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Paula Swanson Sep 2010
Let's see, my oldest son was about seven years old.  The boys had to ride a buss to
school, which my oldest did not do well.  He has this way about him, that tends to have
women authoritative figures letting him off the hook, when he's been naughty.  I always
thought it was his eyes and devilish smile.  They both still get him into and out of
trouble.  But those are stories for another time.

This particular year, he was having a must difficult time behaving on the buss.  He had
discovered that he could be a real clown and the girls loved it.  Go figure.  The buss
driver gave him multiple warnings and "Buss Tickets" for misbehaving.  But, somehow,
he was always forgiven by the schools principal (a woman) and never got detention.  
Even when we insisted on it.

All except this one time.  On the last day of school, he decided to end the year with a
bang.  He came home from school that day and acted as though nothing had
happened.  Later that evening, I received a phone call.  It was the buss driver.  She was
laughing before she was even able to tell me why she called.  Although I was 100% sure
it was about my oldest.

Apparently, he was a little angel the whole ride home.  That alone made her suspicious.  
She pulled up to his stop.  Out he got.  Then he mooned her.  The way the buss driver
told it, it wasn't a quarter moon, nor a half moon.  But a FULL MOON.  He had hitched
up his pants and ran before she could get her wits about her.  She said she laughed all
the way home.

Well, I started to apologize through my laughter.  I assured her that we would most
definitely take this in hand.  But she stopped me and stated "Oh,  I'll handle this".  She
shared with me her plan.  I had the hardest time all summer, not telling him, that I
knew what he had done.

Next year, the very first day of school, my oldest went to catch the buss.  Oh, I had a
hard time waiting to see what would happen.  That afternoon, when he came home, he
was upset.  "Look what she did Mom!  I can't believe it!" he whined.  There in his hand,
was a bright red "BUSS TICKET"  The reason on it was marked in bold felt
pen..."Mooning".  Now, you would think that he would be upset about the mooning.  
Noooo, not my son.  His exact words were...."I can't believe someone that old would
remember what I did."

sigh  That boy has never changed

On a side note:  He and his Dad had a long talk about that Ticket.
emil hernried Apr 2016
everything I do hurts you,
my happiness stresses you out
my energi smother yours,
highlights your loss of it
the same way the kind gestures show me
your weariness
I am well and you aren't  
I would take it all
in a nano second but I can’t
I’ve tried but I can’t
I play tired and I play sick
I’ve tried to show that we’re the same
but i know  
it doesn’t make you less sick
not a single bit
all I can do is to grow
and try to hold your hand
even if you’re left behind
and all this, all this
until death will tear us apart.

I can feel the normality
sending a friend request to death
I can feel time accepting it
I start to recognize the blended soft colors
and the feeling of life coming and going
just hoping it isn’t in my hand.
I am turning into someone else
I say I’m happy
because I know it matters
We have one thing in common here
we don’t complain because the nurses teach us that’s what kills us in the end
I try to stand up outside all of it
I try to feel like anything else matters
but it doesn’t
I’m scared my happiness somewhere else
takes away the happiness we have
until death tears us apart

I take the buss back home
I leave you behind
I fake my way up to sit at the top so that I can see
I have a photo of you on my phone to remember
just in case you would go away
It’s a new feeling a mix between everything
and nothing
I write it down
because I can’t loose these seconds
just in case you would go away
It makes life feel so important
It makes everything else feel stupid.
It makes you stronger
It makes everything heavy
and all you can is hope, hope that it’s not
until death tears us apart

There’s a pregnant woman who wants my seat
I let her have it
I go all the way back I pass one with a burn mark on his face
I wonder how many tears have happened the last ten minutes on this buss
I wonder how they take it
I don’t know how I take it
I know the barr is lower here
the scary part isn’t getting sick
here it’s dying
and in that case
I know I’m the lucky one  
Until death happens to me
and I feel happiness knowing
I’m the lucky one  
I can be light flying over a bridge while everybody else takes the buss
until your death will tear me apart.
Efosa Omorogbe Feb 2016
Fire my eyes shut.
A trail-blaze of thoughts light up my temporal
Answers never do speak in demand
Tongues caught up in hope trip up with excitement
Because words are much more powerful
They might just come true...
They might!

