Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
#allnighter
Okay, But why do we exist? What is the purpose of this game? Are we being controlled By some invisible being? Like strings on a marionette? Or are we all alone in this universe Words lost in the wind? What if we aren't even real And this is all just a dream? What if this whole life We all built Friends, Family, Home, (Poetry accounts), Is just fake A little thing That we made up And one day, We will just wake up? And not know what to do? We lived the while thing And now we have to start over? I stand up. I was there for a long time This fake world What if I was right?
0
Dec 26, 2024
Dec 26, 2024 at 7:50 PM UTC
Something i wrote at 2 am
I should be like an Owl Using nightfall appropriately Should be scribbling Painting my words My fingers should be in a hustle to finish a page And page after page The walls if it runs out Further the air around, as a medium to write and to share Discovering myself Finding myself amidst words Taming myself the way I want Grammars are paid less heed Expressing myself in a free verse Leaving my traces Leaving a legacy Leaving a part of me Through what I scribble
0
Dec 30, 2020
Dec 30, 2020 at 2:06 PM UTC
Night Scribbler
Now I lay me down to sleep, mind naught but unwound thread, the nearly risen sun prepared to rear its ugly head. No mowing, honks, or rooster’s crow, but sounding in their stead: my racing thoughts, your steady breath, all time suspended here in bed.
0
Dec 20, 2020
Dec 20, 2020 at 3:53 AM UTC
Pendulum
I love coming home to you, It’s such a sweet thang.
0
Aug 14, 2019
Aug 14, 2019 at 9:54 PM UTC
My sweetie
Insomnia leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. How is it that I am tired to the core and sleep evades me another night? The sun rises, as do I.
0
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 7:45 AM UTC
Tired but Not Sleepy
As the sun, starts to slowly rise over Sydney Harbor, I stand alone, looking out over the balcony & wonder, why do we feed, our future seeds, poison in everyday things, literally, the ointment, is the poison, we focus on nonsense, instead of what's important, everyone on their laptops & phones, feels like Attack of The Clones, with skeletons in our closets, & a backpack full of bones, in pain from it all, but when we complain we're fed Tylenol, administered drugs from sinister thugs, Woolworth’s is the main culprit, we’re all going under, & we probably all deserve it, we’re all in trouble, with nowhere to run to, where will we go, when we finally come to, nowhere to hide, from the Light of the Sun rise, & this is the truth, even if it doesn't sound right, come to, your senses, we are all our, own worse menaces, tooth aches head hurts, maybe I should see a dentist, & I'm sorry for insulting you, but the worst part is I meant it, feeling all jolly, all dressed up in our splendor, wandering around all jaunty, wanting to congratulate The Inventor, for the exponential growth, that’s occurred, from obscure to a buzzword, in less than a lightyear as space blurs, & I wake up, still awake from the night before, to the lights of the Harbor, upon a building built on a concrete shore, in a city called Sydney, built by criminals & slaves, but I'm singling out Sydney, because America was built the same, as the city's lights slowly start, to give way to the sun light, of the new day I give praise, & thanks to God for this fun life, for this one night, that felt like a lifetime, gone now luckily I wrote some lifelines, which I disguised as lite rhymes, when really they're the right rhymes, to free any imprisoned mind, because the ship is still sinking, but you’re still at the bar drinking, & you're starting to get this feeling, you've been caught & you start reeling, & no one else is there, no other drunken patrons, everyone else is gone, & you'd go too but you haven't a home, no one's around not even a waiter, and that’s when, you discover these, proverbs under the cover of these words, & you find they're your savior, as time tick-tocks, you kick rocks like Kid Rock, getting kick backs, until you find right there, that the Tic Tacs, that you kicked back, are actually a syntax of medicinals, candy disguised as Lifesavers, & just in time, you find these quotes before you choke, to get you to the right life boat, now that’s what I call a Lifesaver, & once I take note, that you’re safely to shore, I turn to go, up Heaven's Elevator, but before I go, I give you one more quote, & simply say to you once more, “Goodbye For Now you can Thank Me Later.”. ∆ LaLux ∆ from The Sydney Sessions, available for FREE worldwide here: www.scribd.com/document/367036005 on kindle and paperback here: www.amazon.com/dp/1981605932 ∆
