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Vampirecadence May 2020
It doesn't feel what's real or unreal
once you lose the control of your breath,
It seems heavier everything inside
and no one to understand what it feels like,  
It's the real mess!
Just someone immersing you with its ******.
and you can't shout or speak out,
all you do is stare but no one look out
when you are trying to breathe,
but inside you are dead.
I wrote this at 3:09 AM. I love writing at night and that's when I feel more me and less the other me which I'm not. I feel peace within me. I had rough days where dark used to feel scary, now I'm loving night.
Iggy Chuck Jan 2020
Despite the infinity of stars
in these nights skies,
the ones that I want to see 
are those of your eyes

And even though you're not here,
every beat of my heart bears your name,
every wish whispered to the moon involves you

I want to shout to the world 
how much I love you
until I lose my breath, 
until my sanity is questioned

And if that's madness,
I’m not afraid to say
I’m madly in love with you.
I got the news this morning
Not the way to start the day
Another friend had fallen
I now grieve for Johnny Ray

I can not hide my feelings
I'm not sure how to feel
I wait for him to phone me
This just does not feel real

Let's celebrate his life though
Not with prayer, let's sing and yell
We know that he will hear us
Up in heaven raising hell

When you lose a loved one
There's things they say to do
But, ***** that, let's get rowdy
Let's do something loud and new

Remember them through music
Do it loud so they can hear
Sing, shout, be vocal
They're gone but they're still near

Tonight we will remember
On the stage we'll sing and yell
So Johnny Ray can hear us
Up in heaven raising hell
Yep, Johnny will sure hear us
Up in heaven raising hell
Kayla universe Jan 2020
And in black holes beneath  the sun is where silence lived.

I clung on to every bit of life it had left.  Mirrored its steps and consumed its pain until one day, it cried out and said to me, “Go away, I don’t want you anymore.”

In the end, even I made silence want to speak.  Want to cry. Want to leap out of its skin and shout.
Anthony Mayfield Dec 2019
You know what?
I want to dance!
Down the street without music
I know the song
It's memorized
Embossed on my brain
So you can have your Oldsmobile radio
But I WILL dance down the street
Deal with it

You know what?
I want to sing!
In the hills like Maria
A song all my own
And the hills and breeze will harmonize
And the stream will dance
So you can keep your televised singing reality
But I WILL sing in the hills
Deal with it

You know what?
I want to run!
Nowhere in particular
Just away
And that's perfectly OK
I need air in my lungs
So you can keep your treadmills
But I WILL run nowhere in particular
Deal with it

You know what?
I'm going to shout!
From the highest mountaintop
The world will hear my deepest cry
And with happy tears I'll finally cry
So you can live your life
But I WILL shout for mine
Deal with it
I will live my life my way, deal with it
Steve Page Dec 2019
Pub poetry is a form of performance poetry consisting of the shouted word which has developed in UK urban pubs, dating back to the 1940s and 50s. Words are typically yelled over ambient haphazard rhythms which are not especially chosen for the piece of poetry, rather the poetry is performed over the generic sound of empty bottles and part filled glasses and live samples of patron conversation that will be familiar to those frequenting hostelries around the UK.

Sometimes the audience will employ call and response devices to distract the poet, such as calls of "W##k-er!', with the traditional response of "F##k-You!" before the pub poet continues with his yelled out verse, often read from the beer stained back of an overdue envelope.

The pub poet usually appears on a chair or table, surrounded by immediate family or work mates cheering him on.

Invariably inebriated, the pub poet may not appear to make any sense to the uninitiated - but once you too have availed yourself of your 4th or 5th pint, the words become clearer and easier to appreciate.

No musicality is built into pub poems and pub poets generally perform without backing music, delivering chanted speech with pronounced modulation, broken-rhythmic accentuation and dramatic, though random, stylization of gestures, often resulting in the pub poet losing balance and sustaining a head injury thereby losing consciousness and bringing the evening's entertainment to a premature, but often welcome, end.

It is often noted that many pub poets are remarkably shy and retiring when sober.
Based on 'dub poet' wiki entry.  I simply took another look through a different lens.
Mida Burtons Jul 2019
stood at the stands
our hands catching the wind
we shout every word
as she starts to sing
Mitch Prax Jun 2019
Love is a
shout into the void-
a long wait for an echo
that may or may not come
falling back to your lips.
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