"Find me a girl who will allow me to love her?"
My heart asks with a skip of a beat
The song lyrics always seem to make it seem so simple
Album art illustrated fantasies?
Or just conforming to the industry?
Put your face on it!

Put her face on it!
With the freckles, untamed eyebrows, moles, discoloured lips, natural hair, uneven skin, no makeup and insecurities.
I will see her better.
"Oh, Efosa whatever!
Add the push-up bra
High heels
Curvaceous hips,
Plump red lips.
Who are you kidding?
To buss a nut if you ask
Yes! Buss a nut in her ****
Until you *** over
It's a man's nature
Stop denying it
Makes life easier
Beggars can't be choosers now
Embrace the dark side
Who ever said it was a bad thing?
You're doing yourself a favour
Now...
Stop talking to yourself!"
Jolan Lade Jun 2018
Shirt on, tie and suit
Rushing out the door in new shoes in hot pursuit after the buss
Onboard, looking for a free seat
Looking for new people to meet
Of the buss, rushing to Uni
Have to be there before eight
I'm late, guess that's just fate
Ready to study, human philosophy
Human evolution, what a catastrophe
A real equation, philosophical question, then the answer and a spicy evaluation
Not what we thought, something we forgot?
I guess not
Thinking really hard
Well, I'm not all that smart...
As me, why close thee thy eyes
     When each other we kiss,
             My babe dear?
     Now what nectar is there
     In this my wet tongue
     That does thee wrong,
  Or in that thine poppy lip that lies?
Yet we do ourselves buss just for the bliss!
Anonymity May 2013
A wind glides across the brow
A cauterizing of the brain has begun
A cool rushes forth and fills the body
Lips bubble out no words
Sensations no longer linger
A solemn pit fills your heart
Silence fills the soul

Buss, we must.
Death is with us.
O Prince, O chief of many throned pow’rs!
        That led th’ embattled seraphim to war!
                      (Milton, Paradise Lost)

O thou! whatever title suit thee,—
Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie!
Wha in yon cavern, grim an’ sootie,
     Clos’d under hatches,
Spairges about the brunstane cootie
     To scaud poor wretches!

Hear me, Auld Hangie, for a wee,
An’ let poor ****** bodies be;
I’m sure sma’ pleasure it can gie,
     E’en to a deil,
To skelp an’ scaud poor dogs like me,
     An’ hear us squeel!

Great is thy pow’r, an’ great thy fame;
Far ken’d an’ noted is thy name;
An’ tho’ yon lowin heugh’s thy hame,
     Thou travels far;
An’ faith! thou’s neither lag nor lame,
     Nor blate nor scaur.

Whyles, ranging like a roarin lion,
For prey a’ holes an’ corners tryin;
Whyles, on the strong-wing’d tempest flyin,
     Tirlin’ the kirks;
Whyles, in the human ***** pryin,
     Unseen thou lurks.

I’ve heard my rev’rend graunie say,
In lanely glens ye like to stray;
Or whare auld ruin’d castles gray
     Nod to the moon,
Ye fright the nightly wand’rer’s way
     Wi’ eldritch croon.

When twilight did my graunie summon
To say her pray’rs, douce honest woman!
Aft yont the **** she’s heard you bummin,
     Wi’ eerie drone;
Or, rustlin thro’ the boortrees comin,
     Wi’ heavy groan.

Ae dreary, windy, winter night,
The stars shot down wi’ sklentin light,
Wi’ you mysel I gat a fright,
     Ayont the lough;
Ye like a rash-buss stood in sight,
     Wi’ waving sugh.

The cudgel in my nieve did shake,
Each bristl’d hair stood like a stake,
When wi’ an eldritch, stoor “Quaick, quaick,”
     Amang the springs,
Awa ye squatter’d like a drake,
     On whistling wings.

