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Ashley Chapman Sep 2017
In pubs with bar flies.
Kronenburg, Becks, Carling, Stella Artois and Fosters,
Dancing in our blood,
Utterly inured; we are endured by all:
The solipsism most profound.

And when Johnnie, Jack and Jameson join,
The sentimental and the morbid
Are conjoined.

And ****!
In the custody of beer halls,
The shadows that draw, fade,
And calls – e’en Death’s! -- are put on hold!
No time; instead, before the last, another pint.

For in this hallowed inn,
Drinking what’s in the glass,
And espousing the glow within,
Cares regress.

No woes,
Or loaded psyches,
For when the pressure builds,
The best: a jet of yellow bliss,
Relieves the pain,
On Armitage Shanks' porcelain.
Quinn's is pub in Camden. Armitage Shanks a ****** & toilet manufacturer.
Sam Hawkins Jul 2018
Dare to live.
Stop insisting on chasing after death.
Stop trying to die.

Quit the grand illusion.
You shall never die.

Grow your wings and fly to the mountaintop
of your world.  Breathe stars.
Bravely go alone. Only you can do this.

Regularly in your day--exercise conviction.
Visualize Stars, the Sun.

Golden, fibrous threads
of starlight, of sunlight --

take them in through the nostrils.

This is nothing less than
soul's power-fuel.

Inhale slowly and experience
the gentle music of love's fire,
as flames would pull up
a chimney stack, up pipes of ovens.

Faith builds with such breath practice.

Greed cooked transformed.
Anger put to sleep.

Ignorance surrendering
to ways of knowing.

Prepare that your purpose
shall speak to you.

Breathe starlight.

Are you surprised
that you feel no heat?

Your unique timelessness
awaits your recognition.
Loki spat in the eye of the All-Father
and demanded once and for all to be seen;
Prometheus stole from a heavenly god-herd
the fire that illuminates darkness and dream,
for supremacy builds not the path aright --
subversion is the key to effulgent light.

Bitterly bled for the world's salvation,
destined to die vigintillions of deaths
to deliver all people from fatal oppression,
the architects drawing the gods' final breaths;
yet rarely the saviors for whom hymns are sung,
after the blood-stained Götterdämmerung.
Carter Ginter Oct 2014
My stiff arms hit the metal of the door as I force it open, against
the chilled fist of wind, pounding hard upon the glass
windows and then equally upon my face and forearms. It had to be
below 50 degrees, but I had hoped that the cold could help me
feel again. Feel something. Unfortunately,
this ice only froze my fingers, leaving
my body as numb as my mind.

Later, as I rid my machine of the cloth concealment, protecting
the scars laced into my skin. The water boils as I
examine my life-lines, these battle scars, in the mirror and
can only cringe in thought of the disappointment drowning
the faces of those I care about most: their eyes
drooping down with the weight of eyebrows, creased
diagonally, half shock and the other half burning
discontentment. They purse their lips and stab my eyes
with their daggers, when I chuckle nervously.

I shake my head of these thoughts from my speculation and
step into the steam, hoping the heat could help me
feel again. However, the fire does not scorch my
body, nor incinerate the emptiness, it only slides
down the marble sculpture my body feels to be
(equivalent to the concrete barrier that builds behind my eyes)
laura May 2017
26
you know deep down
the answer
you want to try it
pressure builds walls
and you like it

got messed up feet
from those heels
tennis shoes and skirts
like a school girl
and i like it

but bad lessons are all
i teach
Robert G Page Aug 2013
By
rgpage

The cool evening breeze filled with a scent of approaching rain.
Caught by playful window shears
as it passes through an open pane, to reach their  
length and breadth toward the waiting bed.

He was a lover of music and his woman,
a passionate man with a sensitive heart.
She was in love with the melodic way  
his gentle fingers moved with sensual touch
over her soft silk like skin of art.

He started gently around her ears softly prying
them open with the quiet richness of her melodies.
Each note of his gentle kisses leading her to a sensual abyss,
easing her down from the edge, controlling her descent, to her goal.
Down the swirling dark and light blends of the music rendered from her soul.

She was his instrument on which he placed
his soft loving fingers, moving them effortlessly,
caressing her most sensual delicate keys…Each body part
smoothly rubbed added richness to her sensual sound driven by lust
and loving trust.  

Her ******* he fondled, licking and kissing, squeezing and rubbing.
Silently giving thanks, to her creator for such an amazing instrument.
Both of her hands with long slender fingers tangled in the long dark locks
of his hair as she eases her maestro’s head up tighter against her soft
beautiful mounds.

The loving melody continues with his touch now joined with the sound
of raindrops splashing into uncovered metal buckets and cans. The drops
carried on the breeze through the playful dancing shears came through the other end as nothing more than refreshing cooling mist.

Her body was his loving piano, and as with the 88 keys of his magnificent
Baldwin, the sensual areas of her equally magnificent body, when properly stroked,  filled not  only the bedroom but the whole house with the most glorious ****** notes known to man.  

