JB URBANO 2h

Holding ballpen, inks to paper
Are comfortable to my hands.
Writing thoughts that I combine together
That controlled of my optimistic mind.

My feelings and my sorrow,
Are the topic that I want to write.
Everyday, later or tomorrow—
It will be released of my broken heart.

Your flaws and your non-sensibility,
Are the reason why I'm malnourish—
Not physically but emotionally.
I write, because of my tired soul.

The voices of my mind, heart and soul—
Were ignored by the pretending deaf.
It's the cause why I just write at all
And unexpectedly poetry was bleed.

—JB URBANO

This was written a few months ago, and I want to share it. Thank you for reading!
Sandoval 4d

I bleed words not blood.


So, if you hurt me. I'll scar

verses not wounds.

Sandoval

Sandoval 4d

That's what writing does to you. It eats

your free time, and your soul it swallows

it whole, so that you don't get hurt

by flesh it breaks your bones with inspiration.

And, the feeling while I'm writing is this ecstasy

that controls my senses. I was meant for this,

ink tainted fingers, blank pages and this loneliness.

Sandoval

TG 6d

Scars
are lifes
Souvenir
For those who are
brave.

Lantern poetry.
Martin Narrod Apr 15

Apple Jacks

Up into the sky, the girl with velvet pants, a hip and tender blue, she loves me too, she loves me too.

Feet upon the dash, sun rays on our face, our ashtray filling fast as I push harder on the gas, I'd drive a thousand miles to see her, I'd drive anywhere to be near to her, I want to be there when she smiles, even for a little while. I will be there. I will be there.

Mountain tops are wrapped in white, the highway pass stops being plowed at night, we've seen the sun it set, we've seen the sun it rise, and set again today, we're heading far away, because I will be there, I will be there.

A notebook filled with scribbled ink and our ashtray's full with inspiration but out of energy. There's a song stuck in my head, but only the two lines that she's said, I sing them over and over, and over and over, she wrote, "I will be there. I will be there"

I'm nearly running out of stamps, but I've got many more postcards I want to send, we haven't passed a town with enough people to have a mailbox, and America is getting thin, skinny kids with their line tattoos, girls dress down and never look as good as you. I'd rather go nowhere with you than everywhere with somebody who won't ever be there. You can be here, but you can be so fucking damn unclear.

We just ate two hits a piece, of 350 micrograms of lsd, we've still got more than half a pound of some Gorilla Glue  Hybrid Blueberry strand, I'd like falafel wrap and a red stripe too, we have enough to buy food for you.

I've never been sad or lonely since we started to go on our road journey. But I'm in love with your elbows, I'm having an affair with your elbows. Sometimes they don't return my calls, sometimes they don't even call at all, I will be there if you cry, and I'll be there to say goodnight. I will be here to make you come, so long as you'll be here to make me come. So let's drive around and have some fun, while we drive around in the sun. Will or won't, yes or no, to and fro, we've counted twice to just be sure, we have 10 toes and 10 fingers. I've counted yours, you've counted mine, i need to see your elbows one more time. I need to find your funny bone so it can crack me up, and we can race through states in this cardboard box. Can we put plastic wrap instead of using tempered glass, on this rocket ship Jimi's Blues, it's the only thing I want to do. To see backward into the fading sun, we can eat dinner or have Twix instead. I won't forget if you still put in. Just let me lick the numbers off your mouth. Just let me lick the numbers off your mouth. We haven't gone anywhere, so we can just stay here, I will just stay here. But please can you go to the store, I need new skateboard bearings and a kid-size box of Apple Jacks.

Carson Hurley Apr 10

I would rather be a poor man
writing what i love,
than be a rich man
shackled to a life
of capitalistic rule,
stuck in a dreary job
that gives me no freedom
for creativity.

I.
my roommate is
an extended sigh
she wakes up every morning and
makes French-press coffee,
which is foreign in my household
she has a soft heart,
liked a bruised peach
and when I smoke weed in the evenings
she talks about art house films
over sautéed cucumbers
and I pretend to listen

II.
I read somewhere this morning
that you should replace all your
“I’m sorrys”
with
“thank yous”
like, instead of
“sorry I am such a mess”
it should be
“thank you for loving me unconditionally
thank you for wanting to have my name coat your tongue
thank you for refurbishing my past like an antique dresser”
I haven’t once spoken these words
since being with you

III.
I walked down College without headphones
I could hear my blood’s humming voice
I carried the same three treats I bought with you:
a brownie
a s’mores bar
a Ruffles chip marshmellow square
at Crawford, I could hear you in the box
scratching like a rat
when I got home,
I lit a candle
and ravenously ate you on my bed

ㅡjatm Apr 8

Your mind is a tunnel
that never ends
and I need to slip inside it
immerse myself for a while
for I may never know
what I might find there
but one thing I know for sure
one thing I already found out is..
about you being a writer
a poet
who has written on me
who has written a part of my life
and darling,
you have done it..
so beautifully.

(j.a.t.m.)

Lori Apr 7

vision is a ton of soil with billions of bacteria
labeled invasive species reduced to four criteria
written like mighty armies of ants on sticky notes
brought your tractor to cultivate electric nodes

an A is never given to those who never fit in
follow the rubric listen to instruction you'll get in
reduced to idealistic poetic unhygienic disease
unique is antique do away with feeling release

hear the sand fall of dreams your mouth reeks
habitat destructor a million of bacteria seeks
friendlier living spaces than your noise pollution
tongue over harvesting nature vision extinction

afraid of insects ruling the world overpopulating
in crisis save the bigger species generalizing
create a biodiversity hierarchy of entitled importance
vision is flora fauna bacteria fungi inheritance

Day 7 is undervalued things prompt. I took the abstract route. I really wanted to talk about a specific thing but I wanted to write something about vision. I wanted to talk about bacteria and fungi originally so, I just combined them together. I'm always really discouraged that I never qualify the requirements in writing projects. They say I get too off topic or got too creative and free. I feel it's ironic that I'm a writer but I never get good grades in writing or English. Ugh.
Matthew Goff Apr 7

Sondra goes to a bar, and at some point during the evening requests that a sonata be played, the bartender looking surprised says “I don’t have anything like that”, Sondra reaches into her coat pocket and hands the bartender a cd saying “track 4 please”, the bartender lets the current song finish and then plays the cd, it’s Haydn, and the people in the bar start to look shocked, a person goes up to her and says “you know there are places where they play this sort of thing, like restaurants”, Sondra replies “yes I know but I like coming to bars and listening to that music”, another person says “I like it too, it’s soothing somehow and different than what we always hear.”

© Matthew Goff

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