Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jonathan Surname Oct 2018
Houses in tall grass.
Another one shut down, the mines.
Boon of pride, swollen like a tick caught in your sock.

Winds blow through yesterday and are colder now.
Ever wonder why some things aren't allowed?

Attention like reception, cut-down by the everything in-between.

The quarry used to be a swimming hole.
Now it's just a hole.
Memories are the only reminders worth remembering.
The second hand embarrassment of a word mispronounced
makes my skin ***** with goosebumps.
Makes my hair stand on anxious end.
Hope no fleas are underneath.

Stay at home. Stay inside. Stay put.
Hole yourself up in your room.
The chance is a drink you'll wake to regret.
The mistake is in believing you know best.

What greatness have you achieved to give yourself advice?
Everything accomplished within four walls you've lived in alone.
Your whole life.

Houses in tall grass.
Sleeping in dusty room.
Tread softly lest you disturb the might-have-beens.
The first step in succeeding is listening to the lessons.
ten minute poem,
Jonathan Surname Oct 2018
I am sad again, but I have no idea why.
Living keenly with an idea of what I want out of life.
My favorite season, autumn, is upon us.
And my writing is frequent and fulfilling.
So why am I sad again and why am I an orange juice, spilling?

I miss the days where drugs meant fun. Where ridicule was a pasttime.
Between best friends, and Windows didn't force updates.
The Internet was an escape around which Identity was ignored.
You were your username,
and you were too full to be bored.

I am sad again despite selling two poems to a couple patrons
during an open mic night I frequent.
I hadn't been much, chose instead to spend
my time writing and feeling sorry for myself.
Now that I'm out again and re-befriending familiar faces.
It almost feels like belonging is as lost as context between the spaces.
I'm stark raving sad and I've only just arrived.
One year finally after the middle-age of twenty five.
If I make it until January consider me your unlucky kin.
A day without morbidity, how long has it since last been?

Too long;
So long, too.
ten minutes per poem, part 2
Nat Lipstadt May 2013
Three Minute Warning

A messenger delivers
A three minute warning
As I lay in bed at 10:30 am
(Resting in preparation for,
not from, our oops, early morning hike).

Breakfast will be ready in 3,
Get your **** in gear or else
It will be cold, I'll be mad,
And you will answer to a
Higher Authority.

No problem cause I already know
All I need is two.

Splash water on my face
Now I'm presentable
enough to the human race,
current company probably won't be happy,
But I ain't telling her, are you?

Shave! You crazed?
It is a three day weekend,
Every day a July Fourth,
Celebrating freedom from the European tyranny,
Of shaving smooth  every day!

Splash water on my head, count with me,
Five brush strokes as you can plainly see
Is a classic case of overcompensating
In my geling n' hair stylin'

Brush my teeth, well,
I hope 2 full minutes of rinsing with  CVS
Green stuff, mouthwash, will have to suffice.

Blast my deodorant both sides,
Long and strong, wearin' now
My bold blue *** husk of musk,
Cause I am a very considerate fellow
Who happens to really have stunk.

Clean T- shirt and shorts,
Yes, clean underwear too,
Leaves me a whole minute to write this scribble.

My flip flop noises coming down the hallway,
Are the butler announcing our joint arrival,
Me and my poem.

Lest you think this is paean to men
Another grand male boast,
Be advised this ditty be writty
By a man who, while no longer gritty,
Just put jelly on his scrambled eggs
And ketchup on his toast!

Mmmmmmm there might be a poem
Lurking in that too...
Sigh, a true story.
Music in one ear,
Chatter in the other.

An endless stream of thoughts in the other,
A restless mind in the other.

Smother'd by the descending fogs of doubt,
Another moment,
Another fake smile.

I will laugh with you,
as I hide inside.

Otherwise,
under covers,
Today is,
Just like any other.

~Robert van Lingen
re-write and post of poem formerly called "Many Ears"
Linus Stevenson Sep 2018
I don't go back because I want to relive it,
I go back because I want to pollute, dilute, and make minute the memory of us in this place.
Phi Kenzie Sep 2018
Rachel Ray was amazing
to the tot that watched
while grandparents talked
to the parent that brought me along

Sat hands in lap
on the living room floor
slowly arching back as each meal passed

We never made any recipe
though I'd thought a lot about it
and often wanted to
Maxim Keyfman Jul 2018
I am a woman I have always been her
I've always been a blue-eyed girl
but the lost time knocked the clock
they knocked like a hammer for a minute
and time took me away from myself
I lost myself I'm losing myself
and figured himself and bought himself
Only now I have other eyes
and now I'm not a woman I'm a man

but unless unless time runs
streams flow at lightning speed and thunder rumbles
then maybe I'm not a woman or a man at all
I'm something or something
that the lost and unprecedented ignorant
no consciousness and no soul and no heart of mine
I'm not a man I'm not a woman I'm nothing
I was a woman I was a man and all this is a celebration
I shed blood shedding wine and it's all nothing
solemnity solemnity solemnity celebration
I lost myself I lost myself and never found
I've never ever never never found myself
and never talked to himself

the night goes on as the day goes on  
and the plane in the sky flies    
there I see myself in a blue blouse with a man
looked away to the ground looked in the cafe
there I am already a red-haired girl stained with years who
trying to compose verses looked the other way
saw a store and in the store is a Chinese and this
Chinese is me and again I buy books and book books
how many times about how many times have I seen myself
About the same time I was dying and was born
i was a girl she was me i was a man he was me
but what I am now is the question that I will never know
whether I am a girl or a diamond is a pearl either man

26.07.18
Amanda Jul 2018
I have spent three long months without you
Stumbling through every day alone
Wondering how you were able to hurt me
Why did you leave me on my own?

What is wrong with me? What did I do?
Don't you love me anymore?
I thought I made you happy
I guess you changed, and that was before.

Feel like I don't even know you
We hardly talk, you are different now
You do not have time to waste on me
A minute more than you can allow.

Can't stand waking up every day
Knowing you don't care how I am
Thanks for asking if I am doing okay
I am broken, and you don't give a ****.
Written 1-23-13
Industrial Death Jul 2018
Born from a ****.
By and By, a minute passes-
Hours at a time.
Having with me nothing-
Not a thing, but the death
That is mine.
Next page