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Seanathon Feb 22
Your work, your will
Both the unconscious free and purchased thrill
All of it being inside yourself
Burns fast to ash and with a flash
Is gone into the nothingness of the still

But God
Being more than free and willing to wield
The honest truth in relation to man
Is outside of the self
Is outside of the endless pleasure wheel

Though redundant as this life may be
To pass over the distant hill
It is in his freedom you most feel
The completeness of his higher will
And may you be therein
The only pattern I cannot learn. The only freedom I have found. The one thing which cannot, will not quit me. Amen to that.
Shadow Dragon Dec 2018
On four wheels
and on my knees.
Warm colorful tones
and cracking bones.
Up in the sky
and down to hell.
A trip I take everyday,
to feel well.
Foggy windows,
foggy minds
creating beautiful times.
Pulling the string
that makes me do things
which would make an angle
loose her wings.
She would forget to fly
and then peacefully die.
LeV3e Jul 2018
Burning time with
Written rhyme for
No real reason at all

Thinking of fall
Colors leaving
The trees turning neutral

Faces wrinkle, and
Water trickles
Down the flowing river

Leading us back
From which we came
To unity, once again.
Paul-Dieter Jul 2018
I always thought the wings of a plane
were the most important part,
but they only carried me
when I was flying around.

It was then that that I realized,
She was the wheels
Who carried me
whenever I hit the ground.
Jacob Jun 2018
My wheels were always a trusted friend,
but upon this degree of speed and spin,
I felt the wobble upon the road,
a countless amount of times I've rode!
At this moment, I looked around,
for the best place to strike the ground,
and in that instant, beneath my feet,
my board no more, only cracked concrete,
within the silence, I heard my mom,
“Don’t leave without your helmet on,”
with nothing soft to break my fall,
the ground and I began to brawl,
It ripped my clothes, it ripped my skin,
until my body seized to spin,
inside my head, my world still spun,
surely, my ragdoll body was done,
but how could I end my day on a spill?
so I scooped up my board
and climbed up Stoney Hill.
This is poem uses fun descriptives to capture a short period of time when falling off my skateboard as a kid.
Scrap Metal Sep 2017
At a time where it seems so very hard, for me just to feel alive.
all I wanted then, was to drive
As ridiculous as it seems
it was the stuff of my dreams
all I needed was my car and vacant 4am roads.

Going through the gears, as if they were my final years
piston tatted-ring finger; hand firmly wrapped around the wheel
braking late into the corner
locking up the alloy steel wheels on my automobile  
the tires squeal
waltzing them back into rotation as I find the threshold
clutch in
twist of the leg at the hip, I blip the throttle with my heel
down into second
one swift movement
un-burnt fuel erupts in the pipes.
blitzing through the off ramp
keeping it tight, clipping the manhole cover in the apex
pedal flat coming out, bounce the tach' as its not worth the upshift
pitch the car into the long sweeping overpass bend
the back end kicks out on decel'
counter steer and slam the accelerator back into the bare metal floor
front wheels clawing in the direction that I please
keys slapping my knees
straighten out and I ease her back home.

reverse down into the narrow; dimly lit garage
as I climb out, I can feel the heat radiating from the machine I built
hot oil ticking as it finds its way back to the pan
I stand and watch my car slowly disappear behind the garage door
it is but another night survived
for both of us.
imagine your single most favorite thing to do is extremely dangerous, illegal and selfish.
Poetic T Sep 2017
The ideas to some would verse on the loathsome depravity
of humanity. But in my line of work what can I say there are lines,
fetishizes that even a calm exterior camouflages within
the proportioned exterior. But where the concept ferments on
there conceptions what if I could just once.

I had spun a myth that you could call for the latter fake news,
that to partake on those still exhaling life while feeding
upon them could in essence harvest their youthful years.
and to an amazement this was perceived as truth of word.
But I didn't mind, feeding dark fantasies was justice enough

I would move around in a covered lorry, it was quite
the thing to see not like a slaughter house on wheels more
a bistro, if you can envision it black reflective tiles where
the meat would be  cut. "yes they liked to watch their food.
but I had organized it so it was easy to dispose of evidence.

