'travle' poems - Hello Poetry

John Patrick Robbins Aka Gonzo Jan 2011

Absinthe

John Patrick Robbins Aka Gonzo Jan 2011

Absinthe

Inner working of my insanity you know well.
green fairy cube of sugar over ice water
its tender journey  few  need to undersand.

So you travle a abstract road and bury your soul
underneath the ice.
Cold in hell beauthy in darkness veils of sanity but
velvet embers of a  strange haunting scene.

It is the curse and i the moth to it's flame.
death of tommorows cast visions of a oceans sound.
I am but a leaf cast over dark waters never struggle just drift.

In history I travle speaking in tones surreal to my ear.
if so shall i slip will insanity be but a moment fractured in dream.
Screams in a far off space so distant from mine.
No pain exists here for im gone in form.

A painting in a stars t moon cast scenes erased by light.
Where i go none should follow for the price is
only for the distant in thought to pay.
Emptyness cascades in the past so for now here i yern only to
stay.

Green in light wormwoods fire sweet in bliss.
No path is ever set.
Tragedy in play i cast no regrets apon my stage.

A ear in respect a razor in hand.
I slice into  a faint glimmer no pain shall I understand
nights cloak the dawn days cast stories unwritten.

In genius we find insanitys child.
Broken glass cuts clear my moments are chipped
as of stone.
Time knows me not for i am but speck in a waters fall.

Nightmares and my destined  fate.
Kissed of vemon.
She in madness hold's open the path  to
my  visions gate.

Between death and dream insanity and a razors gleam.
From the darkest space does my page bleed to write.
Will you **** my thought only glorify the loss of mind.
In the drinks madness my genius I shall never yern to find.

Within a mind there are many dark visions
often ignored.

John Patrick Robbins Aka Gonzo Oct 2009

Holiday On Highstreet Portsmouth VA

John Patrick Robbins Aka Gonzo Oct 2009

Holiday On Highstreet Portsmouth VA

Red ribbons  around the streetlights.
  The lights from the commadore theather
are a reflection of the past.
Coblestone streets the historic district across the water
buildings are lit  haunting  shadows over the water.

Once  a year closed streets seem to travle back in time.
Roasted penuts  street corner preformers.
Familys togather homeless on benches not all is beautiful and bright.

Sweet city so cold and gritty.
Christmas lights like neon signs call to my jaded soul.
Horse and carrige ride down by the water.
New lovers getting lost in the moment an season.

I sit apon the steps of the old church share a bottle with
My new best friend  smells of the city echo back to another time.
Lights and sounds reflect a holiday on highstreet.
Hands held  togther  when  in another  life it seems you
were mine.

Cold are the streets  carols fill this night.
If only more than once a year.
We could embrase this spirt.
Then trap it for one peaceful day.

The traffic apon  Highstreet  is  is slowing
The festival crowd is fading.
The bottle of christmas cheer is almost gone
so along with the I must  be going.

Mariee Feb 2016

Glæden ved de små øjeblikke

Mariee Feb 2016

Glæden ved de små øjeblikke

Kaffen er varm og duften er velkendt når den rammer mine sanser. Åbner op for den velkendte smag, som jeg snart smager. Når kaffen er varm, møder jeg måske lidt flere minder end hvis den var kold. For når den er kold, så er vi gået, og samtalen og tankestrømmen er som regel forbi.
Når kaffen er varm går samtalen mellem dig og mig, eller dig og hende eller ham på velsmurte skinner og solen skinner måske i øjeblikket, og glæden stråler ud af dine vintertrætte øjne, og jeg ser det. Vi smiler. Vi er glade. Måske endda lykkelige, lige der i øjeblikket. Enten med selvskab af dig, ellers sidder jeg alene med den varme kop mellem mine skrøbelige hænder, som er trætte efter dagens forhindringer, som jeg har måtte stå imod. Måske tænker jeg for meget.

Jeg svæver mellem mælkeskum og varme bønner, væk fra det der gemmer sig bag ruden, som dugger til af varmen fra min nu varme krop mod vinduskammen. Jeg lader dem strømme, tankerne, lader dem svæve som om de flygtede fra det kolde vejr mod varmere lande. Dagens, ugens eller månedens ophobninger af forvirrede, glade, vrede og småligegyldige tanker.
Det er små øjeblikke som denne hvor jeg ser at de travle øjeblikke er der for mange af. Fordi om lidt er kaffen kold, og snart kalder hverdagen igen. Tiden går, kaffen er kold, og snart er der kun kaffemærker af den tidligere varme kaffe tilbage.