0
Dec 19, 2017
Dec 19, 2017 at 9:35 PM UTC
∆ Wake Me Now & Thank Me Later ∆
As the sun, starts to slowly rise over Sydney Harbor, I stand alone, looking out over the balcony & wonder, why do we feed, our future seeds, poison in everyday things, literally, the ointment, is the poison, we focus on nonsense, instead of what's important, everyone on their laptops & phones, feels like Attack of The Clones, with skeletons in our closets, & a backpack full of bones, in pain from it all, but when we complain we're fed Tylenol, administered drugs from sinister thugs, Woolworth’s is the main culprit, we’re all going under, & we probably all deserve it, we’re all in trouble, with nowhere to run to, where will we go, when we finally come to, nowhere to hide, from the Light of the Sun rise, & this is the truth, even if it doesn't sound right, come to, your senses, we are all our, own worse menaces, tooth aches head hurts, maybe I should see a dentist, & I'm sorry for insulting you, but the worst part is I meant it, feeling all jolly, all dressed up in our splendor, wandering around all jaunty, wanting to congratulate The Inventor, for the exponential growth, that’s occurred, from obscure to a buzzword, in less than a lightyear as space blurs, & I wake up, still awake from the night before, to the lights of the Harbor, upon a building built on a concrete shore, in a city called Sydney, built by criminals & slaves, but I'm singling out Sydney, because America was built the same, as the city's lights slowly start, to give way to the sun light, of the new day I give praise, & thanks to God for this fun life, for this one night, that felt like a lifetime, gone now luckily I wrote some lifelines, which I disguised as lite rhymes, when really they're the right rhymes, to free any imprisoned mind, because the ship is still sinking, but you’re still at the bar drinking, & you're starting to get this feeling, you've been caught & you start reeling, & no one else is there, no other drunken patrons, everyone else is gone, & you'd go too but you haven't a home, no one's around not even a waiter, and that’s when, you discover these, proverbs under the cover of these words, & you find they're your savior, as time tick-tocks, you kick rocks like Kid Rock, getting kick backs, until you find right there, that the Tic Tacs, that you kicked back, are actually a syntax of medicinals, candy disguised as Lifesavers, & just in time, you find these quotes before you choke, to get you to the right life boat, now that’s what I call a Lifesaver, & once I take note, that you’re safely to shore, I turn to go, up Heaven's Elevator, but before I go, I give you one more quote, & simply say to you once more, “Goodbye For Now you can Thank Me Later.”. ∆ LaLux ∆ from The Sydney Sessions, available for FREE worldwide here: www.scribd.com/document/367036005 on kindle and paperback here: www.amazon.com/dp/1981605932 ∆
Continue reading...
103
I never meant you to know me I never meant to let you in
0
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 12:18 PM UTC
I never meant
Taking a sip of that bitter coffee, Tiring my eyes with a sleepless night, again; My mind running circles, setting its path ablaze with thoughts, Listening to sappy love songs that don't really matter; Another midnight awake for me. Lyrics greet me as if they'd expect me to listen; Then get distracted by my drunk father's sleeptalking; Hear the dripping of the faucet, seemingly making a rhythm; Making a song up for my non-lover, then get lost in thought, again; Yet, another midnight awake for me. Occasionally, I'd think of that person and smile like a **** Then burst out crying for a love that can never be real; Then watch BuzzFeed for someone-knows-what reason, Then laugh and cry like an idiot, yet again; Conjuring myself a midnight wake. I'd rather not get bored with the latter, I'd not have much to do; "*How 'bout sleeping already, ******* I could try that, in all honesty, But closing my eyes makes me more and more awake. I would like to write this longer if I had the patience, But I'm fed up googling words that sound fancy but talk the ordinary; I guess this is it for me. Another midnight awake, Another day to cringe again.
