All the people, all the people
They love to hide and seek
When there's champagne and the bands play
That's when they come

All the people, all the people
They always leave too soon
As they seek out from this lighthouse
No Mayflower
In June





In the room full of people
That always talk so low
When they can't find my best side
That's when they'll go
Oh, all the people, all the people
They won't come back with me
When I sailed home I held on
A Mayflower
Lost at sea




All the people, all the people
Won't let me play hide and seek
But when I scream out in this big crowd
There's only me
In the room of their rumors
For a world I've went to see

All the people, all the people

They never smiled at me

Your smile makes
the moon smile
your beauty makes
the room brighter
I like your nails
I like your eyes
I will be a fighter
to save your smile!

Your voice makes
the birdsong sweet
your touch melts
the stone forever
I like your nose
I like your lips
I will be a lover
to get your smile!

Your hardship makes
my heart too hurts
your tears make
my eyes to yell
and I feel unwell
please, stop crying
I love you, sweet
just give me a smile!

Ren117 Jan 10

Paintings of dogs
On the wall
In the X-ray room
At the hospital
Where I go
Every week

Florivee Jan 1

I stopped believing I was lost
when I closed my eyes
and tried to find myself
just to witness an empty room
full of ''no one" looking for me, too.

(fohn)
Illona Dec 2017

Words been sitting on my tongue for so long
Nothing can escape
They don't know how to solve the labryrinth
Eyes contact
In
Every crowded room
Only see
the brown orbs
Looking at the sun
But can't see the moon



-S.I

I can't hug the blues but i can see the sun
Skylar Musa Dec 2017

I spread my wings
Looking left before turning the other way
This time I can make it

Jumping from the spot I perch on
Soaring across the ranges
Watching my shadow fly over the fields

Almost made it
Looking left and sighing
Once again I didn't make it

One last glance is thrown at the place I yearn for
My wings failing me as I plummet to the ground
My eyes opening only to see the familiar scenery of my room

One more failed attempt to get what I want

Dreams can leave us wondering what we want in life
Can make us ask ourselves what it is that we want
What we want to do
Zero Nine Dec 2017

We dream
we want
the awards you take
We dream
we buy
the hypocrisy
We dream
we want
the new days you describe
in your speeches

The soap box betrays you

Twitter. Tweeting. Facebook. Facade.
Insta. Instant. Dopamine rush.

If you could separate your self from the stage,
that would be great.
-- but if you're going to make a political statement
while accepting an award for your humanity,
you might want to think about what your
individual actions tell the world about you.

Who will listen?
Who will ask?
Looks like money once more
takes the last laugh.

Opulence. "Must be nice."
Danielle L Cook Dec 2017

A broken record playing softly from the corner of the room on repeat
with no-longer-white sheets draped over rotting, forgotten furniture.
Thick drapes coated heavily in years of dust have kept the warm rays of sunlight from piercing the stale darkness that permeates the space.
There is no life here, no forgiveness;
only the wailing of the record as it hums its familiar tune, until finally it, too, ends.

If I had to describe what it feels like to allow myself to trust people, this would be it.
Leila Shearer Nov 2017

You said I may as well
Be in jail
Because I spend
So long in my room.

I didn't go outside today
You said at least
Prisoners go outside
For fresh air once
A day.

Well sure,
I'll be a prisoner,
If you'd like.
I practically am.

This house is a prison
I'm monitored
Asked to work
Do this
Do that
If the things I do
Are "nothing" to you
Or not up to your standard
Of being worthy
Then I'm punished.

My room is my cell
It's my space
I've personalized it
I've made it mine
It feels safe
It's my choice
To spend time here.

But you still barge in
Even when the door's closed
You still demand things
You judge how I've made it
The way things look
The state its in
My own touches.
You prove it's not mine
By violating it.

Sure,
I could go outside.
But that's only
A larger
More diverse prison
Where I'm judged further
By the guards of society
I have to be alert
So I'm not abused
Or harassed
By fellow inmates.

Thanks for the metaphor,
Mother
But it doesn't matter.

I'm content
Being confined
In my cell.

l.v.s

Just a little bit of a vent from last night hahaha... haha.... ha.
ambient Nov 2017

down in the city
that stinks of old Europe,
another body in another room
lies formed of bone, fear and
sometimes soul

it lies low
it feels low
and this is a feeling
all too common

black ribbons ravel
across the skies of this
terror-struck night:
let the night be damned
let the shadows be damned
let the demons be damned
damn damn damn

flat white tabletop papers
remind that you have lost the way;
feeling so dejected that you may
not be able to hold up the fight;
no word from your love in 3 weeks—
maybe they've already left...

jitterbodies with jaws full of
filled in & jagged teeth
all singing;
fear is continual
fear is a veritable truth.

11/25/17, 11:57
(well, I had to get back into it somehow...)
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