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 Oct 2015 wandabitch
theunrealist
Nihilisms brutal, how could you choose to live that way?
Coz everything is futile, life is glorified decay.
We're all dying, and I can't wait....

Each day simulates birth and death and everything between.
Next day is the same **** thing, how many hints did you need?
Cradle to the grave to the cradle to the grave,
Makes plenty of sense to me.
 Sep 2015 wandabitch
mikecccc
I remember you fondly
Though I probably shouldn't
When you were here
You were trouble
And had more
Than your share of flaws
But now that you're gone
All I remember are your pro's
Not your many con's
Even some that never were
I'm better off without you
But It doesn't feel like that.
I've been collecting
all the butterflies you give me
in a big mason jar
that I keep beside
the overflowing bottle
where all my emotions are

And sometimes
when that bottle bursts
and pain just floods me
I open up that jar
where my butterflies are
and I set them free
Thoughts race inside
My unstoppable mind
As I lie, still as ever
In this bed of mine

Not moving, won't stop,
Can't grab them or drop
them on the floor under my feet
where they belong, I can't compete

I'd love to think of rivers
Or calming peaceful streams
Oh what I'd give to think of flowers
Or the buzzing sound of bees

Inside is a hurricane
Outside is a drizzle
I can't control my hurried mind
But at least it's working well

Oh I shouldn't complain,
Yes my thoughts run all day
Each one deeper than the last
And although I'm led astray
My thoughts tell me more
Than your words ever could
Because I've had a hundred
More thoughts than I should

Oh the thoughts race inside
My unstoppable mind
As I lie, still as ever
In this bed of mine
You were alive
Millions of years ago
As the stars
As a tiny amoeba
A primitive zygote
With a group of cyanobacteria dancing
In brackish waters, ready to explode
Onto land with hands and sweat glands
And here you are today
Bipedal, vocal, resourceful and continuing
to evolve
beautifully
The deluge came without warning,
too fast for it to seep underground.
So, they broke the soil for a taste of rain
and openly met the flood.
They cinched towards exposed surfaces
only asking for more.
So quickly, it was as if
their bloated bodies were ripped from the soil
and thrown to the sidewalk.
They littered the pathways.
A mass suicide in pink.
This is the first poem in a series of poems that will be written by me through the month of April. Celebrate National Poetry Month with a poem a day!
WHAT can we say of the night?
The fog night, the moon night, the fog moon night last night?
  
There swept out of the sea a song.
There swept out of the sea-torn white plungers.
There came on the coast wind drive
In the spit of a driven spray,
On the boom of foam and rollers,
The cry of midnight to morning:
  Hoi-a-loa.
  Hoi-a-loa.
  Hoi-a-loa.
  
Who has loved the night more than I have?
Who has loved the fog moon night last night more than I have?
  
Out of the sea that song
  -can I ever forget it?
Out of the sea those plungers
  -can I remember anything else?
Out of the midnight morning cry: Hoi-a-loa:
  -how can I hunt any other songs now?
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