Astrid Andersen May 2015

Mandag

Astrid Andersen May 2015

Mandag

Mange møder lige to timer senere
Sender trætte signaler ud i den travle by,
som ingen kan følge med i.
I byen, hvor alt alligevel starter automatisk op til en ny uge.
Uden hjælp fra de mange, der møder lige to timer senere.

Senere, udskudt, fortrængt, ligegyldigt.
Lige om lidt.
Lidt er ligegyldigt. Småt er ikke stort og lave forventninger er det samme som ingen. Der er brug for det bedste.
Bedre skal det være.
Men mange møder lige to timer senere, når det er en grå mandag og alt uden for dynen er koldt og ligegyldigt.

#monday #samfund #****** #travlhed #udvikling

John Patrick Robbins Aka Gonzo Jul 2010

The Return Of Your Leaving

John Patrick Robbins Aka Gonzo Jul 2010

The Return Of Your Leaving

As in the tears light does escape in the darkest fear.
Pleading in silence yerning for the  departure of  my soon
lost  mind.

Why we we must travle a road only to see it's end.
The path unsure requires a steady broken soul.
My emptyness know great depth.

A game of  life  a promise of death.
Behind laughter pain does exist.
Another night escapes me one of many regrets.

The wind a companion the road a void of nights
gentle embrace.
Ive searched for a reason tangled in the traps of
agony's plessure cast dellusion.

A snow globe heart  awaits its fatal dance
with the floor.
In the arms of passion  we feel the wrath of
times  bitter  truth.

I am the clowns  washed clean face.
Ive serched for a depth.
To find a poets soul ive found not a trace.

I struggle to resist.
She drops the glass as it breaks apon a slab floor.
No longer the clown do I see.
One pull and tommorows painting will be erased.
From a spark of pure creation and a fatal destruction.

Into a night  a end of my choosing.
Maybe we knew the past was soon to be are end.
Heart's like all things bleeding easily betray.
For only clocks and urns apon the mantle were ment to stay.

In choosing this path it sets a page blank.
Allowing many to read that which  was never seen.
In darkness the mystery leaves little light.

So as we toast to a suicide.
The trigger is pulled.

A ****** up sesibility is matched
only by a cryptic verse.
As in chains we exist trapped in soul
lost within the mind.

Sunsets in red  oceans of  passions failure
no longer free   to the laugther trapped within
my head.

The soon to be  forgotten fade.
As in the depths we chase demons  of are own creation
shallow  in thought.
Washed in tommorows legend  and  dried
by reallty's ever changing truth.

No soul creative is one dimesional
no laughter does exist without pain.
no story told without knowing the harshness of life.

Never limit the mind.

Anna Dec 2014

Blekingegade

Anna Dec 2014

Blekingegade

i denne snestorm, står du der midt på vejen
omringet af snefnug og travle silhuetter
dine hænder ryster og du knuger dit halstørklæde ind til dig
din jakke er tynd og ikke af bomuld
du fryser og dine tænder klaprer næsten
pas nu på siger jeg
dine æblekinder overdøver jo næsten den hvide sne på Blekingegade
du skriger jo næsten af kulde
ret ryggen min egen
tag en dyb indånding og træk vejret
det blæser jo så meget,
du burde ikke være udenfor
og græde
men det er der ikke noget galt i
nogen gange finder vi det lettest at begrave sorg og skam
i de mest fyldte og befolket
og alligevel tomme og øde
steder i vores liv

Evan Crow Jan 2017

The Slate Unclean

Evan Crow Jan 2017

The Slate Unclean

Deception breaths in snakes whom slither as they thrive .
My razor of my thoughts cuts deep yet there is no malice in truth.

Simply the words that bare existance for others to reject .
A slap to the face is harsh no matter your gender i hold no mercy as i ask for none in return.

Respect given to all but i am no stone unwhich to be stepped upon.
The path you care not to travle is best left alone for it will find you just the same .

No battle is foolish just the cause inwhich it stands.
The jaws can **** as easily as embrace tread softly when dealing with these.

It lays silent never dead.
So easily awoken the rage of a demon .thrives in the chaos it all exists within.

Be careful of strangers often disguised as friends.
We only know are true sides within the depths of darkness.

Climbing from the pit many will try to claw there way past to suit there egos lust.

Never allow the weak to poison your hearts well.
In the depths is were we find the stranger that is are own reflection.

Never play with that which you do not understand.

Allow the monsters there isolation.
And all will be as you can never truly understand.

We can never unsee the hells we unlock.
And so be the stars .

