Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Donall Dempsey May 2015
AN AMPERSAND &...

An & and
an & and another.

I fill up the page
build a wall of &’s

I’ve always loved
their variousness

this the sharp contraction
of the simple “and.”
&&&&&&&&&&
&&&&&&&&&&
&&&&&&&&&&
&&&&&&&&&&
&&&&&&&&&&
&&&&&&&&&&
My writer’s block
hides behind

my wall of ****
ampersands.

Suddenly the words
break through

my man-made
ampersand wall!

“Thought I’d almost lost
you there sunshine!”

the poem beams.

“Ok, words!
Let’s get to work here!”

“Hup hup let’s get this
poet up and running!”

The poem puts
the pen in my hand

puts the pen
to the page.

“Ok son…get on
with it!”

And the hand
remembers

by candlelight how
it all happened

one day in
…French.

The poet goes &
makes a cup of Cocoa.

The page reads
the poem over

to itself.

“Not bad…not bad!”
the page laughs to itself.

“Poets! Ha!
Who’d ‘ave ‘em!”

VERRE D'EAU

il pleut dans
le verre d'eau oubliée
remplir à craquer

le verre vide maintenant
renversée par la pluie féroce
scintillant dans le soleil

une coccinelle rampe à l'intérieur
cet univers de verre
le chant des oiseaux tombe sur l'herbe mouillée
Saurabh Feb 2019
desert rains

Can we be like the rain drops...
we can become one with little hops...

fall as one and hold the sand...
replace the space bar with ampersand(&)..

desert-ampersand-rains...
desert&rains
bucky Jul 2014
day 1: today i found out about the machines. sometimes i can feel your hand in mine. you used to grab it and pull, like you couldn't go as fast as you wanted to without taking me with you. war is never pretty, but you sure are. were. you were pretty. i still remember the last time i saw you.

day 2: do you remember when our names were joined together? people used to spit them out in one go, 'cause there wasn't a day either of us went somewhere without the other. they don't do that anymore. wish you were here.

day 3: i had a dream about you last night. i still can't feel my left arm. i miss you.

day 4: they're working on building machines that look and act like people. maybe i was a test drive. i still miss you.

day 5: i remembered something today (this is rare for me. if you were here i'd tell you why). you used to curve around your sketchpad, like it was a part of you. one night (june. i don't remember the year) i traced your spine and you shivered. i think about that a lot. i'm not sure why.

day 6: i miss you.

day 7: i love you.

day 8: remember our old bean plant we had growing in the windowsill? you used to fuss over it so much. (i used to fuss over you so much, too, but to be fair you're slightly more important than a bean plant. slightly.) you wasted a summer's worth of water on that **** thing, and never regretted it once.

day 9: we used to fold into each other during brooklyn winters, when the heat cut out and we had nothing but each other. now i just have nothing.

day 10: i can't get drunk now, either.

day 11: i saw my gravestone today. yours is right next to it, did you know that? they're both empty. they never found our bodies.

day 12: monochromia. that's what you had. i wonder if it went away after. you never saw colors and i saw too many.

day 13: i dreamt about you last night again. i've been remembering more. it's slow, but steady. fragments of memories every day. maybe one day i'll remember it all.

day 14: again. i think my subconscious is trying to punish me. i wish i could just forget again. maybe it would make everything easier.

day 15: again.

day 16: i haven't left my bed in twenty-one hours. this is the only way i can see you.

day 17: i wonder if you'd have married her if you hadn't died. a part of me (i'm sorry. all of me. every single ******* atom in my body) hopes you wouldn't have. it also knows that you would have. i miss you.

day 18: it's your birthday.

day 19: anachronism: a thing belonging or appropriate to a period other than that in which it exists, especially a thing that is conspicuously old-fashioned.

day 20: hello again. i missed you.
precarious words Oct 2014
you told me to prep for a new season, that what was dying is now dead
said we must steel ourselves with warmth against the first frost, it was the worst no
it was a testament or
just a test
& here, where we carve our winters from the gentle curve of the ampersand
from punctuation that's meant to bring us closer but only moves us further apart
like the swell of a gentle tide &
even the beach must face bitter winds filled with eburnean matter meant to cling to our skin
we will reenact this act, this ampersand
you are the skin
i am the surf no
i am the sand
no
i am the snow
&
nothing is warm
Samir Sep 2012
We are absurd
You and I
Fragments
 
We have created a fermentative reality,
Where words are symbols of relation
That you and I falsify
 
And Bingo was his name-o!
 
