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Amanda Hawk Oct 2020
Doodling out the hours
And minutes
Become tiny emojis
Criss-cross, half-finished
Tic tac toe games
And I feel lost
Each box a reminder
Of these quarantine
Afternoons, and your name
Is always on my lips
Along with the words
I miss you
one of my favorite hobbies-doodling
Ken Pepiton Aug 2019
Note to you: The rythymn-in-strument strums in stone geo-time.
To the drummers,
dis-passio ey okeh,
woodwinds dim-
oboe join in mit piccolo on the hummingbird whistles
Breezes, in the shade of a great rock,

real life rock, granite composed of not so tiny grains
of ground up uther utter star-stuff, side-
real asif intended for goodness

otherwise, how petrified I'd be come imagining the forming
of the
foundation of my life, as I know it,

it is un-believable, therefore
no lie,
the riddle arrives after ever begins

and, word has it, dear reader,
is your word now.
You may believe anything you wish,
with no
un-intended after math, after ever

Do you recall...
youth full quests completed alone?

Quests, Johnny Quest, Future Quest V.B.S.

believers, true believers being formed from childish hopes,
manifesting in grown liars stricken with

hidden child sym-drone
in the middle of booming thirty-something phase when
starts storing all the old stories,

building energy for the seventh decade fracture/crushing

soft blow breeze of free and easy musing re
songing a reason to belief
even in
a realm where lies never die.

Recall the old days, balance
bubbles and crossed hairs and roads
Balance factors, bubble balancing lead weight,
the Whole Earth Catalogue
balanced by the weight of the roof on Notre Dame being
melted along with the rest of the Greenland Ice sheet,

so superman eyes in our skies can see to the bedrock on
which the

Principle Thing
The root of evil has reached this point

this is after all that. Time-wise, in the arrow scenario.

Fair tales always win, sh'eros live for your examined life'sake

--- ranting old men come running down stairs
--- the hidden child has arrived

The golden headed child, meek and cold
in buried treasure

chests opened one last time for quadrupal by-pass

--- He's a donor
--- givem awish foundation
--- make this sacred

Mi-da's, well, he wished again,

he wished he lived in inter-sting times entertainment-wise

inward touching times imagined
in the addled golden child
brought to life in a virtual, al-most verifiable asnot art,
but not

very-fi-able, semper-fi-wise, if you

swore the oath. (It's a game, right, now game vows link for
in of by logic gated
mazes, do they? Amazing.  ) See,

from above, as below, pretend you know

all things, you can imagine

in my bubble, in the absolute absense of your

let. that act do. let us, the objective aspect of we,
the people who hold those famed

troothz, verities of any examind re-ality-ifity-isms

self-evidence for we

be letting be, believe me, that's no lie, you can doit, you can, you can
I imagine

and I accept we may mean more to me than thee,
however now
hapt, in qualia quantumical if-I-ability
entangled meanings
link us through

Disney-fictionation endo-crenalation, --||T|>>>--->
times half
Crea-nullated castle
link that sparked the aitia ifiabe
first caused
fall from the well
on the mountain

jack fell downbroke his crown
tumbling after bling bling bling

--- the sorcerors's apprentice was fired
--- they found errors in his
--- sin-tax

We can forgive such over-sight.
Blame the mycelum clan

better yet,
blame the clay eaters, no,
the clay wearers?

the clay bher-ers?
Ah, the clay bakers, fersher? Nae?

The clay, perse?
The dust we shuffle as we dance atop the stone?
The way of the rolling stone,
grinding, rolling-downhill-stone,
the stone rolled away,

the stone of the sysiphus-seen-hap-iuna

Blowing in the wind, lifted higher

Ax d'maji-yo, he know. 'Zeke 17, seven with a caballero v,
callit Macaronic be-bop

dodat, yankee doodle morph t' resound,
like poetry

at the gates
no enemey ever breached. The key truth, is that,

believe it, if you think you may.
Macaronic language is text that uses a mixture of languages,[1] particularly bilingual puns or situations in which the languages are otherwise used in the same context (rather than simply discrete segments of a text being in different languages). Hybrid words are effectively "internally macaronic". In spoken language, code-switching is using more than one language or dialect within the same conversation.[2]
M G Hsieh Feb 2019
En Soul-ment and tone
Will never fade away
The undulating skies and fervent seas
The bowels of grass and ****
The mighty winds
Careless tangles of swarms and open bridges and catfish and crayfish and
The reverberations of sounds and laughter
Sonorous and somnolent and alabaster
Mounds its way through the desert storms and wingless chills
Panafery conglomerates itself
Call me
It calls me
And extolls itself
Exaults itself
Highly highly praise and praises be
svdgrl Jan 2019
I stare at a glowing window while I hear
the street sweepers chiming down the street
for the week night I've lost count of.
Body warmth and sleep cuddles aren't around,
to help me want to close my eyes tonight.
It's 3 AM on Monday and my lover's in his own
waking in a few hours to the glow
and I still don't want to wink.
Fixated on past experiences.
This is just never the time to be
appreciating everything, is it?
Too late to get anything good down,
Too early write anything off.
Megan May 2018
I'm in class
instead of paying attention-
doodling instead of listening.

I'm just hearing
the mumbling
of the professor...

he's talk talk talking about...
Doing something
because of something.

But I’m just doodling.
Again not listening.
Again not hearing
Such important details

Of something
Happening somewhere
Because of...

Something bad is happening
Sounds like something that’s happened

I continue to doodle
adding tornados to the scribbles.
Causing mayhem between
Simple blue lines on bleached paper

Just like somewhere
Where something happened
Because of...

Harder like the pressure of the pen
I doodle with
It’s too late

Lecture over.
Don’t get me wrong though I love class and learning! It’s just sometimes it’s like people never listens in class or take their own initiative to learn something and that frazzled me up a little lol
He was
an arterial
driver where
he'd  flee
his schlep
to accompany
wires but
hire them
and direly
with an
accordance that
oppression dearly
their navels  
in latter
times of
inca summers
love begotten
A story of an inca summer
Debanjana Saha Feb 2018
With each day's torments in life
I take my brush and
try to paint out my soul
Where to begin or end
not knowing at all
but still love to paint
to find solace within my heart!

To paint or to write,
is my usual confusion
so did both while writing & painting
my soul out!
I am passionate about writing as well as painting.
Now trying to do both at the same time.
AKM Sep 2017
The teacher's busy teaching,
Whereas my mind is full.
Oh my, I've got millions of ideas,
Can't control a pencil's pull...

Because I ain’t taking notes and my sheet’s empty
And to doodle, many ideas tempt me.
Ideas? I have plenty
But minutes, Not many.
I have loads of space but not a pencil case,
Umm… that, I can borrow from a mate.
I’ll try drawing a party although I have no social trait.
Or probably myself reading my favorite comic Big Nate.

How about me eating spaghetti?
As fall from the heavens confetti.
My mind drifts off,
As all I can think about is Ferrari spin-offs.

Wait… what? Was that the bell?
God save me, I have no excuse to tell!
About my real life experience. And yours too.
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