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Sara Jones May 2015
If you ask my friends what I've become
They'll start singing song lyrics
"Tried to find you t the bottom of a bottle, laying down on the bathroom floor"
"You're gone and she's gotta stay high, all the time, to keep you off her mind"
And by God they wouldn't be wrong.
I've taken up these habits and made them my own
Creating my own personal bubble that's headed straight for hell
I'm not saying what I've become is all your fault
But you certainly contributed to my status.
My chain smoking, my drug use, my increased alcohol consumption
My need to drive dangerously fast, stepping into traffic, my laying on blacktops
To everyone I know, it's as if I'm certainly flirting with Death
And I guess its true
And I'm not taking 100% of the blame
Some of it is on you.
Jillian Jesser Dec 2015
I stepped into your apartment
I saw you reading
  sipping coffee
I saw you go to the fridge
and muse at its emptiness
I slept with you at night
we dreamed together
        you didn't see me
but I was there
       when I went to leave in the morning
you looked up
         quizzically
Pen Lux Jul 2012
Lazy lines never writes
she's afraid because of what she might.
Can't seem to find her way
so she's taking a                                                break
from searching.
She sways
in and out of feelings,                                                
from the middle        
she can see the edge                                       break
but doesn't lose her place.
He wanted to hold her
as she rambled away,
kiss her cheek in the moonlight
and play her music by day.

Walk barefoot on blacktops,
backward steps, tripped in flip flops.
He's the scar on her knee, the crackle pop in her spine.
She thought to make him                                                  baked
goods:
precious berries too sweet for wine.

She feels destruction in creation
so her thoughts become less productive
and finds resonance in mistakes.
Words like hot wind
and she's depressing.
Ignoring advice from others,
*******.
Break
                  break                                          
                                      break
she needs it
break
     break
break
she bears it

cheek bruised
from loves subtle encounters,
hands shaking from
works formal banters,
today's not what she expected it'd be:
something sweet in the stomach.
A smooth something to bring out the best,
bitter rest in her breast,
she wants to get a better look.
Jillian Jesser Oct 2018
I stepped into your apartment
I saw you reading
  sipping coffee
I saw you go to the fridge
and muse at its emptiness
I slept with you at night
we dreamed together
        you didn't see me
but I was there
       when I went to leave in the morning
you looked up
         quizzically
OnlyEggy Mar 2013
The feelings of broken minds
the rage
Creeping, freaking
feeling sage
I think thinking's speaking
from a rattled cage
And speaking's shrieking
has soured my brain

I feel clutter by thoughts
in a crowded room
Jilted by vocabulars
on an empty tome
Deafened by the silence
of the un-assumed
Subdued like a man
by a woman's perfume
Left here in a vacuum
vaguely confused

A desk, a chair
the blankness that exists
the door is barred
but I must escape this
Eyes are so distant
as I attempt to resist
Erasers and pencils
put papers in places
Desktops to blacktops
puts distance to this mess
Forgive me, my Writings,
this begins my hiatus
Another Insomniac Poem (AIP)
The Fire Burns Sep 2016
Gravel, dirt or old blacktops
cruising around, not many stops
through a pasture or tunnel of trees
backroad therapy sets your soul free

Driving around, might even get stuck
No high dollar cooler in back of my truck
Just an old igloo, full of beer on ice
Drink them to fast for that yeti price

Backroads and beer
Nobody else here
No cops around
Jamming country sounds

Just me, my lady, my old red heeler
Flip channels, check score, cowboys and Steelers
Blanket and a picnic behind the seat
Pull over in the shade for an afternoon treat

Might stop at the creek for a skinny dip
Squeeze her tight and kiss her lips
Chasing each other and splashing water
Keeping cool as the evening gets hotter

Backroads and beer
Nobody else here
No cops around
Jamming country sounds

Mountains blue, pop the top
This is so fun may never stop
Out in the country is the place to be
No suit, no tie, completely free

Ol red starts barking, sees a rabbit
Pull over, he jumps out to grab it
The chase is on, we watch and see
Reds tongue is flapping but rabbit ran free

Backroads and beer
Nobody else here
No cops around
Jamming country sounds
Pen Lux Jan 2011
I can't sing serious.

ice cold as the stones
from the road in the winter, frozen cold.

bare feet on blacktops
make everything sad!
walking on ladder swings
make everything confusing!

dont know what to say, dont give a ****.

close your eyes
lose yourself in the jump
clip off your nails
and sew on some teeth
eating all the people
with knees and trees
and bees.

hot wax on fingertips
reminds me of your lips.

all of these shades of
black and white wake me up
in such a ****** mood.

want to get out
want to get in
want to move away
from here.

I am a master,
but I'm not the creator.
I'll spell it our for you
but I wont explain it.
I'll paint you a picture
but I wont show it to you.