Ah!
 
Oh holy onomatopoeic jargon
 
What do you mean?
And how shall we bargain?
 
And mora is but a half step to a whole
 
Eek gad!
 
January Febuary March and April
May I introduce you to June and July
August, Sept Oct Nov Dec
 
Randomly systemized organs organized
Abstract or… dissonant?
But who is in charge?
 
12345
12345678
12345
12345678
 
12344
12344556
12344
12­344556
 
“Why so serious?” said The Riddler
Mellow dramatic
Melodrama
Melancholy
 
 
Pantomimes!
Pantomimes EVERYWHERE!
They are able to speak
But alone I mime, “Do you have the time?”
 
Together we fall!
United I stand.
 
Backwards
Upside down
Inside out
And grammar
 
What’s in a name?
Please don’t be lame
Sarcastic and the glamour
 
Synonymous nonsense
Homophones and nyms
Where are the polysemes?
In the antonyms
In the antonyms!
 
Repitition
Exclamation
Annunciation
tions…
 
verbage verbage verbage
syllables and such
meaningless meaning
defining definitions with such
 
True or False?
Hide and Seek
 
Ring around the rosy
We all fall down…
We all fall down.
 
Black hat, white shoes, and I’m red all over.
 
Salt
Sour
And bitter
And dill
And
And
And
And
And
And
Ampersand
 
Institutionalized poetry
But I am for rhythmic prose!
No, not you
Listen to the hue
that the colors protrude
red green blue
red green blue
 
Black is not a color
Chrome is my favorite
I will not believe otherwise
 
You are an alien.
I have divided by zero
Musical dissonance
*(asterisk)
A beautiful disaster
A shadow without its owner
Wild natured wilderness
And naturally a wildcard.
 
**** **** **** **** ****
Etcetera.
Delilah Mar 2010
The guitar  that you play every day
Is dusty like the lies you leave
Scattered on the floor like your vintage vinyls

Cigarettes you hate to smoke
Burning the lips of the girl
Whose bleached blonde hair you die to dye

Your empty wallet
Your empty hands
Your searching eyes
Brent Kincaid Jan 2017
"I always wanted to wander."
"To wander? To where?"
"From Walla Walla to Uganda."
"That's a wide world to wander!"
"You wanna?"
"Wanna what?"
"To wander?"
"To where, Uganda?"
"Youbetcha!"
"I don't want to onomatopoeia anymore!"

"Are you refusing me?"
"You're confusing me!"
"Do I do that usually?"
"Yes, and it's abusing me!
"I didn't used to be."
"But you see it's no use to me,
So start talking lucidly!
You're coming across abstrusely
By talking so loosely.
You've got a lot of 'splaining to do Lucy."

"It started out grand!"
"But quickly got out of hand."
"But you fail to understand."
"You should have planned."
"Is that a reprimand?"
"You're like the ampersand."
"I don't understand."
"It means 'and per se and';
The pronunciation became bland
And three Latin words became 'ampersand'."

"But, don't you need a vacation?"
"What is the relation?"
"It's a matter of pronunciation,
And sometimes punctuation.
Some words deserve elimination.
Yes, and some deserve illumination.
Thus my original illustration.
In the interest of communication,
Some things deserve enunciation."
"I will accept that explanation."

