Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Leone Lamp Jul 2021
I keep listening to time
Beating hearts and endless rhymes
And it all sounds so sublime
Much more real than the last wind
And my records just keep spinning
With the earth and every new thing
Now we're back to where we started
But it's different, clouds have parted
It made so much sense before
But every day it just makes more
Now I start to understand
As the sand falls through my hands
Making gestures small and grand
As we all keep getting older
Through the chaos and disorder
No sense pining in the oak groves
For the flowers that we once knew
At the bottom of our dark brews
Bitters floating on the surface
As I drink another purchase
And reflect upon the purpose
Of each sip as it slides down
Always forwards, never backwards
Only rising never pouring,
Twirling, twirling, twirling, soaring!
Doesn't matter if you're gripping
If you're sweaty, if you're slipping
If you're wide eyed, always tripping
We all keep trucking on
And I always feel so strong
Like I understand the song
Finally, but not for long
"Taking away, the moments that make up the dull days."
Leone Lamp Apr 2021
I've got a little black book, with my poems in it
I've got the wind to rock me to sleep
I've got a perpetually dying radio
That brings the news to me
I've got everything I need up in this tree
This tree I live in on my own
I've got books and **** and mobile phones
I've got a little two burner stove
I've got a bright new perspective
And every new day
I know that I'm not all alone
There are squirrels, and birds
And bugs up here
It feels like everybody is home.
Some reflections and an homage to Pink Floyd. My little sister once told me I'd have to leave that tree and face the real world someday. I dunno, the world felt pretty real to me while I was up there.
Reworked this a little bit, I think it's finally come around.
Traveler Feb 2021
The magnitude and brilliance of
Your luminescence
Is captured in the formula for light!

V•B = 0 🌤

V•D = pv ☀️

V x H = J + —-- ☄️

Shine on you crazy Diamond!
Traveler 🧳 Tim

That is as close as I could get to the actual formula
My iPhone characters are limited
Carlo C Gomez Sep 2020
Alone here
In dark, impenetrable power

I'm named after my faces

"White light into seven colours"

Written directly on this
Prism wall

It follows a rhythm of my heartbeat

And yet I feel
I don't know me at all
Gabriel Herrera Jul 2020
I recall, caramel mocha frappe

Taste was good and that's about all

I recall, delusional chemistry

Breaking up seven times and making up six.

I recall, English 101

Meant to be in high school but stuck in eighth grade with me.

I recall, A Wing

An Amazon

I recall, freshman orientation

Handprint staircases

I recall, Spanish class

Skipping lunch to digest some knowledge in the biblioteca

I recall, Chick Fil A in a mall

Back of a car with a handful

I recall, sneaking out with the boys

Upset over Pink Floyd for the wrong reasons

I recall, a trip down memory lane

Writing a poem
Andy Hewitt Mar 2020
Goodbye cruel world
take away my soul.
I wanna go home
this sunny day,
a rock and roll refugee.

The silent reproach
your favourite disguise.
Put through the shredder
in perfect isolation.

Swollen hand blues,
fat and psychopathic.
No drugs to calm me.
Tight as a tourniquet,
a warm thrill of confusion
coming through in waves.

Itchy feet and fading smiles
put me in the firing line.
Toys in the attic
fill the empty spaces -
a snapshot in a surrogate band.

Is there anybody out there,
in this brave new world?
No dark sarcasm hid behind
some mad ******'s wall?

Time to go.
A poem made from a lyric from every song on Pink Floyd's The Wall.
Hope Roger doesn't mind...
Terra May 2017
I travel trough the heavy rain
I sit lonesome on a lonely train
I play blues
These days are grey,  these nights  are blue
my mind keeps coming back to you
I play the blues

I travel with desire
Past houses lit on fire
I play jazz
Windows lit by sundown
My train-seat old and rundown
I play jazz

Rainbow roads in colored blurr
Pretty little towns I'm sure
I play swing
Past mirror waves and open sky
My stomach tingles, wonder why I
Play swing

***** feet on ***** train
Skin so white I see my veins
I play punk
Impatient taps and flickering lights
Soon the day will turn to night
I play punk

Head in the clouds, mind at ease
Longing for the morning breeze
I play Pink Floyd
Memories hanging from branches
Passengers sharing brief glances
I play Pink Floyd

I'm coming home, I'm on my way, but I travel still...
I travel not by force... yet not by will
Music of choise as soundtrack to the silent film
beyond the windowsill
I wrote this as a little homage to my lonesome travels. I fittingly wrote it on a train during sundown, but it's about my memories as a homeless teenager with no idea what I wanted to do or where I wanted to go, just that I wanted to go somewhere and do something. It's also about that longing for someone I hadn't yet met, that empty space reserved for someone you know you'll eventuelly meet. Luckily, this time I was on my way home to that someone.
I imagine this poem as lyrics to a jazzy tune. Maybe I'll get to try it out one day. I'm no great singer, but I'm reserving space for a trumpet solo in there somewhere.
CastorPolydeuces Jan 2017
Feeling the thrum of ignorance and bliss warm my veins
and the cadence of rebellious refrain guide my steps
I can't imagine feeling any worse or better than I do right now.
Drunk poetry, lol, so probably not good, or even poetry. Whatevs.
Beckawecka Sep 2016
Nice to meet you
I think I've seen
You roaming the halls
Chewing your thumb
And muttering some Pink Floyd song
Next page