Bluelight poems on Hello Poetry

Eyal Lavi Aug 2017

Hues of blue wash the evening sky
The moon, alone,
In deference to the sun-
-Which burns and warms and loves. And gives life.
To all within it's fatal grace.
A mistress which both loves and hates and bathes one in its warm embrace and kills one lest you lack respect.

The Bluelight Special
peaks above
The Eastern scape
And scans the West.

In hues of copper, rust and red
The Western sky cools as the day
And as the sun now fades away
In all her glory still she burns
And still she clings
And still she flicks
And spits and licks
Her flaming wrath
Her's is this world
And yet her grace
Which graces all
Is not enough
'Fore all her strength, nay! despite her grip
The world rotates
Though she objects
Yet nature does what nature does
And time ticks on-
-the day now gone

The Bluelight Special rises clear
And soft and bright
And rules the night
In peace it whispers
Can you hear?

The Bluelight Special says to you and me and he and she,
it whispers and the words
you hear
are...

#eyal #moon #sun #bluelight #life

Waverly Dec 2011

Your lips.

Your lips were
at the bottom
of the shot glass
in that dim
blue bar.

Disembodied.
Bluish pink,
and swimming as I swished
around the last
of my drink.

Usually when I drink
I try not to think about girls,
because I get depressed
easily.

You rub my body
in moving beads
and your lips
and the bluelight
are usually the last thing I remember.

Maybe if I
take a girl in the bathroom
and ******* her
on the sink
as the oil in her hair
greases the mirror
and the flies watch,
maybe I'll be able
to blur myself out,
and not even go back
to you
as you stagnate
in a blue glass
full of
blue fluid.

BG Ibañez Oct 2020

The Laptop Charger of Sovereignty

A boxy adapter with rounded edges

Manufactured to channel power—and yet,

Power that is not theirs. Only to channel it

To channel my Windows to the world

To close their Great Wall on our

Silicon valleys?

AC currents charging this Stylish Design i7

Distracting me

From the Capitalist-embodying communism

Red ruling over depths of blue

Screens, screens of bluelight-damaging sight

The sight to sea beyond

What goes South out to see

Pulling the plug on our freedom of type type type

Keep your distance—we can power your technology.

With Ching chong net worth, networks, and netted to worthless than

The need to work, school, hopes

and dreams.

Velcro strap, bundling up wire after wire after

They wiretapped their way

Through our bluescreen pristine.

Censorship, the anti-coronavirus

But virus? We don’t need your quarantine.

Now over 99%, fully charging us all.

For the mediocre price of freedomless speech

Who is in charge?

It feels great to be back. This poem is about my struggle with a certain country and the monotony of work...feeding into the capitalist cycle.

#china #struggle #covid19 #capitalism #technology #freedom #work

Mike Hauser Apr 2016

~Candy's Causes~

Candy's always first in line whatever the cause is
Doesn't much matter what it's all about
Feels it's her place to counter balance the losses
Until the truth is known or a cure is found

Candy wakes early scanning the papers
While the bluelight in the background plays local news
Finding what park or office to picket
Because all the causes gives her something to do

Wears wristbands of colors supporting others
Red, yellow, pink, green, orange, blue
Even has one that swirls like a rainbow
That she proudly wears for a gay friend or two

She likes to think that she's socially conscious
And with nature and life she is in tune
Proud of herself cause she knows she has got this
Though without a cause she'd have nothing to do

One thing Candy's learned is it's never ending
As ones taken down another is found
The way the world is we're just beginning
Lucky for Candy there will always be causes around

jojo Nov 2021

barista boy

He likes to write poems
I think his greatest secret is
He wants poems written in his honor
To be forever preserved in sacred pages of letter and ink
He loves to write poetry
But his poems can not capture
His own beauty
Ink covered fingers or t-shirts with coffee stains
He smells like beach waves and vanilla pine
The way his hair falls in his face
And the pretty boy eyes he hides behind bluelight glasses
He likes to make the moon his muse
He would marry the sound of his own voice-
Projecting his spoken word or monologue across a crowded nighttime space
Nobody knows
This sweet barista boy
Has broken every heart
That every loved him

Cute barista boys are not to be trusted
But they sure as hell will give your heart all the butterflies of springtime gardens
And he will treat you like God
Before tossing you aside

For Finn

Annie Jan 20

Joyless Gin

I had a joy which fell into piles
though the birds were rigged against me,
I had the chance to become anyone.

I saw anger in your dazzled eyes
near the iced-over alley
Angels flew down, fangs creeping through their gums.

I lost my sock in the charcuterie board
stuck to a torn strip of your neck
When I licked it, the silkworms devoured the raspberries.
I helped the alarm sear corduroy in my memory.

You dipped a cookie in the sea
while mushrooms filled your footsteps.
that day you hacked
a hole in my spine,
bluelight scattered.

I had a trail of cream, lead
from my nails to my hips
and hang me in your pomegranate shrine

— The End —