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M Solav Mar 22
Paved roads of cars that roam
Are sure to grow weary on my bones.
And there’s a high hill close to home
Onto which I seldom venture alone.
How I recall those many days of yore
When we’d go fresh out in the morn;
And up that hill now far across the globe
Would stare for short eons into the fog.
Written as photopoetry on February 9th, 2022.


— Copyright © M. Solav —
This work may not be used in entirety or in part without the prior approval of its author. Please contact marsolav@outlook.com for usage requests. Thank you.
basil Dec 2021
red
sitting in traffic staring
at a horizon of red
thinking of her unintentionally

i dyed my hair again
taking comfort in being able to look different
looking different than when i fell for people that were just shells
of bad decisions and ****
people that gave me goosebumps because they were so cold
but i used to mistake the chills for butterflies

i've been worried about repeating myself
cycling around my bad habits
like i'm on a ferris wheel that doubles as a perpetual motion machine
but i haven't texted her in a few weeks so
that must be a good sign
still

i listen the playlists i made when i was so busy over thinking i didn't have time to do my fvcking laundry
i wore her sweater for days on end and i hummed those songs under my breath
and now the melodies just remind me of how starving i was
laying in the bed of nails i made for myself
and they remind me of her. always her. and how she never gave a **** about me, but somehow taught me to give a **** about myself.
these stupid, beautiful songs remind me of how much i pretend to hate her. and they make me want to write poems about the idea of her again
even though i swore i wouldn't. on several occasions.
and so this poem isn't about her, or the idea of her, or the stupid playlists i was obsessed with when i called her mine

this one is about the horizon of red
as i sit stuck in traffic, staring
blurring my vision on purpose
as the crimson lights move at the speed of my slowing heart
trying. trying. trying.
trying to forget about her, as i think of her unintentionally.
trying to live in a world where people don't always mean the 'i love you's that so carelessly drip from their open mouths.
trying to care about those people anyway and pretend that i don't.
trying to love.
trying to love myself.
trying to write more poems in the first person as a form of self care.
trying to figure out if that counts.

trying to not be so fvcking lonly all the time.
i wrote this in my notes app in the car. if you can't tell ****. drink water, love. and remind me not to romanticize being treated like **** <3

12.10.2021
Balkus Jul 2021
There is no cars in heaven,
just bicycles
and maybe a few scooters,
unchained,
for there is no looters.
No trains, no buses,
for no commuters.
But walkers, and joggers,
and dog lovers
and cats,
no pigs, no rats,
no suspicious bats,
no labs,
no jabs,
but love
and lot of laughs.
Raven Feels Jul 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, and she dreams:?

expired sunset
a multicolored sky fired and met
wings of flee burnt rain
dawns of lasts in unseen flames

the table dines
lions chase forests of mine
like when the first sip shadowed
of the water green in lakes shallow

hands shot eyes intake
tremble ripped canvas of french fake
ashes unknown no name
to reach out faces or claim

polished the twenty third
out of the bathing bird
a Sunday morning motions
a faze of a dark table believed bad omen


                                                                               -----ravenfeels
Anais Vionet Jun 2021
I’m in the library, at school, trying to write an article for the school paper (and I'm not even ON the school paper). I’m on a forty-five minute deadline to complete a story someone else did poorly - on the edge of my vision I see someone step up to my table - a boy, I can tell, without looking up, from his school uniform. I’m hoping whoever it is will go away.. 44 minutes.
“Uhh-umm,” I hear.
My eyes flicker up and I ID “Everett Priestly” - one of God’s less ambitious efforts.
After a moment.
“Uhh-umm,” he does again.
“Parsley,” I say, without looking up.
“Priestly,” he answers with a sigh, "wanna play HOUSE?" he says conspiratorially, with a smirk.
"We were 7," I say, liberally applying syrupy boredom.

I’ve kind of known Everett Priestly forever - he lives two doors away from us - then my family became ex-patriots until three years ago. His family is rich, he’s handsome and I believe someone once told him he was charming. He fancies himself a lady killer but I’m willing to bet that he kills them with a combination of daddy’s money and poor driving.