Let warlocks grim an’ wither’d hags
Tell how wi’ you on ragweed nags
They skim the muirs an’ dizzy crags
     Wi’ wicked speed;
And in kirk-yards renew their leagues,
     Owre howket dead.

Thence, countra wives wi’ toil an’ pain
May plunge an’ plunge the kirn in vain;
For oh! the yellow treasure’s taen
     By witchin skill;
An’ dawtet, twal-pint hawkie’s gaen
     As yell’s the bill.

Thence, mystic knots mak great abuse,
On young guidmen, fond, keen, an’ croose;
When the best wark-lume i’ the house,
     By cantraip wit,
Is instant made no worth a louse,
     Just at the bit.

When thowes dissolve the snawy hoord,
An’ float the jinglin icy-boord,
Then water-kelpies haunt the foord
     By your direction,
An’ nighted trav’lers are allur’d
     To their destruction.

And aft your moss-traversing spunkies
Decoy the wight that late an drunk is:
The bleezin, curst, mischievous monkeys
     Delude his eyes,
Till in some miry slough he sunk is,
     Ne’er mair to rise.

When Masons’ mystic word an grip
In storms an’ tempests raise you up,
Some **** or cat your rage maun stop,
     Or, strange to tell!
The youngest brither ye *** whip
     Aff straught to hell!

Lang syne, in Eden’d bonie yard,
When youthfu’ lovers first were pair’d,
An all the soul of love they shar’d,
     The raptur’d hour,
Sweet on the fragrant flow’ry swaird,
     In shady bow’r;

Then you, ye auld snick-drawin dog!
Ye cam to Paradise incog,
And play’d on man a cursed brogue,
     (Black be your fa’!)
An gied the infant warld a shog,
     Maist ruin’d a’.

D’ye mind that day, when in a bizz,
Wi’ reeket duds an reestet gizz,
Ye did present your smoutie phiz
     Mang better folk,
An’ sklented on the man of Uz
     Your spitefu’ joke?

An’ how ye gat him i’ your thrall,
An’ brak him out o’ house and hal’,
While scabs and blotches did him gall,
     Wi’ bitter claw,
An’ lows’d his ill-tongued, wicked scaul,
     Was warst ava?

But a’ your doings to rehearse,
Your wily snares an’ fechtin fierce,
Sin’ that day Michael did you pierce,
     Down to this time,
*** ding a Lallan tongue, or Erse,
     In prose or rhyme.

An’ now, Auld Cloots, I ken ye’re thinkin,
A certain Bardie’s rantin, drinkin,
Some luckless hour will send him linkin,
     To your black pit;
But faith! he’ll turn a corner jinkin,
     An’ cheat you yet.

But fare you weel, Auld Nickie-ben!
O *** ye tak a thought an’ men’!
Ye aiblins might—I dinna ken—
     Still hae a stake:
I’m wae to think upo’ yon den,
     Ev’n for your sake!
Turt Jun 2013
With your words that made me fly somehow.
But hidden within ur innerself its always been your sweetest lie.
Talking bout your dreams devouring me like ashes twisted and slowly disappearing.
The truth acts like a spirited-away. Letting it fly back to its inside.

There's this always inside of you. Something hidden and somethng blocked. Stopping you from outpouring what's inside.

Mind and heart was in despair. They were always contrary but hearing all! With your honesty, i know there is all the droppin of everythng. All numb but eyes were all blown. I cant stop it.
But all a could say. Everythng was fragile.

Revenge has always been part of the human soul. not in its anatomy form or any interior or exterior aspects.
But functioning with its own parts.
Its the anger! Where it all starts. Jealousy and hurt were the main stream and always end to suffering.
Thats all for love. We'd all be needing for us to feel even.
Just a pinch of happiness just to get fair for someone that we love but did somethng wrong within us breaking us. Attacking every tiny vessels which in the end, Turning us into an evil creature.

