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27 miles to empty
i needed to leave the house
i needed to get out of bed
to escape from loneliness
and, for a moment, leave behind
every single thing i never said

out of the quiet emptiness
of my cold grey walls
out of my head which,
coincidentally, only finds
stillness in distraction

i needed to give myself
something else to think about
to be preoccupied from
my own preoccupations

because it's never empty
up there, but sometimes
when i sing along
it starts to feel like
it's just me and the music

but my phone is dead
it always is
it's surprisingly hard work
avoiding all the conversations
you don't want to have
(which is most of them)

FM radio, i forgot where to look
i scan the stations
three times over
and only stop when i feel like
i'm emma woodhouse
88.1, symphony no. 3

and in the dark
i don't even have to
close my eyes
to pretend i'm someone else
somewhere else,
sometime else

and then the host rolls
advertisements, deals and steals
and did you know the cemeteries
are ready to serve you again?
i laugh to myself and wonder
what's it like to serve the dead?

to dig six feet down
and resist falling in
it's much more sad
up on top, anyway, you know

but i'm distracted again
and god, it feels good
i'd rather think about death
than how much it hurts
just to exist sometimes

in the classical music
i lose myself in the past
i'd romanticize a war if it meant
i'd get to wear a pretty dress
and never have to think of
someone falling out of love with me
ever again

even if it's because they're bleeding out
on a muddy battlefield
in the middle of a match
that wasn't even theirs to fight

somehow death seems a more
proper thought than imagining
you going on and living
without me

7 miles to empty
and i'm back to where it all began
i just can't shut out the voices
telling me all roads don't lead to you
PrttyBrd Oct 2020
I am honored to be showcased live on air by other poets who either love or are inspired by my writing.  Feel free to check it out. Who knows what a live show will bring ;)  Please copy and paste the link below into your address bar.

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Love You Much, ☺☺☺☺♥♥♥♥
PrttyBrd
https://www.blogtalkradio.com/ateamofvoices/2020/10/19/a-team-of-voices-sharing-love-and-respect-for-prttybrd#
Carlo C Gomez Oct 2020
Red letter days
and friendly fire.
Will I ever go home?
Your voice over
the airwaves soothes.
But the things you say
cut like teeth,
sharp and vile.
You visit the hospitals,
shake down the morgues.
The batting of your eyelashes,
a ruse to your construction:
You're a steam shovel, girl.
Digging for Nazis
at the center of the Earth.
Mildred Elizabeth Gillars, nicknamed "Axis Sally" along with Rita Zucca, was an American broadcaster employed by **** Germany to disseminate propaganda during World War II. Following her capture in post-war Berlin, she became the first woman to be convicted of treason against the United States.
Mitch Prax Sep 2020
Shakira on the radio,
a gin and tonic or maybe four.
The night is young, baby,
and we aren't
getting any older.
madi Jul 2020
a hoarse-voiced
******* the
radio
sings about living on nicotine
and coffee

but nowadays that’s just a teenage girl with
a juul.
the bathrooms all smell like cotton candy and lung cancer.
3md Jul 2020
Ephemeral melodies emanate from my dear car radio—
songs too cliche that I despise them.
I only hear today’s charlatans
and their monotonous redundancy of new yet familiar beats.
But there is hope...
The eternal relics that elate my soul, having lacked innuendos—
tunes of back-in-the-day entice me
As I, a desperate old soul, turn the **** in angst,
in search of stations bygone.
Written on the 30th of March 2019.
colette alexia Jul 2020
Turned the radio off
When breakup songs came on
Because you couldn’t face the fact
That they sounded like us
7.2.20
Andre Vrdoljak Apr 2020
The radio never listens to me
My dog never calls my name
Though the floors never walk on me
So I guess I can’t complain
Demi Apr 2020
Tune in to clouds
Between thunder static,
devastating news
white cotton noise,
you’ll find soothing hymn.

Find the station
lift your head high
enough, just for now.
laveni Apr 2020
When I was a mere child
I would wake up as soon as the
Sun broke out in rays
A radio would be placed on a table in our little porch
And its songs always brought me joy
Oh, what nostalgia
The Carpenters would sing their
comforting music
Bread would sing their heartfelt songs
Whenever Perhaps Love would come, I would close my eyes and wander about my future life
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