"But, I'm still hugely fond of
The two of us going to Uganda;
As we internationally wander
I'm sure it will make you fonder
The more the two of us wander."
"But I really don't wanna!"
"Don't wanna what?"
"Go to Uganda!"
"That's what you don't wanna?"
"You betcha!"
"It's okay. They probably won't letcha."
superimposition of celestial ampersand:

a continuity of all things
  stars hanging loose in the pupil
of this deadbeat word.

typhoons in a swirl of tempestuous ballet,
dogs shivering in the blue cold,
biting their canine integument the way
scarabs would, sinking in a temporal flotsam-way within tectonic display
    of text

hectares of blank stares bringing
to life lysergic field of black birds.

and then some

equal number of evocativeness:

continuing on into the ground
are the bones warm in their compost.
the sudden fragrance of rat ****
appeals to the masses.
too much laughter in flooded thoroughfares pockmarked by
the vehement jam of staccato jackhammer.
choking us is today's headline
in supreme obbligato - its stench
reeks of libidinal perfume etched
in the flesh of the rigmarole.

one filthy day in Manila.
Samir Sep 2012
We are absurd
You and I

Fragments

We have created a figmentative reality,
where words are symbols of relation
that you and I falsify

And Bingo was his name-o!

Ah!

Oh holy onomatopoeic jargon

What do you mean?
and how shall we bargain?
And mora is but a half step to a whole

Eek gad!

January Febuary March and April
May I introduce you to June and July
August 28th
Sept Oct Nov Dec

Randomly systemized organs organized
Abstract or… dissonant?
But who is in charge?

12345
12345678
12345
12345678

12344
12344556
12344
1234­4556
“Why so serious?” said The Riddler
Mellow dramatic
Melodrama
Melancholy

Pantomimes!
Pantomimes EVERYWHERE!
They are able to speak
But alone I mime, “Do you have the time?”

Together we fall!
United I stand.

Backwards
Upside down
Inside out
And grammar

What’s in a name?
Please don’t be lame
Sarcastic and the glamour

Synonymous nonsense
Homophones and nyms
Where are the polysemes?
In the antonyms
In the antonyms!

Repetition
Exclamation
Annunciation
tions…

verbage verbage verbage
syllables and such
meaningless meaning
defining definitions with such

True or False?
Hide and Seek

Ring around the rosy
We all fall down…
We all fall down.

Salt
Sour
And bitter
And dill
And
And
And
And
And
And
Ampersand

Institutionalized poetry
But I am for rhythmic prose!
No, not you
Listen to the hue
that the colors protrude
red green blue
red green blue

Black is not a color
Chrome is my favorite
I will not believe otherwise

You are an alien.
I have divided by zero
Musical dissonance
Asterisk*

A beautiful disaster
A shadow without its owner
Wild natured wilderness
And naturally a wildcard.
**** **** **** **** ****
Etcetera.
Sleuthed Nov 2012
\'how is it that even something like

----     ----     ----                              poetry ...=

                          {}?  can be confined to little

          //.        prisms +±#

                    and language%

is like
'

          ''~  the untimely sun
                                 (I want my words to be the moon
                                                                                              ''/'"//]
                  ever waxing{
                                  and waning|

    and unable to describe)              |||//


^^how is it that even

                                     love*'

           is dealt with in little words ;;
                            spat out in little moves

   and falls away without leaving anything behind ..≈



                          and what is a poem ˚

which cannot confine                                      &;;_

          ..)))  all the sounds that i need


                      ¶••                               each little
                                                                       chk, sk, tw, cr, wt, mx, zb, ydˆ
        .  or every
                          sh, wh, au, oh, lu, qi, je, ei~      


and rhythm is measured in ⁄ ⁄

                                             ›   metres and
                                                                       rhymes .‹

   ''                like falsetto archepelligoes
                                    stretched out in fixed times ...'"



but words are never enough˜

                                                   for (me/you)..//¡!



