Keep your cool, There's always money in the banana stand.

Alice Kay Apr 2013

A guilty pleasure
I cannot live without

Anyone else completely addicted to brownies (and all other chocolate) even though you know it's bad for you?
Ashley Somebody Jun 2015

brownies taste better
and fill me up with their love
more than you. that's it.

Brownies,
more brownies,
never can have enough.
Dont you dare ruin my brownies
with peacans or walnuts.
Chocolate goodness in handheld bites.
A brownie filled brownie,
sounds so right.
No icing, no extras,
Just chocolate times ten!
If you have had a today brownies,
then your day is a win.

Diana Zuhlsdorf Jun 2014

Deep brown color, messy as it’s eaten.
Like something that failed to crunch.
Brittle yet soft, rough and delicate.
It can be fudgy, chewy or cake-like, topped with walnuts or apricot glaze.
A heavy horse failing to hike the high mountain of crisp.
Hard on the outside, but not as taut as chocolate-chip cookies, or M&M;’s,
A fragile strength that breaks with subtle touch.
Smooth and moist inside, melted chocolate held together.

Created solely for a royal’s mouth to taste,
Slowly dissolving, sea foam sucked by the damp sand,
A guilty pleasure I cannot live without.
The brownie becoming a beautiful bouquet blossoming
In my chocolate tinted mouth.
It cures whatever ails you,
The flavor empowering any mist of dullness or bitterness.
Forgetting about everything, as he mixed the batter
Creating the perfect combination of smoothness, sweetness,
And the creamy after-taste.
Our favorite thing to bake together.

Friday evening we scurried to the kitchen, creating our own baking contest.
His hazel eyes, swirling with the batter poured in circles,
His lips, whistling to the beautiful sight of brownies, plumping as they bake.

Days later, we would come back to that kitchen,
With the scent of freshly baked brownies still lingering in the air.
We would look at each other’s deep brown eyes
Like the brownies we baked and enjoyed together.
His lips, a wallop of sweetness.

Actually, this poem was an accident. The only thing I was thinking of were literal brownies. I am only 14 years old, please don't sue me.
AM Snyder Jan 2016

Smell the air; he fails.
His mother will be home.
Scrape burnt chocolate into the trash
and spray Febreeze.
Bloodshot eyes
and goodbye Mary.

140 characters or less

In a hologram
I am the man you would like me to be
not real
but you see
it is me,
so
why do you want to know
who that I am?
but the man that's an image
a man you would pillage
and keep for your own.

Pictures that grow up and slow up,then show up just who that you are
an image that's far too inconstant
a solent
a side by the sea
aside from you and me and the oceans that we see
there is only a halogen lamp which tramps out these scenes and in the inbetweens of our dreams
I will be forever
the screens on the doors of the more that you want, and the more that we need,
the more we will seed the cameras with film.
and developed could it be
that we see so much more?

Nearly five in the morning but not quite yet,
my coffee is cold, but its my best bet.
The mind is racing the body has crashed,
a dirty spacebar being constantly mashed.
In the distance there is a disgusting cough,
Just one more hour until im off.

In reading this you will know me.
Each word selected to fit my soul.
My pain lies within each line,
the love I feel represents the whole.

Lost in the depths of my own soul.
With no star in the sky as a guide,
Somedays,
I completely understand
some days,
are left so hollow.

A gemini searching for himself,
in a labrynth with no escape.
I want the knowledge of knowing thy self.
Surely everyone reading can relate.

Though dark days are expected, along with pain
the gain, is worth it when it is done.
This message is for those who understand,
be strong and carry on.

Her

I feel troubled,
at war with myself, at war with fate.
Master of my own destiny?
I wish, I miss
her.

A million dollars is not enough,
A billion, maybe.
Yet longing for something money cant buy.
Her.

My demons haunt me, faultering.
The duality in which I exist
contracts and pulls at the soul, yet the heart only wants
her.

Ready to face the pain of rejection,
the dooming blow of heartache.
The darkness which will claim another piece of me.
Is it worth it.

Who knows,
all the matters is
her.

I can't see you.
I can't protect you.
Burning in your curiosity.
Huffing another smoke, unrelenting.
You don't understand the dream sugar.

What you want, is something important.
Something covered in whipped cream and bbq sauce.
Exactly, me.
Or not.

You see, I'm just a voice in my head.
Burning brownies baked with bread.
You don't like brownies and bread? Well go to hell.
They're my brownies.
Mine, something you can't claim because you have nothing.
No one, No idea and no value to anything.

You value your brain and kill it for not being enough.
Poison your body for not being able to take the strain of life.
Burn your cigarette to take away the pain of being alone.
Striking your soul, praying you never have to atone.

Cologne rhymes with alone you know. Funny coincidence right?
Brain power. Stained flower.
Hope and happiness. Dope and sadness.
Perception. Deception.
Search for
Purpose.
Not whats on the
Surface.

Oh my elusive friend, trying to take the pain away.
The point of life is not to avoid but to minimize.
Like the Japanese!
A child looks for purpose.
An adult works towards it.

Oh me, oh my.
Why do I try,
Its like sticking a camel through the miniture eye
of a needle, I see thru every facade.
The things I love have been deemed me odd.

Oust the judgment
which effects the mental
of the masses, whose glasses started half full.
Now they're half empty,
No problem solved simply
by lying and cheating and all of that bull.

Influenced to forgive and forget,
my mind, in time, forgot.
Now I realize who im not.
Not phoney or fake,
I'll make a mistake
This here is me and all that I got.

Brycical May 2014

New York Sun Editor John B. Bogart once said
When a dog bites a man, that is not news because it happens so often. But if a man bites a dog, now that's news.

I think the same could be said of life,
at least, mine anyway.
Don't worry, I'm not going around biting dogs,
but I am living it up as if my life were a story,
because it is, otherwise, I'd be bored.  

But, if it were up to my parents,
I'd be working some dead-end desk job
at some marketing firm shilling packaged bread
so I could pay off my student loans,
own a home, get a wife & make enough dinero
to march to retirement, just like everyone else.


Same 'ol story.
Dog bites man.


Isn't it more exciting to read
about a roving poet skipping around
the world from Cairo to Toronto
occasionally stopping to smoke on beaches
all the while meeting people
who seem like they're from a different dimension?

I'm not saying I want a book written about me,
but... if one should be in the works,
I know it'd be a real page turner.

Although, most in my generation has been told
we're all unique and special;
getting participation trophies in baseball
& ribbons for being in the spelling-bee,
yet we're all also told, or rather it's highly suggested we
follow suit & get in line like our parents & grandparents did,
continuing their stories of countless wars and conformity.


Same 'ol story.
Dog bites man.


But nobody will read all these identical stories.
That's part of the problem with people,
only a few are living like they have a story to tell
while most fade away in some gray apathy hell.

Well, my brothers and sisters,
I can only frame it to you this way,
if you had a choice between reading the headlines:
Person Does What they're Told Until Death
or
Person Dies in a Skydiving Sound Circle Orgy & Bake Sale
which story are you going to read?

Now, if you'll excuse me,
I have to make some magic brownies
because I'm late to my skydiving sexual education lesson.

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