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Karisa Brown Mar 2018
When the
world grew
out of focus,
she was home.
matilda shaye Jan 2018
I've had three, four, five first loves because each time it's a little different. I'll never know what it's supposed to feel like and it stops me from continuing. This song was playing during a *** scene, the red lights reflecting off of her face while she leaned in, showing the emotion that had been stuck between her gritted teeth.

I want to wake up, I want my body to grow old and I want to stop being so tired. I feel the most at home when I am alone so it's okay that I haven't seen you in days. I'm worried about myself. I'm worried about myself.

Standing up is boring. I write about this feeling every time but yet I've yet to find a word to describe it. There is something about the placidity at 4 am that has me drinking orange juice on my porch watching the sun come up each one of these nights, in a row, like a pattern. My body needs to stretch, needs to grow, I can't be restricted to locking my knees and standing in place. I can't be restricted.

We will dance on our way to heaven, and I will never be afraid again.
Bryce Jan 2018
Ice bleeds to water in lukewarm air
As timeless crystal lattices
collapse
Into perpetually formless jumbles

You take a pick to the lakebed
Slash shaves of ice from their atomic *******
Grit chattering teeth against slicing cold
To brush frosted life beneath its shell

Exhale vaporous dawnlit dragon-breath
There is no sweat on your icicle skin
Help our furnace-star do its nuclear work
In time for rite of spring

The soul floats a sub-arctic berg
Incongruously bobbing ever onwards
While hypothermia licks at the fingertips
Between your edges and the warming waves
bass sic cully, plucking strings iz a ja
Cane Nines Har Able
   To Out Best playing cello yo yo Ma
so stated by this fretful pa

Ode per pooch pounding ruff
   sounding sub woofer.
Whew - all done taking a leak
   behind bushes of favorite vetch
tub bull patch so now,

   arf goes me dog gone
   bark a roll and ruff sketch
shod ye be least bit interested in this retch
in this faux paused muttering mongrel,

who (despite viscous rumors to the contrary)
nada a leech nor letch
boot actually quite a "good" fetch
and a fine prairie home companion –

even if yar tail got docked
   with out anesthesia by a pretty lass see
still...Yukon feel melancholy
nonetheless juiced buffer end me
like ya know throw
   a ***** en re:coe Fermi can catch.

Me - iz one hippie dawg,
who sports hair reed style like a veil
longish, and minimally groomed,
asper an antagonistic,
sans brothers Grimm tale

with no intent to rant nor rail
searching fur gallivanting
   female nursery rhyme minus a quail
boot...with jack and his pail,

which known storybook
   quite old as a rusty nine-inch nail
stating dogmatic, humanistic and lyric words
once adored by this older Socratic male

offers himself as a bona fide
   potential Petsmart call soul mate hale
and hearty without any major Def Jam ***** fail
yore, beardless yet scruffy,

   I wear spectacles rather bifocals bare
lee stay put on me snout
   to see the world more crystal clear
especially when chaste
   to impress a ***** in heat -

   like ye mud dear
whom height welcome
   letting me nibble on one or t'other ear
of yours, now trotting along on my yipping badinage
whim per with poetic trademark flair,

which doggerel seems unstoppable probably
from a malfunction milk bone shaped cerebral gear
aye attest trademark viz
   somewhat long wavy, course brown hair

might also involve well tangled follicular roots
affirming me to hear snapping jeer
ring boxer bullies, which floppy mop top in tandem
to firm undersized gluteus maximus or hmm rear
oft times incites other mongrels to stare

yet, the ability to camouflage
Ike **** sitter a bonus, akin to a camel lion
or if you prefer chameleon,
this trait stems when Aztec,
   my faux pas amidst Mayan

Runic ruins, where traipsing
   for long stretches of time
ah stopped to chat with Ryan
a local junkyard hound, which
   at human years over 100 keeps on tryin

to survive within
   dog eat horse meat world,
where canines sprang from wolverine zoo
and as a complete stranger introduced muss elf
as "man's best friend" to you

from a place in mind known as xandu
which could afford room enough for two
if ye would only stand or sit in this queue
similar to waiting in a cloistered pew

But better grab a place
   before places number few
from those who utter yabba dabba do.
I blithely admit not to be a stud
just a recent emigre hoisted himself out of the mud
from that antediluvian flood

like some garden variety muggle
   with a male member dud
but rather a regular bovine chewing his cud
and just wanna be a companionable bud.
no intent to be neither indecent nor lewd,

which rapid-fire reply
   helps my anxiety-riddled mood
unsure what level of interest exists
   toward this ordinary dude
for reasons and rhymes,
   i scratch my flea gnawed head and brood.
most people find my poetic attempts unclear

and get quite frazzled - with nostrils that flair
like some fire breathing dragon
   filled with rage and glare
all on account of human desire for friendship,

and some woman for me to care
which closeness worth
   far more than gems, jewels and trinkets
so...if a safe risk taking mood,
i would be interested for ye to share.

literary enjoyment and
   entertainment primary reason i write
from a little known wayfarer
that trawls the virtual seas this night

whereby my being pitched to and fro
which forces necessity
   to hold on with all me might.
care not for this playful male
ye seem quite desperate a guy to nail,

I could benefit from someone
to play the role of inxs bare naked lady
and super *****
   (ah bet she iz jist a cheap trick),
this jack rustle of no trades
   could enjoy a gal to hold his pale.
oh...fair and lovely princess

   in this surreal and virtual space
might thee put down the drawbridge
with mush ado of a quick pace
and no need to feign shock
   nor surround thyself
with defenses to brace
against some maliciousness on my part -

just a wandering troubadour able, eager, ready
willing to show his smart pedigreed fact sheet,
and maybe even other parts of his anatomy
with dignity and amazing grace.

Sangfroid persona makes joie de vivre
the perfect human to adopt, and more fun than a wii
ill that chased a monkey named zee
row, who aims tubby yar beau.
sydney Oct 2017
stop me from
d                        
r                  
o          
       w          
    n
            i
                 n
                        g

keep me from falling
                           a
                      p
               a
        r
  t

carry me
h
o
m
e.
Ashley Chapman Sep 2017
I awoke
with mountains in their heights
that spoke
of memories that wove
through knees
thighs
and ***** bone --
to the inky waters of the lake below.

In that cabin
where the sable pines enclose
and all about
from coral-white
to grayish
turquoise-blue
snow.

That scene:
on the edge
where the stillness
Knows.
Written because it was inspired by Daisy Clarke's painting, a friend, of a mountain cabin scene surrounded by a lake.
PS Sep 2017
Is he scared of me?
I'm scared of me.

I have a tongue of acid,
Heart of glass,
Cut like a knife,
Fragile as ash.
All of the wonder of Midsummer's walks,
All of the nightmare of 'what are we?' talks.
Complex as the cosmos,
Bright as a bean,
Sometimes I am someone
You wish you'd never seen.

So, is he scared of me?
Why do you ask?
There must be much scarier
Under his mask.
Oh I wish I knew.
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