Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
MyDystopiA Apr 27
The pink bloom is everywhere
but the moon blue fire sun
will free you ay aye ay
**** yeah there be a pie in the sky
blinded white the night lights
out the wind blows red
I hear my head I feel a dread
colour and song
the world at one
mush with the rush
no more will the meek
hush for the beat
of the drum calls us one
love from above
the sky is blue
the ground is new
I am but a tool
to undo the done
and dusted trust
the untrusted nature
is man is tree is electricity
in the breeze Steve...

©️JM.Cole
MyDystopiA®️
Sarah Apr 12
A rainy wedding day
Music so loud
Beautiful bride dressed in white
And I, a mere child
Playing in the mud
Staining my new shiny tux
Among the children
Among dances and laughs
Colorful clothes and happy faces
Cars with ribbons all around
What wouldn’t I give
To return
To a rainy wedding day fifty years ago
To hug my parents who’s long been gone
And be a child with a mud stained shoe
To return, only for a day
To the place I once called home
And now is no more.
Story: my mother's uncle returned to visit us after nearly 40 years of being abroad, he left at 18 years old to escape the former regimen, and all he had with him were his memories, so little of them, one of which was someone's wedding were it was raining and he and other children, including my father at the time, played in the mud.
It's strange how the simple things we do could become one of our greatest memories.
Mud
You're blocked;
you're bugged;
your eyes stay screaming
but I can't hear a thing.

Wash through me like knees through mud
not yet caked over by the heat of the
sun; like you're looking for something
you dropped and it may soon be entombed.

Look at me as you would a tree
caked in mud.
          Name me by my leaves, or
                    my sinewy limbs.

You're soft;
you're coarse;
the lines that puzzle your face
make frowning silly, and small.

          Name me Steinway like the
               piano. Or Pecan, like the
                    tree.

Find me forward, trudging through mud.

I can see solid ground but my branches
can't reach to touch the grass or its flowers
or to smell the rotten-ripe crushed leaves of
the pecan trees.

Stick me where I'm stuck,
save the mud. Give my leaves
some snow, some lightness,
cold. Give me color. Paint me
in storm clouds.
Written while listening to Deafheaven's Sunbather.
A cloud of gray mud over me.
My thoughts like birds were flying.
I sit alone upon my drawn umbrella.
Reactive rain was covering my head.

Drops of the rain like heavy rocks.
Identically burden of my thoughts.
It’s Fall with crash against my mind.
Upon my delicate and little coat.

I sit alone beneath my colorful umbrella.
Be that
one flower that
blooms
in the mud.
You can't always
bloom
where you want to,
but you can
bloom
wherever life puts you.
Bhill Mar 7
Hey, HEY, what about,
WEATHER?
Rain falling from clouds,
beautiful in a misty, foggy way.
Clouds rolling in
they appear to be
a never ending
gathering,
flock,
gaggle,
******,
swarm,
cackle,
herd,
or
just plain storm clouds!
Water, water everywhere.
Tap dancing on the roofs,
Cascading off cliffs,
Filling in natural washes,
Flowing out to local rivers,
Water converted to mud...
When is it too much
Is it SATURATED??
NOW is when...
And YES!

Brian Hill - 2019#56
Inspired by the tapping of rain on the roof..
They rain here lately has been beautoful and scary..
Josh Feb 6
I am the ground
solid and sure,
happily walked on-
until you are gone

Sometimes when it rains,
I turn into mud
And if I have to carry your weight,
You might slip
Ken Pepiton Jan 28
in ex tricked ably linked lines of letters letting

until they be taken
out of the way
word by word
line upon line
line upon line
preception upon preception
it's a
'just a cold

extrickedably connected to dust
line upon line
word after word
word after word

"'don't mean nuthin'"

christmas threes,

"just a code"
as when a man letteth out water.

misery means miser ish
ignoring is an action, an act-if-ity
massive dam building, flow damming
let us be
letters of patience when
she practices her perfect work,

workers in fields of cheap strawberries to be,
letting water flow from dam to to dam,
down line, furrow after furrow

a mud-**** maker, me,
I control the flow of this water
with my shovel and my muddy feet
after line, after the water was let past the dam,

a dam I built, with my shovel
and muddy feet.

irrigating irritations in my scenter of being
in line for the blue out-house on wheels
lost precepts excepting me
I awoke
in mud to my knees
I let this set, I works on some level, mud level, i think.
LWZ Jan 21
The grip is tight without remorse
Suppressing memories of my execution
Betrayal sharp as a knife
The unease of a battle I never was aware of
Secrets so sick they stench of rotting flesh

Forgiveness is an elixir
A medicine for the pain
Abandon thyself absolutely
To achieve a place of tranquility

Self is all I have
Self will last indefinitely
Self betrayal is thick
Like mud on the bayou
Like oil on water
An eye for an eye
Betrayal ends with betrayal
Next page