Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Tamara Walker Jul 2018
I searched for madness
But instead found insanity
And images floating towards my popcorn ceiling
Lukewarm soap bubbles
Reflecting my ******* face  
Elaborate on the details of a story
Too many stories
Few told accurately
Some forgotten for years behind the couches
Excavated and place in museums
This is apart of a much larger and longer poem called Plenty Words.
Tamara Walker Jul 2018
Teeth and tongue
Tongue and cheek
Wars start people died, and they talk,
Who’s cheating on whom within a myth of a happy ending
Cheek and cheek
Bombs, explosions and people talk,
About the weather and the puppy fluff struck in sewer drains
Our fantasies coming to a steal away the reality of misunderstood celebrities
We play life across a board game
Cross Go pick up Nothing, nothing fun things of un things
Against the knowing we celebrate everything
This is apart of a much larger poem titled Plenty Words. Enjoy!
Frances Marie Jul 2018
At only 18 years old;
He was a Jack of all trades

Had the passion of blazing flames.
The free-spirited heart of a dove.
Debating skills that reached high above.
Athletic gifts that even the most talented could adore.
A witty personality that was hard to ignore.
Smatter than most I've ever known.
Reckless with a charm that was hard to condone.
Courage that surpassed the bravest.
Achieved the highest, and came back the greatest.
Friendly as if he had all the love to give.
Always smiling,
leaving everyone breathless.

Conner binded a small community together before and after his departure.  

He may not be here with us to pray, but he can be here to guide us along the way.
No doubt in my mind is Conner going to give up so easilly.  
If his legacy stays, so will he.
He was a blessing to everyone who had the pleasure of having them in his life. Mary and Wendy, the most caring guardians of my friend who passed away two weeks after graduation in a terrible car accident that was devestating. He told someone he wanted to be remembred for something, I hope this surfices ❤ July 9th, 2018
FRITZ Jul 2018
tonight the sky died a little.
baked us in a soup thick as roux
           ****** lips,
                        loitering less,
                                meditations rests your head on my shoulder.

psychic fever functions as an embryo

                                             EAT. EAT. EAT.

you were amniotic happy! stifled great! pushing jelly feeding the joyous ooze!
_________+___+_________[]
98;;;; 18
k
Hollow Steve Jul 2018
I think I'm letting go.
It drains itself dry and drains itself some more.
I think I've had enough.
What barrier can I create to protect this psyche?
Head like a haunted house.
We're surreal, sublime.
Can't get it out of myself.
And these noises get louder.
We're surreal, sublime
Tell me where the other half lives?
One lives half dead.
The other went missing.
I loved you to death
and the hate lives on.
Gray ghosts haunt these halls.
DaSH the Hopeful Jun 2018
Cautionary visions visit in viciously vivid fashion
I'm dead and my head is missing
Everyone is laughing
        
                     But me

And the sky is sorta dreary but I don't know
With no eyes you don't see too clearly

      Sew me a new one on,
Attached at the neck
Plastic instead of brittle skin and maybe then
     I can exist in some form above the normally gray and grim

    I pray to a faceless facade
            I made a "God" in my head
An eternal alternative to turn to and blame
   And claim to strangers that he works in mysterious ways
        My lips are chafed from singing unheard praises
  
        I'm tasteless and it has me thinking that maybe my mouth was only a product of my imagination
     Food for thought I chew and stop
           Its too **** hot for contemplation


      Still, I used to think my hands belonged to someone else
     Right up until I used them both to **** myself
UNiTY Jun 2018
The prongs swept through my damp hair
As i plugged in the TV there was a light shock
and the blue flooded my room with a glare

I sank into the blankets
and into my head

I began to have a dream or so I perceived

Standing in front of a supermarket
In the hot sun
Waiting for my family to shop

I am watching the cars along the road, as my family's car speeds toward the interstate

Yellow lines moving beside me as i try and chase them
they never turned around

I wander down the sidewalk til i come to a small burgundy car
the windows are broken

I relax in the backseat for hours
until i pass out

I wake up and it is humid
the car is moving

Nobody is in the front seat

all of a sudden there is a steep drop and the car is pummeling down a hill into a forest of redwoods,
Crashed on the rocks

A man pulls me from the backseat

at first I feel a sense of comfort,

then his face shows, distorted, speaking ancient evil toungues

I try to grasp air and be free
next thing i remember I am awake.
Series of poems based off of my nightmares of being kidnapped ever since i was 5
Next page