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TSK  Apr 2015
No Strings Attached
TSK Apr 2015
No strings attatched
They loudly proclaim
As I feel a subtle tug.
This way, that way,
Upwards, down:
A guiding force
So small, so menacing.

No strings attached
They tenderly whisper
So close to my ear.
Do this, play that,
Lie here, forget:
My tiny concious
Easily crushed, easily displaced.

No strings attached
They persistently hiss
As I back away.
But why, what if,
How come, explain:
Life is a stage
So who is the puppeteer?
Sudipta Maity Feb 2019
If I say you girl
you are inside
my neuron world.
Would you belive?
Or if I send you a mail
MRI scan report attatched.
Will you read?
Belive me or not.
The sparking in
my Vegas nerve are not lying.
An afgan ****.
***** to ***
Whiskey to Wine
I had tried everything-
the doctor pescribed.
But,  it's my nercotic nerve
stop receiving all signals
It polarised at my SA and AV node
by your high sugar smile.
Lore  Mar 2014
Untitled
Lore Mar 2014
No strings attatched? He asked
I laughed at that

As I watched my skin break into threads
Intertwined and braided all the way to your place in my head

Visualizing these strings leaving my body and landing around your throat
While I agree in the hopes of you saying just kidding to the words you just wrote

You see I am made of strings
And other types of attatchments that lead to things

Like getting hurt when a boy asks to be no strings attached
When it was coincidentally to him that I was latched

Not to mention, this boy in question never prior showed these intentions

A flirty smile here or there to me meant he might want to date
The Hopeless romantic in me says he might be fate
When in reality he was waiting until it got late to ask me to hook up like an animal looking for a mate

Prince Charming with no charm
All you did was cause me harm

So when you ask a girl to be friends with benefits
And in her heart she has made you a resident,
Use some of the tact that this boy lacked
Knowing that once you're involved
There is no going back
Romance
SøułSurvivør Mar 2014
Summer 1986 Sunday 5:30AM

Misty morning in Malibu.
Seagulls stitch the sea to a subtle
silver sky. They sputter stridently.
Each elegant gull hovers effortlessly.
Entreating each other. Echos bounce
off the sound of the surf into eternity. The screeching of many a
soliloquy akin to silence.

I sit on the pier. The water before
me washes onto the staccato legs
of tiny waterbirds who wander
in and out of the surf. Little
windblown ***** of ecru and grey
wool. I worship in the womb of
the great goddess ~ nature. I wasn't to know the Creator was watching patiently...

6:30AM
I make my unhurried way up the
pier to my car. A cheap but
comfortable convertable. Nobody
walks in LA. I punch in a tape.
Don Henley. Boys of Summer.

I take PCH up to the incline that
takes you from the beach. Pushing
the pedal slightly as I slide by the
colossal bleached cliffs of
Palacades Park. There the homeless
sleep under the benches dedicated
by friends and family in
rememberance of loved ones.
Small plaques attatched for
posterity.

My hands are on the steering wheel
at 7 and 12 o'clock.I look at the cast
I wear on my right wrist. A token
of rememberance from an angry romance. He and I parted
respectively, if not at all
respectfully. I drive.

7:00AM
Venice beach. Not yet boysterous.
But never boring. The young people
(and old) still bundled together in bed. Saturday night hangovers will
be had by most of the denizens of
Venice beach boardwalk. A grainy
eyed few wander around abstractidly. Shopowners enter
their buildings, their storefronts
almost as small as booths. Graphitti
and giant works of art grace walls
everywhere ~ Jim Morrison and
Venus in workout leggings much
in evidence.

I smoke my cigarette and drink my
hot coffee carefully in the open cafe'.
I consider the eyefest of the crowd
that will congregate here to enjoy
the clement weather.
The cacophony and the clamor.
Touristas and Los Angelinos alike
drawn In by calculating vendors
and coyote souled street performers.
I look forward to seeing the
non conformity usually. But not
today. For now I sit in the quiet cafe'.

Venice beach. Vulpine. Vacuous.
A strangely vunerable venue. The
***** and the beautiful. The talented and the ******.

A street performance pianist trundles his acoustic piano on
casters out onto the boardwalk.
I ask him if I may play. He looks
at my cast doubtfully.
"I can still play..." I tell him.
He ascents and listens thoughtfully
as I play my compositions. He really
likes them. I ****** the ebony and
the ivory with insistant fingers.
The smile on his face is irrepressable. I smile back and we
flirt in self conceous, fitful fashion.
Time to leave.

9:00AM
Radio is on in my car now. A cut
from the musical Chess. One night
in Bangkok makes the hard man
humble...
I like the driving beat.
I'm going up I-10, a single blood cell
in the main artery that brings life
to the flesh of this mamouth town.
Traffic is tenuous. A boon here in
this conjested city.

