Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Poetic T Nov 2019
On the tracks of our lives,
                          the autumn of life
may fall on the trail we may travel.

But one may falter on this journey  
                   and the remnant path,
but if we brush aside the failing  
                                             that fell before us
we can travel further than we ever realised.
Nights Are For Stuff Like This

It's 3am.
The city's sleeping and I'm not.
Lights like scattered dots burn dim outside my window.
People are dreaming and I'm awake thinking of the
life that's been passing through me like second hands-smoke
lingering in the slowed-down traffic of my DNA.
Nights are for stuff like this;

stuff like silken roads through ragged hillsides,
feelings blacker than night that disappear in the
day light, prisms  bouncing off grey ash, tiny sparks
falling through trap doors, never again to be seen
nor heard, nor taken for granted upon the long
laid train tracks of this ongoing dance.

Memory like loaded simi-trucks taking me all
the way back through corn fields and hay, through
old hard hitting rain that goes clank, clank in my brain.
Scars cutting  through my skin opening again and again
like songs that you hate but can't stop singing  on endless
streaming highways-hitching a ride inside my mind,

pitch-perfect pristine and off-key in the dark,
on a night like this blue black over amber gold.
I'm a million miles further away and one mile closer.
Signposts loud and large selling  big hopes for
happy dopes, emerging eyes now gone from me
peering through clouds because they can, because
they probably always will.

Because who knows how far they've gone and how
far I've come on this night of all nights awake in the
grid of passing stars and dividing lines, now merging into
my lane for better or for worse where gratitude needs no
promotion, because it just is or is not. Because it can't be faked.
nor pimped. Because it has no need for
patronizing nor apologizing.

Because it's outcome, a side effect of nights like this where
everything makes sense and where nothing makes any sense
at all in this gigantic freeway of time that will eventually reach
a dead end. Where sleep will come 'cause the poetry will have
run itself off the bend.
Ah yea nights are for stuff like this.
Memory stoking the fires of time ....Past appearing  and disappearing into the prism of Now.
Poppy Halafihi Jan 2019
We all come from different walks of life
We all have our own demons to fight

Who am I to tell you what to do
Or what to say
Just be you and you’ll be great
You will find your own way

Life is like a maze
So many different paths to choose
Don’t be afraid of delays
You’ll meet so many people on the way
Embrace the path you decide to take
You can only get lost to find your way

Don’t follow somebody else’s path
This is your maze, you choose the tracks
So take charge and be who you want to be

Coco 07
Kira Davis Dec 2018
I've always wanted to walk down railroad tracks
Balanced on rusty rails
Arms outstretched
Taunting the behemoth
Hit me, hit me

Maybe they lead to my youth
Where mornings were warm
And the air tasted like dew
I would wear a dress just to feel the wind
whip at my skirts

Maybe I could lie down
In the middle, maybe
I could watch it pass
Or maybe I would lie across
And watch it pass

Maybe I'm just taunting god
I hear lights and see the wails of sirens
Is it dawn or dusk? I can't
The trees on either side reach out
I wish I could touch them

Hit me, hit me
I'll watch it pass from above
sunprincess Oct 2018
There's a place where hands of a clock never move
A place where things are never changing
A place well hidden, not many could ever find it
Only wild animals and a flock of crows

Once upon a time the place was probably on a map
Until early one morning someone awoke
And threw their finger in the air and loudly cried
Eureka! Let's remove the railroad tracks!
harley r noire Sep 2018
forlorn lanes, cloudy tracks
memories play in slow motion;
a tragic romance comedy, click clack
bang, emotional commotion.

window panes, scrunched limbs
of unborn panegyrics and odes
lying low behind pseudonyms
of the lovesick, fantasist toad.

one question, your Highness,
did Heavens cry when you fall?
for i am wrecked—a mess
who am i to deserve you—and your all?

o Adaline, now i am a madman—a joke
for these broken lines—they aren't even glorious
though this fiery feeling you evoke
has turned me almost uxorious.
my brain did not function well when i was writing this. idk :(
Andrew Rueter Sep 2018
Friends forever
Doing drugs together
Until I pulled a lever
And tracks were severed

****** barreling
******* caroling
That would make pharaohs sing
Now memories embarrass me
From negativity that shined
I thought fit me fine
But I crossed the line
Of wasting time

End of wits
Tracks were split
Dodging a candlelit
Snake bit
Break pit

Years passed
Pain amassed
Trampled grass
From feet so fast
Things don't last

Now I'm gay
And he's a ****
What can I say?
Maybe it's our posse?
The change I did not see
But pain it has brought me
My sinful past has caught me
Returning shame that had fought me

Show and tell
Sowed in hell
A golden well
Sold then fell
Into two paths
One of laughs
One of wrath
I need a bath
To undo this math

This guilt built
Quilt kilt
My mentality
Of congeniality
Back to reality
And functionality
Which devours me
Struggling to get free
From this depression disease

This bullet train
Bull of pain
Calls my name
From the grain
Of the game
Of my blame
For what remains

Take my lifeblood
And my night flood
Be my right bud
Instead of plight mud
Become invincible
And principled
Not instant mold
Born from cold

There's a track mark
Left from the dark
Of my regretful ark
That seems so stark
It spreads through my body
Making me feel so naughty
Doing mental karate
To say it's not me
It's not my fault
But my complicity
Opened the vault
Filled with salt
Festering inside recovering scars
So even if I'm discovering stars
I'm still locked behind bars
For crimes committed on Mars

Back cracking
Packs stacking
Tacks lacking
Any relent
To my lament
For what I meant
Versus what I sent
But tracks were set
And stations were met
Now I can't pay this debt
When the only way is death
Amanda Aug 2018
Saw her standing on the tracks
Dressed head to toe in black
A smile sat upon her lips
Eyes were sad like sinking ships
It feels incomplete
Written 3-1-15
Next page