Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Robin Carretti Jul 2018
Watching a classic
Casablanca Class I Fix
Trix cereal for adults
Goddess sundress
The class act you need to guess
fit* no-one would
know vibrant
Getting the OJ of the miracle
Sunbathing at the

His skin news of the
The fix-up finale deeply
in her classic smile
Sunflowers of the sunray  
Tropicana class act deviant play

Quickdraw Gunfire
Her hot tango steps in action
Diamonds no chips
Big tips at the Gentleman
OH! Boy the cabana detention
Class I comes with affection
Kiss is not a kiss without a real scene

In action to miss a classic movie hit
Adventure Trips  flipping homes
In the classified newspaper middle section

She is the Classic with an illuminating passion

I the Classic one and he is
surfing the internet
So fit to be tied but casual love
She the same person wearing her
flip flops
******* off *Root beer float tops

The root of all evil
That She-devil Sire
Not the ordinary campfire

It takes a certain Class, I can fix peoples
problems  like great ***** of fire

We are not signs or perhaps it's in the signs
Where you came from no problems
Take action get more satisfaction
Army grenade we are all
fighting in action
Action speaks louder than words
One of a kind the rare find
A classification of her mind
Understand each other
do the hiring
  Trump in action job firing

What drives us and gives us
We need to love what is above
our minds
I believe sometimes you don't have to be where the action is

The Rainman Rainforest Vacation
You are the I phone off
with the ringer
Classic type Class I
Our computer all rules
codes and passwords
The religious Pope up front
He's the  Marlon Brando waterfront
You have the polka dot bikini

Panera Sandwich Panini
Orange you glad its cantaloupe
He wants to elope
your classic smile
Exclamation point
At Times Square you could
lift her for miles

Whether we look modern
The technology is always out of reach foreign
Or wearing your heart in his heart
Your wiggle walk
The classic style to talk
Fifties **** smoke
Born to be wildlife everything
is on Castaway
Or layaway on hold

And he is athlete runner so hype
Everyone is busy on
Twitter or Skype
The Facebook and photos

Dorothy loves wizardly Oz and Toto
Were all together like
a congregation, not a citation
Living in the city paying rent
Another wicked concert event

How many times did you get that notification?
The auction house in action the bid five times
Those hot leads of crimes
Playing for a nickel heads up dimes
Class act Quarterback
Elephant treasure trunk
ten commandment
Class, I lady leading the way
Class, I fix the parliament

Her classic fifty style army dress in action
Her bullet lips caught quite an attraction

Feeling the comfort food
Mac and Cheese
Silly names those 
 Canadian A&W
ATM Class I
The French fries do or dies
Skinny He's the Ham Mac
You're the spicy Cajun
on the speaker Mic
What classifies everything in
our life
High stunts action cliff taking a dive
**** Bill he kills me all the time

That Buffalo Bill Chicken Mac
Bombastic not the
forever love classic
With a whole list dark Raven
Crystal rock Haven

Everything lately goes so fast
Getting in Saint Anthony fire
She is the livewire
The gunfire or the cease her fire
Out of money  honey bee
******* mansion multiplier
Everything you're
near his or hers
Wineglass stir me
like an amplifier
What happens to your
responsibilities running
racing your own time
The  Coffee man suitor
My Godly dictator
The saltwater taffy-like lava
Comic Disney Pixstar meet Daffy Duck
Or you overqualified being lied too
Oh! Chuck

Like a candle in the wind its in
the science hot steamy
romance engagement
What awaits things to come
getting blown away
It just like any other day
How we classify things or lose things how our mind cannot remember your best words even writing a poem it takes practice more advice action speaks louder than words like the law and order. I think this poem might be your order. Please tell me how it classifies is this a class act to follow get your coffee fix action we will start the movie my poem classic relax
oral transmission
Modulate - Cognate- Division
Cosmic - tuned in like Cognitive Transmission

This is my mission, to

Get up out the scene Live wild as a child
Dread my head, Hear cries like the Roar  I lionize
Deviant be me, othered for free
as the Nomos creates Signifier, Signified
somewhat like a homeless child stigmatized
caught outside our commercial enterprise


With enterprise, there enters lies,
Never earthbound my star ship seems to Actualize

So let me lyrically **** your path so you can shift past the cuts
Neva drinking the wine of wrath, made sour by sour patch cats blasted by vats OF GRAFFITI splats.

