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Bee Sep 2018
He was bound to the skies,
She was tied to the seas.
They spend their lives apart yet,
the way they glimmer at the horizon is prepossessing
Madelynn Nieves Sep 2018
‪Skyline erupts
‪Into a city landscape‬
‪Buildings peak through‬
‪Clouds and fog‬
‪As if they are taking a break‬
‪From their own‬
‪Rigorous work schedule‬
‪To simply say hello‬
‪Reaching heights unknown‬
‪And looking down upon us‬
‪Jealous of our freedom to roam‬
Yip Wayne Jul 2018
I stared out into the slums of a ruined society
Where the rich and the poor drew great disparity

I walked the streets that divided the city
On my left, the rich and to my right, those in poverty

The further I walk more sleeping eyes loomed upon me
A great unease befell with each shifting steps

The privileged stared down from their thrones
While the poor watched from below in envy

Politicians and conglomerates drew blood from the city's vein
While its citizens struggle to live through its pain

The rebels prowled the streets for their voices to be heard
Their cries silenced by temptations of ***** money

It reminded me of scenes from dystopian movies
Only this time I was living in its reality
My first take on poems about social issues. Please do leave a comment below to help me improve
Simra Sadaf May 2018
a young crescent moon
of silver velvet wanes,
while the sun edges the horizon,
vibrant hues of sunrise awakens
the earth with a whisper,
i try to give words to the
beautiful first beam
that cracks the skyline.
Antino Art Apr 2018
Let's talk about this jazz club
that lives in my cellphone
in 1950 something with Chet Baker
back from the dead.
Let's toast to random notes taking flight
into the city in the middle of nothing nights we've known or been familiar with.
Let's shake hands cordially with the unfamiliar as in "deal", or "peace be with you" as if in church, tipping hats at that stranger passing by at the crosswalk some late evening in spring alongside dandelions sprouting forth from the pavement. Let's read between breaks of beats Kerouac must have hit in 1950 something San Francisco in yelps into the moonlit stages of the balcony of his boxcar boxcar boxcar gone by in a mad blur with whatever graffiti'd message of hope it bore on its sides. Let's hitch into the unknowingly infinite by way of the pen's mighty point. Let's unlearn the way syllable by syllable and demolish languaged signs like hurricane force candor blowing down fact-ory made terms and political decorum as smoke from the pages of their corporate handbook joins the Chet Baker solo note pilgrmage into the holy skyline. Let's move side by side unspoken as those jazz notes he forgot to play. Let's fill in those blanks with uninformed confidence beyond our abilities and grasp the unsayable names of our dreams remmebered. Let's see in seconds passing like bums inebriated with the holy moments gone too soon. Let's talk about nothing but this sacred second at hand on this clock unseen pointing overhead to the face of the moon gone full and hungry for attention. Let this happen only now. Only then will we talk about where it's going.
Antino Art Apr 2018
We wear this city on our feet
Planting our roots with each step
Our shadows

cast shapes of ancient oak trees stretching out over Nash Square at daybreak
We grow here

with the spirit of buildings past,
present and rising like a staircase to heaven in the distance,
the plumes of white smoke from their rooftops as burnt offerings for incense,
spires for steeples,
the bundled masses of people moving beneath as the calloused soles
of our feet pounding the pavement,
Our congregation

seated in reverant silence on the R-Line hissing to a stop
Their hushed prayers filing out from within to bring the reclaimed sidewalks of Fayetville Street back to life to join this pilgramage
They march

downtown toward Capitol
holding signs for disarmament
They bar-hop through Glenwood toasting to deliverance
They sprint toward their cars on work week mornings in a blur of faces that become us,
Rush at all hours through our veins
Cross our hearts and keep us breathing
On the shoulders of this giant collective, we hold our heads high

to see that this is home now.
We cross into the unfamiliar
at the walk signal's cue,
breaking new ground, gazes meeting one another
as their counter-culture
coffee kicks in
to add this defiant bounce to each step
this rhythm to hop over puddles as they appear

