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awesome people are usually the broken ones
is the broken the most colorful glass?
awesome people get in the way
annoying as hell but making others say

new, strange, unexpected things
making them blushed, tingling in their cheeks
or simply inspire to do life differently
comfortable changes to curious inherently

change me by making me want to change,
awesome people, why do you live so out of range
I am closer to you than you think, however
awesomeness can be found anywhere, together

'awesome', just an awesome way to say
‘I admire you in a very special way’
‘wherever you are, a me is in there too’
‘I LOVE YOU, brave little soul - I am you’
Like this

I woke up
With
White heart
White soul
White thought

Let no one contaminate
Thank you
Genre: Abstract
Theme: Dope
Luiz Sep 18
Part 1:

He looked straight
into those eyes
and whispered:

"Baby, to see
those two emeralds shine,
I'd rob every
bank in the state!"

Part 2:

She looked at him
with those forest greens,
leaned over and
kissed him passionately.

Then, her sugary lips
continued those kisses
to his left ear
and whispered back:

"Like always, Baby,
you go thru the front
and the *******
in the back are mine!"

Then, she cocked her glock 9
and both jet out the convertible!
riley minteer Sep 14
shoehorn, white poppies
pockets all full of teeth
within one white whisper i swallow the key
too many pieces of pearlescent cutlery,
millions of tormented gnashing the air...

what is the culture's accepted state of satire?
what is the current world's state of affairs?
i think to myself, pondering like a child
for if i just knew i could laugh at my fears...

now i sit,
yes, i sit- in my cold echo chamber
sonic reflections, electronic lies
all my past memories calcified slowly
my skeletons lie in the back of my mind...
-riley minteer
“shoehorn”
(from “candlelight, rust & shells”)
Thursday, September 3, 2020
****** Most Fowl!
by Michael R. Burch

“****** most foul!”
cried the mouse to the owl.

“Friend, I’m no sinner;
you’re merely my dinner!”
the wise owl replied
as the tasty snack died.

Published by Lighten Up Online and Potcake Chapbooks

NOTE: In an attempt to demonstrate that not all couplets are heroic, I have created a series of poems called “Less Heroic Couplets.” I believe even poets should abide by truth-in-advertising laws! This poem also questions who the "original sinner" was. How was it not the Creator, if such a being exists, since owls are forced by nature to ****** innocent mice and other prey animals? Is it possible that the Creator is not so heroic either? Keywords/Tags: Death, Nature, Rhyme, Pain, Creator, Predator, Prey, Mouse, Owl
riley minteer Aug 15
i,
a liar,
coat my body in ashes–
just to prove that i’m not what you thought
i, a child of space and time,
lie to you coldly while smiling bright.
-riley minteer
“i, a liar”
(from “mind soul heart”)
Friday, August 14, 2020
riley minteer Aug 15
nimble hands knit quickly through satin and sun–bleached linens
poking and pulling on hundreds of fine strings
find comfort and closure in tight fitting mittens
who’s corners and ridges so carefully sewn

children braiding red grass in the garden
an old woman resting her body at dawn
i owe these my life– these small, simple moments
that bring warmth to my skin when nothing else does.
-riley minteer
“through satin”
(from “mind soul heart”)
Friday, August 14, 2020
Marri Jul 26
You take me to a field.
Overgrown with weeds, grass, and wildflowers with a mind of their own.

Interlocked,
Our fingers make 10 promises as you lead me barefoot through the brush.

You chose a dark starry night with the moon to oversee our ventures.

Pulling me through,
I lift the hem of my dress in an attempt to save it from stains.

Your feet stop.
“This is it.”
You say.

Pulling me to my knees,
The bare ground tickles me fancy.

I look up to see you towering over me, with the moon as my witness.
You push my arms over my head,
Tugging my dress,
Shrugging it down my shoulders.

Exposing me to the Earth—
I feel everything.
The grass, the stars, your every exhale, and the hiss of a snake. (Somewhere in the night with us.)

You smile down at me, and of course,
I smile back.

I start to speak,
You push your hand over me.

“You mustn’t speak.”
I comply.

Your eyes glow yellow in the dark.
A flash of regret and guilt flutters into my heart.
“Are you sure we should do this?”

He reaches to shed his shirt, molting layer after layer,
Revealing new skin, cold to the touch.

Pressed against me, bare.
Out of the crook of his neck:
I see the stars.
Blinking, flickering, dancing for me.

Beautiful, angelic,
Delicious.
You create a new woman out of me.

Clearing at dirt, grabbing at grass, and gasping at the sight of seeing stars.

Crickets sing into the night, frogs croak a melodic ballad, and the birds whistle in their sleep.

A chorus of the night.
Snakes hiss join in.

You use me anyway you want.

“You mustn’t tell anyone.”
I seal my lips with the taste of a red kiss.

As the moon grows tired of the night,
The sun peaks into our world.

You lift me up, slipping my dress back onto my shoulders.
Zipping me up with ease.

I look down to see it tainted with green grass and brown Earth.

‘Was it worth it?’
I sigh, but smile.

Our hands meet again for our last ten promises as you lead me again through the brush.
Through tall grass, tired weeds, and wild flowers.

You lead me out into the sun.

“Here is where we part, my love.”

“Will I see you again?”

“Only on your darkest days.”

You kiss me again.
The shakes hiss and night choir sings. Angelic.

Eyes open—
You’re gone,
Gone with the night.

I turn for home.
(Wherever that is.)

“Where were you, my other half?”

“I was with the night.”

“What’s that in your hands, darling?”
“Show me!”

As if magic, I feel an object pressed against my palm.
(The palm that once held you.)

I slowly open up, breaking our promise.
I reveal the only remnant of our night:
A red apple.

With a fresh bite missing,
My mouth tingles wet.
I feel my thoughts,
of feelings felt,
cannot let go, its still
there, poetry isn't helping
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UHsRhWASbvk&t=1960s
the days may seem long poetry,
but ive lived more in
the words i write, than anywhere else
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Hk3Ep9ROms&t=24s
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