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Aaron LaLux Feb 2017
I Make Art,

and if you’re an artist too,
and you know the commitment to the Freedom,
that you give must be true,
see in order to get paid dues you must first pay dues,

I’m sorry,
I’m not sorry,
I’m rhyming again ‘cause I don’t know what else to do,

sounding cliche as fck,
I’m cliche as fck,
but it’s the best kind of cliche,
être bon mi amore let’s sail away,

who cares if the skies are grey,
who cares if the skies are blue,
not you we are a rainbow,
but a rainbow with more than 50 shades,

forget the reference,
or reference the reference,
I prefer to refer the next move to you,
pardon the indifference,
I’m numb from this business,
to the point where the only 1’s I trust are the Crew,

true true,

and who’s the Crew dude?

It’s an eclectic collection of artist,
who’s credit is way over due,

we paid dues and pay dues,
now their new News is our old News,
turning grey skies to blue through the emotions we do,
we’re hippy chic celebrities like that guy from The Trews,

shout out to Katy because I forgot her ex’s name,
respect to Katy for mastering the game,

an artist that worked to the pinnacle,
to trade Time & Money for Fortune and Fame,
and everything currently material is attained,
from currency accrued by acting atop the the Art Game,

top of the A,
the pinnacle the peak,
get it the top of the “A”,
now do you see?

See,

I Make Art,

and if you’re an artist too,
and you know the commitment to the Freedom,
that you give must be true,
see in order to get paid dues you must first pay dues,

I’m sorry,
I’m not sorry,
I’m rhyming again ‘cause I don’t know what else to do,

sounding cliche as fck,
I’m cliche as fck,
but it’s the best kind of cliche,
être bon mi amore let’s sail away,

who cares if the skies are grey,
who cares if the skies are blue,
not you we are a rainbow,
but a rainbow with more than 50 shades,

forget the reference,
or reference the reference,
I prefer to refer the next move to you,
pardon the indifference,
I’m numb from this business,
to the point where the only 1’s I trust are the Crew,

true true,

and who’s the Crew dude?

It’s an eclectic collection of artist,
who’s credit is way over due,

we paid dues and pay dues,
now their new News is our old News,
turning grey skies to blue through the emotions we do,
we’re hippy chic celebrities like that guy from The Trews,

shout out to Katy because I forgot her ex’s name,
respect to Katy for mastering the game,

an artist that worked to the pinnacle,
to trade Time & Money for Fortune and Fame,
and everything currently material is attained,
from currency accrued by acting atop the the Art Game,

top of the A,
the pinnacle the peak,
get it the top of the “A”,
now do you see?

See,

I Make Art.

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
Martin Narrod Oct 2016
I am the cauldron of summer
Caking onto your throat like a bib
Where your mitts give sores to the throes
In the nation where quarks serve some
Misunderstanding of the bells' curve b
Where two eyes drawn on the wall turn and they fade your ribbons of meat.

Stars whizzing through the bourne.
Ceyhun Mahi Sep 2016
I can't sleep and
the clock is mocking me:
tick-tock tick-tock
'You can't sleep,
neither do I,
But I don't need it
Yet you do, apparently!'
A light-verse to cheer up the day!
Annie McLaughlin Apr 2016
clock in
somewhere between midnight and eery silece
peeling my eyes wide, can not close
(they can't)
have to keep busy
busy, busy, busy
my mind is always busy like it's a job
no time for breaks
no happy thoughts
the one laying next to me is rich in slumber
resting from his day of work
I am wide awake,
my mind working quickly, my eyes watering just on que
it's all part of the routine
I have to never forget you
it's okay, my dear dreamer
sleep well,
I will take the night shift.
My thoughts - jumbled and mixed together.
WiltingMoon Feb 2016
Head on pillow
Eyes with fright
Mind is distant
Hands shake heaverly
Body badly trembles
Lips locked together
Ear hearing everything
Door slowly opens
Shadows slightly moves
Walls quietly speak
Air suddenly cools
Heart profusely pounds
Hidden under sheets
Head on pillow
No sleep tonight

**Shadows want death...
Emily Overheim Dec 2015
Do you think that you’ll remember
washing your least crusty mug
in the cracked bathroom sink at four am,
blinking afterimages of Wiki articles
and Midwestern poetry out of your eyes?
(Always the Midwestern aesthetic–
what is it about starkness that drives people?)

You’ve spent too many mornings
watching dawn from the wrong side, pacing
up and down beneath the streetlights
as they go out one by one.
The earth keeps turning but
your thoughts scattered last night
and they never came home.

The percussion is
(you heart is)
pounding,
crash ratatatat thump,
ratatatat crash, time
slipping between your fingers
in fits and starts to the beat
fluttering in your chest;
no repeats or hesitations.
The topic is–
Magpie, bird brain,
you line your nest with tinfoil
to keep the world at bay.
You’d say “I want to believe”,
but instead you just play the song again,
hoping that maybe this time—

Did it take this long to realize
you’ve answered your own question?
You have to run
when there’s nowhere to stay.
Maybe you should take a vacation
to the desert yourself,
get some dust under your nails
so you’ll stop chewing them off.
Quit glancing at the clock, sweetheart;
you’re on a timer here.
Emily Overheim Dec 2015
By day five
your mind has reverted
to a test channel out of signal–
there should have at least been some colors
but instead you’re left with static,
the visual sensation of a limb gone to sleep.
There is a slow haze
shuddering down the length of you,
and you have written masterpieces
you cannot recall the names of
while you shake your vision
back into your skull
from where it wandered off
with the cursor again.
Your knees buckle as you try
to stumble back to the living,
but it’s too late,
you’re out of minutes–
Flo Sep 2015
Spending another night thinking
Alone in the dark, no time for sleep
Spending the days drinking
Thoughts that I don't want to keep
Haunting me at night
Feeling so lonely
The inside of my chest so tight
If only
I could change myself
what a waste Oct 2015
Her dark matter thoughts
consumed every last drop,
tearing down her reality
like a throwaway prop.
She fell to the breeze
and floated on all fours
to her bottomless abode,
where suns dissolve
and the moon does glow.
The friends inside my head
wan't to play along, but I'm afraid
she might dissect the frog.
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