Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
nick armbrister Feb 2020
Hence I like you dear/do you like my older bro?/I am an ice cream
from ******* Upside Down In a Blazing Avro Manchester Bomber – Poems from My Life and More

Nick Armbrister
Derrek Estrella Feb 2020
Farnham sat on the fringes of education, sweating his mind. He observed a charlatan wearing a paper hat in the corner of the centre and proclaimed,
“You will be beautiful in my dreams”
And thus felt at ease. It is a frustratingly slow day in March, as the mister’s heart began to loosen in the literal subjectivity. The sun shone with the dominion of a mad titan, yet at Farnham’s request, acquiesced to a simmer. “The class is finished. you will start again in sorrow, some time tomorrow” were the words that Farnham heard, which duly prompted him to click his heels towards the doorway with great ebullience. What is the day to him, but a measurement? A tightrope, so it seems. He lingered like an unwanted scent to his locker, having dropped all but one of his cents in his classmates’ pockets. The locker opened and greeted him with a lifeless moan. He stuffed it full of his insides and began to feel like a muted songbird.
“Where will I find my voice?”, Farnham wondered aloud, “Who will lend me the right to sing with immense volition?”
He can fly with unbridled confidence yet cannot convey its feeling in a universal medium.Such a poor state. Walking up to the most aloof passerby, “Point your finger! Point it, and I will follow in good faith and stringed navigation!” The unremarkable fellow adhered in mock comprehension, fearing for her wallet. To the northern wing she pointed, where lingering soulmates lied in the garden square of Bohemian export. Farnham, capriciously fearing impermanence, flew like a bird yoked to a noose. The tiles of ivory institution felt uneven below his head as he sunk into the cacophonous call of propriety, where his streams were superimposed onto innocent scholars. In an attempt to escape liability, he eyed a man twice his stature and importance and duly clambered upon his back, steering him by the ears.
“Fellow man, I am looking for something unattainable, but don’t peg me as a defeatist! It is akin to that of enlightenment, which I’m sure you have dreaded over for a time. I have extrapolated the knowledge we have attained so far, and have concluded that attunement is inevitable, and thus applicable to life. You will take me there, to that answer, and in return, I promise to feed you tangerines from the Proverbial Garden. I will love you for your duty and kiss your feet. Please, come with me.”
Moments passed. An answer was being formed, and Farnham waited patiently, wanting to catch it like a fisherman sailor. Then, reply.
“I should take you for a fool, were you not so soaked in this sort of significance. Let us journey, and journey well”. Farnham caressed the ears of his companion and pulled forwards.
will19008 Jan 2020
Drive
Someday alive
Someday I’ll find terrific
     love, crap, courage
even though
even though
     Could have
         used a Human author
who understands Poetry crap stuff
Could have used a Human author
    who understands Poetry crap stuff
Driving alone,
    confused
Someone called
    the words
          Someone didn’t call you
Someday
happily becoming
    a used Human author
          understanding Poetry crap stuff
Drive:
    first Pretty Big nice flower arrangement
Drive:
    first Pretty Big nice funny arrangements
Someday alive
    someday, Friends, available
             finding terrific love
Absolutely we could have used a Human author
    who understands Poetry
Absolutely I could have used a Human author
    understanding Poetry crap stuff
Fall
      day,
Keep
      reading
Find
terrific
love:

      Drive
Julian Moses Jan 2020
Broken scuttled thing
I am not
Extension becoming of you
fervor toy
Begotten of you
for you
Because me
and you
Unscupper’d cavern
my mind
Blanks before you
Untimely departures
demand becoming

Wings burn slowly with the night
My wintergreen hands uncupp’d
Beholden to the penance.
-2020-
Hey, I’m back.
MisfitOfSociety Jan 2020
I can't feel my spirit.
This body is so strange to me.
Slipping through the subway grates,
My flesh dissolves into plastic seats.
I feel no difference between it and me.
Work my fingers across my face,
To see if I am still there.

Vanishing and appearing in the reflection again,
I don't identify with that thing that I am.
It feels like I am separate from it,
It feels like I don't belong in it.
No longer a temple,
No longer a place for a spirit.

One great big seductive neon distraction,
Convincing us into buying:

L-shaped couches,
Makeup kits,
Brand new cars
and television sets.

I work for freedom and pay for slavery.
The things I own I've become.
**** it all, who needs freedom?
MisfitOfSociety Dec 2019
Out of the womb into the microwave.
Brain cells pop,
Electric shock.
We all worship,
In the house of metal.
Devil in the computer,
Screams like a kettle.

She sings through the holes in my head,
She likes me better when I’m half dead.
Fading in and out like a ghost,
Possessing me when she needs me the most.

Metal temptress.
No one sings like you.
Metal temptress.
No one can dress like you.
I hear your whispers through the radio.
I see your image on the video.

Pavements of heaven grow colder against your moonlight.
Your lies rung through my head,
I still see the truth in what you said.

No one lies like you,
No one believes you like I do.
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
Like a sot you cling to my memory.
No one cares to clean the grime
Building on the walls.
What a welcoming dream,
The home I offer.
The open-air travels
Through paper-thin walls
With the ease of a valley.
Drizzle, drizzle
Over me.
Ash and chalk
Mark the shape of my mouth.
A distant echo of a crack
And my arm goes numb.
MisfitOfSociety Dec 2019
I smell a queen bee drenched in alcohol!
Dried up and soaked into a cotton ball!

Baked inside her two thousand golden wombs.
Emerging drunk on her chemical love.
One whiff and suddenly she’s my queen bee,
Now I dedicate my life to a spoonful of honey!

I hunt with the honeybees from the catacombs
Entranced by her chemical love song.
Seduced by the crown of the flower,
Sipping hung ovaries filled with nectar!

“I rose,
You rose with me.
Once a ******,
Now your queen bee!
I’m the mated queen,
You chose me!

With a body so fat and wings so small,
You should not be able to fly at all!
You can’t defy me!
I am your queen bee!”

Strong enough to hold down the seas,
Yet too weak to hold down the bees!
We don’t give a **** about what you say,
We will just levitate away!

We the bees don’t do what you say.
We the bees go our own way!
Bees don't like being told what to do.
Delia Grace Dec 2019
I am a menace.
Scuttling between paper leaves
and doors. I can’t tell
which ones are unlocked.
My clattering legs will
skitter across your countertop,
and I have felt so small.
I have been out of sight
longer than I’ve been alive
and I knock your dishes
onto the under-grown floor.
The tinkling of porcelain
is my alarm clock.
I bounce off the fine china,
my arms stretched around me,
and I wonder how
you could miss all these pieces.
My hands are too small
to cause such destruction.
But my hands can reach
much further than yours.
So I slide myself between cracks.
I become a line,
another crack,
and I bring you the slivers.
Wedged between the tiles
and glittering from termite holes.
I bring you the glue
and my sickly face blushes
from embarrassment
and apologies.
I am learning what good
my hands can do
as I bandage and kiss
your poor, ****** fingertips.
11/8/19
Mark Toney Nov 2019
Surreal

So real
11/24/2019 - Poetry form: Footle - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2019
Next page