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Ominous silence!
All clocks chime in unison,
Silence recoils quick
Jade Bartlett Jan 17
Sometimes,
I imagine I'm some
mourning starlet
who sings Lana Del Rey
at the club
every Saturday night.

A honeyed halo of stage light
tangles itself about
the curled labyrinth
of my hair,
sparkles gold against
my tearing irises.

My mouth parts
and the war cries begin.

In the moments that
the melody offers
my voice repose,
I pound shots to the beat
of the drummer's ramblings.

The crowd applauds
my tipsiness,
their hoots of praise
shaking at the depths
of my eardrums
like an intoxicated tambourine.

My neuroticism
fascinates these people,
I think.

Not in an
exploitive,
let's-glamourize-depression
kind of way,
but in an
it is a truth universally acknowledged
kind of way--in a
"*******, cuz I've been there too"
kind of way.

See,
within my little,
concocted fantasy
of stage light
and music
and *****,
the people don't judge me
the way they do
on the outside.

Here,
I am not
melodramatic or
overly sensitive or
disposable.

Here,
my war cries sound
a little less
like death and
a little more
like poetry.

Here,
they love me
in spite of the sadness.

Here,
we share a song--
here,
they sing with me.
Don't be a stranger--check out my blog!

jadefbartlett.wixsite.com/tickledpurple

(P.S. Use a computer to ensure an optimal reading experience)
RedD Sep 2018
Last night was spent
for the briefest of hours
held in your arms
Exquisite movements
filled with breathless longing
made in unison
Until the inevitable time
which always brings dread
I wish you could stay
I'm not sure you know how much
I yearn for your embrace
each night
We could soothe each other to sleep
and the darkness which surrounds us
would no longer keep us awake
13/9/18
I never really deal well with saying goodbye. One day soon S, I hope we won't need to
acacia Mar 2017
Dipped in blue waters,
tranquil vibes ebb and flow and it makes you cry.
Chambers echo and we float as our hair
catches the tides motion.
Silky bodies rubbed and collided,
lips crashing and noses touching.
The human anatomy respected
and designed by your powerful hand.
The touch and bruise of you.
Chambers echo as we dance in the sea,
creatures arise in curiosity.
I swim with you, we swim in unison.
Because the world is round it turns me on. Because the world is round. Because the sky is blue it makes cry. Because the sky is blue. Because the wind is high it blows my mind. Because the wind is high.

https://youtu.be/PrrSH6P7eDw?t=1m25s
We might be of different races,
the colour of our skin
might be different
maybe our hair,
maybe the language
our tongues speak are different.

*But our hearts all beat the same.
James Gable Jun 2016
The audience, silent, took a breath in unison
Included in the orchestra was every instrument imaginable
Banhus and Gadulkas played folk and polkas
The brutish brass, bodyguards and protectors of stringed melodies

Included in the orchestra was every instrument imaginable
A concert harp, plucked by fingers long, smooth and sharp
The brutish brass, bodyguards and protectors of the woodwind class
Saxophones provided a melancholy lilt, the timp was traditionally built

A concert harp, stroked by running fingers, smooth and sharp
Every sharp and flat note was passed through the throaty reeds of oboes
Saxophones reminiscent of ‘jive’, the timp in its size had nowhere to hide
This exhibition of musical traditions played late into evening with no intermissions

Every sharp and flat note accounted for, motifs carried whispers of folklore
Banhus and Gadulkas, swapped stories with bassoons and bagpipes
The exhibition had finished, piano keys rested, every note has its operatic death

The audience, silent, took a breath in unison
And their voices rose in unison,
the same tempo, the same rhythm,
their hearts beating as one.
.
And their songs resounded
in every corner of every street
and the sound could break walls.
.
And their footsteps echoed
and they had the earth quaking
at their mercy under their feet.
.
And they made us all believe,
and we sung all their songs
and our hearts became in synch.
.
And for a moment all was well,
and victory was floating in the air,
and they held their hands over their heads.
.
It was when the wind changed
and the sun turned to blood red
and joy turned into panic and fear.
.
And they ran and fought and charged,
and their songs turned to screams
and their footsteps to falling bodies.
.
And we all watched it from a distance
with closed blinds and windows shut,
without turning to assist them at all.
.
And silence fell, and it was deafening,
there was no sound, no air, no life
and they were all sinking to the ground.
.
And the rest of us would later say
nothing can be done to make a change
and we would all turn our eyes away.
.
And the elder will proclaim again
that Revolutions are all made from air
and return to their card games.
.
And the thing we never understood
is that it shouldn't have been theirs
but it should have been ours.
.
For the world is our own, all of us,
and it should be our voices in unison
and our hearts together as one.
.
And the Spirit of the Revolution would live
if we could all, together, just stand still
and reach out to our brothers and sisters.
.
And make a change without death,
and paint the world different than red
and build a future as one, side by side.
.
But we sit still, raging at the T.V.
cursing at every injustice that we see
hoping the next generation will get to live.
.
Anamoly Aug 2015
breathe with me
our ribs rising
and falling
in unison
with the tides of the moon
Scarlet Keiller May 2015
They were so wrapped up in themselves all the time
That they wasted away their lives,
But their toppling equilibriums then settled in unison
And they caught each other's eyes.
Alan S Bailey Mar 2015
All the stars as one in unison
Make up the galaxy we're in,
Floating around a white celestial
Being on this planetary ship.
We'll wind up in the "path of Gods,"
A self-made volunteer appears with an
"Informative" plan to share "love's book,"
To speak of "things we'll find on this journey,"
No future planned stone can be pre-overlooked.

And in the skies float the particles
That started out light years away
Have finally made their touchdown,
Leaving the express universal highway
A rocky chunk of history found it's way to town.

A story that is so ancient, so in tune with time,
That it even has developed a star-struck
Lightning fire in the backyard of galactic life,
And what sprouted from the ashy rubble is us,
Eyes hands and feet and all to experience,
To explore the many creations of natural love.
My express views aren't against Christianity itself, I merely believe that the speaking of what the actual origin of all life is and how it started has not yet been established for simple men to explain, that ignorance and traditionalism go hand in hand, and that there is no crime in simply seeking the truth in many different places.
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