We don't mind the way rain lands here
and its baptismal effect
We like how its capable of reinventing itself mid-fall into weightless snowflakes, then taking flight
We walk without umbrellas to see it

wearing the greyest pieces of their winter sky the way it caps the peaks of Mount PNC, BB&T and Wells Fargo like hoodies over our heads
We assume monk-like appearances
in robes color-coded by season- from blue collar sweaters to cold hard sweat
We'll wear their city until we're worn out and wet, mumbling last-mimute prayers for our salvation under our breath
We'll wear their dreams

at night, the moment the streetlights flicker on beneath wired telephone poles carrying conversations about each one as far south as Florida, fears unspoken, made visible
on iron park benches too cold to sit on at this hour
We'll keep walking

past the lights of apartment windows as they dim behind us
the doors storefronts closed for the day
the paid parking meters as they clock out and become free
We'll wear this city like backpacks over our shoulders and we'll walk while they sleep

under the watch of their heavens,
the skyline
a glowing testament
of every step taken
toward someplace higher.
duncan Mar 2018
a congregation for the lonely
is all this place can ever be.
dead hearts and broken people
spending too much on rent,
like an eclipsing sky line
could fill the holes we've dug.

well, everyone lives there.
of course they do
where else would we go?
we come with nothing
so that anything we have
is nailed to the floor.
Ellie Elliott Jan 2018
He's a skyline
Endless highs wash and glide over my eyelids sparkling wide like the sea
Hook line and sinker, those blue green irises sure do allure a girl like me
Caught in the West-side stormy horizons around his pupils
Falling deep into his sunny day Harbourside gaze
And he wonders aloud why I'm so dazed
so I say yeah, honey, yeah no, I'm great

He's a skyline
Running along avenues of my skin like a city that he's glad as **** to be locked in
Climbing streetlights and smoking trees like it's easy
Feels me in like a summer breeze 'cause it thrills me
Writhing like a motorway, scaling ribcages like a multi-storey
I think he might want to stay, I know cities have a certain glory
I curl up in the curve of his spine like a half pipe
I know he'll keep me safe, he's positive like his blood type
Early morning grey he stands on top of the world with me,
and his heart shaped face breaks me out of boxes I didn't know I had in me.

He's a skyline
I know all the words to his sunset car songs
He likes the windows down and we both like to sing along
And when we go in circles, slipping past the road to the M5
We just turn the volume up and let the whole world just pass us by
It's true what they say that time flies
I can't hold onto these eternities in every easy moment, but I,
I know I'm shotgun eternally, double barrel shots of red wine
and he's gonna think this is funny now 'cause I can't find a clever rhyme

Still,
We're a skyline; an only-way-is-up vertical horizon of opportunity
and he knows exactly where to drive to get into my
brain, and
It's only us in the whole place and our bodies breathe adventure 'cause all I see is his face
Close to mine, eyes shining like the universe awaits
With fingers intertwined like atoms in space

The catalyst for my daydreams is the rave where time stopped on the bass notes
So I could build a wall right up to his skyline for all my high hopes
But he breaks it down every time I fall asleep in his arms
Hearts replace guards, never felt so good to be disarmed.
ellie elliott
CoolLen Aug 2017
The possibilities that light up a skyline seem endless.
There are so many outcomes. So many ways a life can turn without any inclination its right or wrong.
A glimmer could be a diamond shining through just as easily as it could be fools gold, or more specifically disappointment, reality's favorite trap.
All the lights are close enough that I can hold them with my gaze.. but I cant touch them.
They are the stars of my existence.
In this moment my only certainty is seated at the edge of the sidewalk 39 floors below.
Just waiting for the weight of my soul to pry my hands from the balcony that has me perched in a way that's reminiscent of the Titanic.
The pressures of the world weigh down on us all but in this moment, gravity is quite appealing.
Such a permanent solution to a fickle picture.
Even as I prepare to etch my last words with broken bones and blood and confusion and tears, my robe hangs over the rail for someone, anyone to pull me back.
Ron Gavalik Aug 2017
Gazing at the city skyline at night
through the living room window
brings peace to raging thoughts.
From a distance, all one sees are lights,
they twinkle peacefully
against a black curtain.

The rapists and the drunkards,
the hookers and the fascists,
they're all hidden in the landscape,
right below the surface.

If we allow them to ****** us,
even for one succulent moment,
they will consume every last ounce
of our reason, our purpose,
and leave us in madness.
Thoughts.
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