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Andrew Rueter Aug 2017
Every night I die in an airplane
Beads of sweat fall like rain
Every night I die in a plane crash
I wake up feeling like plain trash
Because every night my plane dives into the ocean
I can't believe the virtual reality of the motion
All my friends and family are there
I watch them drown
Leaving me marooned at sea
The river Styx of my dreams
I wake up marooned at bed
Swimming in a sea of sweat
None of my friends and family are there
And my adrenaline nightmares keep me scared
Because if I fall asleep
It's a nosedive I reap

Every night I die in an airplane
Why is this image so ingrained?
Every night I die in a plane crash
Pressure crushes me to plain ash
Because every night my plane flies into a mountain
The passenger's blood fills my eyes like fountains
All my friends and family are there
I watch them burn
Leaving me stranded in the hills of hell
Until I understand the pills too well
I wake up stranded in bed
Buried in an avalanche of sweat
None of my friends and family are there
And my reality has begun to tear
When I keep dying in my dreams
My mentality rips at the seams

Every night I die in an airplane
Why must my mind be so untame?
Every night I die in a plane crash
And my life becomes a plain flash
Because every night my plane flips upside down
As my useless body is tossed round and round
All my friends and family are there
I watch them get mangled
Leaving me to die at high speeds
With corpses that profusely bleed
I wake up dying in bed
Flipped face down in a pool of sweat
None of my friends and family are there
I begin to wonder if they even care
Because I watch them die every night
It makes me love them more
Because I watch them die every night
My life becomes a chore
But there's nothing for death to reclaim
When I'd just cross over to another plane
ethan gaskill Jul 2018
i want to be
your vintage crooner for life
frank sinatra mixed with marvin gaye
with twenty-first century style
i'd greet you at the door with flowers
and be your chauffeur to wherever
you want to go i'll take you
there's no rush; we have forever
our life can feel like a movie
almost too good to be true
sooner or later you'll realize
i've always felt that way about you
galas and night dances and jet airplanes to france
would only be enjoyable if i'm holding your hand
i think that we could see our dreams
with our own awake eyes
so come and ride away with me
and we can have the time of our lives
whether sunday morning pancakes or a tuesday noontime lunch
breakfast in bed or a venice bistro will be equally fun
and if god takes us that far
i'd point to you when our daughter asks what a queen is
we could show our children how dedication
and compassion makes life feel like you're dreaming
and someday many years from now
when we have an empty nest
we'll remember the feature film of our romance
and decide that we did it best
Carlo C Gomez Oct 26
Here comes Mr. Chemtrail--
Pretty jets
Stream across the sky
By day, at night
They're tucked into cushy
Launching pads;
To sleep like us
Underneath the stars,
Drooling like a baby;
The rains of which wash away
Our Happy Tomorrow sign,
Written in sand
Across a hiraeth seashore;
With bountiful aura,
Everything is smelling like roses
Kept in the fuselage,
Waiting for a turn
To shine, perhaps ignite,
In all the glamour of
A shooting star:
Great godless geyser;
A prism of colors
Rain-bowing
Electively over funeral flowers,
This death was always meant
To be a friend with benefits,
Allowing us one last
Glorious ride into the heavens,
Before overtaken
By the undertaker;
The sky's the limit,
Steely-eyed missile man;
We're terminal now
And on final approach,
Bleed for us once more...
L'appel du vide is French and describes an intrusive thought or urge pertaining to self-destructive behaviour, that may occur during everyday activities.
Harley Oliver Jul 2014
aching for immediate relief
i turn to the thing
i fault in the most
one last time
is a lie i've told before
these white lines
won't erase my problems forever
but i was too weak to see
that we were a world away
distracted by the blinking airplanes
mistaken by shooting stars
we lie restless
living life without knowing
this cold snow
won't keep us any closer
and if it really kills us
it would have done it by now
so i do it again
to fill the void
my ******* boy left behind
Annatman Dec 2018
Lingering salt from the risen sand
Reminisces of a sea-side land
I have abandoned in search of peace
Arriving inland - no sea, no release
From the concrete-desert landscape
Bricks and bridges, and no escape
For the dirt from pores into water
Only mortar and glass, but the latter
Like the sea, shines and reflects
Made of sand, this mirage protects
The memory of this desert land
Where light, reflected, on the skin lands
Like airplanes arriving from distant lands
Where pigment - the only reminder that stands
Free from our far-fleeing, wandering hands
Memories, immigration, Israel, Crimea
Stephen E Yocum Sep 2013
They come amongst
a cacophony of noise
and clutter, little voices,
uttering unintelligible sounds,
amid giggles and laughter.
Sometimes it's pushing
and shoving,
"Mom he's touching me!"