#poetry #mystery #art #darkness #writing #horror #alvah #valdis

pookie Nov 2013

once there was

pookie Nov 2013

once there was

There used to be man who could stand up to anything,
To the pain and violence of people both loved ones and hated,
He used to be able to be the sheild for his family and friends,
But now stands an empty shell,
Lost never foun and never to be a man to stand up,
I am that empty shell there's nothing left inside,
Nothing to fill me up,
Nothing to give me hope,
I've lost myself once again,
I'm disconnected from life and everyone in it,
Like the wind I float along no purpose but to pass through the lives of everyone I meet,
Never to be rembeted,
Never to be held dear,
Never to be loved,
I am but a small shell of nothingness,
So there once was a man who could
Stand up to everything,
I was that man but now,
I am nothing,
Empty,
Ad floating away,
Lost on the wind,
Floating through lives,
No one wants a shell.

So I will go away travle the winds Mabey they will carry me to place far away.

For I once was but am no more.

L S Tesler May 2015

måske

L S Tesler May 2015

måske

måske ser vi ikke hvordan
vi falder fra hinanden
når vi ikke holder blikket længere end to sekunder
selvom vi deler fortorvet med fremmede ansigter
det er midt i det travle tog
når drengen smiler med unge læber og
ingen mundvige gengælder hans glædeblik
det hele sker i et øjeblik
når vi alle for længst er gået forbi
ingen lukker dig ind i deres tankeunivers
for "hvad nu hvis"
ingen ved hvem de er
for alt hvad vi ved er
at vi er brikker i et spil, hvor
tillid er et fremmedord og
livstørstige sygdomme er mere almindelige
end ordet undskyld

MaddHatterQueen Feb 2018

A.M. ANXIOTY: (writing/poetry).. *WARNING* strong content. Read at own expence.

MaddHatterQueen Feb 2018

A.M. ANXIOTY: (writing/poetry).. *WARNING* strong content. Read at own expence.

3:22a.m.,
on my second pack of iggy's,
smoked by the minutes counting
you're not here by my side
to hold me and watch stars
fall out of place like
the places where our mind dwells
and my breath in what was fresh
for the kiss of your lips
and put a hold on to the smoke
in my head of you
our first night apart
things are something of some
painfuly hard to mend

3:25a.m.,
no, I AM pacing
my neck weary and weak
too much for this head of mine
to hold up all that clutters
streaming down my chest
like liquid fire from explosion
tensions play poker with my heart
and you're still not here
to help me live up to my feet
you go one way and I
I stay behind taking in the stabs

3:30am,
amzing how I'm whipping throught this
pieces I chicken write-...vandalise

my pen and I drop another line, yet on these fresh sheets
.. no, tonight we had no choice
since the choice was already made
no, It's not a break up
just one of those nights I let you
spend away from me and
I am just being so dam n selfish
just wanting you eaveryday
how do you see me now
taking a bat destroying what is
in my way thinking I care
.... ****!
like I do
go ahead act like it don't **** me
it's just anxioty,
attacks come around friendly
without handshakes that insults me
and my feet crash on glass
and yet, I feel nothing

... but you

3:35am,
mornings **** like manson
like the devil himself
it consums me in this home
where I make animals
look like nothing wild
and the neighbors can hear me
crazy they would claim me
and you're not here to hear me

3:37am.,
another smoke to pop in my mouth
and this house is smelling like
a drug house I had created tonight
when you come back home today
whatever time that may be
I'll be screaming and crying
like a crazy *** *****
in an un-womanly like tantrum
Like as if I hadn't hurt losing
another friend the other day
and on top of that you leave me
in times like these
this is the first you've done
so wrong to me
yet to me in my mind I may be
losing it completely
expressions say so much
on your face where I feel like
slapping you hard like I
want you to really hurt!

3:41a.m.,
even poetry stares me down this
early morning my, good one
a wife I will be, intentionaly insecure
I want this to go away
far away where I can cast myself
away with the extreme pain
that I'm causing myself
cause you ain't here
and that's all that's playing in my head
that's all that matters to me now
that you ain't in this fducking house
where I THINK you MAY belong

3:44am,
another smoke and many more to come
and this home is begining to close in on me
and this is just another
a.m. challenge for my depprssion
anti-deppressants don't do one ****
and I swim in my head where thoughts
**** me while you're gone.

gone feels like forever
up here is like the twilight zone
and you are the episode
where conflics travle fast.

God! I ******* love you!
this cage is now my dungeon
and now it's 3:39a.m

I'm pretending this is okay
...

(ghasping myself to sleep)
©MaddHatterQueen

Not Worth The Silly Pain:

#2009 #poetry #inkbeast #poetryslay #criticalsamoanpoet #aroullette #cranberrymouth #jouveniletongue #rebelofeden #scribequeen

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