              and •°love is like·




                            weather balloons



                                                                              all adrift

                                                                                                        with



                                                                                                                         the day.
Brian Turner Aug 2020
I am ampersand
et you are you
My mantra is continuous
To support us through

There is no juncture
No delay, no puncture
No sign of stopping
No sign of dropping

The pressure is high
We can still touch the sky
We can meet the demand
We are ampersand
I like ampersand so why not create a short poem out of it. Ampersand comes from Latin. It's the merger of e and t (et) meaning 'and'.
Donall Dempsey Aug 2015
she said her name
was: "Zeta Ampersand!"
"Wot?" I wotted?

her Da had named her after
some mathematical function
Ampersand she just liked the sound

she even signed her self
ζ (& ) "...the artist formerly known as
my self!"

"59 & 509...both primes!" she smiled
"30, 031...isn't!"
"!?!" I said

I watched a snake
of sweet sweat slither
between her cleavage

"...the Buckmisterfullerene molecule is
like a soccer ball...blah de blah.."
"Uh huh..yeah...I'm...eh...listening..."

to my heart beat
wildly out of control
she an Everest...I the foothills

said she liked
Daft Punk & kissing
"Now there's a coincidence..." I whispered

Daft Punk I didn't know but
I had a 1st Class Honours
in kissing &...stuff

we made love with
AROUND THE WORLD on replay
"Call me Z..." she sighed

*** with her was like
voicing alveolar sibilant fricatives
"Gee Zee...geeee!" was all I could say

I was an quantic entity
experiencing wave/particle duality
for the first time forever
Words are of no object,
Just like the past does not exist.
And the future
Is not foreseen.
Words have not object.

But to make the world alive,
Words are objects.
The past is reenacted,
The future is predicted.
But these are both lies
And both truths.
To exist is to be present,
To be in the world.
Words are present--
They disappear.
The past happens--
It is forgotten.
The future is coming--
But it always looms above our heads.

To make it exist--or not--
Is to choose your present carefully.
There is no gift exchange.
You-- and the universe-- depend on
    Words
    Pasts
    And
    Futures.
Ampersand Definition: The sign and word for &
J Patrick H Apr 2013
Who's that leopard in ecstasy
(and Ampersand Cornelius Gray)
who learned to trot briskly under lamp poles
and rescue a ***** worn mug from the clay
                      that which bore them.

She signaled with a passing glance that the entrenchment should pass,
giggling eyes that sparkled from pearls and concrete teeth.
I pivoted on the unmoving coordinates, the universe revolved.
From within her a spirit rose up and clasped my face in its hands,
and I, red with terror, dove head first towards the sands.

He howls out, burdened.
He is unaware of my condition, beneath the waters;
here I lie in wait,
too, in weight.
Here I lie
beneath the crushing force of the universe.
On the bottom of the sea, the top of the Earth,
a smokestack, of golden flames, fills my heart,
rumbling, confident and unafraid.

The Leopard sits, its paws splayed out on a bed of ferns.
Upon its raised position, it lies, basked in ethereal warm light.
The fierce awe of strength and knives of metal,
racing above ground on knees of silent, yellowed corduroy.

Who waits with the Leopard, alone and cold?

Who knows the beast the captures my wonder?

Here I lie, in servitude, enslaved in my claw cave.
My paws are pale, in this oddly worn nave.
Tide Islands Dec 2014
To say I thought about you
was an understatement.
My lungs ached with the
sound of your name
pouring out with my breath.
It sounded so lovely paired
with an ampersand and mine.
My heart fell into rhythm
with each syllable that tumbled
from between your lips.
It pounded so longingly
within the walls of my chest.
My nose savored the scent
of you that wafted into
my nostrils when we passed.
You smelled like pine needles,
cigarettes, and the cold.
My eyes locked onto you
and your vibrant red hair as
you walked alone in a crowd.
You always stood out no matter
how many people were there.
My hands would write each
whispered word I had of you
dwelling deep within my mind.
I never had so many words
until the day I met you.
I still think about you, and
that is still an understatement.
I'm posting old stuff, because new stuff that I write is in need of heavy editing. If I posted new stuff, you'd all think I was drunk. (Which I am, slightly...) I'll shut up now.
23.12.13
© J.E. DuPont
The cards had been falling badly for
The man that they knew as Jack,
He’d entered through the scullery door
In a faded, stained old Mac,
He didn’t look like he had a buck
Til he reached into his coat,
And pulled a roll of hundreds out
That would choke a Nanny Goat.