It was a buss - telling me it was that simple thing. Not to make it more bigger. But lets end this up.
Still it hurts,... Still. Its another woman. Such senstivity arising.
Sharon Talbot Sep 2017
Sere and yellow,
Rough and round, [bright pebbles in a mound]
Pitted and mellow,
Winding our necks round,
We wore them.

Amber beads unearthed from clay,
Fashioned by my artist love,
Glowing yellow, filled with day,
Captures sunbeams from above.
I still love them.

Some say gods have made these,
To ensnare the light of Sun,
But we women saved these,
In memory & hope of sons,
We keep them.

Fat & smooth as butter,
We turned them in our hands.
The bone beads scraped with madder,
The amber just with sand.

Those of shadowy carnelian
Embedded like a shield,
We treasure as we fear them,
Like wounds on battlefields.

The others soaked with brownish earth,
Sere and yellow,
Rough and round, [bright pebbles in a mound]
Pitted and mellow,
Winding our necks round,
We wore them.

So, when we are dead, take not from us,
These rounded, golden suns,
But bury them with us, with sword and severed buss,
To revere the slaughtered ones,
Who never returned to us.

Revised November 15, 2016
This poem was inspired by several photos taken by poet/photography and historian, Giles Watson, of amber and other beads unearthed at an Anglo-Saxon dig site in England. I was struck by the way the amber still glowed after hundreds of years beneath the earth, and the artistry of them.
Ston Poet Dec 2015
I buck the system my *****, like forget the system ***** , This world is  so Corrupted, The government just wanna take away are feelings, & make us into killing machines..just like the Nazis
(****  America)..Uhh

(They lie to us2,..MK Ultra,
(Its mind control
2)..mind control
This **** is getting way outta control..)*2

Uhh, The **** been going on , I been In my zone,
I been sad for so very long..
I been writing all alone, I been stuck in my room, broken mirrors, & Monarch butterflies all around me, The voices in my head won't leave me alone mane, tryna distract me from my Fathers truth homie, I'm having  Dreams of demons tryna take hold of my soul..(I won't let em get to me thou..)..Ayo, I'm getting so sick & tired dawg..Im feeling very depress, homicidal & suicidal, like Tommy Wright the 3rd but forget killing myself dawg.. I'm  just about to buss out the AK & go Rambo &  make these ******* die dawg..They are gonna feel the wrath of Young Ston Poet.. The ****** Disciple , that I felt for so very long..Man its eating up my insides..Uhh

I buck the system my *****, **** The system my *****,..I'm bringing pandemonium..
**** The CIA ***** , America isn't protecting us  , They ain't doing nothing but putting us on a string..Uhh, So Forget America mane..Im blowing **** up like the Two brothers did at the Boston Marathon dawg..Real Talk man..Uhh,...I just don't give a **** any more,about nothing..Yeah

America **** them..Yeah
America is just filled with puppets man.. Sinning Machines, humanoids,clones..****, people thats just here for devilish purposes, like assassinations, & prostitution..
**** all of that sick **** man, **** being a robot for the white man, **** mind control..Imma stand against the **** ****..This is Only For The Real..This is Only For The Righteous.. Uhh

They lie to us, Its mind control.. MK Ultra..Uhh
stonpoet.tumblr.com
Pitch Hiker Dec 2017
We are just kids on a school bus
We fill the bus with gossip
Tears, laughter
And the joy of daily conversations
With each others company for the
Hour we are stuck together
We are just kids on a school bus
On our way to greater things
Or less than
Planning to change the world
Wondering how
Or maybe not knowing if you will
Have any sort of affect
We are just kids on the school bus
Not knowing our worth
Losing our things
And accepting good deeds
For what their worth
We are just kids on a school buss
With the wheels going round and round
Juno Oct 2018
Varje dag jag går på buss tio
och jag ser någon som ser ut som dig


