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Poltergeist will vamp studio glancingly
but with their incredible sound have spun as paradise with a stone,
a record with tainted sensibility from their body strand
and upon alternate soul shall throng a hit song, reminiscent
of her,  a jubilant success instantly there
that her surfer clime to farther heights
and they'll dance everyday the sun is out.
b e mccomb Sep 2016
i've heard the songs
about killing pain

sounding like the only
way is with a vinyl
record and several
shots of something strong

(but pain isn't all
alcohol and turntables)


it's a stack of cds
still shrinkwrapped so
they shine like diamonds
a discard pile scratched and
cracked so i know that
life keeps skipping on

a fourth cup of coffee
to send my heart
rattling and my
hands shaking

(i've wished to be in
love before just so
my heartbreak could
someday be justified
but i can let the music
paint that picture easy)


buffering lyric videos
sprawled out in bed
watching the light grow
brighter behind the curtains

finding myself addicted
to pain and freezing cold
because i need the white
noise of a fan at night

*(but pain isn't all
alcohol and turntables
sometimes it's just old
boomboxes and black tea)
Copyright 9/10/16 by B. E. McComb
Viseract Jun 2016
Go on, press record
Lift your phone to bloodshed
Lift your phone to the sound of hatred
Of bloodlust laid on a foundation
That was never really stable to begin with

Go on, film those frames
As you watch me beat the **** out of
All those who made me feel like ****
Worthless
Hated
Unloved
Alone
The final gunslinger, taking his stand
Draws his pistols, hipfiring
And in his stance, thumb through belt loop
Hat down over his eyes
Ashamed of his instant reaction,
His ability to **** and inability to remain emotionless

Go on, press record
Put it on Facebook
Let everyone know what you really are:
A cowardly bystander
I hate this sort of thing with a passion..
JR Rhine May 2016
My grooved waxy skin
wraps around the swivel chair
eyeing the needle
Mary K Apr 2016
red sunset vibes radiate from the poster on the wall
a pile of crumpled papers rest around the tin garbage can in the corner
broken dreams lie dying in the dream catcher above the bed
a record plays softly from the table by the window
white flowers turned brown with time bend weeping in their plastic vase
a pile of half-read books sit on the night stand
forgotten memories stay silent in the journals under desk
and moonlight floods through the open window onto the dark wood of the floor
something different
the Sandman Mar 2016
rewind; replay
    we're standing in a canopy of sunlight
    and laughing, constantly.
    our faces are tired of moving up
    but our eyes are used to crinkling;
    they fold, and shut, and open like buds
    with the spread and shrink of our grins, in
    and out, with our lungs.
Pauze. Zoom.
    Your nails are chipping now, but
    You're really a halfwit,
    So that doesn't deter you the least bit
    From scratch-scratch-scratching at their shook ends:
    They fall apart as we fall out.
    We're spinning, we're dizzyingly quick,
    Hurtling at the speed of 28,800 kilometres an hour; we're brisk
    At best. (Inconceivable at worst.)
    And I can feel, already, you slipping away.
    You're outside of my grasp; you're far out.
rewind; replay.
    We're ripping at the seams;
    Our faces are like bad make-up
    That doesn't move with our smiles;
    Our eyes stay impassive,
    Uninterested at best. Incensed at worst.
    The crinkles in their corners are crusted
    And new folds form on the frowns of our foreheads.
    We're smothering each other in pillow talk and blankets.
Flash-forward, play.
    We're bathed in rain, we're in a
    Canyon, in a chasm.
    We don't know salt from wound
    Or snake from bite. We
    Bring out the worst in our best selves.
    We're drowning in suitcases and bedding.
    We let it fill our lungs and we
    Don't look back.
Vamika Sinha Mar 2016
one glance

and a story starts
spinning
on the turntable

your heart -
the needle dropped
'coup de foudre' is the French expression for 'love at first sight'. Its literal meaning is 'strike of lightning'
Adellebee Feb 2014
Do you ever want the best for me?
Ever realize, that I struggle with emotions,
With being out in reality, with interactions of strangers and foe
I put my cards in one basket, twice.
They bluffed.

Would you?
Call mine?

The record subtly spinning,
Music has always accompanied my psychosis
Makes me feel tall.
Just the interior monologue of my youth and the days I was never around

I’m all full
Filled up with yesterdays
And regrets

Where is my hero?
To save me from tears and blankets
To hold my hand when I sleep,
And make sure I believe in Ever After
The back and forth motion
Will produce a lotion!
What Newton forgot
Liam C Calhoun Jul 2015
My flights come and go,
But the bench records my slouch
As I’ve already grown wings.
Flying for free, flying stand-by - But flying nonetheless.
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