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Poetic T Nov 2020
Well this has a deflating feeling but
                         a pumped upending.  

There was a little one, he was always
kicked around, but they were the best
of times, boot or hand he didn't mind.

Scuff marks marking his features,
   every now and then washed off
Mudd crusted between stitches.

If he felt a little deflated they'd
be positive pumping him up full
of air once again.

It was him and them for a time,
  but it moves on.
He went out less and less,
  it was summer and he went
           out once.
Sitting on the windowsill
wishing to between the blades
of grass. at the end of a foot and
                   a goal post.

Not being kicked and thrown
around, then it got real, he was
put in the shed empty not feeling
the air between his stitches anymore.

Then he heard voices in the back,
   don't worry you have friends,
Were all a little deflated in here?
I think some of us were mislaid.
Forgotten by mistake or we like
to think that. Hi, I'm seasonal, I'm beach.
Now I'm just missing the sunshine.

I got a puncture, I wasn't as floaty
anymore, I was their favorite  seaside
friend, you see they fixed my bobo.
I don't leak anymore, but they didn't
fill me up or throw me again.

I was put in here for another time,
but I only see them when they are
looking for lost things, but not me.

Meet tennis and his sister,
there a right pair, one always going
over the net, the other hoping that  
the other would hit so they could
feel the air bouncing between the
                            racket and them.

The racket was in here, but never talked
just time pulling at his strings,
sagging as if a smile hanging upside down.

We have been in here a while,
  don't know how long, we just
chat about the fun times before.

So they told each other stories wondering
what it would have been to be the other.
Laughing and joking at the possibility
of either hit by a boot or floating so high
in the air,  as if they'd never hit the ground.

Time passed and one day the family all
came to the shed, older than before.

Oh my gosh, I remember you guys..

Mum, I found the beachball, oh my gosh
he's still got his kitty plaster on...
They pumped him up and he went in to
the air, he could feel the heat of the sun,
and it felt right again.

They grabbed me I was a little shrunken,
  And the boy now a man, oh my gosh..
I thought I lost you, they pumped me up.
He did tricks with me, on knee head and
foot, wow he's got better as time passed.

Then racket came out with tennis and his
sister, what shall we do with these,
   Oh' no they thought are going to end up
in the trash.

But they saw racket tightened his strings,
and then the yellow siblings where smacked
against the wall, they smiled at the noise and
the feel of Racket upon them again.

The sun was beaming and everything felt
like before. But then they were put into
the car with other objects, a vase slightly
chipped, but beautiful anyway.
Books, with folded pages, what stories
they could tell us, another time anyway.

We traveled a while, hearing noises
outside, And handed to another,
don't worry we'll find them a new home.
We were put on shelves, price tags stuck
to us, we were left behind pieces that
others didn't want to throw away.
But finding us a new home, racket and the
twins were first to go,
                    at least they weren't separated.

A new face taking them home cuddling,
holding them tight, a home was found.
Then it was beaches turn, a little girl with
her mummy, she saw the kitty plaster and
was smitten. She threw him in the air
i could see him smile at the thought of
once again being thrown again.

Me I was the last, I was asleep didn't even
realise that I'd even been sold.
Rudley awoke to a foot in my face.
what the, and I could feel the air between
my fibers, I could see children and more
of me being kicked around.

I was among others as laughter and glee,
as we were kicked and thrown, it felt like
home again, not the one before but a new
one I was inflated and gliding between posts,
back of the net, and out again.

Home is where ever you feel needed,
and never let yourself feel deflated as
we are all useful in our own way.

I have to go as I have fourteen children
chasing after me, and there I go.
boot to me and in the air, I fly again.
The Dybbuk Mar 2020
Oftentimes, you realize, that the shaking of an intangible void, desperate, clinging before it too is lost on an otherworldly transform of otherwise incomprehensible, nightmarish, or null thoughts, buried between the conceptions of self-deliverance and a bone-knuckled release into an endlessly exploding oblivion, or the intangible touch of a thousand tiger's treasuries.
Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
Tip
Easy to give useful tips
Someone who doesn't do the estimates himself.
It's easy to scold grumpy poets
Someone who can't find the words.

When you write a letter to your beloved lady,
I would advise you to write poetry.
I would advise you to eat halva,
But you're sick on both heads.

What artist can be given advice?
Don't leave a gun in the dressing room.
What advice is good for a deputy?
Do not raise public sector wages.