Och det passar bra.
Star Apr 2012
from the moment i first saw u i thought u were gonna be my everything.
u told me how beautiful i was,
you told me how i wasnt fat,
you told me how u like me bc of the way i look.
but 2 weeks after you were telling me how im not beautiful, i am fat, and you dont like me for who i am.
you broke my heart
then after i get over you 2 months later you come back
you kiss me and put ur hands in my pocket as u slide your fingers between mine,
you tell me you love me
and the feelings come back AGAIN!
then i look for you the next day and you tell how it never ment anything
and then u leave again
then all of a sudden your standing at the buss stop beging for me too come back
stop just stop coming back do you not understand all your doing is breaking my heart
im trying to move on just stop because you really dont love me im just your back up plan just be a man and stop breaking girls hearts because one of these days its gonna happen to you and your gonna feel horrible just stop coming back !!!
Shannen Bremner Oct 2012
A kiss from a firefly can cure a cynic of their cynicism, make the nonbelievers believe, help the hopeless grasp the illusions of hope, and even reveal the marvelous maps of the mind; because a kiss from a firefly (and what a brilliant buss it is!) steers one into a sloshy slumber that smears the line between deepest desires and fanciful fairytales:

                                     The feisty fairy fights nymphs, trolls, goblins, terrible ogres, nasty pirates, talking elephants, one gypsy (mainly because she stole some pixie dust in attempt to fly away to her next destination), and two silver cats, who could read her mind and she did not like that; but the plucky pixie never did steer clear from the twinkling glitter-bugs who held the key to Wonderland:

                                                    ­        She drifted off into a slumber and she dreamt of owning all the knowledge that could possibly be held and she dreamt about flying on the back of a dragon and she dreamt about walking on water and tumbling down the rabbit hole and she dreamt of sincere sorcerers and mischievous mermaids and pink penguins who could speak perfect Portuguese and she dreamt about falling in love and being a child again and she dreamt that her father could walk her down the aisle.

Oh, the wonderful whimsical kiss of fireflies killing the beliefs of nonbelievers who dare not dream of dreams, it’s a slippery ***** for those who can’t dilute delusions—a glorious path of the glowing!—leaving them to wake with hopeless hope.
Mitchell May 2011
Tripping through the page
Leaves any kind of mad man
To do his or her "thing"
Tis' a funny feat when one meets
Their madness
Their mayhems
Their happiness
Their lies
All on a page
That is not quite anything
But something that wills
Another spring
That speaks jealously of
Foreign sand picture frames
Cat nip party grass naps
And memories of images
Torn
Burn
Scattered
Covered
In the insane rain
As if one were looking in the mirror
And reflecting
A face which they had never met
Yet had seen
Perhaps passing
On a near by L train
Or a buss filled with heads
Like a hole of mice
Instead
These things to believe manuever through minds
Much like these rats
In those darkened crippled peeling rooms
Burrowing deeper deeper deeper
Until the thoughts are not thought
And wait to die
As another
Truth filled
Lie
Jasmin A Dec 2016
He saved her from finishing last in the race for top spot on the beauty scale by finishing last himself.
He knew about her dandelion kissed heart making wishes upon more wishes searching for those seeds blown by her everlasting, heartbreak drenched breath into the anonymous wind.
He saves her while she bleeds out dead crocodile tears not wanting to take the same tissue that could replenish her very soul that.
He held out for her for the past year and a half - no try eternity and a half.
As she wanders these halls she is broken and he wishes to restore her but the Hydrangea buss melted off her skin and flew to never land or was it the Netherlands?
She feels them both the same as he remembers.
Is her heart really gone because he tried so hard to chisel through the brick wall only to find stone after wretched stone?
Are her finger tips so soaked with sadness and pools of depression from wiping off what the others call... What do they call those clear, wet broken dreams she wipes from the corner of her eyelids?
Tears. Oh tears. Yes.
Tears so they called them and oh such a simple word for a much more gargantuan meaning.
As the ocean leaks from her eyelids colored black from the mascara she uses to hide those insecurities woven deep within the organs held together in a system to make that beautiful gentle dandelion that is the organism called HER.
As she wonders where the seeds have landed from those dandelions she blew in hopes of finding that forever romance she comes to find that lying on your chest the day you broke through the solitary confinement over what she thought of as insignificant - her heart grew out of that rigid boulder of a shell and she didn't have to wonder where the wind took those dreams because those dreams were under her head as she rested in that bed. your bodies leaked all over the love scented sheets rocking to lullabies of sweat and the aroma of rose petaled 'I love you's' .
He never stopped trying to break through that barrier she carried behind that feeble rib cage he made it his mission his priority careful because one small flick could cause an avalanche of deep red cells that will leak through wounds made by the razor blade that she'd call savior.
That she wouldn't call but scream and the only one who would hear it was he.
And so determination.
It drove him off the cliff called insanity only to be lifted into that cavern of a soul she had buried deep inside.
It was like entering heaven and now he knows what it feels like and no fantasy of a land that you visit after death kisses your lips ******* the breath out of your lungs through your throat could ever measure up to that moment that she looks in your eyes and your souls can no longer qualify in the world of words, terms, phrases and etcetera and etcetera and etcetera as plural.
Oh, another love song.
© Jasmin Aguinaga
brandon nagley Jul 2016
i.

