#gutter
Everyone lives in a gutter
I just wanna make
The gutter happier.
That’s my moral compass
Something my teacher
Once told, I remember.
I once lived
Like a sewer rat
Soaked in filth and mud,
Thinking life
Must be the same
For every other rat.
But he showed me
A rat in the rain,
Busy dancing
It meant a lot,
Something.
It’s not about the water,
Nor the grime in the drain;
It’s how you find joy
In pleasure or pain.
Jun 8, 2025
Jun 8, 2025 at 12:43 PM UTC
I chose to take a painful path,
Where my bloodied footprints
Trailed upon life's broken glass,
Bleeding out across the shards
Of shattered hopes, discarded hearts.
In loves gutter I found my truth,
Face down in that waste of you
Which bittered every taste of youth,
Spat out your words so dearly held
And choked that hope on cruel untruths.
TS Lefort 2021
Jan 9, 2021
Jan 9, 2021 at 6:02 PM UTC
And it waited a moment longer than a moment’s pause
It was rain resisting its temper, attempting tenderness
Each drop the poignant pain in a patient bladder when you hold to hear the end
Then, it drowned the saplings in the gutter
a violent politeness
an apology for impeding
a housewarming gift
Dec 3, 2020
Dec 3, 2020 at 4:42 PM UTC
It's all turning to fluid,
It's all washing down.
The gutters that clutter the street
Are sloshing everything south,
The pipes unseen are having a feast.
Feeding off the emotions of a cowardly beast.
Nobody noticed, nobody tended to care
Just go to work, don't come home,
Just stay there. You're a **** up.
You need to get a bit more mature,
You need to earn so much more
Then you might have a place to exist.
Then you might have a place to live.
I bet they see this smile,
I bet they see the dark circles on my face.
Who should I be kidding, it's all fake.
Slaving life, am I even awake?
Oct 23, 2019
Oct 23, 2019 at 2:07 AM UTC
The icicle slowly melted
It slowly melted in the afternoon sun
Melting while hanging off the rain gutter
Letting go of a small portion of its essence
Essence, that in the end, would be gone
Gone to create another form of its previous self.....
Brian Hill - 2019 # 178
Jul 18, 2019
Jul 18, 2019 at 10:04 AM UTC
Rope
There's no point in splitting hairs
No point in pointing a finger
It's done
The pages are all torn
Trashed and scattered
And dragged through the gutter
Like yesterdays garbage
And all that rope
I supposedly gave
A phantom
There never was a rope,
A leash, nor a chain
Those things are not for sale
At the well
No there never was a rope
Except perhaps
For the one attached
To the water bucket
From which
We still
Quietly sip
Through
The miles
Of sea
And storm
And time
As long as we stay
This way
This well
Will never dry up
2016-2017 for the attempt to make unconditional, the conditional.
May 20, 2018
May 20, 2018 at 4:46 AM UTC
Gutter.
That is where I put my feelings.
They get poured back down and keep my head clean.
Gutter.
I noticed something.
It is clogged with leaves and twigs.
Without my gutter, I don't feel happy.
Please clean my Gutter.
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 3:22 PM UTC
Down in the gutter, with my mind and friends
wallowing in the dirt and grime, no need to pretend
The ****** and debacle, all the impurity and trash
sliding easily along, the hard cold cemented paths
Sludge and slime, just other words to describe
where my imagination goes, too consume and too imbibe
Come with me, and then you'll see, everything explained
all the places, thoughts, and things, roaming around my brain
Glean no cleaner meaning, and know too there I go
a ***** rotten little mind, basking in, a foul filthy, afterglow
Dec 28, 2017
Dec 28, 2017 at 12:57 PM UTC
walk with the wind,
against the water's current.
trudge towards your gutter.
***** others in blind hope,
hope to high godless heaven,
that you're mad enough to pass as a purist.
...---...
find your gutter, close the shutters,
hide until the heavy wind deadens.
let your safe haven cave in,
bask in the mindless clutter.
become a fallen angel in your own armageddon.
-
...---...
