Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
softcomponent  Nov 2013
farroah
softcomponent Nov 2013
the slam poets demise before
a foot-state forensic statue of in-
vest-in-grey-tongues cutes me in
to 5 different  animal high-rises

(like he meant it)
Grinning wide by the riverside
two bubbly girls click shots
between them whisper confide
share the secret thoughts!

The giggly cutes they walk like dance
caught in a sunlit pause
not mind the boys stealing glance
seems not worth a cause!

Their cells follow where they go
the lens beamed right on face
one more please and then one more
frames add up happiness!

I was watching the sun go down
pretty much in a fix
light was getting dullish brown
would turn darkish by six!

The urge was great surged the will
it grabbed the whole of mind
to have a photo me standing still
with the river flowing behind!

The butterfly girls in the sun's last kiss
they readily said o yes
each of them took a shot apiece
my joy you can easily guess!
The Strand, Raipur, July 18 2018 5.45pm
I'm an artist.

I feel everything. Nothing is too small or too big in my world. I'm an artist. I write and create, I dream and fantasize, there is music in my dreams. There's color everywhere. I'm an artist, I feel more than I see. There's magic where I'm from.

I sing with the birds every morning. I hum the softest notes. I'm an artist. Life is a musical to me. There's music everywhere. I'm an artist. I live for life, and I live for moments. I live for meet cutes and roses. I live for glitter and purses. I live for shoes and jackets. I live for power and strength. I live for music, poetry, and films. I live for heartbeats and strings. I live for the plot.

I'm an artist, I strut about like a lioness. There's no fear in my veins, only chords. In thee end, behold angels applauding, and singing, standing ovation, lights everywhere. Glitter on my face with my yellow sequin dress, floating up above. Standing ovation. I'm an artist and when the Father meets me, I will sing, "I have lived. I have lived. I have lived. Indeed I had fun."

I'm an artist. I have me, I have it all. ✨️I have it all✨️.
Live life how you see it. Be crazy as crazy can get. We're artist. We live in a different world. Our world is a musical. Live life!
Alyssa Wilson Jul 2012
The only light
From the headlights of my car
And from your house windows.
My face buried in your neck
My hand curled around your head.
Your arms sheltering my body
The pressure on my shoulders from your weight
My feet pressed onto my toes
So I can reach you.
Thus we would stay forever
If we had the choice.

Driving away from you
I can’t bear to look back
But I know you’re watching
And my tears are coming too fast
For me to try to control.
I yell into my silent car,
“****!”
The expression of my loss.
Feeling like I was punched in the heart.

When my tears finally subside
- Somewhere near Keene –
You call
And I blurt out short answers
Not able to speak how I feel
Knowing I can succumb
To the swell of agony again
At any moment.
And on the rest of the ride home
Bursting into tears
When there’s a line in a song
That reminds me of you.
But I know if I turned it off
I would break down completely.

Moment after moment
Flashes through my head
Of time we’ve spent together.
The time you told me you loved me.
The time I made you cry.
The time you got me flowers – perfect flowers,
Not the kind I would have hated.
The times we exchanged cutes over texts
Until I couldn’t stand it anymore.
The time we saw each other again
And I couldn’t look you in the eye.
The times I sought you out when I was lonely and hurt.
The times we started drinking together.
The time you looked into my eyes as you removed my shirt.
The time you listened on the phone as I poured out my soul.
The time I swung around a lamppost to face you
When you said something shocking and slightly offensive.
The time you told me my smile was enchanting.
The time I saw your band play a show
The time I told you I loved you.
I see all this and more
In the headlights of my car.
this skin and under
to the electric wind’s
seventh spectrum

to aerating icicle
lagtights of dust
clinging below
dichrotic glass
in thaw, like

blood flooding
arms gone numb
braced for cave
of ceiling

now gifted full
with rush of needles
reminding live
and it’s OK to

breathe
this

as the cube
evaporates
it sparks

cutes me all
electro

with flickering green
between silhouetted ribs
Donall Dempsey Dec 2017
THE LONG HELLO


I left my memory
in a run-down hotel

all damp patches
& peeling plaster.

Who am I?
Wish I knew!

Maybe I'm a salesman
traveling in lady's underwear.

Naw...that don't seem right!

I looked into the blur
that formed & unformed

before me
constructing in my mind's eye

a Hollywood smile
that's all stage set

nothing behind it
but...

fakily real.

She had an Art Deco heart
she wore on her sleeve

bit frayed
'round the edges.

and a laugh that lingered
like perfume.

'Hi, Petal! '
her lopsided grin

was all femme
fatale.

She spoke
in Film Noir.

I knew
the lingo.

'Remember me? '
she sighed softly

as if caressing herself
remembering me caressing her.

I sure wish I remembered it
in intimate detail.

I'm a stickler for detail.

This broad
was slim

but with curves
in all the right places

; ; ; if ya get my drift.

Her laugh was all
lightness and lavender.

'Good...good! '
she cooed.

'I see your ******* is at least
listening! '

I involuntary
covered my crotch

with both hands
as if I was naked.

I wish she was.