I drive to Fairfax and Sunset, where
I lived with in a tiny one-bedroom
apartment with my mom. An
ambitious actress. I an ambivalent
artist.

Sunset. The Roxy and Whiskey-a-
Go-Go. Cartoon characters Rocky
and Bullwinkle casually cavort on
the top of a building. Billboards
as tall as the Hollywood sign. The
street of broken hearts for many
an actress -slash-model. They
wander about on street corners
looking haughty and haunted.
Waiting for who knows who to
honk. Their dreams have flown
away like the exhailation of smoke
from the mechanical lungs of the
Marlboro Man. Schwab's drugstore
and diner. The place where some
famous starlet was discovered.
Delivered into the arms of the
Hollywood machine. I opt to go
to the Sunset Grill.

11:00AM
I'm walking down Hollywood Blvd.
Perusing shops and persuing
pedestrian pleasures. Everyone
talks of the star-studded sidewalks.
To me they look tarnished and
filthy. Stars from a sultry smog
laden sky come to earth. The names
of some of the folks honored on
them I don't recognise.

I'm here to view movies today.
I'm definitely not going to
Grauman's Chinese Theater.
Been there. Done that. Gave the
very expensive T shirt to
Goodwill. I look around at the
proud and the plebian. The pedantic
and the pathetic. No prostitutes
out yet that I could see. Probably
toppled into bed to sleep
(for once). Deposed kings
and queens of the monarchy of the
night. The homeless hobble along
with their hair matted and askew.
Shopping carts with stuttering
wheels de reguer.

A couple of tourists with Izod shirts,
plaid shorts to the knee and deck
shoes sans socks gaze in a shop
window. It's borded by tarnished
and faded silver garlands... tinsel
Christmas tree.
"Want to buy a mood ring today?"
One of them querys his buddy,
laughingly.

I find my small theater and enter
the air conditioned lobby. I purchase
a soda and pass on the popcorn.
As I enter the theater's modestly
plush, dimly lit cocoon sanctuary
I notice very few patrons are here
for the matinee. GOOD. I finally
watch the premiere product of
Los Angeles. Movie after movie
slides across the screen. The callus
morally corrosive corporations
conspire with the creative to produce
the culmination of many art forms
in one. Cinema.

LA. Languid. Luxurious. Legendary.
Rollicking, raunchy rodeo.
Seaside city. Sophisticated. Spurious.

SPECTACULAR.

8:00PM
I wend my way up Mulholland Dr.
Another tape is playing in the deck.
One of my favorites. David + David.
Welcome to the Boomtown.

I pull over at a deserted vista. From
this viewpoint I can see the city
spread out like a blanketfof brilliance. The gridiron of LA.
Glitzy and glamorous. Generating
little gods and goddesses. A gigantic
gamble for the disingenuous and
gouache. Tinsel town. Titillating.
Tempestuous. Only the very brave
bring their dreams here... or fools
rush in where angels fear to tread.
All but the fallen angels. They thrive.

Oh! If this place could be bottled it
would be such sweet poison. I
look up at the auburn sky and back
down at the breathtaking panorama
The metropolis that is LA with awe
and angst. I carefully stub out my
cigarette and flip it irreverantly
toward the lagoon of lights.

I get in my car to drive home.
Home?
Could this imposing, inspiring,
impossible place be called home?

Well. Home is where the heart is.
And I live in the heart of a dream.
This is the city of dreams...

CITY OF ANGELS.

Soul Survivor
Catherine E Jarvis
(C) 2005
You can rest your eyes now...

I only have enough funds to
produce one spoken word
set to music... should I
do this one?
Anndersen Fremin Apr 2013
It is
a claw
attatched to a string
tied to my foot
and when I try to move away from it
it scratches me all the more.

It is
a pool
of clear water
with black rocks on the bottom
the more I try to swim up
the closer I get to drowning.

It is
a hurt bird
and when you try to help it
it breaks its other wing
leaving you the criminal.
Dam I need a blunt,
can't put up with this ****,
I'm fealin a new person
My heart just feals like cursin...

I've bin hear,
in this new home,
sober a new rome,
If i had my shear ****
you'd sure  would hear a cheer song.
I'd feal you out so happy,
have my words churned out to sappy?.
I'm way out,
    I'm not burned,
I get it I sure learned
far out mars rover,
spot me out like your'e lucky clover,
out in a big croud
I'm rare like a drout  cloud,
like I said,
I miss my bed,
eatin all day,
    freakin all may,
Give it a doobie a precious ****** ruby
Not lit Not fit
can-I-Just-quit?.