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 5:08 PM UTC
There was a beautiful lady in China
no, not North, or South Carolina
prolific of men
over, and over again
the cause of her death, from angina
Jan 30, 2017
Jan 30, 2017 at 10:57 AM UTC
I'm always down, the gutter's my home
and the streets are strewn with plastic
and old cigarettes and syringes as always
but today I felt that friendly old surge
of an abnormal normalcy, as though
my ragged surroundings had elevated
to the level of the common folk.
I live for my manic high points.
Jan 25, 2017
Jan 25, 2017 at 6:59 PM UTC
You couldn't love me, I had to move on
I hope you see where you was wrong
I hope you stay strong
I never ment to harm
But I gave you my love it was never returned
You left me feeling burned
So in it is a lesson to be learned
Not not treat the heart of another
Like trash in the gutter
That you can pick up when you want
Never giving them a secound thought
Only when YOU need them, not when they need you
I hope if not a lesson, you at lest get a clue
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 10:34 AM UTC
Take my heart out of the gutter and shake it ‘till it bleeds.
That lonely ************ can’t breathe
unless the sinews stitch back together
like the veins of leaves,
all smooshed by heels and debris.
My heart can’t see.
Laying in that gutter; it can only believe.
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 5:16 AM UTC
I say I'm
not looking
for love but
I'm looking
I'm catching
cold glances
from eyes filled
with the weight of
sorrow been cast in gold
My purposeful fingers
reach up for money from
the gutters, this,
is just what I'm told.
Enter my ears,
enter my eyes,
enter my skin,
into my lungs.
I'm not breathing
oxygen if I exhale
byproduct. I'm out
of luck, won't press it.
I'm out of reason in
speech. Beyond
preventable death.
Regret, turned to
malice. Chest
compression. I
could have been
a good person.
What value in gold,
if I have you?
Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 1:07 AM UTC
Feeling like the **** of the Earth, at the bottom of the gutters. Only me and these tireless feelings of regret and sadness. Only me and my death.
Let's only hope for this so called resurrection, otherwise this is the end of me.
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 2:46 AM UTC
Right now, my cranium is spacing out
My brain is racing up and down and
I'm left pacing like I saw an alien in a nightgown
Man I can't really write right rite right now so
I'm hoping this'll flow
Maybe later still able to kiss and ***** the flames at the tip of a missile toe
And Ms., miss it won't if you don't spit it slow
Oh you know
This is so that it'll go and blow
Grow, explode the mind
And then it glows
For sure, no lie
I'm a show-off to get the mind out the gutter
Up and out, now it's not about some snuffing out or really a ruffling bluff-like fisticuffs to handcuffs riff-raff fluff about my rugged Scruff McGruff tuff scuffed-up stuff with a huff and puffed-up "ruff! ruff!" buff enough rough and tough mudder style but
Somewhat it's done out of love for even the loudest mouth out there somewhere, somehow
So someday in someway to someplace
I'll send your message in my package and pass it
Over and out
Ground control and the days are long so
I have the gift just to give the shout-outs
Yeah before it's gone, oh
Over and out
He might be a writer and he can't even hide it be-
Cause communication's the communion, union of the unified nations
Relationships and maybe even sensationalism
But hatred rests in a safe the dangerous once made
While a good intention not to mention is
A common premise in this mix we try to fix
And then we pray
But in games we trust because
We think it's made for us for fun and
And what we crave, nuh-uh yuh-huh
Uh-uh, uh-huh
So sometime for somebody, somewhen for someone or something
I'm sending my message, my package I'm passing it
Over and out
Ground control and the days are long
So I have a gift, oh to give my shout-outs yeah before they're gone
Over and out
Now let us get some shut-eye so
This introvert can shut-up, oh
Over and out
Who wrote it right on time about how
Somedeal and somewise it's this diss-functional brain of mine
My pen's pensive motor-mouth is left rightly in its creative state of sane now I'm
In between and staying safely stable
Without withering within her ring somewhither with his SAM-wise fable
And that my baby is what I call in-sane
Able to lay it on our table when
We're stripped bare to the underwear with
Our ways and our whereabouts on paper, amen
From an omen of ol' men
Over and out, send
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 8:35 PM UTC