Behold mine Jane
Behold;

ii.

The star's and the rain
As us doth come
And go.

iii.

Though in the amount
Of hour's left; I shalt blow
Mine breath, into thy
Soul.

iv.

Home sweet home,
I am with thee; verily
Mine queen, I've been
Sickly.

v.

Trapped in this bed-
Spirit burdened, many
Demon's hate this light
That God hath started.

vi.

They do mark me
With their reptilian nails;
Though one day all
Their evil shalt fail.

vii.

And whilst I fight, I won't give in,
Mine glow doth shine, betwixt many men;
As ourn Creator bought us as one in him,
Soulmates, best friends, this heart doth yearn.

viii.

O' this heart doth yearn, a fervent burn,
Awaiting for thy buss of roses, sweet, serenading;
Creating heavenly poses.

ix.

On the right Christ
On the left side Moses; none losing focus,
With the mountain scented view.

x.

None goodbye's, but to say
I do; a place always new;
As loving wilt be the
Highest command.

xi.

We'll bury ourn worries
In the ocean sand's; as
Thou shalt take mine hand,
With seraphim to be ourn
Witnesses.

xii.

Catch mine breath
And touch mine
Kisses.


©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedicated( agapi mou )
Behold- See or observe.( Mean see)
Doth- does. Or do. ( This one using as does).
Sickly- poor health.
Verily,- truly.
Hath- have also means has. ( Mean this as has).
Reptilian-relating to or characteristic of reptiles.
Whilst- while.
Mine- meaning ( my) archaic form!
Betwixt- between.
Ourn- our.
Fervent- hot or glowing, mean this as glowing.
Thy- your.
Buss- kiss.
Pose- pose- assume a particular attitude or position in order to be photographed, painted, or drawn.
Wilt- will
Seraphim- an angelic being, regarded in traditional Christian angelology as belonging to the highest order of the ninefold celestial hierarchy, associated with light, ardor, and purity.
Her ships, sailed across oceans of Perfumes
Like ghosts of flowers on the skin of a woman's face
Has she woke up or has she established this before
Her ships will take her to any place she'll imagine

When she tread down the street
She suddenly tripped
In front of a grocery store
She Bite her lips turn them
blushing red with embarrassment
At that moment
Her ships almost enter a whirlpool
One man stopped her and asked
where you want to go:
Iceland? Jamaica? New Zealand?
The end of the world?
Any particular place?

