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Hank Van Well Jr Oct 2014
Alone as I walk, these hallowed hallways, wondering who before me has taken this same pathway to wherever , my footfalls muffled within the echoes , like the baron insides of a fallen oak , or the dripping of a wooden faucet , bip , bip, bip , amidst the breeze of these fallen echoes , like rustling leaves in an autumn gust , making a unique sound of chatter , if you start to hone your ears  you can actually hear the conversations, words uttered within these confines , that have never left , secrets cradled in time , moments lived , loves lost , heart to hearts , and confidant professions , no faces , just words , I often wonder when I catch a snippet of a dialogue past, to whom it may have belonged , and how it may have ended ,or to what it may have conjured, and as I find myself nearing the end of this hallway , I wonder just how many conversations have  amassed between these walls  , how many words continue to rebound  within this portion of time , and how many others have listened , to the echoes .....To the echoes in the hall .....
Ocean Blue  Jul 2014
Far away
Ocean Blue Jul 2014
She lives so far away
At the other end of my world
That far she would not say
So far that it hurts my soul
When she is about to fall asleep
Here, my clock says bip bip
She greets me with a Good morning sunshine
That instantly makes me feel fine
But when it is her turn for a few hours to disappear
Into sadness I am about to fall near.
N E Waters  May 2013
Goodnight
N E Waters May 2013
Sweetbitter kiss caressed
lips. esophagus. stomach. chest.

inaccessible 'till death.
untouchable--so close to the chest.

unable to put out fires, burns
will have to rest
where they lie smoldering, watching
eyes walk bye.

I close my I.

Carry me, now--not home
not to neverland
not over the rainbow

Just carry me softly in sweet-smelling acidic things.
--a little corrosion does a girl a world of good--
sing me songs, wolf-in-sheeps-clothes, that my mother used to

and bring me gifts on angel-dusted wings,
nothingness never before made greater feeling.

Our lives themselves strived for meaning while we strived for the reason for being
the way the great cold faceless hands created
our unyielding . . . softness
separate from and not unlike a feather
equal both in whimsical light, lack of value, disease and helplessness
great beauty, plainness, and utter insignificance

Us little things are great only to those with great imagination--
light in the clouds,
break in your fever
blip on your radar
the fast one before the flatline always seems so much shorter than it should. Shorter than they said it would.

I relax
sweet relief
sweet goodnight

we'll wake up and try this one more time.
we won't get it right-- you can't
get it right

give me this bip, this sleep, this chance.

*******, we'll still try--
to get it right sometime.
Caroline Grace Mar 2010
It comes after heavy rains.
Naked amphibious marauder
crouched beneath dampened stars
bip-bipping its personal intercom;
soporific in sleep-weary bleary-eyed dreams.

I imagine a Cop on his elbows
zig-zagging, belly-flat
under cover of darkness;
he not naked; peaked cap askew,
shoulder pips glinting in half moon;
he too,  predator on a mission -
Echo - Charlie - Zebra.

The freezer kicks in
out-droning night sounds.
Light eases between blinds.
I slurp chocolate dregs from a crazed mug.
Over and out.
copyright © Caroline Grace 2010
Mystic Ink Plus Oct 2020
And
When asked
What was the harsh thing you ever said?

For that
Bip
Bip
Bip
He/She replied
Genre: Humor
Theme: Did you listen?
Note: Then you may have understood.
Mike Hauser Nov 2013
They continually tell me about my life
My Mother, my family, my friends
It's not like I want their advice
Again and again and again

I have someone special I always turn to
Whenever it is I'm feeling down
A professional that lays out the hard truth
The best in advice to be found

No fancy titles or degrees on the walls
Simply known to many as Bob
Keeps the drinks and advice always flowing
Say's he's just a bartender doing his job

Having trouble with your latest lover?
Keep getting guff from the boss?
Bob's always there to give you a listen
Keep the drinks coming...the only cost

The more drink get I advoice better
From Bip, Bop, ****, why can't I remember his name?!
As the regular old women start looking like exotic dancers
That's when I ask what's his name for some change

With eagerness I start filling the juke box
Asking all the old hags if they'd like to dance
It's too late but tomorrow a slight memory
Will ask what was up with all that

I even drunk texted my girlfriend
Pictures of incriminating positions
And a 4am call to the boss
Telling him where to cram his restaurants ***** dishes