Advice for a buyer –
Don't come to the store without money.
The pickpocket kind of two tips:
Grab the bills, leave the coins.

The diver will appreciate the wish –
Dive where the habitat is.
Hint to all freeloaders in the final –
Read the classics in the original.
A Simillacrum Feb 2019
Loathe
Power verb
Direct, yes
Though,
Verbose is
How I wrote

Still I write in open circles
Even I don't know what I mean. Trust.
Looping back, is there not an artistry in that?

Together
Adjective for the ages
Cut to form,
Don't get me wrong,
It sounds fitting
With the way you lead your life.

Your confines.

Look at all my fitted pieces.
I bend the lines with word as waveform.
Looping back,
Fulfilling is
As useless
As it is
Useful
Matthew Jan 2019
We look into the damp, dark recesses of our mind
to look for finite definition
for our actions and expressions.
We are looking for a straight line in a work comprised of curved loops.
How we don't acknowledge the curved loops' flexibility to
everything.

We can only see shapes through our narrow minds.
Not the abstract dimensionality.
The straightening of a curved loop is the destruction of true art.
Moving endlessly with infinite pertinence.
That no one
yet everyone
understands.
I don't really I understand what I'm saying, but there's this insinuation that makes this feel expressionate.
Mustapha Olokun Jul 2018
as they believe,
the king is high.
they were taught,
never knew his presence.

believing this,
believing that.
when the staff tap,
the petals bow.

thrown by elegance.
a precious woman
that flicks her garments,
by the first request.

the king's reputation,
is an interesting concept.
leave it for the maids
within the castle to assess.

should they say,
he is a king.
should they say,
he is not.

in the moment,
the throne is untouched.
tampered with by destiny,
left by ritual.

But likewise,
you heard of the funk,
the root, the black,
the smooth bamboo.

you heard good.
future chills,
down the spine line,
at sounds will .

chill.
feel the rush
and trust the detail.
cause like the maids . . .

they may say,
he is good,
they may say,
he is not .

yet the bamboo
sets stature,
hard like rock,
and useful right after.

they attempt
breaks and cuts for reduction,
but only form singing flutes
as the winds set their production.
a metaphor . . .
forestfaith Jul 2018
Fear, please don't embrace me.
Please don't come chasing after me.
Please don't.

Fear, please don't stop me.
Please don't make me to be afraid to even worship God...

Worthlessness, please don't replace my mirror.
Please don't take away my identity, the truth I hold onto.

Uselessness, please don't come and be my secretary.
Please don't be my frequent notifications on my phone, on my heart.

Unloving, please don't come and replace my heart.
Please don't keep captives my thoughts, my words, my actions.

No. I am not asking.
I am telling you.
To leave.
CC Feb 2018
Nobody has to know about me
I am a person of insignificance
I only prioritize truth or beauty
There is no need to know about me
I am not like the Saints of past
I am no hero who does any deed so valiant
I need every inch of strength to give to my heart
For my heart is weak in times like these
Time makes we wane and wither
I usually can't fall in love
If I do find a true love
It becomes an obsession
To never see the darkness in another heart
I am imperfect in every way
I know that I shall never see that daylight coming
For I know one thing
Nobody will know about me
I will stay invisible to the naked eye
A telescope is needed to see my stars
I am so very near you
I am nobody of significance
I wish to start my journey as Anonymous
Carving no name on this road I pave
Heaven can wait
Until I am nobody's name
James smith Nov 2017
I’m a dying seed in a Desert ground,
With no water to feed my roots Useless as it seems, oh how you make it rain so I can spread my roots soon to grow to feed the hummingbirds.
I’m the food crumbs between the countertops decomposing by the days, useful for red the ants to take.
I’m a dead animal rotting away on a lonely long highway, as magnets feed on, so on as the ravens feed upon. I’m a guitar with the tone of D, what is useful is this melody? but so sweet by the ears of the listeners.
A dead star in the endless space, useful at night to show your beauty to behold the eyes of the souls you wish to Capture. Every sound is an endless song for your praise.
To know the unuseful is useful, we are useful for the consuming fire God.
01— this song is about how we can think to ourselfs sometimes we are useless or God can’t use us, everything in this life is useful, for something, we are useful for God and his kingdom.
02— mewithoutyou pale horses:appendix album was my  Music  inspiration.
03—  The name consuming fire God ( hebrews 12:29)  i use a lot bible  references to mane God. I’m a guy who believes in God his son.
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