Leaving as they go a trail,
of ever changing strange things,
like dropped Legos, paper airplanes
rubber band and old bent nails.

Once I found, to my otter amazement
A freshly dead intact Grasshopper,
Neatly folded up in brightly colored
Special Occasion Wrapping paper.
A gift no doubt from one of them,
left right out, on my Dinning Room Table.

Other times they emerge slow and stealthy
a  pair of Ninjas, all in black and scary.
Or as merely Batman and Robin,
Maybe Spidy and the Incredible Hulkster,
All of their personas assuredly entertaining.

As they barge through my door,
they tend to sing loud a lot,
True, squeaky, off key, yet sweetly.
Most are songs I've never heard,
Or just made up for the moment.

If I'm a little down, feeling kind of blue
five minutes with them is a sure cure
Funk gone in a flash, replaced by nothing
but happy.

Consummate story tellers they can be,
The nine year old should be the "Town Crier".
No news fit to print, ever went untold
from his lips, always relayed with such gusto.
Ask him a simple "How was your day?"
and he will recite 15 minutes of vivid detail,
all for my very delighted amused approval.

The six year old is sweet enough to eat,
Always bright blue eyes a flashing,
Not to be outdone, he will try his best,
to **** right in and share his days happenings.
Little brothers need always to try harder.

We all three laugh and joke,
and sometimes I break out,
the oh so dreaded "tickle fingers",
chase them all around 'till I catch one
and then for sure their screams of delight
and giggles do indeed fill up the room,
not to mention my old soft heart as well.
These little boys are pure magic.

Watching them thrive and grow, is my tonic.
A battery charger I can't get enough of.
Smart, charming, funny, sweet, cute and happy,
the loves of an old man's life. With them around,
who needs another.

They are a precious gifts from my kids, their
Mother and Father. Another chance to have
children close, be their loving guiding grandfather.

In them I see my son as a child, now a fine
grown man, In those boys I see the very
reason I was put on this Earth,
A life of human creation, come full circle.
Chloë Fuller Jan 2018
I get flashes of our first meeting

like airplanes you mistake for twinkling stars

covered in paint our glazed pupils locked

wooden steps that swayed like the curve of my back

your mouth halfway inside me at 6 am on a spring morning

or was it winter?

stumbling back into my arms in a place we call 'sanctuary'

And that's always it.

Why can I only look you dead in the eyes when they're crossing?

We could stopped the universe, because we do every time we kissed.  

Like we can't stop sipping

Hangovers like ropes around my head

What's going to happen when we wake up?

When the dust clears?

Why are we still torturing each other through rye flavored teeth?

Relief is paradox and a vicious cycle
inspired by "Sober" by Lorde, and "Relief Next to Me" by Tegan and Sara. I will be using this piece in an upcoming performance.
Worldeater Sep 2014
The Five train trails pass my balcony under dim
Fluorescent lights flickering beneath towering oaks
Canopying high above and yet,
Still below the placid night sky
Two small girls sing atop our concrete division in
Shapes of adorable keys about love and how they'll
Never leave
Whilst several men two slabs across
Discuss the gossip of their lives under, but yet within
Billows of smokey haze
While I write them out briefly in the cool breeze amongst
Plumes of misty clouds,
The moon dimly shimmering through their cloak.

The Five train right on time.

If only the world could always be as such.
People Living.
Just living.

A brief silence.

I close my eyes, the humming of airplanes over above the
Bellows of my thoughts, the thumping of my heart in sync
With the cricket's harp, and wonder if it's God I feel
When the richness of these particle like moments fill me
                                      
                         ­             The world feels content.
                                      Nature feels alive.
                                      Life feels at peace.

The Five train right on time, thumping along the tracks conjoined
With the night's serenade.
Sublime.
Je me demande comment vous êtes et si vous pensez à moi quand le temps le permet. Probablement pas, mais je pense à vous.
Meteo Aug 2015
Two birds flying at night crash into each other
and as they spin falling from a cloud of feathers and starlight
they are reminded of a time before they learned how to fly...

