Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oka Apr 2020
I bathed down my screen rays more than the sun
I'm anxious of forgetting attendance
than not understanding ****
I'm not sick due to covid but I'm sick
of times new roman font size 12
Bullet Apr 2020
Pushing limits walking away
Why wait when I could act
Misplace passive aggression
With a pistol and a guilty conscious
(AIM) reaches are not running
When space bars cage an existence
Pulling words from these characters
Shooting messages flips to shaders through the windows
Online presents will determine you’re future income
Pass the aggression into a sight with an eye at pin point
Withdrawing (ATM), coloring red as the floor
Checking the walls as pink matter
Saving the mixes for the pallets on set
Depositing later all the info I need to  evade
Panic attacks walking
Bullets wait for running
Esc...
I’ll find joy in drowning in my own painting
() double word meaning
Saige Apr 2020
If I could make the sound of cortisol
pumping through my veins,
it would sound like quarantine

Empty, but full of fear
Tired, but unable to stop moving
Alone, but surrounded by whispers

And here I am, stressed
about homework
Being at home is still hard. I miss seeing people.
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
The Composition of Shadows (I)
by Michael R. Burch

(for poets who write late at night / by monitor light)

We breathe and so we write; the night
hums softly its accompaniment.
Pale phosphors burn; the page we turn
leads onward, and we smile, content.

And what we mean we write to learn:
the vowels of love, the consonants’
strange golden weight, each plosive’s shape—
curved like the heart. Here, resonant,

sounds’ shadows mass beneath bright glass
like singing voles curled in a maze
of blank white space. We touch a face—
long-frozen words trapped in a glaze

that insulates our hearts. Nowhere
can love be found. Just shrieking air.

Published by The Lyric, Candelabrum, Triplopia, Romantics Quarterly, Iambs & Trochees, Hidden Treasures, ImageNation (UK), Yellow Bat Review, Poetry Life & Times, Vallance Review, Poetica Victorian. Keywords/Tags: writing, poetry, night, monitor, glass, phosphors, web, page, internet, online, social media, sound, files, white space
Nathan MacKrith Mar 2020
Is what her profile reads
I feel this statement needs
More than minor revision
For her words malign my vision

Of an exquisite lady
(a bit plump, maybe)
yet her eyes are a sweet fountain
Where my heart longs to remain

Her hair is a lush wonder that fills
My mind with life like the Pembina Hills
Her plush skin is preciousness bronzed a ***
Kissed softly by they passing of Apollo the sun god

There is no “just”
about her I must
become more aware
of a beauty rare

Could this lovely
lady speak with me
Seek to see what the stars mean for there to be
If I am to be meant for her, and her for me?
~NM
08/31/19
Mrs Timetable Mar 2020
The wolf ditched
The sheep’s clothing
Shopping online
Was so much easier
Nicholas Mar 2020
When I get online it says you’re active
but in life you’re so distracted
like this **** is so contrasted
that I’m seething
as I look for some meaning
In your leaving.
Hopeless Outlet Feb 2020
What keeps us believing in eternity
in different places, surrounded and separated
by millions of hearts in between

What keeps us believing in forever
with this glass right in front of us
all that's left for us are numbers as words
to express our love, our love

Well that fire we've created upon meeting is
still burning, we feel it flickering
warming us in it's heat
bringing warmth to our hearts, when we're
alone....

What keeps us believing in finally being happy
while suffering so much at home
this few words we share across the screen
mean more to me...then you will ever know
Next page