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Mitch Prax Jul 2019
The city never sleeps,
it's too busy wallowing
in broken dreams and
smiles as vacant as the buildings
that are too tall,
and too bright
to ever close.
javert Mar 2019
The last rays of the sun are touching the third floor of the buildings.
Same color as the clouds.
For as long as I look at it, it will stay there,
perfect and frozen and beautiful.
The moment I look away it will be gone.

If only I could hold this last light in my hands,
like a cup to keep me warm,
like a bowl that brims over.

Peek through the blinds again tomorrow, love.
I'll still be here.
Amanda Feb 2019
My hopes could beat the skyscrapers,
As high as they keep flying,
There's no way to draw them back,
But relentlessly; I'm trying.
Like I'm made of glass, like I'm made of paper,
They can try to knock me down, but I will come rising from the ground, like a skyscraper
-Demi Lovato
Justin Pfirsch Feb 2019
I have formed within myself
     my political beliefs
     In the same way that everyone does
     many without knowing it
     by accepting
            absolutely everything                                
            that seems to me
            to be          
     the cornerstone or brick, window etc.
     of a building                                        
     that looks like          
     a nice place to live                              
     and then rejecting
     all that flotsam and jetsam
     that ***** detritus  
      that when put together
        could only make for me
             a literal Hell Hole  
             but which would seem          or Left
             to someone else of the right ^ persuasion
             a living Paradise
Cece Nov 2018
she’s sitting on a cloud,
laughing,
windswept hair caught
in shiny lipgloss.
the cold air,
fresh and sweet,
makes her smile,
and pull her coat tighter
around her.
she swings her legs,
glad her faded purple converse
fit well.
looking down,
amazed by the city
below her,
far, far,
below.
tiny people
walk on tiny sidewalks
oblivious
to her presence.
skyscrapers
keeping her company
in the misty,
violet night.
she grins,
her hair flying about,
feet swinging
happily,
laughter making her giddy,
in awe of the buildings
in the mist below.
B Oct 2018
I can see the horizon.
I can see the ocean.
I can see the beach.
I can see cars driving.
I can see trees.
I can see buildings.
I can see birds flying.
I can see airplanes lift and land.
I can see boats out at sea.
I can see everything.
And yet I can’t see a future with you in it.
Morgan Mattingly Aug 2018
Pain is genuine and open.
You never absorbed mine the way I did yours .
The yeast turned to sugar turned to poison turned to tears.

I saw you only in old buildings, over grown yards, dive bars, and yellow walls.

crawling vines lost their appeal.
My mother loves moss grown between cracks of forgotten homes.
She hasn’t seen what I have.
Charming as it is as first, the smell of old neighborhoods never leaves you.
Anything can be appealing when it’s new, including old houses and old pain.

He didn’t care much for living. But I saw the whole that that leaves behind
Marte Lindholm Jul 2018
I washed up on the shore
You were already standing there
Like you were expecting me
You made me feel warm again

I could feel the sun burning my neck
As I turned around and followed you into the forest
It was like a warning
The sun trying its best to make me stay

But I couldn't resist
And you led me deeper in
It was so dark

I remember falling asleep
And when I woke up
You were already gone

I stumbled around in the dark
Time went by
I thought I saw the shore
Where it all began

I rushed my steps
My blood started pumping faster
In a hurry towards the light
A twig scratched my left arm

I didn't feel any pain
But then I saw the blood
First just a few drops
Then my arm was all covered

I kept on running
Faster and faster
The light was getting dimmer
But I could smell the ocean now

And then I was there
I was too late
The sun was setting

I could barely see it shining
Behind some tall buildings
That weren't there before

The sun disappeared
And so did I
Finding Paradise, look it up
Darren Mar 2018
I found this ruin only by chance,
Its hypnotic Ivy, leaves me in a trance,
Hiding the features with its natural lace,
Supporting the wall, as they embrace,

The child inside me, can't help but explore,
Ascending the steps, to the withered old door,
Opening it slowly, interrupting the calm,
Disturbing the peace, like a morning alarm,

Birds fleeting, like the thoughts in my mind,
In awe of it's beauty, I left my troubles behind.
The sun breaking through, the absent gable,
Highlighting a chair, missing its table.

I come to rest in that old wooden chair,
I look up, in the suns aura I stare,
The heavens open as my spirit glides,
Out from my body as I breathe through the sky.

I am drawn to the roadside of an old country lane,
A car hugging a tree, smoke following flame,
A camera recording, from a lifeless grip,
Capturing the tragedy of a summers road trip,

Besides a body, is his newly wed bride,
Her breathing shallow, she looks in his eyes,
Calling his name, for the very last time,
Her spirit leaves, as she is drawn to mine,

Our spirits embrace as we ascend for sky,
As the heavens await the groom....
..and his beautiful bride.
nanda Dec 2017
my eyes are flashlights
my face a mess
of beauty standards
and hidden rage

i am a building
many people at the same
good evil none
all for different fame

i breathe co2
i drink gasoline in a cup
my skin is rough concrete
wires all the way up

i speak in machines
scream drills and hammers
i am all noise, chaos
what comfort is there in silence?

i dress in fake nature
plastic bags hold my pride
i take the control
but never once do i command

i am the cancer
on earth's lung
i am the darkness
tainting all black

i am what they call progess
but i am what prevents us from it
i am a mess of glass
and conctrete all in one

i may seem pretty and kind
creating opportunities all around
i build your home
just to tear the real one apart

and deep in the night
between the flashes and chaos
one may be able
to see a kind of nature
that it is still out of my graspe
but as selfish as i am
i blind you with my light
preventing you to fall
from a far-away love

do not look away
no, do not look at what truly is beautiful

because if you do
if you see how the water flows
or how the sun shines
or even feel the grass

you might forget me—
you should resent me
you must break me—
just so you can go back
A small critique to today's lifestyle
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