After a while the symphonic ****** builds as he masterfully impales her with his instrument of love coming into constant contact with the one special key of keys. Its special sound as his strokes came harder and faster brought the whole master piece to a beautiful melodic end as the two lovers bath in the rain’s gentle mist…
Cindra Carr Oct 2010
Blood and Fire
Blood flashes
Blood pulses
A wall of flames consumes.
‘Alain!’ I cry.
‘Alain!’ I wail.
Blood pulses out as the breath leaves her.
‘Alain!’ I roar.
Blood-red flashes
A tide of blood replaced by fire
I am lost.
The fire consumes all.
Flame builds
The world goes red.

cc2010
David N Juboor Dec 2015
My mom
Tells me I'm a gift.

She says love
Is what keeps the atoms
In you and I
Is the moment
She caught my
Father's eye
Is the day
My grandfather died
With a candy kiss on his cheek
She had never tasted something so sweet.

When we were little
We played kickball,
The ground is lava
And hide-and-go-seek.
As I grew I knew most days,
It was harder to find myself;
Let alone somebody else.

And I have been around
Enough center city playgrounds
To see the rich
Pump every bit of spare change
In their veins fighting
A cancer that they
Never learned to put in their past.
To see the poor
Wage wars with themselves
Trying to pick up
Way too much,
Way too fast;

Nobody really knows how to make love last.

So put your prism your heart
Beneath the moonlight.
Refract the wavelengths
Of your wonders
Into ROYGB-eautiful like the sea,
It took a lot of jellyfish to let
people see through me.

And even more mirrors
To find a place I was comfortable
Praying in.

Fraying in doorways
Where I learned hope,
Is looking both ways
On a one way street
Cause it can be so easy to thank God
While you still have bread to eat.

I have never prayed
So hard for a healthy meal
Than the days I remember
The heart is a muscle;
And sometimes the only
Thing we need
Is to "work it out."

And I know that some days,
My doubt hangs my
Smile like Jesus Christ
I never quite learned
How to bleed right.

But if there's one thing
I found from cleaning
The crosses out of the
Empty hallway of my character
Is that you haven't experienced loss
Until you've held two outstretched arms
For years waiting for your innocence to come back.
Nothing, weighs more than the guilt of your past
And nothing throws punches
Faster than the ghost of who you used to be.

And I know it's hard
To stop looking for yourself
Under every bed you
Left nightmares in
And I know it's hard
To be comfortable
In your own skin

But sometimes bars
Aren’t the only thing
That builds a cage
And sometimes
The only way to live
With yourself
Is to stop digging
Your own grave.

You can spend years
Listening to morticians
And never get grounded.
Surrounded by the
Square roots we all share,
By the same air,
We've all got to learn to let go.

To learn that
Holding your breath
Has never been how
Living things
Learn to
Grow
"We're all hurtling towards death, yet here we are for the moment, alive. Each of us knowing we're going to die, each of us secretly believing we won't"
Stephanie Irvin Sep 2013
I walked along the wire of Madison Ave
Wanting to be just like the movie
When I saw a girl reading poetry to a tin can
Strangers fed her one dollar bills
The ones with white sneakers just stared

I walked over puddles
Filled up with oily tears
Thinking of how I scream
So loud
And no one is ever around to hear it

This girl kept the rhythm
Skirting the cat calls and grime
I wanted to wrap around her
And grab hold of her mind
But I walked on
Too scared to hear the end

The rain doesn't stop
When we go inside
The rust just builds
On tin cans
And all of us search
For another tomorrow
unedited and unfinished
KiraLili May 2015
Each time we push something down
Those moments we do not say
Holding back from telling how we feel
Suppressing what should be known

Politeness stops us often or decorum
Avoiding awkwardness or a hurt feelings report
Subjugating ourselves to avoid conflict  with another
Knowing full well that silence is acceptance

You hold back more than once
Pressure builds and you endure
The little things add up more often
What should have been said is now yelled

Stress or a disagreement breaks the seal
Before you hold back , before you repress you should find out
Put your tongue out  far and clamp down with force
See how long you can truly hold it, how long can you bite your tongue
Jordan Rowan Aug 2015
There's a chill in the air and wind 'neath your boots
There's clouds in the sky and trees with roots
If all were to fall onto your crying head,
Would you carry it home or lie down dead?
The strength you have defines your choice
Will you whimper and cry or show your voice?
Through sorrow and pain and happiness and joy
You either run and hide from all those you employ
Or show them what you're made of inside
For what you do becomes who you have to hide
Not what you say with fury or a gentle tone
But the actions you take when you're all alone
When you're down and out, almost recluse
And you feel as if you have no use
If you still get up and challenge yourself
You will become prisoner to no one else

