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helena alexis Sep 2017
she met molly at a festival
molly made her happy
molly made her dance
molly made her forget

we’re gonna be best friends forever
molly whispered in her ear

she popped another
forever and ever
she replied with a smile
took molly at a rave and decided to write about it
A politician with a radio
and a fridge with a ****

as he spoke pidgin
and dapper the reason

that captured a signal
but stayed the season

'twas a gowan too
in stead brown hair

as a bride in favor  
yet deposed his table

though a granita now
will disguise his inference

yet detest his deference
in ridge there a pidgeon

flew his message away
and pearly was his religion
Butch Decatoria Sep 2016
Spectrums to sound waves.
One infinite pulsing heart.
Synth to love you so...
NeroameeAlucard Jun 2016
What can you do if your own head doesn't make sense
the silence maddening to sit through and the cacophony of every day leaving inside your mind an unholy stench
It feels like there's in my head next to the iPad a ******* monkey wrench
I guess I don't understand anymore what's going on why can't this make sense
Unless I write my head will snap open and the scars will be visible
But sometimes even among most of my friends I can't help but feel invisible
Ridiculed and the things I helped bring become dead and forgotten
God it's like I'm listening to myself give a review on that site with tomatoes that are rotten
I'm not scheming or plotting just looking for that lighthouse in the fog
Because I can't find inspiration in this mental planet of smog
Imagine,
Imagine, heaven and earth,
Earth and hell.
Heaven?
It's up there.
Ionosphere, maybe.
Or maybe, Exosphere.
Think of Pangaea and Panthalassa.
Imagine, the lost world of Atlantis.
Geography students would know better.
Imagine,
Imagine good, and bad,
Bad, and worse.
Imagine, if your name were not,
What it is,
Imagine, if you were not,
What you are.
Imagine, delivering fantastic speeches,
Craft out, mesmerising poetries,
Look for topics,
Like you look for alloys,
In your wallet.
Everyone's a poet,
Poet, in their hearts,
They do write poems,
But the designer styli,
Defy to converge their thoughts.
Summarize life,
Felicity, will obviously be wrapped up,
And so will be your bad.
And try, and minimize your bad,
To the least,
Like you do with your savings,
On a rave.
And try, and amplify your bliss,
Like your cells multiply,
In every thirty minutes.
Imagine,
Imagine, and fall.
Fall, for every beautiful face,
Fall, for every beautiful day,
And moment.
Imagine,
And spread love.
Imagine,
Imagine, and fall,
Into an abyss,
Of thoughts,
Every single day,
Every single time.
Imagine,
The bald guy,
On our currency notes,
Smiling, at whatever number there is by him.
Smile, at whatever is given to you,
Smile, for whatever is given to you.
Smile,
And just that.
I wrote a jukebox program
  For the computer
  I find music on the intenet
  It helps me program
     More programs for the computer

I see people in Ibiza
  I watch them all moving
  To the sound and they smile
  It helps me focus on what
     I can't do. But wish to.

My mind's sight is drawn
   Into focus as they bounce
   Their dresses flipping
   Their arms beating the sky
      No reason. I don't ask why

Together they are moving
   Do they imagine I see
   Their smiles across the miles
   Through time and space.
      I sit, in the dark.


     And dream of dancing.


dr. mgmorrell 14-Feb-2016
I'm old.
Autumn Jan 2016
Hazy eyes under Smoke and Lights
your Blue irises centered through a Light show
me Hypnotized
restless nights Feeling the drugged memory.
with your Lips and Hands
Our sweaty Bodies with bass friction
you led me into your deep Kiss...another deep Kiss...another
I led You into a deep Kiss
the night was Forever
i could Float in it
filling space between our Fingers
not letting Go...
I ride a ghastly, palish horse,
his hair is ghoulish, sharp and coarse;

We ride upon the night: a rave -
no sound about us beyond the brave,
and the sighing dying no god could save,
but reaped and stolen by the glaive.

And fear in hearts of men we stir,
when I give my palish horse the spur,
and soundless shrieks of still and void
greet the darkness, overjoyed.
Jane Bell Nov 2015
Teenage
don't cry
don't sorrow
don't worship
don't listen
don't hold back
don't have emotions
But in fact
teenage hide
teenage scared
tennage runaway because home is no better than the bearing streets of cruelty for at least I'll have control of my destiny
teenage try
teenage listen
teenage will help
teenage get nervous
teenage sometimes doesn't understand.
Little do you know TEENAGE will cry harder in room thinking about homework than the once youngling who scraped her knee.
TEENAGE. STILL. FRAGILE.
TEENAGE. STILL. UNCERTAIN.
Just a bit of things I've heard about teenagers and no, I am in no way emotionless, Infact my hormones go off the charts.
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