I certainly made a mess of my life
And have no idea where I left the car
In desperate need of advice
I head back down to the bar...
Side note...I've been sober for 23 years this month. Yay! Giving up drinking was one of the best thing I've ever done!
Just a funny (perhaps not so funny) little poem showing the troubles alcohol can bring...
My Advice?
If you drink ...stop
If you don't...don't start
Thank you and have a nice day...
Jayanta Apr 2014
When I started to learn Murisha1
You are in the step of Mattla2
You tell me that,
“Take up Makkaut3 and
Go for Bip'ba4” otherwise
“Their Jab'ba- gibir5Job'basha6  will come and
take you to their Job'ba7!”
I replied, “If I engage in Makkaut,
The jingle will mislay!”
You just giggle and
Said “Beersalang8” !
Now after the squall
Everything is vivid and emerald
The melody of Murisha
Strike on Borail
and thinning out to the entire Raji9!
The wave of music sometime drive away your Ri’kro10
And your chortle flows through Diyung to the valley! ■■■
N.B. Here some ‘Dimasa’ words are used. Dimasa is a hill tribe inhabited in the Dimahasau district of Assam in North-Eastern region of India. People’s long struggle for protection of indigenous identity and deprivation of common people from appropriate development some time creates unsteadiness in the area. But common peace loving people believe in brotherhood, love and pursuer of god in nature. Borail hill range- an extended part of Purbachal Himalaya and river Diyung are considered as the natural signifier of Dimasa cultural practices.      
Meaning of the specific word:
1. Small bamboo flute (a traditional musical instruments of Dimasa) ; 2. Young Girl; 3. A small instrument made of bamboo; 4. Hiding in forest; 5. Mad after war; 6. Warrior; 7. War; 8. Foolish; 9. Village; 10. Small
Zizaloom  Aug 2018
Zip-lock
Zizaloom Aug 2018
Oh. Why.
Simply, solely why
Why why why why why
Why why why why why
A brain filled with big, bushy questions
All summarized by why
Why this, why that
Why me
Why me
Why me
I am aware, fully, completely aware, it is not just precisely me, specifically
Yet all my concerns, are me, mine
Oh yes, selfishness
Arrogance, little piece of high-nosed nonsense
You talked and talked
About what you believed in
What you thought of
Ideals, theories
Ha-ha-ha, they laughed
As if they were somehow understanding
Receiving the message
Bip-bip
Brain in a mush of stupidness
Of ignorance
But you're worse
You are so sensible to little useless, easily-perceived reflexes
Realizing that their blank eyeballs were staring at you
Billiard *****
Motionless, waiting solemnly for their turn to shine and roll
On their gossips
And you joined their stupid cascade
Of mascarade
Because you cannot, not listen
And hide information, in the pockets of your ear
Because you were made to shut that ******* mouth of yours
Because all you said was a mess
Of words
All you were ever destined to be was chaos
You were always meant to be disastrous
And you shook the wrong things
The wrong people
The ones with enormous plastic globes just underneath their foreheads
Boundless mouths, that stretched words till the capability of visibility
And cosmic nostrils that sniffed your brains out, till all you were left was a black hole drifting into their credibility
Edna Floretta Nov 2017
Friday night and what to do
he can have any girl to *****
but his feet long for something new
beyond the old bip bam boo
brianprince  Feb 2017
sans
brianprince Feb 2017
never realized how much
music i made until
she was gone.

the snare on the
table.

the cling on the
railing.

against my phone
nervous twitch.
clicking the clip

on

black pen.
the drop in
left pocket.

snare. snap.
boom. bip.
shuffle. tap.
slip of lips.

synchronizing a
new chorus.

now

the hits are hollow.
the verse empty.
sans ring.

thump.
Previously published at **** Poet / Issue 7 — July 15, 2009
Duncan Brown Sep 2018
Ohwhatawasteofallthatdevilishmedicine
Andtherockerbootsarereallyquiteattractive
Saintsirmiickael and his coolcohorts
Shooking his lefter leggers in snorts
Bebopping aloopbop boppity bip bop
At this gal renamed crazylittlefender
A shadyladily upon the fadinglybeauty
Ryefillwryfilled arriveangetfooled
Crinklecrinkle comeangetyereyesfilled
Concretesnice but glueissomuchbetter
Rivetingstuff if you’re reallydesparate
Toplayerin a rockering and rolleringband
Flasheringjackerings on the higherways
Averygoodplace for loseringyourselfer
Asthewheelsonthebus go runarounding
Heavencanwait an hellhaslostitspatients
Electricsoup and banderaiderdependence
Twiceaweekontv and thriceinthemirror
Hereslookingatyou reallylookimngatme
Itsallright IthinkIbought abrandnewticket
Therollerskatesdontfitmeanywhereanyway
Butwhathav­eyoudonetoyoursingeringsong?
Raymond May 2019
'RRriiinngggg'


My telephone interrupts my concentration as I write the stories on my blog. I ignore the sound.


'RRriiinngggg!'


I'm in a groove now, my mind's engaged and focused on the deepest, darkest of fantasies.


'RRRIIINNNGGGG!'


*******! I look at the Caller I.D. and notice it's a local Area Code. I'd better answer the call.


"Hello?"


"Congratulations!"


Definitely an American accent.


"You pre-qualify for an all-expense paid cruise

on one of our premium luxury liners!"


I wait patiently for the pre-recorded greeting to end.


"Please press one now to speak to one of our live associates."


Bip


"Hello, thank you for accepting our exclusive offer!"


The accent doesn't sound local at all.

A young woman begins to read from a script.

She describes all of the wonderful free amenities

which come to those who accept the offer.


I wait patiently while she describes the free meals, room and board and

beverages aboard ship and in any of their affiliated Five Star Hotels

while in port at any one of several beautiful locations.


"How many persons are in your party?"


"Oh, I travel alone."


"No worries," she says cheerfully, and continues for a few

more minutes describing all of the exciting and free

activities I'll experience by accepting this limited-time-only offer.


"So tell me, what is it you think you may enjoy most about this exciting opportunity?"


"Oh," I begin, touching on some of the activities she'd mentioned earlier,

"I like to sunbathe on the clean, sunny beaches,

scuba dive in the crystal clear waters,

swim with the dolphins...

but mostly I like going to the bars at the 5 Star Hotels,

drinking and dancing with the pretty women."


Giggles an irresistible little giggle,

then continues, "Oh, there's lots and lots

of beautiful single women at our destinations."


"Yes, I'm sure there are," as I continue,

"I like to take them out to a secluded spot

on the beautiful scenic beach, and as the sun sets,

I enjoy tying them up to a coconut tree and ******* their brains out."


Silence


"Hello, are you still there?"


Click

*Dial Tone

— The End —