Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
K Balachandran Jan 2016
The torture chamber painted
thick with red, white and black
fully contains artifacts different
unimaginable kind each one is.

Pain indeed was the tap root
from which art sprouts, says the poet
all the secrets of the heart, hidden deep
for which a heavy price is paid
throughout life, sing and dance
spin a fine yarn, tell an unforgettable tale
Ability to feel the pain and sympathize, distinguishes
the DNA of art of any kind, elevates it to the plane of sublime.
Feeling Real Dec 2015
i'm the abandoned streets
winter's lack of heat, darkness
at 3:45 am, the moonlight reflected
on the snow, just sparkling, pulling
marijuana smoke from my lungs

i'm candy coloured lights on a fake
christmas tree, spent hours unfurling
the branches, dangling spirit unto them
without care, forcing hot chocolate down
my gullet like it was the only familial
connection i'd ever be allowed a part in

i'm the dead heat of summer, where it's
just too hard to move, and even though
the air conditioning is functioning and the
sunlight seems so pleasant, it's just too hard
to rub my whole body down with sunscreen
and find shorts to wear and find a tank top
to wear and find a way to make my sweat
appealing to anyone who might see me out walking

i'm the night time, wide awake from sun down
to sun up, doing nothing, a trance state from
moon to moon, for gods and messages from god
i'm the studying for hours for no reason except
it's something to do and i'm not tired, i'm so tired
but i'm chugging coffee cup after coffee cup and
contemplating the best time to start pretending
that my life is fine for just a moment of peace before
i allow sleep to take me, the fantasy of reality
where i am as important as i want to be, my fingers
under the covers because even though i am alone
i am ashamed i might see myself touching myself
an anti-****** where i am one with my shadow
A haze of smoke
Blurs the picture
Lipstick stains the
Cigarette that flickers
Red painted nails
Tap the frozen rails
Champagne bottle,
Dating back to Versailles
Blacked out eyes, matching skin
Bruise alike
**** it with a shot of gin
Little white flowers
Shot with a polaroid
Symbolize my paranoia
Pastel colors litter my eyes
Watching the rain fall
As time flies by
Twinkling Lights of the city skyline
Closed eyes, sip of wine
Hot coffee, big sweaters
Take a sip, enjoy the weather
Old book
Faded maps
And worn out ball caps
Gold jewelry flashed about
Parties thrown in nthe underground
Now I begin, haven't you heard?
Aesthetic is in, what a beautiful word.
Julia Aubrey Jul 2015
• grape gatorade
• baby powder engraved earrings
• glow sticks
• the smell of old holy pages
• peach cobbler
• complement circles
• heterochromia
• crazy hair
• wet clothes
• dr pepper
• cold rain against the humid air
• glances people steal


(j.a.r.)
Ella Gwen Apr 2015
You are beautiful.
There is no denying it,
that darkness of your eyes and I could cut myself
on the line of your jaw, black stubble defying
youthful skin. Everyone sees it,
the graceful strength secreted in those
muscles, taut and lean, life lived to
challenging extremes. It is odd, this
obsession with aesthetics, your face really
means nothing and I know this, yet I can
still fall into staring at your fearful
symmetry, grace and night entwined
as you walk on unaware.
Ayelle Garcia Jul 2014
Playing to my senses
Like a classic repertoire;
Strum as it advances,
A beat of my memoir.

With endless notes
That daunts its hem,
Every memory quotes
Emotions hidden each stem.

Up or down,
Trebles to its extreme;
Smile or frown,
Flows accord as it seem.

As you take a stance,
The feet feel heavy;
The perfection of your grace
Prevails over pirouettes.

Pressure’s getting intense,
Many are watching over you;
Looking your every move
As you bring in the show.
For the love of aesthetic things.
Amy Jun 2014
Your mother died of old age? Organise a party. Politicians won't listen? Your acoustic guitar might. A girl walks up to a boy in the playground and calls him a **** then kicks him. Concentrate on erasing those melodramatic close-up shots from the safety of your own home. Cut paper with scissors. Try to beat that personal best of thirty-one lines of ******* in just one night. One man drives one ******* girl to a petrol station and peruses over one Mars bar or one Galaxy. Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris. People choose to ignore a scream. It is only a whisper that fuels their curiosity.
Elijah Corbeau May 2014
I seek beauty in rhyme and tense,
The dreams that colors earn-
The roots of my aesthetic sense
Are things I have yet to learn.

To find a hope in reversing thoughts
Means shifting paradigms is a pleasure;
Beliefs striving, fighting and fought
With metaphor in equal measure.

Then! A trick, a shift we weather,
A path down which we fall-
And then you see, its not just me,
Somehow we end up together.

For we sought beauty with rhyme and tense;
Those dreams of they who yearn,
So in defense of aesthetic sense
To those metaphors I will return.
For me - Poetry is a way to explore my sense of beauty. All those who seek and hope to find live in my work. (I hope!)
Tommy Johnson Apr 2014
You ever think about how shallow some people are?
So shallow that if you stepped in a puddle of them your feet would still be dry
The people who aim to do things, maybe even great things just to impress or gratify someone
To put someone down
To make up for some kind of weakness
To prove others wrong

Those who create this image of themselves that appeases others perception of them

Money
Material things
Cars
Planes
Designer clothes
Gizmos and gadgets

Things that don't mean anything more than a look see to anyone of real depth

You know depth?

To appreciate everything you're lucky enough to have or gain
To understand the little things and the bigger picture
To have been through hardships and learned from them

Empathy
Patience
Passion
Creativity
Selflessness
Respect

Depth

But then, there is something worse than being shallow

Hollow

To be empty of anything

No desires
No pleasure

Just numb hopelessness

The ones who have been hurt and just couldn't get back up
And fill the void with either drugs, things of only monetary value or self-inflected lashings of pity, loathing and mistrust

They look at the ones with depth and see them as idiotic idealists with no direction or any idea what it means to be part of a normal society

They look at the shallow ones and see great figures of wealthy stature
Exciting lives being lead by beautiful elitists
Next page