They said he could play a hundred down
And a hundred for each raise,
It didn’t appear to faze him then,
He said, ‘Well, loser pays!’
He fooled them all with his poker face
And he bluffed at first to win,
But by the time that the clock struck eight
His roll was getting thin.

When Diamond Jim played a Royal Flush
And took his final note,
Jack stood up and he shook his head
And reached out for his coat,
‘I thought that you’d try to win it back,
You must have more to spare,
I’ll wager it all for what you’ve got
In your pocket, double dare!’

Jack then sat, and his eyes had glowed
As he scowled at Diamond Jim,
Pulled out a tarnished silver coin
And he said, ‘Well let’s begin!’
They eyed the coin on the table-top
Its head like a man with horns,
‘You can’t look now at the tails of it
Til you own it, then it’s yours.’

‘What would you say that coin is worth,
I’ve never seen its like.’
‘There isn’t enough in all the earth
To purchase it, by right,
It must be won in a game of chance
As I won it, long ago,
From a man like a Turkish Sultan that
I met in a travelling show.

Diamond Jim dealt a single hand
And he said, ‘What if I win?’
‘Then you can look at the coin’s reverse
And the chaos will begin!’
‘I think that you’d better show me now
Before we play this hand,
I’m not so sure that I want this coin
With its evil Goats Head Man.

Jack reached out and he tossed the coin
Which spun for a while up there,
As each man suddenly felt the pain
Of a deep and a dark despair,
It took forever to clatter down
And rest on the table top,
The sign of a Spider facing up,
They thought that their hearts would stop.

For up from the coin the spirits came
Of the ones that they’d loved and lost,
And all of them seemed to be in pain
As the wailing came across,
They lurched away from the table, and
They stood and they shook in fear,
‘By God, there’s Marilyn Ampersand
Who drowned in June last year.’

The walls of the room then fell away
They stood on a stony beach,
A woman was drowning out in the surf
But totally out of reach,
And Diamond Jim gave an awful cry
From the depths of his shattered soul,
‘I’d give the world as a ransom, dear,
To bring you back safe, and whole.’

Then Jack had snatched at the tarnished coin
And flipped it up on its head,
The room returned, they were standing there,
‘You can bring her back from the dead!
You only have to possess the coin
Are you willing to play the hand?’
But Jim had wiped at his fevered brow
And shook, he could barely stand.

He took his winnings, all in a roll
And he pushed them back at Jack,
‘Just take your coin and your money too
And leave, don’t ever come back!
I like my world as it is, my friend,
Though grief lies deep in the groin,
But Marilyn won’t be coming back
From the other side of the coin!’

David Lewis Paget
bucky Jul 2014
wring your mismatched hands together they don't belong to you but they're still yours
you watch old reels, the war replaying on a silver screen
relearning a past you still don't remember (your hair used to be short, but you like it better long)
your smile is crooked when you look at him
you don't know if it's fondness or hatred (or something in the middle,the point between rage and bone-breaking love)
he'll never understand how easy it is to make men into machines
but the blueprints for your breathing patterns are hidden away in ones and zeroes in the back of your mind
your tongue and teeth are stained with your old body, ten thousand lifetimes ago you still feel your arm sometimes
ghost aches haunting your every step
when you close your eyes you see an ashtray, blood filling your eyesockets like saltwater
you've forgotten about that night (1942, the war playing in the background as you looked at him, soft around the edges) stars falling from his palms into your chest
you're an ampersand, your fingers interlocked with his
when you ask him what it was like
(you aren't sure what you mean, but he is) he says, soft around the edges,okay
and it's enough
war isn't pretty, it's a tragedy and so are you but it's enough for now
press your fingers into the sway of his back
cough russian winter into his lungs
and try to forget about it
i think it is fairly obvious what this poem is about
Spicy Digits Jan 2019
I climbed giant boulders
to gather wild berries for you
A heavenly golden lake stretched
across your vision.

