Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mitch Prax May 2
Dear diary;
I have thought a lot
about leaving this all behind
and buying a one-way ticket
to anywhere where no one
knows my name.
I want to forget who I am
and lose myself
in another's culture.
I want to stay until I tire
and do it all again
somewhere else.
Amanda Apr 28
We made a number of mistakes

On an emerald-dotted trail tripped and fell on our faces

Lost in our selfish fog

We landed somewhere foreign
Someplace frightening

As we counted footsteps to safety we somehow became separated from each other

Wearing smiles like souvenirs from a location we would never visit again
I've not done much traveling but the grandest place I've visited is your mind
camps Mar 28

we regret to inform you that your coat has been stolen and
your scarf is warming up the neck you wish your hands would

we also regret to inform you that your lover is leaving you
and you will never see them again


he said i lied to you she said i like you too and now
like everyone else he sees her face in everyone else
yeah he knows this song but she’ll leave him anyways
since that boy was foolish and the girl couldn’t help
that hers was a face of neon ignorant enough to look at him


there are so many things that i want to do to you but i guess
i’ll just eat your stale cookies and imagine pulling your hair
the glitter in your eyes tells me everything i need to know &
i’m sorry but the lipstick on your face looks better on mine
it tastes like december cold and glühwein in union square
now tell me

why is it so easy to picture you as the mother of my child?


sick with the fleeting beauty
bless this breeze ephemeral
until it knocks us down weak
so we can learn to say grace

silver sinned bavaria
dream in blonde and leopard print
heavy hearts foam at the mouth
dead until we bleed again


i have chosen the moment i held you in my arms
as the moment i’d like to live in forever
vanessa ann Mar 18
i want to go back to tokyo,
somehow the city always feels like home, even when
i’m always a foreigner;
a touristy tourist with a camera on my hand,
snapping polaroids and selfies with a thousand filters
layered on top of each other,
to enunciate the beauty of the city and at the same time,
reinforce my place as a touristy tourist.

i want to go back to tokyo,
to feel the night breeze kissing my face,
or the scorching daylight next to the vending machine that sets my soul
hot and cold, cold and hot,
i don’t know whether to take my jacket or leave it at the bnb
but i know how cold i’d be,
at night when the sun’s asleep,
and i should be too, if i weren’t too busy loving tokyo.
to my favorite city in the world,
i know i'm seeing you in sakura-tinted glasses,
but i do love you. and i hope you can be my home someday.
Daniel Magner Jan 20
Thirty three stones
stacked and painted
neon green, purple, grey.
The sun's blaze shimmering heat waves
back toward the flat landscape.
The magic pillars attract disciples
to their path,
bring color on a desolate drive.
Daniel Magner 2020
Daniel Magner Jan 20
March single file, up, up, up.
Take the stairs two at a time,
sweat beads run lines down your face.
Get to the tunnel carved in rock,
push past the crowds to break out,
then up, up, up
till you peak at the top,
the trail's end.
Survey the crater, lush, serene,
barricaded against the city
which spills between hills and mountains.
Forget it all,
turn to face the sea.
Daniel Magner 2020
Nigdaw Aug 2019
He watches them with amused scorn,
The tourists with their cameras
Factual guide books and audio tours;
Collecting his memories as their own
Walking from room to room,
Trying to sense his presence
Capture the essence of his spirit;
Ignoring the signs that say
Please don’t touch and
No photography.

He was a tourist who conquered worlds
Risked his life for his souvenirs,
Instead of visiting the gift shop
For some token piece of plastic crap,
Or magnet to put on the fridge door
As a reminder when they got the milk,
Of adventures they never had;
Wishing they could’ve walked
In the footsteps of the ghost,
Of a tourist.
Megan Hammer Aug 2019
Maybe Bath, UK - a warm summer’s day
There he is, standing there counting heads
With his hands behind his back
Plastic bags filled with red solo cups and whiskey

On a plaza square where the band plays
Waiting to see something
They’ve all got their cameras out, looking around
Looking the wrong way

While I looked as he just stood there
laughing to himself, just smiling
Sees me, motioning for me to come to him
Looking as if he knows something they don’t

Looking me up and down
Seeing past the white clothes
I grin because I barely know him
Because I know him so well
Meggie Delaney Apr 2019
Sometimes there's something jarringly disparate About the fresh sea salt fog and the beauty queen moon of the Monterey wharf.

Sometimes you need the painfully cold sludge of a Cleveland street with no sidewalks and the crying skeletons of trees to match your black coffee soul.
Feedback is always appreciated! Thank you!
Lunar Feb 2019
looking into
your eyes,
i wouldn't think
of getting lost
in them.

your eyes
are a getaway
where i find myself.
to lj, your eyes are second home; a place i'd forever be a tourist in.

Next page