“I’m awfully busy - on deadline Mr. Priestly - please send me a text,” I say, again, without looking up.
“I don’t have your number,” he says, patiently. “Would you like to go to Sandra’s party with a group of us Friday night?”
“OOOO! Let’s keep it that way,” I smile - this is too easy - 42 minutes.
“It’ll be FUN,” he says, with a smile in his voice - Oh, God, he’s trying charm.
“Everett,” I stop writing, look up and lean back. “You ask me out every two months. If you’ve made a bet with someone - like we’re living a teen movie - I’ll payoff the bet for ya if you just give it a rest, OK?”
He really IS good looking - but kissing him would be the apoco-LIPS.
“Why do you always say no??,” he asks, with a helpless 1/6th shrug and his GIGAWATT smile.
41 minutes.
“See you in January,” I say, as I slide my laptop closer in, give it my obvious, full attention and hopefully, start back to writing.
“Come to Thanksgiving!,” he says, as inspiration strikes.
“January would be MLK day,” I remind him. “Everett, PLEASE - deadline,” I plead (not looking up).
Everett, makes a snarky sound, turns around and slowly moves away - like a man headed for jail - he really SHOULD try out for the drama department, I decide. 40 minutes.

When Everett turned 16, his daddy gave him some kind of expensive foreign sports car - a really, really, really expensive sports car. Six hours later Everett guns this formula-one race-car out of a gas station, loses control, and totals it. The girl with him had to get stitches over her right eye.

His friends call him “EV” - they say it with a kind of a southern accent - that I can’t decide is fake or not, which gives it a hint of - “Elvis” - had a replacement car within 48 hours. He wrecked THAT one in less than six weeks - and his date got a concussion in the roll-over.

If he wants me to get in a car with him, he’s gonna to have to taser me.
some people exist in their worlds of their own - it's best if we don't join them.
Raven Feels May 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, a dream one week ago:9


when that world came to an end

I saw all the colors in hindsight-eyes bend

cheetahs brush the graves on a pupil in the browns they fade

kisses planted on necks for a goodbye imaginary mates no meet made

stake on the runs

cars jogging in place neon lights with no sun

the packed stuff stumble on frights and screams I can't shut

the hell does it mean when you're choked on fatal without a but

doors abandon left sensations in scare in must

breathes don't do any when opened after this disastrous dust

when the world came to a salty end

a smile in me shattered on no coming backs forever send


                                                                            -------ravenfeels
Philip Connett Apr 2021
A BLACK DEVILS TONGUE ROLLS OUT BEFORE ME
HISSING, LICKING, FLAMING & SPITTING

I'M ON THE RUN FROM THE DEMON INSIDE ME
GRINDING WINDING CHURNING AND BURNING

A SCREAMING BULLET TEARS FROM HELLS OWN KEEP
THUNDER QUAKES OF LAUGHTER FROM THE BELLY OF THE BEAST

A BLACK DEVILS TONGUE ROLLS OUT BEFORE ME
HISSING, LICKING, FLAMING & SPITTING

I'M ON THE RUN FROM THE EVIL INSIDE ME
GRINDING WINDING CHURNING AND BURNING

A STREAK OF LIGHTNING BOLT BLISTERING THE EARTH
TREMBLING AND SHAKING LOOSE OF HELLS OWN HEARTH

MUSCULAR SKELETAL CONTORTING
BODY BRACED IS FORCING
SPITTIN SPARKS GRINDIN' WHEELS
KICKIN' FAST AT THE DEVIL'S HEELS

FLIRTING WITH PSYCHOSIS
THIS MADNESS TAKES 'A' HOLD
I'M DRIPPIN' SWEAT
GRIPPIN A SPINNIN' WHEEL
GRINDIN' SPARKS AT THE DEVIL'S HEELS