Unfazed by my generous offering
Oblivious to the dragonfly hovering
You drowned yourself in screen-time, buffering
I waded out alone.

I picture wrapping my legs around you
the air full of scents of homely comfort
a long day lightened with sweet laughter
our minds rest, immersed in fictional realms

But online games take away our nights
Political trivialities and football highlights
I sit and dream of smoldering fires on campsites
While you fall asleep alone.

In darkness I wrestle with the devil
for my piece of present moment, untainted
I beg for black viscous sleep to drown me
to wake without feeling half of me is gone

And you wrap me in the soft fabric of your skin
And you chase away the sprites to let the light in
And you breathe for my lungs as the attack glows dim
And it's just you and me alone.
No relationship is perfect, but be with the one who will sit with you in your darkness.
Shi Em Jun 2018
you are the draft
of my poetries
that I have kept hidden.
you've taught me how to render
all these feelings to be unspoken.

you are the song
by which the octave
of my voice can't reach;
and yet I still try to sing you in secrecy.

you are the art
that my simple mind
can't seem to understand
but it's okay, because I feel you
and that's what gives these emotions
an infinite ampersand.

you are all these,
and yet to me, you are still nothing.
because in this life, that is all we are, and is all what we are ever going to be: nothing.
and I - although it hurts, have learned the hard way on how to accept that.
Poetically QUEEN Jan 2021
I believe I can be free from you
That the memory of you is less a tattoo
More of a bruise

Painful
Not permanent

Yet a memory
still
Is what you held me
And yet still lingered briefly
was the belief I had in being your wife

Your King’s crown
Only a fool’s gold
from Jill Scott’s script-ure

Karma is my favorite *****
and I won’t even have to wish her on you

Your demise
already Materialized
in the form of Your weakness’s
Imprints on me

To be clear
This is about me now
My evolution
almost makes me want to thank your ***** ***

Because What I’ll do with this hurt
Is God’s work
Breaking generational curses as I
Dare to heal in public
The audacity of me


See...You never understood me
Never bothered
You may have taken my first time from me
But you were the only one slaughtered

You’ll never forget
The night you killed your soul
I’m your tattoo...yet stranger
Judgment day will be your toll

&...
For me?
The ampersand runs deep

A magnolia blooms in my womb
No longer A tomb
for all the Ways
yo mama didn’t love you

Will you tell her you hate her?
Once you do
Will you tell her to
“Get that look off your face you act like you never been in pain before”
Look her in the eyes when you do

That’s your thing right?

It wouldn’t be your first time anymore either
You don’t have **** to lose
Gon head...Let that hate sink deeper
Heal in the light
Evolve always
When the ampersand means more to men and the sword
becomes much mightier than the pen
it's time to leave Mesopotamia alone and
travel down the river, home
to the sea.
Johnny Dust Mar 2021
I miss your friends
I miss my friends
I miss everyone at once

You’ve got the heart I’ve got the aches
Babe
And God I wish I was coming back
Sully Dec 2014
Will I remember the reminder?
To turn on my brain again
I woulda thought I'd be kinder.
Dead red-eye at the day's end

Leave the silver in the sink
Let the dishes sit and soak a dream
Spot the terror in your rearview
So far closer than it may seem

Spot the drips drip dripping down
And I'm speaking like a black-white clown
Full of thoughts, but they're in your voice
Nothing better than a broken toy

