#bouncing
City buses bounce and jolt
As though to loosen every bolt.
The shocks must be missing,
A leak would be hissing.
Or is it the potholes at fault?
Apr 28, 2025
Apr 28, 2025 at 8:38 PM UTC
random thoughts bouncing
inside my skull i'm writing
what they tell me to
Feb 7, 2021
Feb 7, 2021 at 8:53 PM UTC
Vibrant Vectors,
Bounce Buoyantly,
From castle top,
To dungeon dark,
Their Technicolor angles,
Make angels’,
Wings which,
Provide unique views,
Of the Kusama colored,
Blinking barking lights.
Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 3:39 PM UTC
Little beads,
Jaded by time.
Bouncing.
Roll on the floor.
The end is here.
Fire Blooming in lungs,
Burning out what once was,
Creating fertile ground for the new.
Flowers weaving through veins,
Bursting through the heart.
Badum Badum Badum.
Excavating the chest,
Tearing through skin.
You see me there,
Rotting on a cracked floor,
Moss seeping through;
Long forgotten.
A smile on my face,
"Thank you for coming"
Mar 11, 2019
Mar 11, 2019 at 11:07 PM UTC
I eat my rice with birds and mice
I treat my nice with turds and lice
I drink my wine with pigs and swine
I write my words with prose and rhyme
I swing my club with strength and pride
I take my steps with prance and stride
I show you all now what's inside
These words I trust; I will abide.
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 12:04 PM UTC
Hell on earth, of dreams, the rushing of all
Ostensible the making of confessions, a trio.
Levants that pilgrims must travel, to improv
Even the word, which is left, but raw to me.
Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 2:30 AM UTC
I'm a pendulum
Slowly swinging one way and another.
Always destined to be opposite,
Always almost touching one extreme or the another.
I long for the dull thud of metal on wood.
I remember as a child playing with the brass pendulum of my parents' clock. Interfering.
I'm a cuckoo cuckoo.
In my cuckoo clock.
Popping in and out.
Hidden inside or on full, crude display,
Chirping away,
But never will I not be the other,
In time.
I am the weather,
My own seasons,
A planet orbiting its sun,
Ever-changing, always running,
Spinning, dizzying, ever busying Myself but never getting to the sun.
Never knowing true dark or true light,
Only the insistent tick tock of day and night.
Regimented, regular dawns and dusks.
Waiting for the next change of scene
Wondering what it would mean to reach the sun,
Wanting to let the cuckoo break loose of its small, wooden case.
Jun 11, 2017
Jun 11, 2017 at 3:18 PM UTC
Flubber inside
filling out the cracks
you and that
insipid hat.
Wolly sweater
boatload of pins
find out when
our love life begins.
It's quite awkward
when I get so nervous
like hot liquid
boiling in a pan.
It's really kind of funny 'cause
I can't figure you out,
man.
Grist and marrow
you're a stringy
kind of fellow.
And every time I see
your stupid smily face
I get this rubber
in my tummy
a fit I cannot place.
Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 1:44 PM UTC
I remember when you were my friend, when we talked about the future
and our plans. I wanted to get one good dose of life and went to the mountains.
You wanted safety of your survival and went to exchange your rights
for extra harnesses.
You began to search for survival and found the highway.
The neon blue signs
advertising just that.
You will feel comfortable, very comfy cause when you see the same
things at 10mph at 100mph what’s the rush?
You will survive for a long time never too long what you claim,
happy to see where the world goes.
The bug on your windshield will be your biggest problem.
Your foot will begin to slip and you will turn off the highway.
Yet the bumps on the exit ramps will be more than bumps,
slowly flattening your tires, destroying the and you leave worse than when you
turned off.
Not the ramps fault it’s just things were designed this way you saywith a shrug.
Slowly your organs will start to show and you will survive for a long time
but nothing more.
You will see how ugly a heart really is, a blob of red keeping you alive.
You will see your mortality in the mirror.
You will feel the harnesses, once so comforting begin to dig into your skin.
The lines from the harness more clear than clothing.
You will have food, water and a place to hang your hat
but it will never be your home but you will survive for a long long time,
too long.
The suicide nets prevent the last line of control and you will survive for
a very long time, far too long.
You will bounce off the nets and be gently be taken back to the highway.
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 8:27 PM UTC
Rays of streaming light,
Heat bouncing off ocean waves.
Blue water shimmers.
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 1:56 AM UTC
a day of spring
a day for a wedding
a day opening the door to--
the sound of
a ball
bouncing
at the neighbors ‘cross
the road.
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 1:07 AM UTC
As she took off her shirt on a one way camera.
She knew he only wanted to see her nakedness.
"because you look good in clothes but you
look much much much better naked"
All this love he proclaimed, where
only sweet nothing to tear her clothes off.
Her bra came off, then her shirt.
She laid there staring into text.
Not his face, not his voice, just words.
Thinking to her self, he's using me,
but I'm allowing it.
because all we will ever be is cam buddies,
where she was the center of attention.
AS if her nakedness could make him fall for
her quirky, clumsy hopeless romantic self.
All her bare chest could ever do is let him blow off some steam.
because "it's really **** when I can see them bounce."
On and Off that's what he liked about her,
he could let her go and know she'd pick up the pieces
until he came back to make her faulter again.
She was his slave, because no one ever made her
feel more like **** and a princess
all at once, than he did.
He was the monster in her heart with the resemblance of Gods.
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 2:39 PM UTC