I'M DRIPPIN' WET
MINDS BLEEDING
THIS MADNESS TAKES A HOLD

I'M GRIPPIN' HARD
ON A SPINNIN' WHEEL
KNUCKLES WHITE ICY COLD

I'M GRIPPIN' WET
MINDS BLEEDING
THIS MADNESS TAKES MY SOUL

I'M DRIPPIN' SWEAT
GRIPPIN' A SPINNIN' WHEEL
SPITTIN' SPARKS
ON THE DEVIL'S HEELS

I'M DRIPPIN' SWEAT
MINDS BLEEDING
THIS MADNESS TAKES A HOLD

I'M DRIPPIN' SWEAT
GRIPPIN' A SPINNIN' WHEEL
WAITIN' FOR THE DEATH KNELL PEEL

A BLACK DEVILS TONGUE ROLLS OUT BEFORE ME
HISSING, LICKING, FLAMING & SPITTING

I'M ON THE RUN FROM THE DEMON INSIDE ME
GRINDING WINDING CHURNING AND BURNING

A SCREAMING BULLET TEARS FROM HELLS OWN KEEP
THUNDER QUAKES OF LAUGHTER FROM THE BELLY OF THE BEAST

A BLACK DEVILS TONGUE ROLLS OUT BEFORE ME
HISSING, LICKING, FLAMING & SPITTING

I'M ON THE RUN FROM THE EVIL INSIDE ME
GRINDING WINDING CHURNING AND BURNING

THIS RUPTURED CHASM ERUPTS SPLINTERING THE HEAP
WILDFIRE SPITTING FROM INFERNAL DEEP

MUSCULAR SKELETAL CONTORTING
BODY BRACED IS FORCING
SPITTIN SPARKS GRINDIN' WHEELS
KICKIN' FAST AT THE DEVIL'S HEELS

FLIRTING WITH PSYCHOSIS
THIS MADNESS TAKES 'A' HOLD
I'M DRIPPIN' SWEAT
GRIPPIN A SPINNIN' WHEEL
GRINDIN' SPARKS AT THE DEVIL'S HEELS

I'M DRIPPIN' WET
MINDS BLEEDING
THIS MADNESS TAKES A HOLD

I'M GRIPPIN' HARD
ON A SPINNIN' WHEEL
KNUCKLES WHITE ICY COLD

I'M GRIPPIN' WET
MINDS BLEEDING
THIS MADNESS TAKES MY SOUL

I'M DRIPPIN' SWEAT
GRIPPIN' A SPINNIN' WHEEL
SPITTIN' SPARKS
ON THE DEVIL'S HEELS

I'M DRIPPIN' SWEAT
MINDS BLEEDING
THIS MADNESS TAKES A HOLD

I'M DRIPPIN' SWEAT
GRIPPIN' A SPINNIN' WHEEL
WAITIN' FOR THE DEATH KNELL PEEL

THESE DARK WINGS
SPREAD OVER MY HORIZON
REIGN IN EVIL
REIGN IN FREEDOM
REIGN IN HELL

THESE RIVERS RUN WITH BLOOD
FLOWING TO THE FLOOD

THESE RIVERS RUN WITH BLOOD
FLOWING TO THE FLOOD


FROM THE GNASHING TEETH OF THE JAWS OF HELL
RASPING GASPING SEETHING AND BREATHING

MOVING FASTER THAN THE TOLL OF THAT FATEFUL BELL
WREAK CRAKE SHREIKS AND SHAKES THE HEATH

WINDIN' DOWN THAT STEEP SLIDE
SLIPPERY *****
LANDSCAPE
RACING
THROUGH
MY
MIND

WINDIN' DOWN THAT SLIPPERY *****
LANDSLIDE
RACING
THROUGH
MY
MIND

WINDIN' DOWN THAT STEEP SIDE
SLIPPERY *****
BLACK TRACKS
RACING
THROUGH
MY
MIND
As if a song/poem that I wrote...  It has a classic & thrashy feel to it...
Ahmad Attr Apr 2021
I said talk about love
My heart raced fast
I turned my brain off
But you were in your fancy car
You texted you were going fast
With wheels on asphalt

I said show me how you rev your engines
Pick me up
Drive through my city
Drive through the dark
My heart raced fast
I turned my brain all off
And We were in your fancy car
You said you want to go **** fast
Music on
Your favorite song
Ninety one
Going all night long
Drive until the dawn of morning star
We can go to the snooker bar
It’s all home wherever we go wherever we are
No such thing as going too far

But I said I want to talk
And you’re going too **** fast
Wheels on asphalt
You forget that I’m here
Wheels on asphalt
I shout but you don’t hear
Drive me off, let me go
But it’s getting crystal clear
You like showing off
Your money and your white car

I just wanted to talk about love
But you can’t have enough
Of your fancy car
Going all so fast
So I just turn my brain all off
Wheels on asphalt
A poem/song about toxic relationship
Faltering plans
An indecisive mind,
Consistency in itself is an art
An explosive start!
Followed by;
Fumbling fingers and idiotic ideas.
What next?
Do we pitstop like Hamilton?
We were in pole position.
Reassert, focus and keep on track.
We are the drivers of our own Destiny...
©️ 2021 Joshua Reece Wylie. All rights reserved.

I've been trying to keep up one poem a day. It's tough. I'm sure other writers can relate. This poem is about trying to keep that target going. A Formula 1 racing theme was completely unintentional and off the cuff, but seemed to work nicely. So it stayed and I kinda like the end result. I hope you do too.
Julie Grenness Feb 2021
In my burb, cool cars are superstars,
They never seem to travel far,
They drive off to the bottle shop,
Head off home, dodging the cops,
Maybe they seek lively young babes,
I think the **'s are giggling away,
Another trip to the bottle shop,
Your fun police, I am not,
I do not care where your mufflers are,
Cool cars here are superstars!
Feedback welcome.
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