Will we fold into each others secrets
would we fit each other like a spoon
won't you take my hand and chase stars with me

we'll catch them if they fall
and bury them in the backyard of our childhood dreams
so we can always find our way back there

Chase the shoreline
fly with a flock of airplanes
we'll signature the moon
as we dance our footprints upon the clouds

swim with me through an ocean of bed sheets
and Sunday mornings
and we'll chase dinosaurs from our bedroom

The warmest place in the world is next to you
let me sip coconuts in your arms
won't you plant my name behind your tongue
that it may bloom in a garden of your smiles

We'll find a beach to name after our children
and serenade the ocean as it refuses to stop kissing the shore
we'll use toothbrushes as tuning forks

fake a limp at new years eve and ride the elevator to the highest floor
and dance with me above the skyline

'cause if you sing me a lullaby of forgiveness
I will keep you from all the broken promises
we can finger paint sunrises on each other skin

Be orphans with me
so that we can name each other
the way we once named the stars
as if the constellations held the promise
we could find our way home
Bryce Aug 2018
And now there would come a time
a swift sharp clock on the bed
Blaring its little chime in between the hard bells
Like an angry little arm
Charming if not for the alarm

And everyday I slap the face of it
Like an unwanted *****
And she is silenced
Quick unlike
Said chick

But I am a cruel guy and have no sense of wet and dry
Nor cool or heat
There's nothing bothering me

Time just ticks off and I laugh at it

But my cells divide and turn into little old protoplasmic men
And yet I am not called upon them
Because they are stupidly designed and I have no sympathy for arts and crafts
No masterman
who failing to raise his hand
Clams up
With such poor artwork

Slap that ***** in the dilapidated sistan

Now In San Francisco
Where the alley streets stink of ***
And the European facades are just that
Crumbling
Poopy
And full of ****
And what yet are they dreaming to be?

The church that survived fire
Great conflagration
God didn't make a rainbow at the end of that,
Now did he?

He's a water-sign
Dolt
And water only jolts your mind
When it scatters true light,
Ain't that right?

But it's all the same
Just different hues
And the news
Isn't new
Just Blaring and yelling
And speeding television crews
Riding their stories
Up and down the many stories
Trying to build a city of angels
On a bituminous hill

Shills

No life skills

And I walk the city streets with a ugly old leather
Brief
Casing the joints and rolling my own
Unhappy and alone
Kerouac and the dreams on the monangular input where the triangular avenues meet
And he has no road

While airplanes shake their jets on the tarmac and trebuchet into the air
Going god knows where
Seeing a new piece of the sculpted pinball
Perpetually trapped in the machine

How bout Nippon
Or Hangujin
Or Han Chinese
Or Berlin
Anywhere but when
A little ways along the state
Of "in"

All these strange things
Keith W Fletcher Oct 2016
I thought about this and around this for a long time, so I guess it's time to write it down.

THE NATURAL ORDER.

There is a natural balance in Earths history and mankind's tentative balance along the scale.
  When humans began to band together and create communities, control of fire / light created a need for oil . Eventually settling on whale oil.
   So it was by the grace of whatever one might want to attribute it to,that let petroleum come into play at a time when whales are in danger of being annihilated and dead horses were clogging the streets of cities in the east, left dead or dying by the Cartmen who simply unstrapped the sick or dead animal and moved on.
  .Oil / petroleum led to the creation of the internal combustion engine.
   So again a hand stirred the ***.                
  Consider these improvements( if such they were )created rapid growth and burgeoning cities . Again Providence stepped in to create radio , telephone and airplanes, essentially at a time when growth of humanity was so great , that new ways of farming , new ways of seeing the world-  were  becoming more and more necessary to a shrinking world.
   Unfortunately, at a time when we, the American initiative creators of so many trends, ideas ,Innovations and inspirations around the world, were suddenly slammed a blow that at this point, 40 years later; it's very reverberations are still being felt.
   Consider if big oil and trickle-down had not ,for spiteful and greedy involution, taken down the solar panels from the White House roof, that Jimmy Carter had installed in 1977.
  How far ahead would we be now ,in clean energy and how much less damage to the ice cap and the atmosphere would have been done??  To date... my guess is that it is incomprehensible.
  So if nature does create a balance, it seems we are coming to a critical Junction.

