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Bhill Nov 2019
Wearing shoes has always been fun
We learn to tie them and off we run
We run all day and into the night
We have to be home when street light, lights
It always seems that the lights light, too early
Because hide and go seek when its light, is just girlie

Dinner is served when everyone's there
Who's turn is it, to say the prayer
I know it's not mine, cause I said it last night
It's got to be Sis’s, I hope there's no fight

When dinner is done the TV goes on
Or we play family games sometimes time until dawn
We really don't play untill it's that late
I just said that because bedtime is eight...

Brian Hill - 2019 # 273
Who remembers?
Mark Toney Oct 2019
Woke up Sunday morning
Put on my Sunday best,
'Cause I didn’t want to go
And look different from the rest.
When the meeting was over
Was among the first to go.
Made a beeline home
Put on some comfy clothes.

Every weekday I work
Must wear a suit and tie
Feels so **** confining
It makes me wanna cry
By the time my shift is over
Tell you goodness knows
Can’t wait to get on home
Put on some comfy clothes.

Comfy clothes are great
Doesn’t matter what the season.
Just can’t quite explain it
There is no rhyme or reason.
But if you feel uptight,
Don’t know which way to go,
Things will get a little better
You put on some comfy clothes.
5/18/2018 - Poetry form: Rhyme - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2018
Enigmatic Sep 2019
Fear is the trap that confines all
Fear is holding hands with the grim reaper
It will haunt you to your grave
Taunt you in your dreams
Tie you back with the strongest rope there is and the hardest knot to escape from
Fear takes no time to find you
Takes no time to hypnotise you
Distorting your beliefs, questions are all that linger
Yes fear is strong but we go on
Kent Delos Reyes Jun 2018
Tie me a knot
A knot stronger than the wind
Tie me a knot--
A weapon I will wield

I'll carry it all day
Treasuring the knot you'll make
Walking a mile distance
From the draw out line I gave

Heave it strong and brave
Carefully making connections
Between the rope you made
And the rope I kept

Heave-- tie our ropes
The rope you used to save life
And the rope I used to end mine
Ken Pepiton Jul 2019
cognitive dis
sonnance sonic vibration shaking
the core
of our age

constant hey, hey look this way,
walk this way,
talk this way

groan, big stretch intended

to en
velope volve gauge and me
asure real if I can make
my bubble gobble yours,
you're in mine,

your's popped.
It's okeh, I expected you.
I prepared a place, come and see.

you can't go on pre
tending to aim at invisible hope
for things you see, right here.

The end of any mortal moment
is always near. In your heart, you know.
The kingdom of God (a term yet undefined),

if this is a place,
this stack of lines your learning lets you read,
then this is your heart-felt happiest possible place,
this is like heaven to you,
after all
is said, and done.

--- that's published ---
a seed
or a flower, or leaves of grass
as good for me to grow on as
any sacred cow,

chewinginging blissish backward belching
methane, to warm the wind,

to ease the groaning from below the ice,

chewing leaves of grass,
as in times past,
when fusions were being warmed

from industrial effort to make the Iron Legged Monster
trample the idea

of calming words easing pain as sure as momma kisses
always did,

when you thought, as a kid and could believe such kisses
evidently worked,
you felt un-pained, the kiss alone could be blamed.

Did you notice? When kisses made hurts go away,
was your attention the price
of the kiss or was it a switch clicked as the lips of another

touched your skin and authoritatively declared,
all's better, and this is the direction
the vector from one remembered kiss of this sort

epigenetic trigger cocked, then pulled

endurance of developing process patterns with all the pieces

laid out
before our eyes, asif
intended to be seen, pain,

pay attention. Sharp can be evidence of fracture or
proof that whetting the edge makes our shaping
painless on this scale.