How bout a bubble and a bowl,?
no trouble nore parol,
you know i'm slick won't get in no ****,
just help a ***** out and ******* a hit.
  I love my jane we plan to mary
when she's gone my world gets scary..
So be it if i'm sketchy,
I'm posted monalisa ,
see me on the wall,
touch me and I'll fall,
  trust I see it all,
you walk right out the door and leave me on this floor,
I've seen it as it's low thats why I tend to flow,
Best of what I know is what minds like to show..
don't come back that lock is latched,
   holdin steady bit attatched,
I need a hook to hold me steady.
some one strong that will be ready,
TR Saucier Nov 2012
Long tunnel
Cord attatched
Assissted out
First light
Slime covered
First breath
I am born

Day after day
Hour by hour
Year after year
New things become routine
Day by day
Trying new things
Learning
Loving
Leaving
Learning
Hours become days
Days turn to weeks
Weeks combine into months
Months into years
I am living

One second
Years feel shorter
Last breath
Dry to the touch
Last sights
Last everything
Cord attatched
Six foot hole
I have died
Isabelle Perla Mar 2015
I think we get attatched
and we need something to coax us off of love
We go from heartbreak to happiness
Only because without it, our hearts would give up
Our minds wouldn't think straight
Our mouths couldn't utter words
We are not living unless we are constantly fearing the loss of another.
Amanda Kay Burke Jul 2018
Lay beside me, wasting my time,
You've done this the last four years,
Showing a sliver of the lovely creature you were,
You have become the epitome of my greatest fears.

What I'm saying is you are only half-there,
Your partial absence drives me insane,
My tender heart too attatched to you,
You make a mess of my brain.

You only think about yourself,
Lacking the strength to look beyond your veil of smoke,
A planet of people exists who are scared to lose you,
Their fear does not bother you, so concern you provoke.

When you are feeling like nobody cares,
Having a bad day, bad week,
When you do not want to take another breath,
Remember life is valuable, though for now you are weak.

Tell me there isn't a point anymore,
Just don't know how to make you see,
You are loved, should be aware of your beauty,
I feel your hesitation, insecurity.

I sense that I am no longer helping growth,
Maybe we need a reality check,
This is not a proper way to live,
Transforming into an emotional wreck.

I think about you, I come unglued,
Still remember who you used to be,
How your skin tasted before the holes,
When your laughter was more than a remote memory.

Outside our cell a world is waiting,
Reality becoming distressingly clear,
Someone who is unwilling will not change,
I know this yet an invisible chain holds me here.

Dangerous game we play for two,
Do you miss leading me astray with lies?
I followed you everywhere, wish I had known,
Your sight was as blind as my blindfolded eyes.

Profound power possessed in your palm,
You hold my puppet strings,
Anchored by dreams and twisted promises,
Delicately, my strength swings.

Ambitions hardly holding on,
Changing into a shape you choose,
Break me into your "perfect" girl,
You ran my well dry til there was nothing left to use.

Is it me you desire, or what I have to give?
Do you love my body or soul?
The only reason you have tolerated my mind so long,
Is because I made it easy for you control.
I feel so stupid now for trusting you.
It was never meant to be serious.

It’s funny how easy that is to say

Before you begin.

"No strings attached" is easy to agree upon

Until you’re hanging from a cliff

And they’re safely above with yards and yards of rope

That they would use to save you

If you weren’t

You.

And you have to say, as your palms begin to

Sweat on the edge and you lose grip on the crumbling rocks

That he seems happy.

You have to remind yourself as you grasp desperately

For a hand that doesn’t exist

That this is what you agreed to.

outcast  Oct 2013
Let it Go
outcast Oct 2013
I know it hurts them
I can tell that in their eyes
there is no hope
and they move on
because their tired of trying:
It hurts me too.

I am selfish
But I feel for you
in a world such as ours we need to be
in this world you are alone
and you’ll leave it the same way

I do not live in riches but get everything I want,
yet I find myself so unhappy.
They say money cant buy you happiness
Yet talk of the lottery is constant.
I have had a life full of vacant hearts,
selflessness,
deceit
a house that never felt like a home.

Something all the material goods in the world
cannot take back.
Showered with gifts to cover up this dingy past
but it will forever shadow
because I have never stepped on grass as green
as those who are willing to let go.  

I fear being vulnerable
emotionally attatched or loved.
I long for it as any human
with a beating heart shall
but it is far from here.
You never know what happens
behind these closed doors.
Something I wont let go
Anton Zimmer  Jan 2011
Airport
Anton Zimmer Jan 2011
I'm sitting alone, surrounded by people
An un-still congregation, away from their steeple
They pass by me, often without a glance
And when they do, i've missed my chance
Every person here has a story to tell
Their own thoughts on heaven and hell
More than just that, they've lived whole lives
I wonder for what each individual strives
There's a woman in a fluorescent orange cap
A curious thing with ears attatched
She walks into the Hudson news
And all I can hear are the sounds of their shoes
As they still walk on, not noticing me
The man who sits and writes what he sees
I wonder if that's all i'll ever be
And if any of my words mean anything

— The End —