I'll walk in your door
just to walk  out,
give you an adjective
and take away the verbs

fingers tight
lips loose
feet going for fast
I'll erase your face.
Barton D Smock Jul 2012
i.

one ground to another runs itself rock and rock in the unclosed pebbles of dirt open to aching at the wire your father fixes for free in the canceled warning of crow made gauze for blacktops poured not wholly over a woman-

she a belt buckle drunk pocked full the called back joy of a pop gun.

ii.

over glass I go with my milk bottle feet to church after church past mirrors sick and doctored.

iii.

needs hisself a dog he does the speechless boy drawn mother to his own mute breast -

so he clicks the roach of his tongue

makes a hole with the hole in his sock

makes tunnel sounds.

iv.

my aunt’s ear like a deformed thumb.
my aunt dreaming she says for two.
my aunt changing her mind, her mind
a mid-bread knife.

v.

soldiers able to turn in the throat a chicken bone straight.

vi.

for muscles: jaw down nightly the door of a stove,

jaw it up,

and salute.

vii.

tiny cups cured with sugar cubes and stilled with steam taken

from a skinned
train-born
pig, a train

of blackest
fur.

viii.

about ladders and war, about the devil-

a man stands on his hands in three feet of water. about god-

marco. marco.

ix.

the blue dolls and the gray dolls and the care with which the chosen choose cloth and after
all of it

some meat colored cloth.

x.

water knows your lips, and mine; takes our mouths

on faith.

xi.

*top teeth on the skin of an apple. top teeth mine. a test of joy, joy’s age. mama stepping on a scale holding my brother. mama putting him down, cocking her head, picking him up. asking for a towel. asking nicely be a good brother. the towel, hot from bread, sick with ants. heavy my mouth with sorry sorry. my slapped mouth, my loved love. mama’s hands back from hell. dish soap mama hands

uncut by the hair long had by my head.
Samuel Jul 2011
We are crazed. Compassionately stupid in
Everything there is to be considered known

Let us gather then in the summer heat
On the blacktops above our fathers and grandsons
And run until we breathe blood, until we taste death on our lips
Then let us hold hands and take another step
Coop Lee Jul 2014
the love and romance.
the years lit by artillery.
the wars.

the men did these wild things. these great grand expressions of love and survival.
they’d damage themselves, bleed while moving furniture.
wood splinters better painted red wet warmth.
they’d notch together plum-cut bricks into
crenulations or walls or cathedrals.
home built.

the women: of an ancient woven fiber
and/or old energy, they’d battle serpents into dark and drunk loneliness.
she conspired for a happy life.

death by the meadow.
old woman remembering young woman and
young man,
now old man approaching.
the world forgets, but we will always have eachother.

remember us youths in proto-revolution.
we didn’t believe in what we did.
we lived a lie.
all america.
dreaming and soap opera.
daytime television blastulas.

the wars are fought early, and fierce.
the wars are won and lost on highschool dancefloors.
highschool blacktops. blackboards. breathy
kissing.
spectral codes of light.

and we bloom outward into livelihoods and
incomes.
timelines.
trenches to crawl from shell-shocked and screaming ****** ******.
or not.
but yes -

the world is built on blisters and scar tissue.
nothing is untouched.
nothing is unwounded.
OnlyEggy Aug 2011
I hear the breeze of days gone by
with the whisper of long days, long nights
   and with a sigh,
I strain for the echos, the signs
of loves lost, of games played
of all the grass and dirt and grimes.
   Remember the times?
Merry-go-rounds and nursery rhymes?
That one first kiss that opened your eyes?
To the world of our minds, our maze
couldn't make out the beginning or the end
    of those days
To no surprise,
They're comprised....of swing sets and slides,
    jump ropes and bikes
and just when it was the end of the day,
the wind blows the smell of freedom your way.
Barbecues, fires, and the onset of night
to remind us of the times when everything was right.
   What a sight!
As the grass and trees rustle in the wind
   remember these days,
Of coloring books and crayons, markers and paint
paper planes, plastic trains, and origami flowers so quaint
running around so long that the blue in our jeans had gone...
    faint.

Back then, our friends lived close and the games we played
   in the sandbox and blacktops left us drained
So we sat on the hill and let the wind give us chills
under the trees, in the shade, from the heat we were saved
   So much time was killed!
And yet, we were thrilled...
when our birthdays came,
and our family came,
and our presents came,
And we never felt lame, playing the same games
Making silly names, growing pains
Kissing Jane and dancing in the rain....

And as the wind blows through the silt
and the echos pass us by,
Cry!
For the whispers of the wind have taken flight
Reach out and hold on with all your might
as it is on these memories that your spirit can again fly
(AIP)
Pen Lux Jun 2011
blackberry blackout.
                                   there's only room for two
                                   inside the better half of what's left.
break downs on blacktops.
                       she held together what she saw falling apart
                       taking pity on the fool.
bringing blades to dinner parties.
       search the medicine cabinets: they're rich.
we're not supposed to be listening
or hearing
or wearing
                  all these secrets in the open
stop
pointing out the stains on my shirt: they don't mean a thing.