0
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 12:37 PM UTC
Midnight Routines
Tuesday night Adderall highs Strung out on sleepless Spotify
0
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 3:05 PM UTC
Senior Year Killed the Syllabus Week Pt. I (10w)
It was a Saturday night somewhere where'bouts December the 10th of 2012; okay, fine, I can't recall the exact date, but that's not the point of this; it's so much less bout the whens and whys and so much more bout the whats, the what the **** it was. And it was so good. It was just a December night in my windowless bedroom, and I know it was a Saturday for sure because Daddy was picking me up at 9 o'clock on the ******* dot because that Sunday was game day, and we needed to get to Indy in time to swallow down some Medium Rare burgers before kickoff. Anyway, so yeah, Saturday night in my cave of a bedroom, the only light that broke the darkness's arrogant foreground was the iridescent glow of the four lavender and ocean scented candles I had placed on the shelf by my desk, seemingly casual enough, but nothing I ever do is actually casual, and it never was casual with you, as much as I may have pretended. It was all calculated, all culminated, all animated and anticipated, God **** yeah, I laid out the whole set up with the candles and the music and the glow, like a perfectly **** setting. But it turned out after it all that it wasn't that sexiness I thought I wanted that hit me so hard in the gut. It was us, sitting there on my bed side-by-side, bodies close enough that we were almost touching, like I could feel the body heat from your perfectly built arms, but I didn't actually feel the silkiness that was your caramel skin against my ivory. Nope. No touching, for once it really wasn't about that, not even in the slightest. We just sat and gabbed and laughed and cried and squealed and joked and concluded and pondered and on and on and on it went, our bodies every so often readjusting their positions on my white comforter with the black flowers, and I really just knew you in those moments and you I and it was like there was no clock no time no morning early rising committed plans to the outside world, because that realm ceased to exist as you laughed in baritone and told me funny stories about football and your friends and then tragedies about a mom that never loved you right and a dad you never knew except for the drugs and his lack of presence. And there I went telling you about when I got kicked off the team and the one time I got beat up and other secrets I never knew I would tell anyone and somehow on it went as we were spiraling into the abyss full of everything we have ever needed, wanted, desired, fears no longer fearful and hurt set loose; somehow I frantically reached for my phone realizing that we just made an entire night of conversating and falling into something that could be that word I won't use because I ain't entirely sure, but **** my Dad was 20 minutes away, you couldn't stay, and I think I just yeah, I'll say it, cuz I really think that night I fell in love.
0
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 5:38 AM UTC
Dawn
It was a Saturday night somewhere where'bouts December the 10th of 2012; okay, fine, I can't recall the exact date, but that's not the point of this; it's so much less bout the whens and whys and so much more bout the whats, the what the **** it was. And it was so good. It was just a December night in my windowless bedroom, and I know it was a Saturday for sure because Daddy was picking me up at 9 o'clock on the ******* dot because that Sunday was game day, and we needed to get to Indy in time to swallow down some Medium Rare burgers before kickoff. Anyway, so yeah, Saturday night in my cave of a bedroom, the only light that broke the darkness's arrogant foreground was the iridescent glow of the four lavender and ocean scented candles I had placed on the shelf by my desk, seemingly casual enough, but nothing I ever do is actually casual, and it never was casual with you, as much as I may have pretended. It was all calculated, all culminated, all animated and anticipated, God **** yeah, I laid out the whole set up with the candles and the music and the glow, like a perfectly **** setting. But it turned out after it all that it wasn't that sexiness I thought I wanted that hit me so hard in the gut. It was us, sitting there on my bed side-by-side, bodies close enough that we were almost touching, like I could feel the body heat from your perfectly built arms, but I didn't actually feel the silkiness that was your caramel skin against my ivory. Nope. No touching, for once it really wasn't about that, not even in the slightest. We just sat and gabbed and laughed and cried and squealed and joked and concluded and pondered and on and on and on it went, our bodies every so often readjusting their positions on my white comforter with the black flowers, and I really just knew you in those moments and you I and it was like there was no clock no time no morning early rising committed plans to the outside world, because that realm ceased to exist as you laughed in baritone and told me funny stories about football and your friends and then tragedies about a mom that never loved you right and a dad you never knew except for the drugs and his lack of presence. And there I went telling you about when I got kicked off the team and the one time I got beat up and other secrets I never knew I would tell anyone and somehow on it went as we were spiraling into the abyss full of everything we have ever needed, wanted, desired, fears no longer fearful and hurt set loose; somehow I frantically reached for my phone realizing that we just made an entire night of conversating and falling into something that could be that word I won't use because I ain't entirely sure, but **** my Dad was 20 minutes away, you couldn't stay, and I think I just yeah, I'll say it, cuz I really think that night I fell in love.