She got on a buss and discovered three cities
There is nothing like the bustling of a city
that never stops
to preserve woman's youth
As the square market  whisper her poems
Her ships took her to:
Iceland, Jamaica, New Zealand,
The end of the world
To any particular place

But what happened to her in front of the sea ?
No one can really tell
She smiled and and her eyes glowed
Her imagination is soar freely,
And then she Said:
My ships will take me wherever they will
Iceland, Jamaica, New Zealand,
The end of the world
To any particular place

ובחזרה לעברית
סירות, לטייל ברחבי אוקיינוסים של בושם
הם כמו רוחות רפאים של פרחים לעור פניה של אישה
לאחר מכן הוא מתעורר, או שהוא הקים לפני
הספינות שלה חדש קחת אותה לישראל
היא יצאה לרחוב מעד מול המכולת
היא נשכה את שפתיה האדימו ממבוכה
הספינות שלה כמעט נכנסת למערבולת
ובחור אחד שאל אותה לאן שהיא צריכה.
איסלנד, ג'מייקה, ניו זילנד, סוף העולם
במקום מסוים
היא עלתה על קו וגילה שלושה עיר אחרת
אין כמו עיר ללא הפסקה הבכורה של אישה
היא סיננה שיר מרובע, בשוק נקרא לה גברת
הספינה שלה לקחו אותה לארץ חדשה
איסלנד, ג'מייקה, ניו זילנד, סוף העולם
במקום מסוים
מה קרה לה מול הים היא ממש לא אומר
הסתר את החיוך ושתי עיניים זוהר
הדמיון מפליג חופשי, זה כל מה שהיא אומרת
הספינות שלי לקחת אותי לאן שהן רוצות
איסלנד, ג'מייקה, ניו זילנד, סוף העולם
במקום מסוים
sophia Aug 2017
salty
tears race down the side of my
freckled nose
which will get there first?
to
the point on my face
the sun has kissed
the most

temple
burns
eyes
drowning in fear
my skin
yearns for a minuscule buss of the sun
the warm wind on my cheeks
the sienna light of the sky

my head
residues upon a pillow
as if it’s been detached
and laid to rest
no longer apart of my nature

what if
the sun is our oxygen  
and we spend all
our nights
searching
for a breathe of fresh air
Ciara Ryan Dec 2015
I wish I could fall in love again
So no time, no time wasted was spent
I would stand up and kiss you all day
In the hopes that you would stay

Follow me into the night
Your eyes are the only things left that are bright
Kiss me, hold me, never let me go
Cause I just want you to know

You're the only one for me

Follow me into the dawn
Everything else is foregone
It's just you and me
The rest are asleep so no one will see

Just lay your head on my shoulder
Can you tell that the world is getting colder?
That's the distance growing between us
Only we can change it with one simple buss

But I don't want it anymore
I suffered for too long
Trying to get us to go further along
But all I was doing was forcing what we really are

Strangers
...
John Beetle Oct 2013
London ON has it’s crazies,
the one, well… Well he was a good guy.
I was drunk and sad and waiting for the bus.
The old crazy comes out of the corner
like some ****** greaser.
He mumbles everything and looks sad as well.

We both got on the bus, and we talk, no…
Mostly he talks (mumbles),
and he shows me his buss pass.
It is from 1986, and for reasons unknown,
has not gotten a new one.

I don’t know how it still has its use,
and I don’t know why, it feels, they
always come and talk to me.
they just can’t leave me alone.

but again he was a good guy,
a wise old ****,
We both got off the same stop,
I give him three bucks for a drink,
and head off to the bar.

the bar was empty and so was I
and getting filled up on coke and wh
isky.
JL Mar 2013
In fact they will stop on rainy street corners
To read us behind glass black and white
Televisions flickering
They laugh at us and toss cigarette butts
Getting into taxis
Off to some important date
In old gilded hotel lobbies
But on the rainy street
Our poetry is lost
'Neath the hustle and buss
Of their everyday feet
brandon nagley Nov 2015
i.

Miracle baby
Cometh from
The hand
Of paradise;

ii.

Miracle lady
Cometh from
The land
Of turquoise sea's;

iii.

Miracle queen
Sleepeth sweet
Tonight;

iv.

