july hearne Jun 27

names for no one
named by no one

poems about nothing
poems about everything

aren't they the same thing?

no function, no form
but now is the hour
it's how i get through
to the next one

two packs of cigarettes a day
it is getting expensive

old heartaches aren't forgotten
when nothing takes there place
and cigarettes don't pay the rent
freeform makes people stop listening
agoraphobics don't have much to write about
but need to say something
to someone

i wish i'de never met you.
all you did was hurt me in a way
that keeps on coming back, no matter how much times go by.
it was the way you looked at me,
like i was the ugliest thing that you had ever fucked
and it made you feel good to let me know.
and it got worse from there, because you threw me away
and then would sporadically write to let me know
you were gone for good.
you were a total ramsay bolton type.
some days i have a memory and can't breathe or function.
i still have nightmares of you

trying to beat me to death, calling me to list off all the things that are wrong with me.

if i can't forget you, it would be great if someone would cut off your dick. sometimes i fantasize about hiring someone to do that to you in your sleep. you could wake up dickless and i could be free of you. but back to the poem:

10 and a half years haven't gotten me anywhere
i've been too old for too long

Bob Dylan
Neil Young
Rolling Stones
Leonard Cohen
Paul Westerberg

everyone is too good for them now,
especially you,
i read that in vice

they made a list of the worst musicians of all time
and all those names were on it.

Johnny Cash was on the list too.

i'm assuming everyone knows the title isn't mine
Jerry Chebon Jun 13

'Where will you be?' I ask of me,
Just on the verge of 43...

'At the Bottom of the Sea is
where I'll be,' said he, who is
actually me at age 8, very eerily...

'Goodbye,' I say to me, not happy
but sadly as I pull up the anchor
and set me free, the 8 year old me...

'Can I visit you at the Bottom of the Sea?' I ask of me. How can I
say no to me, I ask of thee...

'No. Stay the hell away,' 8 year old me says. 'You're not wanted there by me...'

tl b Oct 2016

My mind is a gray, churning sky,
hovering mist, fog.

Mr Ree Sep 2016

just finishing off monday
sarah woke up not groggy
this took practice
time for a coffee
banana granola greek style yogurt
quietly on her phone alone at home
perched on the sofa
a thought strays back to heartbreaks
heaven slips on it’s loafers

on time she quits lipsticks and ties coat
fluffs the hair
smiles
clicks down the stairs
she sounds attractive
tight and a skirt
smart tasteful coat
button’s no broach
appropriate

down the stairs and out the door
outside brain makes it up
all the same mornings
tunnel vision
work

down the street there’s magic
rays of it spot through sodden clouds
searching people
one to one to one, looking for Sarah
both violent and divine

Sarah weaves the street
walking not the fastest
used to like the rasmus
doesn’t think of coffee
maybe what’s for lunch
then the sky oppressed her
vibrating darker than death

shock from eyes of lightning  
for a moment buildings glitch
they lag fade and stutter
people stop and blink
they fear, look up for another
sarah feels a cold
heartbroken and lifeless
the world gets lower
slower
time’s flipped in a crisis
screaming colours from their fleeting faces
seep into her jelly legs
then her skin it turned to water
body a puddle
a gloopy goop of eyes and blubber
some hair on some putty
sun on her frogged eyes
one falls down the gutter
everyone chokes on a splutter

it most seldom expected
the day Sarah randomly melted

When you look at yourself in the mirror and you notice something.
Your not the same person  you used to be.
Yeah you look more mature but your smile don't show.
Your eyes don't shine as your mom says.
You don't laugh like you used to.
You think your loved ones are crazy but one day it hits you.
Your not the same.
You don't smile the same.
Your eyes don't shine like they used to be.
Maybe this is growing up?
Or maybe your just walking through the rough path to lead to the next open door.
This world has a lot of twist and turns to meeting people and burning bridges.
From finding yourself to finding what your worth. It's an endless battle with yourself your mind or anxiety and your worst fears coming alive.
Maybe it's all a test.
A lesson by the sky above.
As I clean my face off from the drool from last night.
I notice myself.
And notice how much I've changed.
Maybe it's time to grow up and swallow that dreadful pill.
Dreams come true.
But effort motivates.
And passion makes the heart worth beating.
And the eyes the clear hazel eyes will finally one day shine again.
Till then.
Let the rain come down and let the piano Play.

Piper W Jun 2016

Today, something changed in you
You became a different person when I saw you
When you opened the door you seemed sad
Down
Angry
It made me miss the old you
The happy you
The smiling you
I want you be yourself agian.
The person I know and love.

Something I made up on the top of my head

You are tangled memories and oh my god you had your grip on me. You planted your seeds and wrapped your fingers around my ribs and warped the cage that homes my heart, my tragedies. You tangled my flesh and stole my skin and I think that’s a sin- you were always my favorite sin but you lost me oh my god you lost me and you left me in the cemetery to decay in the breeze. You’ve gone and left to find your home in someone else’s veins but you’ll never find bones that break quite the same as the ones that I wear. You were gas stations and memories and cigarette smoke you kissed onto me. You were gin and sin and poetry read in your bed as your flesh was pressed against me. You were rooftops and coffee shops oh my god you were mornings of lazy limbs and tangled trees-you were the nights I couldn’t sleep. You had your chance to be with me and lost your grip and set me free.

gray rain May 2016

I can't wait for Tuesday
but don't want it to come
the confrontation on that day
will find out who was wrong

I personally don't care
who was telling the truth
This very rare
An occasion that has something to prove

Which one is the back-stabber
I have no reason to worry
Which is the one holding the dagger
who made up this fucking story

I did
but I trusted you
with it
what did you do

To let it slip
you had a grip
You helped me through shit
then you left me with it

you betrayed me
what happened to we
it ended
and you're befriended

This is kind of angry but I am, so it tells the story.

Each day is kindling
Night time consumed in desire

She is a matchstick
to my wild raging fire

Her thoughts are made of gasoline
Her touch is so hot

When she holds me
My whole world will rock

She is an angel with a robe made of fire
She licks at my flesh
and the flames shot higher

She is an angel
burning brightly in my might

She will devour me
trying to make ash out of the night

I will be the devil
To her earthly delight

But I refuse to burn
I wIll not ignite

She is an angel , a flame of delight
She is my angel
As we burn down the night

Sean Flaherty Mar 2016

In the distance, outside the door to
your basement, a crowd
la-la's
the Star Spangled Banner.

All swirl-eyed, and promising water,
a circled-hiss, a lie.
Fox-headed, and painting Old Glory
onto his chest, to the amazement
of even the millionaires.

In a dark room, eyes roll back,
towards Wellesley. Eternally, hung
on the wall. The
patriarch, shaking the hands of
your grandfather.
Dreaming of the
late 1960s.

The mountain, surrounded by
clouds.
The Gods throw bolts, and
fireworks, at-You, through the
television set.

From the cinder, on the lawn,
of a house, on-fire and crumbling,
the kids
are catching flame.

And if all goes as planned then
the bonfire's a beacon,
we're not going anywhere.

We are the rocket's red glare.
Garnering hope from those
driving to work.
Hitting the light switch, to
see the results.
Trying to look for America.

Bernie 2016

Vote. If you're so inclined, vote for Bernie.
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