As time goes by I will only love you more
and more
(this is a water-based reflection: touch it with both hands, and feet.
  hell, stick your head under and feel yourself sink).
As time goes by
I will only miss you more
            
and more.
       shares: of silly strings
of silly things like... losing your marbles!
right before the most important moment of your (teenage) life.

shape me like you did yourself
                 teach me to read before breakfast
it's your morning, it's your moment
reach for it (you don't have to).

it's easy to get caught in a moment:
so *******.
rated PG
Ginamarie Engels May 2013
The air smells good
I'm getting misted on from my window
It's goodmornings like these that I truly enjoy
That I am so grateful for
The drops are falling so loudly onto the blacktops and power lines
Down the trunks of trees and windows
Serenity




Unfinished poem.
Ash Slade Sep 2016
I stepped into autumn rain-

it was cold as it wet my feet
near a rusted black mailbox.

Walking a cracked and weather-beaten driveway,
bent down-
smelled odors of dampened pavement.

Fragrances of autumn when rain showers or pours,
reflect stark distinctions-
from when the weather is warm and dry.

Can't stop wondering, if we're headed toward
a rainy season. That wouldn't bother me as long as
rain-
pattering on surfaces of gray and
blackened asphalt roads and country drives,
spoke of new beginnings-
through observant eyes.

Rain on green grass-
cultivates an aroma of roots and earth.

Pounding down-
picking up steadier momentum,
as it splatters ground.

Soil christened,
by millions of clear teardrops-
streaking faces of clouds above,

rolling down-
refreshing and purifying
deepest roots, buried in dirt.

Everything appears so fresh-
seasons of reinvention,
on the surface of sidewalks and blacktops

represent-
slates wiped clean.

I breathe in-
this autumn air, surrendering
sighs of relief-
as I ponder deliberate ruminations

while listening to autumn rains.
jiminy-littly Mar 2016
o' cinereous city  
give to me your blacktops
where on hard white asphalt
impenetrable, grave and square

we play hardscrabble with toughs
who huddle in groups
hanging keds that swing in the air

a pitch of blank gray
a field of kicked stones
ashen, barren
the end of confusing friends

but still a place to go
and run and run and run
when all at once, filled with children laughing, crying, jumping, stumbling, climbing, bouncing,
announcing life in eternal screams - - let me play!
olympia Dec 2012
the sun is beginning to come out again
but it still burns to touch
the rays of heat glistening from afar
grazing the shoulders and scorching the fresh eyes

everything turned to dust when the light hit
particles of memories and personas leaving on a whim
caused by the fruits of harsh brightness
lasting until the devil went to sleep

but when the moon arose the world cooled
the blacktops didn't sizzle and the benches didn't burn
life froze when the moon came out
into a peaceful state of harmony

but the peace cannot last forever
and when it does, life becomes corrupt
the world grows quiet
time runs out
Gabriel Jan 2014
Continuous reflections of every light that passes,
The detection of my eyes as water simply dances.

Stillness shows a shimmering reverse dimension,  
Tires break the water shattering buildings in its reverberations.

Tiny droplets hit the glass like little expansions of reality,
It is often sad that wet blacktops lead to many fatalities.

But despite the flaws water at night is still the greatest,
Yet the warmer rain brings the sweeter kiss.

In the midst of a rainbow one I cannot resist,
But as we drive down the path.

Seemingly dark and dampened,
You grabbed my hand so tightly.

I never saw the edge of the road,
Flying through the air.

The water seems so very cold,
Now a love of something leads to never growing old.
Leighanna Sep 2018
Paper tongues on the blacktops surface

Canary bulbs falling from skeletal branches

Individual sunrises growing in constellation patches

Sweetened breath blowing around our heads

Golden nests being towed along slowly

Crystal mirrors dotting the surface of peaceful windows

Frigid blankets stiffing early morning grasses
Fall has always been my favorite season. This is just a small insight on how I view this time of year ❤️
Unity Drain Mar 2015
I am from a combination of mismatched homes
And parents that mix like water and oil
I am from swing sets and blacktops
And friendships to help the pain stop
I am from nights on couches and losing my keys
And holding on tightly to my family before I go to sleep
I am from a vanilla, white bread, slow singing church
And I wish that we sang more gospel
I am from my ever-changing community, my family
Anthony Esposito Jul 2022
We were dreamers once
Conquerors of sand castles
And explores of blacktops
Captains of our own imagination
Inhabitants of a world not ours
Stumbling from each experience
To find ourselves lost
Belonging nowhere
and everywhere at once
We were the future
and now we are the past
Clenching to briefcases and money
Cars and Mortgage payments
Workplace Training videos
Love and Death
We were dreamers but we just dream now
Of better times
Old battles from the war on youth
Mistakes never forgiven
But never forgotten
Tilted back gazing into the void
Wondering where the child in you goes
unnamed Apr 2017
I didn’t know that would be the day

The day you said goodbye,

the day the sun would set

never to rise again.

I didn’t appreciate the little things before;

I dared to believe we would all live forever, promises made

Day by day, wound by wound

Forever silenced

Mental images flash, comforting arms, a cocoon of smothering kindness

Caught between running away and breaking the sound barrier in grief

Cracked lives lying on the shattered blacktops in the summer sun

One blistering moment,

motionless in the blast

frozen smiles looking up for comfort

Can’t stop the pain,

it will never fade

forever etched upon our lives.

Battered

Broken

Shattered

— The End —