Culture slipping like gangsters simply sipping at the purple incision
instead we walk Holy like the cotton we missin

Tattoo my Secrets onto skin parchment ,
thats Ink advice ---:  People Lost in Duality, man thats just thinkin twice
Surrender and self-Sacrifice be the admission price
to see Kali singing blood mantras dancing through

Dreams of Ink darshan doorways
Tantric like Siva Approaches his consort for foreplay

My face is like a thundercloud, smiles formed outta cloud highs
Now my 3rd eye, washed in blood saw how Snakes stitch DNA
up and winding
and lemme tell you bro,
its some Nauesous stuff

Transcendent reality,
ego death till its fallacy,
recognize perfection
of life in the galaxy

So I toss out my ID, puff puff, its high ME
don't be Stuck like Ego grinding, Just saving souls don’t mind we,
go Indigo like Love in the margins, Golden souls attempting to live in holy gardens, ==========

We forget though

Neither death or immortality existed in the time before time,  of day or night no sign

There was Darkness hidden by Darkness , all was water but got started quick, by the sharpness of a god spark

kick crash hit, life spit out covered in emptiness

This was it, started from the bottom, rise in the power of heat,
dance tap ta dis beat Aware tapas generates so much heat Indiscreet
in abyss

But then desire became the fire, middle ground never higher than the smoke trails of the world's creation,
Spittin om proir flash forward funeral flames tamed by Tandava siva purifier

So this poet seeks in the heart of wisdom found in the bond of existence to non-existence
Knowledge that  I’m a livewire with a high resistance
I Complete my **** Through high persistence,

Eventually though,
the Fog rolls in again , agnosia forget the Cosmic condition
till then We soulfeed lyrics in-between kissing.
Somewhere in the darkest corners
Of a speck of land
Shadowed on a world map,
There is a girl who still believes in wonder.

She is childlike faith vacuum sealed
In pint-sized hope
A revolution craving to be lit up,
A breath of fresh air to anyone who has lived through dirt and pollution,
A livewire of well-kept new ideas.

She is a book.
A good one but a closed one.
A book that sits on the front shelves at bookstores
But nobody dared to read between her lines.

But other than the galaxies of impossibilities she has sketched up in her head,
She is nothing more than short of perfection,
Her hopeful whispers needed a microphone.

She believes in the hustle and bustle of success in her little speck of land
Impossible, it may seem
as she IS a speck
in a sliver of land
in a country that is almost always forgotten by anyone who has browsed through a map,
Disregarded by other countries
Abandoned by its own people
But forget the size on a scale of the earth.
Little as she is,
to her, her speck of land is big enough
Big enough to fill with all the love a person is capable of.
Big enough to fill with hands that held each other tight enough to be called unity
Big enough to be filled with more confidence in the country
than pride in personality.
In fact, the word "big" is too little
To describe the way she sees things.

She believes in herself
But she also believes that she is small.
And insanely enough, she believes she can be both
That her individuality for a stand out country
Could not be limited by
A weak immune system
Or the amount of inches she grows in a year
Or the color of her hair.

Yes, when the world gets tough,
And when everything larger
Turns against her
Pressing her into a cage of painful pressure,
She helps herself
By sticking her hand out for the very people who make her weak.
Because courage turns into cowardice
If it is not used to stand up for others.

And though she is small,
That only means she could make her way through
The narrow roads
In a tricky path called life.
Bending when branches of trouble swept above her,
Crouching when the rain poured,
And slipping into deep spaces.

But more importantly,
Overpowering all her beliefs,
She believes in something higher,
In something much stronger than the strength of her imagination,
In something that could turn her plans into a reality,
And the best part of it all is that this "higher force"
Is a He
And He believes in her
Much more than she believes in Him.
She holds her plans for this country in a teapot,
But He is the One who pours it over us
Until this cup, this country, overflows.

She believes this country is ready.
And as for Him, well,
So does He.

But no matter how wondrous she makes the future of this country seem,
We are still everything she didn't say we would be.
So, scavenge your heart for the truth,
Dig around for treasure and hope,
Seek high and low for even the little shards of faith,
Because one day,
We might just find her
In you and in me.
"How can young Filipino Christians demonstrate leadership and contribute to nation building?"

This poem was my answer in the finals of my school's spoken word poetry competition.
jayson m  Jun 2015
jayson m Jun 2015
anger rumbles like the echo of gods;
shaking my heartstrings,
shaking my spine,
shaking me.
I still can't write worth a ****.
Jayanta Mar 2020
You never realize you’re potent,
Always absorbed to ponder differently!

Your argumentative nature
Make many one peeved!

But no one realize
Where lies the
Idea of own thoughtfulness
Alternative thinking!

You mobilize the collective
To think alternatively
And work differently
To put colours in others life
To make them blissful!