This kid is churning like a big machine
Just like a cheetah on a T.V. screen
He's just an elemental, mental boy
Iguana man: search and you'll destroy

Make up a letter from the magazine
Pair of nail scissors and the short clippings
Nothing so near and dear and true to you
as how familiar smells the duct tape glue

You know nobody told the bumble-bee
And now you know that it was news to me
Strung out coyote stepping off a cliff
And he could fly except that he's scared stiff

You know I'd like to change my name
Into the curlicue, ampersand
So that I'll always stay an inkblot stain
Until the books all rot and turn to sand.
III
Dean Eastmond Dec 2014
Foetal positioned in the womb of her ampersand,
a child to the connected string of unholy clauses,
always adding more and more and more
and,
and,
and,
stuck in the expectation to carry on,
creaked and crusting under the weight of the words
you promise you’d put back after you used them.
It’s getting hard to distinguish between rest and end.








ъ
Brent Kincaid Jan 2017
President ****
A massive old grump
Talks like a garbage dump.
Throws the country into a slump.

Has no heart to go thump.
Gave racism a big jump.
Gathered fascists into a clump.
Now we all have to ****.

He should be inconsequential
As he has no credentials.
Nothing presidential.
Statesmanship? Purely residential.

He’s mostly pestilential.
No morals evidential.
Facts ruled non-essential
To mindless millennials.

Suddenly he has at hand
The highest office in the land.
Confetti and a brass band.
No ceremony is too grand.

The laws he doesn’t understand
With money ostentatiously fanned
He showed he had the winning hand
But still can’t spell words like ampersand.

Now we’ve made him king of all
Among villains he will stand tall.
We should give Ghostbusters a call.
This **** has us against a wall.

A wall to be built that will surely fall
But for now he is having a ball
With American bigots in full thrall,
Their white God has heard their call.
Amanda Feb 2014
I daydream f a r  too much.

My eyes must have been kissed by the starry sky  

& ampersand &

the wispy clouds are tickling the very tip of my nose,

and
oh
yes,

I am on my tiptoes.
Hi there!
x
I hope *crosses fingers* that you, you and you enjoyed this little nonsensical writing!
Eeek. I get so excited and happy share these little writings. Perhaps it's the fact, I am shyly showing you bits and stitches of my heart on the other side of the earth?
Much Love,
A'manda
Song of Monday: If you Stay- Joseph Vincent
Mitch Nihilist Oct 2016
&
I respect therapists
like I respect anthropologists,
they dig and encounter an ampersand,
they can always inform beforehand
and foreshadow results,
but they found my bones
below 6 feet
and can’t form an answer,
they knew where to search
they found the ticking finger
pointing at lazy fissures,
and buried blisters
but dripping shovels
keep raising a faded flag
that says
“they’re nothing here keep moving”
onlylovepoetry Apr 2017
~


so obvious the mistake
the ordered disorganization

the summation of a man's life
in an ampersand -
a logogram connection
tween two words,  
finally, properly sequenced

error then trial, then error then trial

perception - my life is an endless trial
punctuated and worsened,
periodically pierced
by errors
made of your own free (not really) choosing

"whenever confronted by a fork in my road,
I always chose wrongly"


and aye, here's the rub
the same mistake made repeatedly

example prime:
falling in love is just another way of saying
gonna end badly

and you constant cravenly confess
to yourself the ending unbecoming cause
you can read the handwriting on the wall
for your specialty is


*only love poetry for dummies
Anne M May 2014
Curled like an ampersand
around a telephone
that never rings in time
with the words that sing in her ears,
She waits again.

Her hands and lips
cold-blooded mercenaries
that ****** what she can’t quite hold
with silence and questions.
with ellipses and time.

So she pushes again
seeking definition.

But finding the horizon has never been so hard.
Her vision so thoroughly blurred.
And the sunsets force her closer to a Something
she can’t quite believe in.

