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David Cunha Jun 2017
Forget what they ALL say
Forget origin common sense and mood and fashion,
Forget the human in you and unleash your unique inner species,
Light your heart with electricity from the skies
                                       wetness from the rain
                                        rough grains from the land
                                        And BE!

Just be, become endless,
Free!
Enjoy the sunlight and forget the smoke
They got thrown in your eyes.
nadine Jun 2017
I walked on the streets
My favorite album on repeat
Hands inside my jean's front pocket
Eyes on the way ahead
But as cliche as it sounds
I bump into you
*******!
Our eyes met
Our skin touched
The electricity, I'm sure you also felt?
Standing next to you
It's the right place, I knew
This spark will create countless "BOOM!" soon
Love as though flowers that will bloom
Ready to grow past the ceiling
Right now, this spring
this has been
nadine
IrieSide Apr 2017
Attentive eyes
    and nervous jitter,
trembling hearts
await their fate

barbaric practice
of modern acceptation
fear is faced
  in university fashion

Navy blue professor,
    of conductor hands
Giving presentations in college.
Martin Narrod Apr 2017
Apple Jacks

Up into the sky, the girl with velvet pants, a hip and tender blue, she loves me too, she loves me too.

Feet upon the dash, sun rays on our face, our ashtray filling fast as I push harder on the gas, I'd drive a thousand miles to see her, I'd drive anywhere to be near to her, I want to be there when she smiles, even for a little while. I will be there. I will be there.

Mountain tops are wrapped in white, the highway pass stops being plowed at night, we've seen the sun it set, we've seen the sun it rise, and set again today, we're heading far away, because I will be there, I will be there.

A notebook filled with scribbled ink and our ashtray's full with inspiration but out of energy. There's a song stuck in my head, but only the two lines that she's said, I sing them over and over, and over and over, she wrote, "I will be there. I will be there"

I'm nearly running out of stamps, but I've got many more postcards I want to send, we haven't passed a town with enough people to have a mailbox, and America is getting thin, skinny kids with their line tattoos, girls dress down and never look as good as you. I'd rather go nowhere with you than everywhere with somebody who won't ever be there. You can be here, but you can be so ******* **** unclear.

We just ate two hits a piece, of 350 micrograms of lsd, we've still got more than half a pound of some Gorilla Glue  Hybrid Blueberry strand, I'd like falafel wrap and a red stripe too, we have enough to buy food for you.

I've never been sad or lonely since we started to go on our road journey. But I'm in love with your elbows, I'm having an affair with your elbows. Sometimes they don't return my calls, sometimes they don't even call at all, I will be there if you cry, and I'll be there to say goodnight. I will be here to make you come, so long as you'll be here to *******. So let's drive around and have some fun, while we drive around in the sun. Will or won't, yes or no, to and fro, we've counted twice to just be sure, we have 10 toes and 10 fingers. I've counted yours, you've counted mine, i need to see your elbows one more time. I need to find your funny bone so it can crack me up, and we can race through states in this cardboard box. Can we put plastic wrap instead of using tempered glass, on this rocket ship Jimi's Blues, it's the only thing I want to do. To see backward into the fading sun, we can eat dinner or have Twix instead. I won't forget if you still put in. Just let me lick the numbers off your mouth. Just let me lick the numbers off your mouth. We haven't gone anywhere, so we can just stay here, I will just stay here. But please can you go to the store, I need new skateboard bearings and a kid-size box of Apple Jacks.
Donielle Apr 2017
A low rumble within my soul,
a flash of light in my eyes,
blinding,
leaving me without a glint
of hope.
Tears,
much hotter than a normal rain.
My body trembles with the fear
of not knowing,
the pain of surprise.
The wind blows within me,
and my hair stands on end.
Fight-or-flight time;
so often I've stood to fight,
only to be the fool in the end.
This time I feel it,
electricity in my legs,
pulsing.
A signal to run,
I can already feel
my feet pounding the concrete
like a hammer,
blowing the sidewalk to pieces
while my toes crunch in my shoes.
I run,
as fast as my body will take me,
far away from the place
where my heart lies
in shambles,
scattered among our ashes.
elizabeth Feb 2017
Writing is my outlet,
My emotions are the charger.
I am an old Nokia.
I have endured pain
And hardships in life.
I have watched everyone
Else advance while I am
Left behind.
Everyone remembers me,
But no one really cares anymore.
Everyone knows who I am,
But no one wants me.
I'm no longer good enough.
February 18, 2017.
Late night tonight. Can't really sleep. These are the weird thoughts that run through my head. Maybe instead of watching YouTube late at night when I can't sleep, I'll post poetry and read it the next day.... And then take it down because it's probably weird as ****.
Anyways, goodnight all. Sweet dreams.
riwa Jan 2017
you could shoot a bullet through my head and I still wouldn’t be able to forget about you.
What we had was a special kind of love;
one that made me feel electric.
I have not been able to feel that way since the day you left.

So go ahead, shoot me
I won’t be able to forget you;
but at least *the warmth of my blood will remind me of what it felt like to be in your arms again.
this is an old poem that I decided to rewrite
(1.2.17)
Coming from your humble and holy
houses each morning bringing blessings, your lively and
cheerful "Good Morning!" sounds - all the power and energy
that a good life brings. Living by the light God gives you
every day, eschewing electricity,
and all of the worst that it brings with it,
teaching your children and loving your wives
with gentleness and devotion.

Ruben, Glen David, Marlin... did I spell these right?

I only heard your beautiful, traditional names in your own, clear, grounded voices,
as we began to know each other, while you travelled back
and forth, from bright and early each day, onto our ailing roof.

Tearing into four layers of old, sickly roofing tiles with your
wonderful vim and vigour, a healing began that went deep,
deeper every day, as we absorbed the precious fortune
of having you in our midst. Your chosen, Amish lives inspired
us, and still do, as we still, quite often, hear the echoes
of your footsteps above us, each one a prayer and an affirmation
of lives well-lived.

One fine afternoon, one of you stood straddling the very top of our
steep old roof line, and that image of a man mastering his craft,
invested in a life that blesses everyone he cares for,
and teaches by example, everyone he meets,
will stay with me for all of my days.
©Elisa Maria Argiro
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