There's a song in the air and dirt 'neath your boots
A song that carries on down to your roots
Back from the days of no chores or worry
When nothing was done in any sort of hurry
You can hear these words in the back of your mind
And it takes you back to a simpler time
These little moments, spontaneous and surreal
Show you how you can always feel
Feel good and joyous even through the worst
When tired and hungry, they give you thirst
These little moments are found throughout life
They can break you free from worldly strife
And these things define who you were before
And change who you are to forever something more
Harkening back to when you were innocent and clean
Can make you try your best to better your scene

Your moments in life are yours to keep
When daydreaming or your lost in sleep
The worst will come and so will the best
The dark before the dawn always sets to the west
You can succumb to the pain that comes with years
Or you can fight back the stress and fight back the tears
Through everything that comes your way
Only you can change how you live out your stay
Others will come and others will leave
But what holds together is what you believe
Strength is within and without you
Within is taken while without is beside you
Hold onto a grain of meaningless sand
And notice how it's light in your hand
Just for that moment it's harmless and vain
But if you hold on forever it builds into pain
Word *****. Complete rambling of someone trying to make themselves feel better by trying to describe with actual strength is.
KiraLili Sep 2016
The day of hiking is done
Cradling a brandy snifter by fire light
A stone hearth blaze warms me as my hand warms the tulip glass
The amber liquid builds a vapour bouquet
Aromas of distilled wine and fired oak gather at the top of ballooned crystal
The warmth of my breath gathers as condensate on single pain glass
As sips evaporate on my tongue,  flavour becomes relaxation
The windows will catch my breath like frost paintings
The mountain air and wind keeps one in at night
But the brandy will keep you warm
Switzerland early 90s
Sebastian Macias Dec 2016
I never know what to do
Or even what to say
When we talk death;
Somebody shares
With someone else
That the life of another
Has been taken away
They bow their head
They give their hand

I see them,
Those in mourning
Their eyes are filled
With memories they once
Shared with the departed
Trying to hold onto it
Trying to remember more
And more and more and more
The pain builds up
But the tear must drop
And it will splash forever
Kevin T Wilson Jul 2013
There is poetry in silence.
It's void creates endless thoughts, thoughts that deliver fear and regret.

There is poetry in the way some people hate.
The hate that builds bombs and funds war, wars and more wars with peace killing hero's.

There is poetry is the loveless *****.
Her sweaty breast are better than all of us.
Her common sense has been beaten and explored.

There is poetry in the addict just trying to feel better but coming undone.
Climbing high and falling fast.

There is no poetry for the poet.
Art does not create reality.
Reality creates art and reality is forever changing.
- Apr 2016
whatever we think we have
is destructive

they say opposites attract
but what they don't say is
damage seeks out damage

we both know this is temporary
we'll never gonna choose each other

we are asymptotes
staying close to each other;
would never gonna cross the line
or would we?

maybe we're perpendicular lines
we'd cross the line
once
but that's it
or is it?

maybe we're each other's point b
each other's end point
but i doubt that

I think I know what we are
We are black splats
or stains hiding
in each other's blind spots

we see each other
when we want to

hide each other
when we want to

and I am tired
of being your temporary cure
because healing you
is like alcohol
it kills me but gets me addicted
makes me miserable yet happy
healing you is like being offered
space cakes
no matter how hard i try
to convince everyone it's harmless, it destroys
it builds me up
then lets me down
makes me feel everything then nothing at all

i don't know how it happened
all of a sudden then all at once

we both know this won't last
please erase me
wash the stain
open both your eyes
let go

whatever we think we have
let it die

---

let This die
but dont forget

we'll stay close
enough to keep each other warm
but not too much to let each other burn
Asante' Nov 2018
He can’t stand to love,
Yet he can’t stand to hate,
Afraid of exposure,
Its vulnerable weight.
So he builds up his walls,
To protect him from feeling,
Covering old wounds,
Which keeps them from healing.
And she sees he’s guarded,
Yet tries to unveil
The past he is hiding,
His secrets to tell,
Hating his walls,
But she can’t tear them down.
Wherever she is,
He just builds them around.
Commuter Poet Mar 2016
This world is
An incredible place

Home to billions
Of living entities

8.7 million species
Each contributing
Their own living efforts

Every ant, that moves a leaf
Every bird that builds a nest
Every fish that joins a shoal
Every ray of sun that warms the earth
Every rain drop that falls
Creates an interconnected symphony
Of possibilities

Making the world

Nutritious
Dynamic
Evolutionary
Compassionate

Home

What a miracle to co-exist with it all
What a miracle!
6th March 2016
cait-cait May 5
creation builds houses...
brick after brick,
and
she works hard in the face of adversity.

creation builds a house,
and i build a home,
for tiny children... but i cannot keep them
warm.

you don’t believe me, when
i say that
things are not well... but when
have you ever had an answer,
anyway?

all blank-faced, and
angry...

i guess...
i was meant to be alone,
because
creation means building a house.
and
being someone means keeping it
warm.
I’m fostering a set of three kittens with no mommy, and one of them died. She was sick so it wasn’t a surprise but it made me feel awful. Rest In Peace.
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