Right now -metaphorically speaking- we are riding shotgun in a car with a driver ,who like us ,sees cars up ahead disappearing around the curve and all hitting  their brake lights. Now any reasonable driver at highway speeds is 65 - 80 miles an hour would at least take the foot off the gas in preparation of  tapping the brakes.
  So many politicians right now are refusing to accept the brake lights... see no reason to tap the brakes to interrupt cruise control, in all actuality, completely refusing to do anything except go around the curve at full speed.
   Around that curve we may find nothing but smooth sailing ,  or we may find a catastrophe in the making.
   Nature will accept the cruise Interruption now (maybe) brakes absolutely, but Full Speed Ahead will lead to the sickening crunch of seawater rising and  spilling salt water into the lands that are used for growing crops and food -  leading to millions , maybe billions of refugees with nowhere to go.

Or we will reach critical mass of sheer ignorant arrogance and nuke ourselves into a situation that does not have the technology or population to hammer at the planet so freaking hard.

Most likely the first scenario would instigate the 2nd and those of us who crawl up out of the ashes will start the evolution to revolution journey all over again.

Ain't nature Grand ???
Kora Sani Oct 2018
i start to think about rooftops and airplanes
it is there that we see the veins of our cities
from up above we utter their beauty
a beauty that we can't seem to utter with two feet on the ground
from higher ground we begin to understand
that we are all but small creatures
in a world of unknowns
from up above we can finally see
just how small we are
from up above
we see
possibility
LexiSully Apr 2018
Sitting out on the fresh green grass awakens something inside me.

The dampness of the ground slowly seeping through my blue jeans, the fresh aroma telling me that although the grass was freshly cut, it lives, breathes, and grows

Around me are ancient buildings, housing thousands of students, whose minds are alive—or, to be honest, are most likely half asleep

The mountains stand softly in the background, somehow still partially snow capped.
They form a security blanket, sad when we leave, but welcoming as we come back

And the sky—the brilliant blue majesty above—somehow envelopes all of this, as if it somehow knows each one of us

It holds the billowing white clouds that shape shift into almost anything my vagabond heart desires

The birds flying high in the sky talk with a sort of excitement, and fly away in a hurry

There is a hustle and bustle—people talking, airplanes flying, cars driving—that remind me I’m not alone

And you know what I taste?

Freedom
The freedom that allows me to be whatever and whoever I want to be.
It beckons me to explore every land and swim in every sea.
It shows me who I truly love and who I desire to become

This magical place—has allowed me to find me.
Rohan Press Sep 2018
you ran with me through the terminal, fleeing
the tranquility of geographical association.

it was always the same: a surrender to the overcast;

we watched the sky fill with paper airplanes.
prove my hypotheses: tell me you don't love me.
Gods1son Nov 2018
You rise...
I rise...
We all rise...not to fall
That which seems like a fall
Is meant to be a bounce
To take us to greater heights
Far above where we ever thought

I'm sorry Mr Isaac Newton...
I have come to overcome gravity
Airplanes are doing it, so it's not a new thing
I know it takes a lot of energy
I have it in me and I will be using it

Yes, I'm aware it could get stormy
But that won't be enough to stall me
What is turbulence
Compared to my unwavering persistence

Upward and forward is the movement
These wings are for soaring
Outer space is where I want to be touring
No stopping...Just soaring!
winter sakuras Oct 2018
You are like a
cool gentle breeze in the trees
whistling your sweet tune
and dancing your fingers through
my hair
like a silver stream of moonlight
on patches of silky worn grass
my feet run across
to get to your outreached
arms of pale morning sunlight
that make the sky
blush into cool shades
of rose, jade, lilac,
and peach
your laugh gushes
like a waterfall blue and white
spraying across
the rocks and evergreen I come
to perch on
when all inspiration for ideas
have dried into
strips of sour plums
and I am left feeling
a crazed thirst for the energy drained away
you are as light as a Cloud
white, often times stained
sunset pink and orange
so filling yet so translucent
in that my ideas
pass right through you
and become forever lost
like airplanes with blinking lights
and no destinations
flying across your endless horizon
of thoughtful evening stars
every time I close my eyes
and breathe
you are there fluttering underneath
my eyelids
smoothing my creased forehead
pulling my mouth up into an
upturned crescent moon
placing your palms
against mine
just to let me know
you are there
though only a fragment of
my imagination
you are simply
the stillness in every moment
encapturing a person's presence
to be carried in
the winds of change
yet brought back time and again
when hope has stilled
and home seems like a desert
that you bring
rain to.
10/11/18
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