Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Jul 2014 Victor
Jonny Angel
Warm fingers,
tight grasp,
dreams are made
like this,
so kiss me air,
make it count,
give it to me.
 Jul 2014 Victor
betterdays
sometimes i forget
the beauty of my life
when struggling with
issues
when locked into gear
when busy is only my
morning cup and the rest of the day frantic
when weary and fatigued
my socks and shoes
i forget that there are colours beyond black, blue
and beige.

and then you come knocking
on my hearts door...with
a bunch of red,orange yellow and pink gerberers
and a goofy smile.

and i remember my soul
and the goodness within..
and i remember your soul
and the goodness within
and then i look at the world
and love the beauty,
and the tragedy too.

and i smile ......
at the potential
of the world
within all it's craziness
and me within it
within all my craziness

and i think, time to get on
with it.... no one else can
Once I was in England, and happened to encounter the carpenter’s ire,
He was struggling to get out of the lot of poverty, with all mighty,
He woke up every day at dawn, pushing the plane throughout a day,
He liked no stories when working, as Europe’s economy is no joke,
It needs toughness of mind, soul and muscles, hence his work ethos,
His wife covered no space in his hearty, as she was only a cost center
He like not eating all the time, foodiusness weakens the wallet anyhow,
He liked not whistling as he pushed nails into the wood,
He detested lest doing it makes him look like a *****,
His son often played around, when he was working
One day the heaps of sawdust covered up his claw-hammer,
He thought his boy had stolen it, to pawn for candies
At the notorious Jewish shop in the neighborhood,
But in contrast the lad said he knows not,
Where the hammer was, he did not take it,
Carpenter’s ire went fluvial, amokish age,
He sledge hammered his son to death,
Only to discover the hammer
Was underneath saw dust
Where he wanted to hide
The cadaver of his son.
 Jul 2014 Victor
Gary
Poetry *****!
It shows my vulnerability!
It shows my compassion,  my understanding.

Poetry *****!
It let's others like you know I am human.
It shows you I'm sensitive,
And come with not only my arms, but also my defenses down.

Poetry *****!
Even at my weakest times,
Even while completely open.
My strengths shine through,
Showing my real side,
Darkness and light, that I just can't subside.
 Jul 2014 Victor
circus clown
i  base  my  worth
off of how my friends
treat  me,  how  many
beers i can drink before
the taste makes me sick,
and how many times i can
dial your old phone number
and listen to a stranger
remind me of how
disconnected
you are.
we're sorry, the number you are trying to reach has been disconnected or is no longer in service.
 Jun 2014 Victor
Jennifer Weiss
Born with this whisper, reminiscent of young Marilyn, Audrey, and Jackie, she says we must be the most beautiful creature to capture your attention.
She says to fear one another, for your sister may jeopardize your happiness.

She says winged eyeliner in a necessity.
She says pink is the new black.
No, purple.
No, it's black again.

She says you must care more for these things than books.
The key to prosperity for us is all in our looks.
She says to dream, but not so large that you scare away future prospects.
She says to marry a fortune, and covet thy last name.
She says vanity is the game.

But what if you learned she was really a he. That insecurity is a tool he uses against you. Women of history endured, so we could be more than what they have convinced us we are:
Baby makers.
Maids.
Strippers.
Victims.

Yet, as you walk up to the checkout, in whatever corrupt corporation's super market you shop, you still reach for the picture book that preaches submission to men. You still subscribe to "89 ways to change who you are in order to get a man". You still put toxins on your skin in hopes to become more attractive. You still judge each other without knowing the other's story.

But you haven't yet thought, " What if I was raised to believe being **** is being smart?"



The voice telling you "You can't" is your own.
The voice telling you "You never will" is oppression.
Isn't it about time we started teaching the infinite beauty of a woman's mind?
 Jun 2014 Victor
Jennifer Weiss
The more you know,
A dangerous game, though the rewards out measure danger
You must learn to accept your woe,
Learn to live without anger.

If you find yourself saying, "It's impossible."
There's something you must know.
The impossible is only improbable,
because you said it's so!
 Jun 2014 Victor
jeffrey robin
<   O   >
/\
/    \
(                 )
•     •

Angel ragged son

It is your day

Your time

Your war

***

The god has spoken

THIS OR THAT

YES OR NO

////  

The limping begger is you dear friend

The emptiness of the drifter who

Just won't go --- ON
just can't go  -- HOME

~~

Gentle visions of fear

Generate

Sight and sounds of such intensity

We are weak

About to break !



In the mild summer

Prison tales
Of

Horror & ****

SHE IS HERE !

\\

you can only see her in  the mirror

I am a simple presence
But

I am your soul

• •

Your lives are mere illusion
As

You must know

But somehow it seems

You just want to win

Illusion's games

••

YOU ARE AS THE DEAD

YOUR ZOMBIE LOVE

YOUR ALIEN PEROGATIVES

••

she

The littlest girl of the neighborhood

Lies down on the cold concrete

I wonder truly if she stills breathes

I wonder truly if you even care to know
Next page