Continue reading...
98
Ready to pull an all nighter with you Laughing Chatting Flirting Ready to pull an all nighter with you Crying Kissing Learning Ready to pull an all nighter with you Loving Loving Loving Ready to pull an all nighter with you
0
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 2:02 PM UTC
All Nighter
She stared blankly at the computer screen With its flickering screen of judgement. What are you looking at? Silence. A screensaver. Enough of that sass. It was finally complete. Her hair wearing its disheveled frizz like a badge of honor From all-night typing And two pots of coffee Where her comb-fingers turned the smoothness of her hair Into a stress-reliever As she muttered madly to herself (But quietly, so as not to wake the roommates Who slumbered in their honey chambers Away from the heart of her hive of activity). She had buzzed all night On a caffeine-high That made her hands tremble Her muscles ache And her eyes hate her. And now With too much to do And a limited time to do it in She had to keep buzzing. Coffee *** number three was carefully stored In a travel mug That she clutched to her clavicle Just to keep the warmth that much closer to her hyped-up heart. She made her stops at offices and libraries Retrieving promised letters And printing the labors of her night intensive Before she could finally deposit it Behind the glass windows Of the scholarship office. This is too much work for less-than-ideal odds. But she had no time to dwell On the gamble she had made And paid in hours of wakefulness And the inked-up peelings from tree corpses. She rushed from class to class Where she tried to speak in coherent sentences, To dance with sharp choreography, And to contribute to society But her body hated her Because she had betrayed it And deprived it of the only thing that it truly loved in this world: Sleep. It would have its vengeance. It would have its vengeance when she was old, creaky, and could no longer move. But for now, her body made do with small rebellions To demonstrate its displeasure. Sentences were not sentences And every turn, leap, and twist Made her think longingly of sleep. And her body laughed. But at long last, The sun set The girl slept And then the sun rose. And this continued to happen Many times. It rose and it set It rose and it set It rose and it set Until she had forgotten And her body had forgiven The sleepless night.
0
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 1:33 AM UTC
The All-Nighter: Part 1 of The London Trilogy
She stared blankly at the computer screen With its flickering screen of judgement. What are you looking at? Silence. A screensaver. Enough of that sass. It was finally complete. Her hair wearing its disheveled frizz like a badge of honor From all-night typing And two pots of coffee Where her comb-fingers turned the smoothness of her hair Into a stress-reliever As she muttered madly to herself (But quietly, so as not to wake the roommates Who slumbered in their honey chambers Away from the heart of her hive of activity). She had buzzed all night On a caffeine-high That made her hands tremble Her muscles ache And her eyes hate her. And now With too much to do And a limited time to do it in She had to keep buzzing. Coffee *** number three was carefully stored In a travel mug That she clutched to her clavicle Just to keep the warmth that much closer to her hyped-up heart. She made her stops at offices and libraries Retrieving promised letters And printing the labors of her night intensive Before she could finally deposit it Behind the glass windows Of the scholarship office. This is too much work for less-than-ideal odds. But she had no time to dwell On the gamble she had made And paid in hours of wakefulness And the inked-up peelings from tree corpses. She rushed from class to class Where she tried to speak in coherent sentences, To dance with sharp choreography, And to contribute to society But her body hated her Because she had betrayed it And deprived it of the only thing that it truly loved in this world: Sleep. It would have its vengeance. It would have its vengeance when she was old, creaky, and could no longer move. But for now, her body made do with small rebellions To demonstrate its displeasure. Sentences were not sentences And every turn, leap, and twist Made her think longingly of sleep. And her body laughed. But at long last, The sun set The girl slept And then the sun rose. And this continued to happen Many times. It rose and it set It rose and it set It rose and it set Until she had forgotten And her body had forgiven The sleepless night.
Continue reading...
67