So she pulls what she knows
into herself,
rolls into a familiar shape and waits
for a phone that has always been ringing,
A voice she isn’t ready
to hear.
Liam Kleinberg May 2015
i was born with a sickness that dripped from ***** blood bag
she was born with gold ribbons tying her skin together
i wish i could have pulled a little harder
unraveled her from the outside in


she said i was small and insignificant


i told her to water me
give me incisors
sharpen them like the knives in my kitchen drawer
you won't recognize her  


can you drown in the forced love of yourself?

i love me i love me i love me i love me i love me

is that why i can't dig up the old roots that she buried inside my chest?
i am filled to the brim with artificial self love
where does the love for other people fit inside?
im a broken puzzle piece that only fits inside itself
i thought i had found all my pieces but really
it was an ampersand
trying to make a bridge to cross from one life to another
smooth sailing


oh mother

oh father

you created something that looks like how scratches on a chalkboard sound
i am
so
so

sorry
James Shasha Sep 2010
A tisket, a tasket, tinker with the aforementioned
I can see I have missed an engagement.
Expect to establish a celestial tuber, reflecting only
the light of a dark white inference.
AMPERSAND, bitchez
a New Revolution Poem
James Floss Oct 2017
Come on, comma,
#hashtag, pound for pound
Embedded endash–
WHIPLASH!—EMDASH!

There’s the exclamation!
But the crux of the biscuit:
Zappa’s apostasy
Is the apostrophe

Suave semi-dash-colon-
A change of ideas, but not;
Punctuation as comedy:
And th-that’s all, folks…
Period.


(don’t get me started about the $#%¥!ing little upper right circle degree thingy)
Paul Glottaman Nov 2010
You told me you hated me.
Then you told me you loved me.
That was the first time you said it.
I had always heard how close
those two feelings are.
Love & Hate.
(The ampersand is fancy.)
But you said it.
“I hate you.”
“Why?”
“Because I can't stop falling
in love with you.”
I should have laughed.
I should have bristled to
mark how silly I thought
that cliché was.
But I didn't.
I danced in place.
I gave the wall next to me
a high five.
I never do that.
I believed you.
I actually believed you.
How remarkable is that?
Paint in acid
scream into static
through perceptions pallid
with desires archaic and elastic.
It doesn’t really matter
who lies at the other end of the ampersand
smoke and mirror shatter
grinding from glass into sand
yet here we stand
malleable and plastic
underhand
and egocentric
hallowed by introspection.
Our shadows long lost in the tide
with the whispers of deviation
I guess, I shouldn’t have lied
but you were my only means of abstraction.
Now,
we’re just timelessly out of fashion
now,
we’re recoiling from the passion
that was once instilled
visceral
riled
so sweetly sacramental.
JC Lucas Oct 2013
Breathe, breathe on.
let's sit across from each other
so we can
breathe
each other in.

I can smell the pheromones
in your hair
from the next room over
I'm listening to
you
pack the last of your
things
and I'm asking myself if you're really
trying
to make that much noise
or if you're just
******.
and you shout that I'm being an *******
and start to leave
and I wonder if you can smell
the *****
on my breath
when I say
"bye."

and I wonder if you really misheard me when I slurred it
or if you just wanted to hear me say
something
else.

And I wish there were something else I could say
to make everything better
and put you on the other side of that closed door
so we could sit
and breathe
each other in
and get high
on the tension
on the pheromones
on the *** stained on my breath.

But you're not.
You're outside
and I'm inside
and I can't hear you breathe
or sing
or cry
or say our names
separated by a miles-long ampersand
or whatever it is you're saying to whoever you're saying it to.

and instead I'm just getting high on cheap cigarettes and cheap ***
thinking about
everywhere
that's not the bed I have to sleep alone in tonight
thinking about
everywhere
you could be riding that bicycle.
thinking about
anything
I could have invented to say to you
but it has all been said.

So breathe on,
and I'll try to do the same
between the long drags
and drams of cheap *****.
and in time, maybe
there will be
something
to be said.

— The End —