Admittance to ones own errors in judgement is ones first step
to learning. I had invited a select few to see how it would play out.
You could never quite tell, I had vetted them of course before hand.
Seeing if their fear would procreate to me being an jumpsuit lackey
of the orange tint variety. But my faith in humanity was resorted.

For I had taken precautions these tables were rigged,
what you think I'm just a cook? I was in university years of
wasted youth, but I learnt much. Knowing the foundations of
what I was doing, lets just say they'd be static if I were betrayed.
And for good luck, my beautiful little lady slept under the counter.

They watched in admiration for my art, asking the questions
of "was it alive. I had left a drainage hole for the blood to
seep warm to a holding bowl. Some had versed that they
wanted not only to taste, but drink upon this special occasion.
So they to gorged on life's rose bouquet and adored its tasting.

What I hadn't perceived was that to keep them static of
motion was not a wise choosing. They say to much of
something is a good thing, they weren't joking.
The blood had to much sedative in it, luckily all had slumbered
on there drive home.The coriner had a busy night.
But all had tweeted its success before become as dead as lunch.

This time it was different, I just created a gag to muffle, but to
also verse the whimpering murmurs of there ill begotten pleas.
Did they not think if they were this deep in the rabbit hole?
There was no way of digging themselves out of this..
But people liked the noise while eating there meal.
                                                                   "silence is death,

The only way it would end would per say, once I broke down.
sights not meant to be seen, murmurs escaping there captivity.
Nearly happened once, "ONCE, is enough  the mechanic
finished fixing my engine "Dam spark plug, but as he
wondered on to next appointment in life. A silly notion
of my ignorance, bumps loosen bonds, and voices loosen
to the sound of another's presence.
"What was that, "hello are you ok, "Sir what's going on,
Last words not befitting, now I have two meals to prepare.
Luckily a local to the place now a missing poster somewhere.

I travel this country of mine, meals on wheels of a different
kind, giving those of unique human traits there just taste.
If I wasn't doing it others would have and not in my good
taste. Do you know they say that the flesh taste like chicken?
To those who follow me, they think it extend there finite
moment on the rock hurtling to oblivion some day.

Me, I just enjoy my skills, cooking is life, you are what
you eat. So if you have a strange friend who invites you
to a once in a lifetime meal, be careful for those of squeamish
inclination will only see this once for if I sense there needing
to snap-chat.. to food **** my creations on social media.
horrified by the unique blending of my creations.
Think for one moment? is this other really your friend!!
Or do they wish to partake on your flesh, a delicate aroma
of your live being drunk upon.. they smile as you fade.
Steve Aug 2017
360 things
The keyboard says - to some degree
360 things
When the sun shines - and shadows see
360 things
Circles turn - our minds set free
360 things
Seeds spin down - from a poetree

There's a spark of light
That offsets the night

The moon rules
And stars are jewels

Cogs rotate
And agitate

360 streams
A poet dreams - and thoughts mutate.
Poem no. 360 on the site.
Saint Audrey Apr 2017
Miles and minutes
Trading time for a timeline
I'd rather not finish
Stick it out and ill be fine

Passing space
Metal matter flowing far below me
It must be the high tide I love to race
Encroaching, live for the second

Adrenaline dripline
Barely alive but still doing fine
Seperate my body and mind
Laughing as everyone else, doing their best to undermine

As i stick my wheels to the curb
***** four wheel drive
One more dead end suburb
I lost any reason i had left to strive

But im still right here
I havent moved in so **** long
In the seat of my car
Still hearing the same **** songs

Still partaking in life as it may come
Still drinking gas station pop
I was told the world would pass me by
But turns out my world follows me
And I dont mind
Passing their world by

Space seems so far away
And im still worried about words
Ideas die when action is taken
Stones are broken as we discern
Rebuilding feels so akin
To leaving no stone unturned

And as my temepered glass view finder
Drifts father through the rubble
I can see promise
And i can see the death of each and every one of them
Just a feeling
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