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Vibrant Vectors,
Bounce Buoyantly,
From castle top,
To dungeon dark,
Their Technicolor angles,
Make angels’,
Wings which,
Provide unique views,
Of the Kusama colored,
Blinking barking lights.
stopdoopy Mar 2019
Little beads,

Jaded by time.


Roll on the floor.

The end is here.

Fire Blooming in lungs,

Burning out what once was,

Creating fertile ground for the new.

Flowers weaving through veins,

Bursting through the heart.

Badum Badum Badum.

Excavating the chest,

Tearing through skin.

You see me there,

Rotting on a cracked floor,

Moss seeping through;

Long forgotten.

A smile on my face,

"Thank you for coming"
inspired by some fire ecology and, as always, personal feelings.
Jack L Martin Aug 2018
I eat my rice with birds and mice
I treat my nice with turds and lice
I drink my wine with pigs and swine
I write my words with prose and rhyme
I swing my club with strength and pride
I take my steps with prance and stride

I show you all now what's inside
These words I trust; I will abide.
Updated 9/11/18
Mike Virgl Mar 2018
Hell on earth, of dreams, the rushing of all
Ostensible the making of confessions, a trio.
Levants that pilgrims must travel, to improv
Even the word, which is left, but raw to me.
Josh Jun 2017
I'm a pendulum
Slowly swinging one way and another.
Always destined to be opposite,
Always almost touching one extreme or the another.
I long for the dull thud of metal on wood.
I remember as a child playing with the brass pendulum of my parents' clock. Interfering.

I'm a cuckoo cuckoo.
In my cuckoo clock.
Popping in and out.
Hidden inside or on full, crude display,
Chirping away,
But never will I not be the other,
In time.

I am the weather,
My own seasons,
A planet orbiting its sun,
Ever-changing, always running,
Spinning, dizzying, ever busying Myself but never getting to the sun.
Never knowing true dark or true light,
Only the insistent tick tock of day and night.
Regimented, regular dawns and dusks.
Waiting for the next change of scene
Wondering what it would mean to reach the sun,
Wanting to let the cuckoo break loose of its small, wooden case.
How I felt this weekend
Sienna Luna Jan 2017
Flubber inside

filling out the cracks

you and that

insipid hat.

Wolly sweater

boatload of pins

find out when

our love life begins.

It's quite awkward

when I get so nervous

like hot liquid

boiling in a pan.

It's really kind of funny 'cause

I can't figure you out,


Grist and marrow

you're a stringy

kind of fellow.

And every time I see

your stupid smily face

I get this rubber

in my tummy

a fit I cannot place.
JM McCann Jun 2015
I remember when you were my friend, when we talked about the future
and our plans. I wanted to get one good dose of life and went to the mountains.
You wanted safety of your survival and went to exchange your rights
for extra harnesses.
You began to search for survival and found the highway.
The neon blue signs
advertising just that.
You will feel comfortable, very comfy cause when you see the same
things at 10mph at 100mph what’s the rush?
You will survive for a long time never too long what you claim,
happy to see where the world goes.
The bug on your windshield will be your biggest problem.
Your foot will begin to slip and you will turn off the highway.
Yet the bumps on the exit ramps will be more than bumps,
slowly flattening your tires, destroying the and you leave worse than when you
turned off.
Not the ramps fault it’s just things were designed this way you saywith a shrug.
Slowly your organs will start to show and you will survive for a long time
but nothing more.
You will see how ugly a heart really is, a blob of red keeping you alive.
You will see your mortality in the mirror.
You will feel the harnesses, once so comforting begin to dig into your skin.
The lines from the harness more clear than clothing.
You will have food, water and a place to hang your hat
but it will never be your home but you will survive for a long long time,
too long.  
The suicide nets prevent the last line of control and you will survive for
a very long time, far too long.
You will bounce off the nets and be gently be taken back to the highway.
Hope you enjoy and any feedback is more than welcome!
Poetry Mar 2015
Rays of streaming light,
Heat bouncing off ocean waves.
Blue water shimmers.
Paul Costa May 2014
a day of spring
a day for a wedding
a day opening the door to--
the sound of
a ball
at the neighbors ‘cross
the road.
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