Aim at nothing, imagine what you hit. High five,
one hand clapping,
one more way to see the sublime.
This is blantant flow published for cause quite mysterious to me. Mysteries in fiction are not so -pointy- few unknowns known knowable are easy to chew.
Nolan Willett Jun 2019
If you’d like me to,
I would change my world view,
I’d lift back up the veil,
And learn to see in Braille,
I would cut out my tongue
And leave some songs unsung,
I’d go to bed at a reasonable hour
And adopt some face that isn’t sour,
I’d work a nine to five like the best of them
Till the lights inside go dim,
Get a little overtime,
Follow the established paradigm,
It’s not so big a deal,
So I will make no appeal,
I’ll put on a suit and tie
And wait my turn to die.
Ken Pepiton Apr 2019
krause asu
AN accident.

That's how, but why?
Many universes, many realities, imaginable


how long must one live in a cardboard box
to confess the experienced
altered next from then to now.

Copenhagen Calvinist or Lutherin or Anabaptist

holier than I, as was I, as the Hermit hidden
in the fool on the hill,
telling secret meanings to nowhere man, now

touching a time when knowing out paced known
knowables, imaginables were

imagined, not evil, but fine tuned to approach
per fection in effect

what more can I ask? All my debts are paid.

Accidental debt accrual demands accidental debt relief.

Political-lic, that's where my party stands.

Jubilee, nowhere has the ver been
a time like

now. We being at all, as mere words, heard only once,
never uttered

utter non sensed tone tuned to augmented minds

-- bio logic circuit
-- try a spark

Gleam in grandpa's eye, try umph, boy. Better up.

Swing and there is the crack of the bat

never heard, a clap

just now, you are on the ball, and this is
what that always means,

Okeh. Like safe. No war. Okeh. Mark to follow, someday.

biologic circuitry is so unbelievable,

to whom? All who see the supsumpsystems and the info resources,
re re re, every, meaning as if ever were in
finite, every things reasonable countable and measured,

AN ark is a box. Rectangular, most oft.
A box. Hermits live in boxes, some times,

with a coven-ante-cipitate, tincture
of this and that, with a drop o' Paracelsus fave,
Hermetic hermenuetic magishit.
Mercury, liquid conducter, okeh.

You axt a reason for the faith in the wrong *******
autodidactic augmented and medicated old man.

I hapt to save a dammercury switch from an old thermostat,
with a bi-metal coil we could
into action and launch afacethefact face that fact face of fact
tap. Twist it, there, balance, level, spirit levels bubble
hermetic form flow act
ioncat ion quest

spark-- the idea imagicish dealybob- gleam

the feeling of gleam. Toothpaste imparts
*** appeal, I pana imparts diligence, pepsodent is perfect
for explosive types averse to yellow,
oh my god,
game changer. Hidden persuaders never saw us,

by stripe are we healed and made bright white and loveable,
said the tooth from the future, we learned, in school, to love
each night, with a brisk brush before our
prayer for no cavities could be answered.

tap right there.

Gem quality. The meaning of life, I magine, is more.
a simple, as they say, muse. A little think on being the ball.
c Apr 2019
if I've fought back
(biting my tongue and tasting blood)
with hands bound
and tongue tied
what I could do
with only one hand
behind my back.
Erian Rose Apr 2019
I'll tie the loose strings
Around the glass bottle
Slip in the letter
And throw it out to the sea
Hoping someday you'll read it
With my name scribbled at the edge

Your not so secret admirer
Anya Feb 2019
The strands tangle and twist
As if my finger,
Is the center of a tiny universe
Of interlocking twining twirling black
With a simple twist and snap
Are ripped,
Star crossed lovers
Every Romeo to his Juliet
Are rip, rip, ri-torn apart
The hair from the hair tie

Like tentacles clinging on
A stubborn slug, repulsive
Yet in an obscure manner
Admiringly persistent
It continues to hold on

Like a lizard regrows it’s tail
To truly chop off
So too does the hair insist
Upon an adamant refusal to separate

As if hair and tie are one
In a ferocious battle...     Or,
Perhaps, a passionate embrace?
Are they one?

Whether it be so or not
I decide not to bother
Why,  should I take up the mantle
Of the evil stepmother, wicked witch, cruel king...
You name it
To separate the two, lovers or competitors
They maybe

Why insist,
Upon what will never
Come true,
At least,
In the case of any proper Disney fairy tale

Is what I tell myself,
throwing down the hair tie
In favor of writing poetry about it
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