The Lunchtime Poet: Favorites

May 2016 The Lunchtime Poet

Bestowed

May 2016 The Lunchtime Poet

Arcassin B

Bestowed

by Arcassin Burnham

....And you just took it all away,
thinkin you save the human race,
eyes to the skies and reaches of space to
give my feelings a whirlwind,
no one ever really
plays it safe,
I'm doing deeds to make you stay,
I've got eyes to thebsky and back against the pave,
and a hand full of silver dollars and jars filled with the freshest tea,
it'll take a life time for the emotions to cave,
in,
but the motto is live , die ,repeat,
put me through the motions and see how many bad reactions that will be bestowed upon me,
myself,
I've already done damage,
memories,
they hurt,
but I just say **** it.

http://arcassin.blogspot.com/2016/05/bestowed.html

#poetry #life #bad #weird #day #safety #humans

May 2016 The Lunchtime Poet

Ill Visit

May 2016 The Lunchtime Poet

Hadrian Veska

Ill Visit

We heard the words
But knew not what to say
So we returned
To the work of the day

Strange folk had come
From unknown place
To share with us
And with our race

They spoke with ease
Yet moved not their tounge
They spoke for hours
Until the lights hung,

To this day I can't recall
The greater of things they said
Nor their ancient stories
Which now have left my head

The only thing I do remember
Is a repeated phrase they spoke,

"Then, then when the sky is red,
And shadows bloom
Inside your head,
When the heavens break
And all is dead,
Then you will know
What we have said."

May 2016 The Lunchtime Poet

Feeding on oneself.

May 2016 The Lunchtime Poet

Slur pee

Feeding on oneself.

Oh,
If only you could feel
That the hell in me is real.
My insides house a violent fire,
My brain is storage,
For a thousand dark desires.

My stomach burns
With abhorrence.
Intensely gagging,
I can't endure it.
So I'll regurgitate,
All of this extreme hate.

Only to devour it,
Like a starving animal.
Slowly feeding on myself,
I'm some sort of autocannibal.
Sending my insides to their fiery pedestal.

If you could only see,
What blazes inside of me.
You'd understand the reasoning,
I undergo, this feeding frenzy.
These demons inside,
That I desperately hide,
Should never be released.

So I'll continue to eat,
All that I excrete.

-SLuR

May 2016 The Lunchtime Poet

Cotton.

May 2016 The Lunchtime Poet

Slur pee

Cotton.

I'm moldy and rotten,
Pulling myself apart,
Like cotton.

I press myself, against this cell
If I were skinnier, I could escape this hell.
Skin like cellophane, clinging to bones,
Slipping through the hands, I used to call home.

My stomach speaks, and my breath reeks like acid,
My thoughts like to creep, when they think
No one's watching.
In the middle of the night, you can see the demons dance.
I always thought it rude that they never asked
For my hand.

I cling to the stars, as if they're the only thing that's real,
If I collect enough, I can wish to feel.
The sky is covered in clouds that are rotting,
I pull myself apart, as if I were cotton.

-SLuR

May 2016 The Lunchtime Poet

Masters of Poetry

May 2016 The Lunchtime Poet

Michael Blonski

Masters of Poetry

These masters of poetry
flood my mind
with rhymes
and pure
unaltered thought

truth
honesty
brutally at times
these master poets
dominate my mind

Changing who I am
what I see
in a small number of lines
When master poets words
take control of my mind

May 2016 The Lunchtime Poet

Basslines

May 2016 The Lunchtime Poet

ryn

Basslines

.

estrate the
orc-                       opus
ong•                                  of right
     of s-                                            and wr-
      gh power                                        ong•k-       ⚫️
    tales throu-                                       eep me
tell me...                                           ground-      ⚫️
                                                           ed throu-
                                                         gh lyrics
                                                     worded
                                                strong•
                                          embed
                                       solid b-
                                 assline-
                       s that
              guide
    me a-
lon-
     g...
•

.

The soundtrack to life deserves the most wicked of baselines.
.

#life #concretepoetry #hellopoetry107 #baselines #basslines #bassclef

May 2016 The Lunchtime Poet

How I See

May 2016 The Lunchtime Poet

Karina Norris-Veirs

How I See

My face is not that of beauty queens

                the indention in my forehead
                         shows that clearly

My hair is not as shiny as most

                        ***** brown and limp

My neck is not that of starlets

                         I have a double chin
                          when I look down

My chest is not that of a model's

              I could pass for a man right there

My stomach is not a six pack

                              having babies
                      stretched me too much

My bottom is not smooth at all

                      stretch marks all over

My legs are not that of a dancer's

                              chicken legs
                       I've heard them called

My mind is not that of Einstein

                      I'm still learning everyday

My heart is not made of gold

                             there are days
                the blackness comes through

My soul is not white as snow

                       it is tainted with life
                   harsh words thrown to it

I attempt to overcome my faults

                       walk as though I have
                    nothing to be ashamed of

But in the back of my mind
There sits the forever
                          Not good enoughs...

Insecurities ****. Tonight more than most.

May 2016 The Lunchtime Poet

-Maybe

May 2016 The Lunchtime Poet

Queen-Midas

-Maybe

I didn't smile at everyone, I didn't talk to everyone but I did to you and maybe I thought that you would realize that I chose You over the world.