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Simple Sep 2018
do you think our screens light
will swallow us whole
as it takes our souls and become dumber
as the days grow old?

do you think that fantasy is better
than the fiction of the better,
quickly contradicting our figures?

do you think social media is blinding us,
with each second the lights take us
from our soul to their leader?
this has too much weird stuff soz
Gary Brocks Aug 2018
Goats eat and **** the grass of ramparts,
stupefied cannons sit, garrisoned sentries
primed for nights of buccaneers,
seared by centuries of sun. Down shadowed
cobblestoned tunnels fortified shutters
covet rifle forend and barrel,

wresting rumored slave rebellions
from the locker of history,
while languid waves whisper indifferently
a roll call of human cargo,
chattel displaced, cast to the sea.

Here history sways to sounds
of brown skinned children
at play in breakers,
laughing, shrieking, thrashing,
buoyed by time to this vaulted brick
reverberating chamber,

here a window’s light is cast
beckoning vision past the beach,
to seek the horizon Icarus like,
to fly towards beauty in terror where
an azure sky conjoins a turquoise bay.


Copyright © 2003 Gary Brocks
160707F
Clem Nov 2016
Nothing is more chilled
than slanted sunrays through pines
trembling with want

Nor nothing worse than
the young cardi’nals trilling
out to the white trees

Voices unfalt’ring
answered only by echoes
of forgotten spring

Cold, thick powder snow
blithely reminds us of the
small, white spring hen eggs

that, forever lost,
cracked among the ****-strewn straw,
oozing into earth—

and I think of you,
whispering back to the birds,
just as lost as they

waiting for pre-spring
dew to unfreeze from the grass
that you may lap it

with painful blue eyes
like black-stripped and impish jays,
looking down on all.
haiku. partially inspired by the Mountain Goats song of the same name.
John Constantine Jul 2016
I could feel my face rush with blood I wasn't sure who I was

I could feel the anticipation in the air I knew what I felt is something we'd share

Cause I felt you body press up against mine

and I felt your face in my shoulder and you looked fine

And I felt your embrace for the first time

Cause I felt your bra strap through your shirt and I felt a pulse if was yours for sure

I could see you even though I'd closed my eyes I was shaking even though I was paralyzed

You couldn't believe this real I was scared by what I could feel

What should I do with this? What can I do with this? What should I do with this?
Pure emotion
This was supposed to be a song but idk how to play the guitar so a poem will do
My Bipolar Disorder is a stout-bodied mammal with horns and cloven hooves.

There are two types of My Bipolar Disorder:
Domestic, and Mountain.

My Bipolar disorder typically spends its days grazing on grasses

My Bipolar Disorder will dig depressions in the ground to sleep, rest, and bathe in.

My Bipolar disorder is super social during the winter, and tends to go solo during the summer.

My Bipolar Disorders tail usually points up! (Unless it is frightened or sick)

My Bipolar Disorder is extremely Curious and Intelligent.

Once My bipolar disorder has discovered a weakness in its fence, it will exploit it repeatedly.

There are over 300 distinct breeds of My Bipolar Disorder.

Within' minutes of being born, my Bipolar Disorder is up and walking around.

My bipolar disorder used to live in the white house with Abraham Lincoln.

One day an ethiopian Herder walked in on My Bipolar Disorder liteally bouncing off of cliff walls because it just Discovered Coffee.

My Bipolar Disorder has four stomachs

The horns of My Bipolar Disorder are typically removed to reduce injury to humans.

My Bipolar disorder will explore anything new or unfamiliar in its surroundings, mainly with its mouth and tongue.

My bipolar disorder readily reverts to the wild if given the opportunity.

My Bipolar Disorder is more susceptible to Parasites and other infectious diseases when it is mismanaged.

My bipolar disorder has had a lingering connection with Satanism and pagan religions

My Bipolar Disorder is considered a "clean" animal by jewish dietary laws.

According to Zeus
As long as you leave it's bones whole,
My Bipolar disorder will keep coming back to life.
Fayez Mar 2016
I woke up
In a dark place
With four goats around me
Dancing.

The dance was demonic
Satanic
Hallucinogenic
Static.

They moved
Yet stayed in place
They sang demonic tunes
Yet did not open their mouth.

I paniced
Screamed
Shivered
and finally ran.

I kicked one
and it Unfolded
Exploded
Into butterflies.

The other goats burst and shaped
Defaced
Recombobulated
A man.

The man had a mask
of Clay
My fist felt the clay
The clay felt my fist.

The mask
Shattered
Corroded
Disintegrated.

I saw fear
I saw dismay
I saw dread
I saw me.

He spoke
"Pathetic"
"Disgusting"
"I'm you? How cliche?".

I shook
I saw crows
I burst to butterflies
The crows ate me.

I was on the floor
I overdosed
I ****** up
I should do this again.
A trip through Hallucinations and nightmares.
Cori MacNaughton Oct 2015
My newest buddy
baby goat Vortex
climbs my leg and
wants to be scratched

His brother Hope
bewildered
is seemingly convinced
that I will eat him where he stands

I tell them often
I love you both
and if it's up to me
you will both die here
of ripe old age
Vortex and Hope were born in our barn on 20 September, or the night before, and greeted me that morning as I came to let them out of their stall for the day.

Vortex was named for a swirl marking on his forehead, and another of his side, as well as his tendency to be a constant whirlwind of activity.  He is also the dominant brother and afraid of nothing.

Hope is much calmer and quieter in general, and much less trusting of me, although  he is beginning to allow me to pet him from time to time.  But usually he runs like wildfire.  I'm having a ball with them both.  Kids.  ;-)
Brother Jimmy Jul 2015
Maybe you’re mistaken when you think about what’s out there,
You attribute ev’ry stimulus to winged things from books,

Mistaking accidental circumstances for essential causes,
There isn’t really anything that God conveys with looks.

Perhaps it is hard to face the truth we’re just meat bags with will,
Which slowly rot away until the day when we’re forgotten

Needlessly dissecting every move and every inner thought,
Attempting to discover what makes us all so very rotten.


Take a deep breath

And hold it in

Until you feel it all

Fading away



Slowly toward death

All of us fall

Someday we’ll feel it all

Fading away



Through my goat mouth, it’s true, you can hear me bleating,
Like a little lamb who’s lambier than lamby-lambs can be,

But yes in fact it’s bike tires, and tin cans that I’m eating,
And I feel my goat heart beating and... I want to flee.
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