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chang cosido Sep 17
Someday doesn't mean reassurance -
a pocket for small , frail hopes.
Someday means someday will arrive.

Make her a dress.
With your own two hands.
Out of nothing and everything.

When someday comes,
make her beautiful
for yourself.
Where Shelter Jan 2015
bare it straight...

the knight-fool referenced here,
me, scrabbled, scrambled writer,
moat-surround builder,
petard hole-blower in walls of captivity.
letting those inside out,
letting those outside in...

all the beloveds from
ailments hurtful,
in and ex ternality
fearful of eternality

guise of knight errant,
salve and solve,
two pocket protectors,
needy, downtrodden, love-hurting,
slip inside and hide till ready
to come out on acceptable terms

entrapped, locked down and in,
show me the walls for to break,
make the solitary unobligatory
hands holding you will lead us,
all writ on clean new chance foolscap
open sourced coded for sharing

knock knock knock
come calling,
my calling...
to come...
I love cheap money

I love giving it away

cheap money is
that which you give
to the the brave ones....

not much of a poem

cheap
because it is the least expensive
way to justify your own existence
and better someone else's

someday I will write
actually share,
the poem long dusted on the bottom
of the pile entitled,

**Just Money**

a long tale of how I learned
the value of monetizing
happiness

but let us ask where shelter,
shelter is in the human embrace,
like I said,
not much of a poem,
more a good look
in the mirror

and the shelter of liking
what you see
J Hanover Dec 2019
Slightly warm mostly beige
This is what I wear today
Maybe stripes polka dots
Here I am at the spot

( chorus )
The laundromat's on fire
Even though the socks have no matches
Everyone's desire
Not to show off any patches

Mostly worn kinda frayed
The years are displayed
Think I found enough change
It's laundry day all the same

( chorus )
The laundromat's on fire
Even though the socks have no matches
Everyone's desire
Not to show off any patches
The joys of doing laundry. Original chorus circa 2014.
John H Dillinger Aug 2019
Pickpocketed

each pocket has a purpose
church bells shatter through the surface

the worthless circus sunday service
a procession past the pickled mirthless

dispersions of persons pass pews
hoping He accepts the time served, in lieu

and thus this pocket is purposed for you



At the masqurade parade all day
That preys on insecurity

youre sure to see a bargain,
sharking, armed with curiosity

but the cost is often hidden, lost
in a forest of desire, in a silk lined pocket

and this is where they keep your wallet



search for solace in a sound structure
then ruptured synapses, flayed fluster

rebuild it all, regard life's lustre
meander melancholy with what you can muster

place them in a pocket, each respective,
one for your lessons and one for perspective

as the pickpocket of fear plays with the reasoning detective
A bit of rhyming fun here with a few feelings expressed against some aspects of life completely biased and brazen.

Sew up those pockets people.
Nathalie Jul 2019
He took a seat
beside me and held
out his hand
A smile crinkled
at the side of his
deep hazel eyes

The sound of
his voice
was lost under the
noise of the engine
as the train
gained momentum
but I sat stilled
and watched
as his lips moved

I felt the swell
of my chest
as I could
feel my breath
moving and in
and out of my
lungs; my
mouth widened
as a smile smothered
my whole face

I could see a small
box peeking from
the pocket of his
trousers and my
my heart welcomed
with complete faith
this lifetime
token of love that I
would soon be gifted.

~Nathalie
Priyam May 2019
So there's a pocket in my purse
Its unopened or maybe its cursed
Am I just indifferent or maybe I'm afraid
(I'll let you in a little secret)
It's where I keep my favorite blade

It's been in my company for quite some time
In the moments I chided, in the moments I chimed
I have always kept it close like a love another
(I don't even know how to say this)
Sometimes even closer than my very own mother

But I like how it feels on my soft skin
I carve through my teary eyes, a ****** grin
But sure I hope that I don't die
(I don't do it to **** myself)
It just gives me hope that the bad times will pass by

Its been a while since I have cried
I feel like a psychopath with no feelings to define
So I reach out for my blade in the purse to feel something
(I won't throw it away so soon)
It gives me joy to know that i can sense, even if its hurting.
Kerri Dec 2018
Sometimes I wonder
if the smile I gave you
is long gone
or do you keep it in your pocket and put it on from time to time
in the darkness of the night
Maxim Keyfman Dec 2018
with violin in hand with
sand in your pocket
i go i step again
where will i find that
golden bird

I live I want to live
find the last treasure
to burn to burn
and darkness and darkness
never know

play a tune
one melody of the world
play the misty of mist
but fog and gloom
and not know darkness

13.12.18
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