No one able to forget
About your thought and effort
To form a collective
To putting colour of happiness for other!
Now everyone is committed
to continue your endeavor !
To bring colours of delightedness
to other!
In the memories of Alashree Basumotary, who was expired on March 15, 2020. She was an inhabitant of fringe village of Manas National Park and world natural heritage site ( inKokilabari area of Baksa, Assam,India).
Up to 2015, their daily life and livelihood was depending on NTFP collection from the park. It was mid part of 2016 Alashree lead five other fellow village women started their plan for alternative livelihood. In course of time Alashree mobilize and motivate more women and form Purnima Women SHG. Alashree lead the SHG as president. They started their venture of Chalk pencil production. In the process of pursuing their passion, they started new venture of dyeing of cotton thread using different natural sources including uses of leaves of different invasive plant. These ventures bring more secured livelihood to these 12 women. Their colour threads were used for apparel making, dress material production in handloom. Now all the SHG members are committed to continue the venture keep alive Alashree’s dream venture.
Purnima SHG was supported by Aaranyak( an NGO based at Guwahati, Assam,India ) under Manas Tiger Conservation Programme (MTCP).
I was personally involved with many of their planning and strategy making discussion, in-fact in a village level meeting where I was a participant ( as an associate of MTCP team )  Alashree and the fellow women for the  first time  share their idea of SHG formation and group venture. It is difficult to forget her thoughtful argument and desire to work together to change their own life and make bring delightedness to others.
Last we mate on January 21, 2020    (in a programme on “One Month Certificate Course on Value Addition & Marketing of Non-timber Forest Products (NTFPs) by ENVIS Secretariat, Ministry of Environment, Forest and Climate Change (MoEF&CC), Govt of India in Manas in association with  ENVIS Cell of ASTE council and Green Environment Task Force (GETF)),   where in a technical session  conducted by me, Alashree and one of their SHG member give demonstration on utilization leaves and flower of non-cultivated floral sources for natural dyeing. After the session Alashree jokingly told me you make us teacher too.
May her soul rest in peace!
Christopher Bales  Apr 2012
I’m convinced that someone’s hacked into my head
and deleted the part of my brain that controls my concentration.
Because at times, I have the attention span of the goldfish who just downed a bottle of vicodin.

See, my brain is a livewire lined with high-voltage power lines of dreams and ideas,
and I can’t shut off all the switches and relays flooding messages to my nervous system,
because what I have is a nervous system.

Every caustic, worried thought that I’ve ever thought tends to show up there,
and all I ever do is worry about how one wrong word might end a relationship,
or how one right word could start a new friendship,
or how everything that I keep reading into,
is just bleeding into everything else,
mixing colors,
while I’m sitting here…

forgetting to take the time to paint with my passions and prides.
Liz May 2013
Dublin is soaking,
ink running on sentences, churning on the page.
America is splintering,
(the suburbs specifically, not the nation)
into  leftovers of Ticonderoga No 2.

These streets breathe in and out and
up to clouds illuminated by the Temple Bar,
as people stream through Dublin's narrow straights,
running thick and bright and damp
soaked with the scent of amber,
brimming with warm words like barley and hops,
the world reflected through the half-empty glasses
abandoned to rest stale at the bar.

This boy is a livewire to a madness,
quivering gasps flying to spark on her tongue when
she finds the kiss in the corner of his mouth is
tightly stitched in with the sound of each smile.
Her hand still clings to the smells of sweat and beer
with miles of backtracking ahead.
liz  Jun 2018
apathetic & lost
liz Jun 2018
i am emptied of my tools,
the words, that gave me release
from the demons taught my
every waking nightmare,

every tingling pain in between
three eyelids & another playlist
to distract from the raw panic
that is the only "life", a livewire
in the pool; i drown myself
hourly, minutely examining
the scabbed over promises
that i wrote in between creases
of smiles and skin, heavy
with the weight of yearning

for simple pleasure to last longer
& for pretty lies to become truth
if only for longer than collections
of skimmed days, oil on water.

i chose momentary bliss-
it floats on the surface scars
lovely & weak against my anger
& i pale in comparison; lust is
flame against the falseness
of my form, rigid because
any less would be vulnerable
& the scars would be visible
under the melting of my smile.
feeling sort of worthless.
lost all the phrases, turning about
inside my skull that would aid me
& give me a sense of security
in times like these. i want to feel
loved & important to someone,
but i also would like to tolerate
myself for once.
Meryl d'Encre Jul 2013
Flashes of quicksilver through the air
Sharp edges of broken glass
Echoes of light

Wind playing like wild things in the
Warm darkness of the summer night
Clear rain beating like so many drums
Drop after drop hitting black tar
Silent crystal bells sliding along your face
Caressing your cheek your hair your skin
Snug against your throat
Through the armor of clothes sinking into bones
Cleaning paths of whispering nerves
And the rumbling sound rolling around in your head
Slow and lingering
Vibrations down your spine grasping

Crawling out of yourself
Taste of electricity on the back of your tongue
Liquid steel and smooth fire
Sparks rushing through you human livewire
Moving right beneath your skin bursting stars meteorites
Stripping you raw and true and farther than you’ve ever reached
Heart slowed down tight and straining
Fluttering choking too slow for the light
Blood thick and red pulsing in your chest your wrists your mouth
Under your tongue against your lips fighting its way out

Like the scream inside of you
Deep and rooted scratching at the walls of your mind
Eternity spent nowhere
Frantic whimpers broken claws slow poison world of grey
Threat of oblivion never ending struggle
Remember remember remember who you are
Crackling yellow or smooth white and stark black ink and smell of paper
The world beyond the world technicolor light
Soaring away invisible wings
Beating the rhythm of you heart

And you laugh and laugh and laugh and your smile feels like a storm
Derek Moran  Jul 2018
Derek Moran Jul 2018
There’s something I like about
being put on my knees
the push and pull of control
like a livewire until suddenly
I can let go
into this safety net of being
here on my knees
for someone who will
take care of me
I like resting my
head in someone’s hands
something fragile
in me
through the open swinging door
I like to feel hands
in my hair
that make me feel small
and safe
like nothing
in the world would dare
hurt me
for fear of you

— The End —