Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Alicia Moore Sep 15
even when you’re speaking
the silence is deafening.

empty words,
a spinning record with no music.

language isn’t solely expressive,
vacant vocals are forever depressive.
reyftamayo Aug 4
paano ko nga ba kinolekta
ang mga ala-ala?
sa piraso ng bato?
sa piraso ng kahoy o halaman?
siguro sa simoy ng hangin
at lasa ng pagkain?
hindi naman kaya
sa kalampag ng mga musika?
wala nga sigurong batayan
wala ring katapusan ang pagkolekta
ng mga ala-ala
nakagawian ko na itong gawin
noon pa
kaya kahit na ubos na
ang mga bato kahoy at halaman
kahit na said na ang bakas
sa simoy ng hangin
at lahat ng pagkain
manahimik man ang indayog ng musika
hangga't hindi pa nauubos
ang mga naipong lakas
na magdadala ng mga lipas na gunita
ng galit at takot
ng lungkot at tuwa
makababalik pa rin ako
saan man magpunta
Jay M Mar 18
There’s no need to apologize to me
Just leave it be
There’s nothing to gain
But maybe a little pain
When you apologize for everything you do
So don’t you
Feel like you have to apologize to me

All my life
Even when there was no strife
I would apologize for everything
But be told something
Different every time
I ended up like a mime
Unable to say another word

Fly free like a bird
Say “sorry” so much and you’re just a broken record.

- Jay M
March 17th, 2020
Self explanatory, I think.
Dani Jan 20
The song plays on
Though it scratches itself up
Playing on repeat over and over again
The same old beat
The same old lyrics
Singing away
The words had stopped making sense
Long ago
Still it keeps playing the same song
It keeps doing the same things
Nothing has changed
How can I expect a broken record
To fix my life?
Wendo Musaly Dec 2019
Like what you like, hate what you hate and let other do what they want to do on themselves because the road to heaven doesn’t pass trough your heart.
Get more about me on my official website
Tatiana Dec 2019
I can feel your voice
like grooves in a record
knowing the sounds that come out
will send me spinning
along with the music
Mark Boschi Nov 2019
when you step into my space,
I hope these walls tell you about the animals that have clawed at my skin
I hope these walls tell you the stories of how i've earned each nicked mark; each jagged scar; each criss cross stitch
honesty is a language I am still trying to learn
I feel a heavy lodge in my throat whenever I speak it,
and that is enough to bring my truth to a record scratch stop.

but these walls
these walls, you see
vulnerability is their mother tongue
their verity bears no sharp edges

and as you journey across the wooden floors and listen to the creak of the stairs
you might hear ripples of laughter or wallowing cries
echoing through with reckless abandon
but do not scatter away

these walls are always in flux -
Shifting and Morphing and Evolving.
there are days when they will splinter and they will crack
there are days when they will stand high and they will stand firm
but one thing is for sure:
they will always be here
and so will I
we had to write a poem about interior design for our theory class HERE IT IS
at this moment, right now,
as you read this
is a new beginning
in a series of new beginnings
that is constantly repeated
in a continuous cycle
and every moment beforehand
becomes a dream sequence
of non-existence and
wasted time
nothing comes back to haunt us
except the history of ourselves
we slaves to our decisions
prisoners to our internal form
anchored by trivialities
centered by nothing
broken records of regiment
to what we repeatedly do
everyday and continually
search for happiness
even if unhappiness
secures our bliss.
we are the everlasting breeders
to a succession of living corpses.
Jay M Sep 2019
All are dancing slowly
This masquerade
A gala
All is in great discord
Among the orchestra
One is out of tune
None seem to care
To hear the broken melody
See the chip in the stone

Cover it up
With a little paint
None shall tell
Besides the meek little pup
Soon it shall faint
One shall yell
While the rest
Ring, ring, ring the bell
Dancing in discord
To the broken melody

Pulling out a flask
‘Neath the rows
Folk chatter and ask,
“Isn’t something off?”
While the other throws,
“Neigh!” then one does quaff

Shine a light
Alone the floor
Hold one tight
For one shall sing no more
Grasp it
So one may not fall
That she would not permit
Not a’tall

Sing, sober dream
Whisper your whims
Through a beam
On a limb
The lullaby
Child doth cry
Sing, sober dream
Sing, sing,
For ‘tall must end
One day.

- Jay M
September 12th, 2019
Ruheen Aug 2019
Like a melody
On repeat
I hear everything but you

A broken piece
You never need
Maybe I don't want to

A musical whim
One I can't sing
Tell me it's true

I want to know if you're worth it
Tell that you deserve it
Help me believe you

I really want to.
You know how a broken record repeats everything? In this case, I'm a broken record. I keep repeating my mistakes. Can't seem to get rid of them.
Next page