Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Reuben F Apr 25
Who's wearing sundays
Songs jejune peruses;
May her corsage roses
Dress the fine arrays!

And gathered 'round strays,
Each of them amuses
Their eyes with their noses
For depots off ways.

The fantastic plays
Out of them her bruises;
Songs fed by drunk proses
May enchant in rays!
max Apr 13
smart, popular boys in third grade,
with their stupid khakis
and dumb sweatshirts.
i didnt want their popularity,
i wanted to be a boy.
a smart boy with stupid khakis
and a dumb sweatshirt

the kind, pretty girls in fourth grade
their pretty hair
and painted nails
i didnt want to be a pretty girl like them
i admired them
but i was too young,
and it was too wrong

it was wrong to want to be a boy,
to want to love a girl,
want to be a smart boy
with pretty hair
and painted nails

i should've been the perfect daughter,
but im a smart boy
with pretty hair
and painted nails.
havent posted in ages but i wrote this a couple months ago <3
Lee Carter Jan 4
When one forces their imagined shape to fit in,

They discover- often too late,

That they may now be stuck.
alyssum withers Dec 2020
i want to float amongst the stars
and feel the ache of loneliness
that comes with beauty
Carina Apr 2020
dear society:
why do you proclaim
ignorance is an easy
passage to popularity
jealousy is how to earn respect
tearing eachother down is
how to succeed
and caring takes you
on a route to failure
how does this establish
humanity when it is almost
inhumane
Carlo C Gomez Aug 2020
Man-made phenomena
litters the sky,
these satellites orbit themselves
--celestial magnets
befriending the galaxy.

Eccentric hours of
the day and night
lend themselves to the after party,
where the girls run in spirals,
the boys just taper off,
it’s a strange side effect
to all the confection and confetti
--an interstellar jackpot
with all the quirks!

There’s no moon out of reach
to bury one’s flag in to
or hang a quote from,
no riddle wisenheimers can't
complacently decipher.

As missions go this is prime
and far too lucrative
when the star machine
starts throwing back from
the electronic heavens,
shooting them off
in such bizarre bans
of incensed fire,
a sure reflection of fireworks
against the artificial currents
of this drug.

There’s no catching
these shooting stars
lightyears from here,
but if you ask nice,
they just might send you a selfie
the next time
your trajectories coincide.
Inspired by the surreal art of Justin Peters.
Mitch Prax Feb 2020
Why do I still crave
validation from people
who I've never met?

7:10 PM
18/2/20
Andreya Celeste Jan 2020
You're the greatest one here, and everyone knows.
The best people stay, the bad ones go.
You constantly remind us about your strength,
your list goes on, far in length.
The rest of us are rocks in your road.
But you've kicked us away, and there you strode.
We've been below you since that day.
But you don't care about us anyway.
You're the queen of the hill, the rest of us ants.
Crown on your head, you always enchant.
You're bigger and better, the rest of us small.
We mean nothing to you at all.
Maybe it's okay that we fit in the cracks.
Go back on the road, and here we'll backtrack.
I don't need to trample like you.
Kings and queens are overthrown too.
TIZZOP Nov 2019
manager demanded: write
for all of 'em

conscience claimed: write

yesterday time
stopped passing by
yesterday i
floated above the
hudson river

grand mansions
polished shores
self-storages

swamps
vultures
scavengers

the pillage started when
scavengers pillaged
prey

don't get me wrong you
get me?
TIZZOP Nov 2019
dear idol i
want to be like you

dear idol i
want to be you

scratched your name into my arm
your face is my tattoo
your tattoo is my face

been listening a decade
to your lyrics i'm all

'bout it
wit it

re-in up
bossed up
fetish for dough

baby i be yours
take me as a gift

my game tizzop
Today is a good day.
Next page