permanent.
It could be just a year.
And then it could change again.
Is that not the beauty of life?
Your life grows around the decisions you make.

You are never stuck.
You can decide.
Again.
Again.
Again.
I was just inspired to be intentional about where I’m living in my 20s. A few intentional plays on words with what I would realistically need to pack and how I would also need to implicitly (here explicitly) pack my emotions about it all to have the courage to get on the flight.
Allen Robinson  Jun 2016
SUITCASE
Allen Robinson Jun 2016
I come with baggage
not a trunk, but some carryon's
a few
My past is my past
yielding to time with some regrets
Never pretending to be perfect
however my code is pure
Love me and respect me for who I am
and I will reciprocate that value in return
Have my back in time of need
and I will always have yours without doubt
I can surely carry my own SUITCASE
and willing to carry yours
Always stronger together than apart
a travelling partner for life.

— The End —