Her curves flowed
like very runny honey

over the back of a spoon
trickling on to the tip

of a tongue.

She was strictly
yum as in YUM!

Then she went
all Cubist on me

as if she'd been badly drawn
by that Picasso artist.

I felt like a 2-D
drawing

as she approached me
in 3-D.

My conscience found
its voice

(down behind
the back of the couch)

It wheezed and wheedled
like it was Peter Lore.

'Ouch! ' I ouched.

'Ok...ok! '
I announced in a too loud voice

'I believe I know...
....who done it! '

'It was...' I stammered.
'It was...' I stuttered.

'Cut it...Cutes! '
she snapped like knicker elastic.

'I guess we both know the score.'

She somehow contrived
allowed her dress to fall

to the floor
where it pooled at her feet

like a green silk
puddle.

'Hey has anybody told you
you look just like *** a chelli's

Birth(I burp) of Venus! '

'Cut the wise cracks Jack...
it was the drink

...done it! '

'You just had one bottle of Baileys
too many! '

'But now...it's finished...ya hear
...finshed! '

She threw the bottle
over her naked shoulder.

I listened to her
in glorious Technicolour hangover.

She poured her body
all around me

like jelly
in a mold.

'Hung over sure...but
I think I got the cure! '

Her kiss was like
the last page

of a **** good Who
...dun it!

finally falling
falling

falling
into place.

I kissed her
lovely face.
O' my heart, there is girl,
Her eyes are made of pearls,
Having bright face and hair's curl,
Her smile is just like daffodils,

She will be a loving friend,
A loving partner and a lovely wife,
She doesn't accept worldly trends,
She cuts hate and disrespect with a knife,

She is a beautiful daughter of a proud dad,
Having attracting physique of respect,
She looks like a princess, never sad,
Love her mother fully with out a suspect,

She has a love for cats,
Don't know why not for dogs,
She has a fear from rats,
Runs away from them in fogs,

She wants to enjoy life in cold,
To jump again and again with proud,
She is vocal and can speak bold,
Can prove her presence like a thundering cloud,

Her smile melts the frozen moods,
Her talks activate the nature,
Her touch gives flavor to foods,
Her walk adds fragrance to nurture,

She is alone in her attributes,
God has blessed her in such a way,
She is the queen of cutes,
God has structured such a piece of clay,

Upon her the world is heart catching,
Without her my life is useless,
Her love is a chess or soul snatching,
Without which my life is cruise less,

She is my beloved, hidden somewhere,
But I can feel her inside my heart,
My life is on without her losing fear,
How I name this relation of pain and hurt,
Donall Dempsey Dec 2018
THE LONG HELLO

I left my memory
in a run-down hotel

all damp patches
& peeling plaster.

Who am I?
Wish I knew!

Maybe I'm a salesman
traveling in lady's underwear.

Naw...that don't seem right!

I looked into the blur
that formed & unformed

before me
constructing in my mind's eye

a Hollywood smile
that's all stage set

nothing behind it
but...

fakily real.

She had an Art Deco heart
she wore on her sleeve

bit frayed
'round the edges.

and a laugh that lingered
like perfume.

'Hi, Petal! '
her lopsided grin

was all femme
fatale.

She spoke
in Film Noir.

I knew
the lingo.

'Remember me? '
she sighed softly

as if caressing herself
remembering me caressing her.

I sure wish I remembered it
in intimate detail.

I'm a stickler for detail.

This broad
was slim

but with curves
in all the right places

; ; ; if ya get my drift.

Her laugh was all
lightness and lavender.

'Good...good! '
she cooed.

'I see your ******* is at least
listening! '

I involuntary
covered my crotch

with both hands
as if I was naked.

I wish she was.

Her curves flowed
like very runny honey

over the back of a spoon
trickling on to the tip

of a tongue.

She was strictly
yum as in YUM!

Then she went
all Cubist on me

as if she'd been badly drawn
by that Picasso artist.

I felt like a 2-D
drawing

as she approached me
in 3-D.

My conscience found
its voice

(down behind
the back of the couch)

It wheezed and wheedled
like it was Peter Lore.

'Ouch! ' I ouched.

'Ok...ok! '
I announced in a too loud voice

'I believe I know...
....who done it! '

'It was...' I stammered.
'It was...' I stuttered.

'Cut it...Cutes! '
she snapped like knicker elastic.

'I guess we both know the score.'

She somehow contrived
allowed her dress to fall

to the floor
where it pooled at her feet

like a green silk
puddle.

'Hey has anybody told you
you look just like *** a chelli's

Birth(I burp) of Venus! '

'Cut the wise cracks Jack...
it was the drink

...done it! '

'You just had one bottle of Baileys
too many! '

'But now...it's finished...ya hear
...finshed! '

She threw the bottle
over her naked shoulder.

I listened to her
in glorious Technicolour hangover.

She poured her body
all around me

like jelly
in a mold.

'Hung over sure...but
I think I got the cure! '

Her kiss was like
the last page

of a **** good Who
...dun it!

finally falling
falling

falling
into place.

I kissed her
lovely face.

— The End —