Lilly 2h

My words drip colors:

They do not breathe
Through consonants and vowels;

They do not seethe
With passion or sorrow;

They do not aim like arrows;
They do not trip on talons.

My words make chaos:

They overfill
My bones and marrow;

They slip and spill
Through cracks so narrow;

The raising of an eyebrow;
The mumble through a mouthful.

My words come back to me:

They find release in hands and fists,
(that hit and hit and hit)

They seek reprieve in tears and drinks,
(that drip and drip and drip)

They bloom like flowers
(not on my lips as I speak -
but upon elbows and knees)

My words drip colors, and so color me.

Speak to me, talk to me.
Tell me exactly what I want to hear.
I've been feeling quite unsatisfactory lately,
but give me all that you've got.
I spill over when I'm filled with empty
words.

originally written 7/28/16
Joyce 8h

I feel your soft lips.
I see the sparkle in your eyes.
I hear the sound of your voice.
My heart is crushed by this choice.
We have this amazing connection.
Such a magnetic attraction.
You feed my mind with words
I'd like to hear.
You make me feel stronger
without any fear.
Please get out of my head.
I say to myself as I lay in my bed.
You make me feel weak.
Because you are in my heart.
Controlling every heartbeat.

Yasmine 9h

there was love on my tongue
but it held a warning
if anybody else kissed me
all they'd taste is your name

Afiqah 16h

initially,
it was a crisp, cutting sporadic cycle
to stumble upon our old friends
seeing how
we don't laugh the same no more
but rather
getting used to the set of
piteous, huggy faces
catapulting such soft apologies
and it's become so generic like
one's crest has fallen
how could all this seems like
a lurking of a heart's entombment
that requires victims of this
sorry predicament
where is the relieve, in any of this?

-a.

Arcassin B 16h

By Arcassin Burnham


Get up off your ass and do something,
cause you don't need to shy away like that,
give them ambition as it was intended,
you're conscious,you know how to make your mind up
like that,
the next 90 minutes I want you to dance and let your troubles go,
let the giggles out,
let the world know,
you're not afraid to be who you are,
that's how the story should go,
I'll be the friend you need when there's no way out,
let me build a dam for you when there's no drought,
it's five o' clock in the morning what are we doing now?
We're fixing all your problems without a little doubt.

©abpoetry2017
http://arcassin.blogspot.com/2017/04/526.html
Maria 22h

I write
As if I could speak
And I can hear my words
Stumble upon each other
Like blind puppies

I love
As if I could feel
And I fear my heart
Breaking and crumbling
Like eggshells between your fingers

I scream
As if anyone could hear
My words drying out
Upon the closed eyes
Of the ignorant

this is for you

Silly words
Meaningless
Until you give them meaning
But only you know how hard you try
Others see a lie

Afiqah 2d

I finally understood
through these echoes of
one’s despairness
they never actually got easier
in fact,
it has become a little of my own
liberal, warm calamity
to keep undoing the loathing
of killing its own bitter,
fateful spirits on a warm plate  
besides
needing my sanity back
I’ll spread the weary load on
another sort of pinfold
so I don’t see myself sitting for hours
in the shower again

-a.

I've seen how the loss of industry can decimate a town.

Like when that yo-yo factory was closed down
and the workers all hung themselves from lampposts
and just bounced up and down.

Up and down.

Next page