Miracle angel
I am thou;
Thou art me.

v.

Miracle cherub
buss me in thy
Bathe;

vi.

Miracle lass
Forget thine
Past; now we're
In today.

vii.

Miracle gift,
Mine heart
Uplifts, when
Thou art near;

viii.

Miracle Jane,
In pleasure
Or pain; thy
King shalt be
right here.



©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
Buss means to kiss someone or kiss if anyone wondered (:::
When beauty is in trance then love takes a chance
Lover has to take all aspects in sight and in focus
When lover and beloved are in love and in romance
Lover embraces his beloved with bundle of buss

I take your taste whether I am in hurry or in haste
You are my destiny and you are my real destination
Like a drop of dew you are so pure and so chaste
I salute to your charms and just to your veneration

Let me touch in jubilation, let me take intoxication
From your essence from your beautiful fragrance
When together we are we go through love season
I love your innocence I am enthralled by excellence

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
tRon Mar 2011
My heart beats arrhythmic rythms

The dissonance spells love

in every language but ours

yet

one sugar buss will drive me through

the long night's laments


I know

It is better

This way
brandon nagley May 2016
i.

I thank thee Almighty, for the pulchritude of the blue,
Thou hath rendered me with a woman, a gentle darling
Of Asia's moon.

ii.

I thank thee O' father, for the firmament child, thou hast
Been merciful to me, with a queen of coastline wild's;
As I buss her in only sleep, I looketh forward to ourn coming,
Knowing one day we shalt walk hand in hand-
Face to face, glory stunning.

iii.

I thank thee O' Theos, omnipotent upon thy throne, to praise do I giveth thee, engineer of flesh and bone; thou hast made mine bed in heaven, and on Earth Jane mine abode, thou hast given me an offering, a soulmate to mine soul, How more than satisfied I am-
To calleth her mine sweet, O' Yahweh do I setteth mine life down upon thy feet.


©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl jane Nagley ( àgapi mou) dedicated
pulchritude- beauty.
Thou- you
Hath- have.
Hast- also have. Or has.
Rendered - given,
Thee- you.
Firmament- the heavens or the sky,
Buss- kiss.
Coming-fufure, or what's ahead.
Theós- means God in greek.
Omnipotent -having unlimited power; able to do anything, also means God.
Abode- home.
Yahweh-Hebrew name for God.
Setteth- set in archaic form...
Wake up before dawn
**** it all
Throw on clothes
Stumble to your car
Drive through the down pour
Arrive to a cement prison
Joined by another
Shed jackets and shoes
Grab frozen poles
Work too early in the rain
Put it together
You're done for the moment
In time you turn to her car
She drives
Coffee is essential
You two can't life
But you do anyways
Sitting in the warmth
On cushions you won't have later
You talk and laugh
Just like old times
New place
Different coffee
Same duet
Time to go
Back into her car
You arrive on time
Once out of the weather
You two must venture back out
Running through the puddles
Rain splattering your faces
You stop
Open the door
Walk in
She tells you to  take your pants off
You don't bat an eye
No pants now
You try on clothes
Find what you need
Put pants back on
Back into the rain
You find the buss out of place
Direct in sync
Laugh and continue on
Losing steam now
You two stop running
Walking in time
Everything is together again
Your smiles the same
Back into the warmth
Two peas in a pod
You fill in each others blanks
Knowing looks have returned
Finally you can relax
Only for a bit though
What comes next is even worse
But you both love it
Alia Ruray Jun 2014
The road shining
Ahead of us
Left me wondering
What's there to buss?

Some say "it's tiring"
"We should seek for another way"
But in the end of their whining
They decided to do it, anyway

The more I see it,
the longer the road becomes
Still, I admit
For that shine I will succumb
For that shining road, I succumb

With these little stocks I have
It might be longer to finish this
With these little stocks I have
It might take.. Forever

Fine by me
Because I took an oath
An oath to guarantee
An oath with my troth :

*"For that shine I will succumb
For that shining road, I succumb"
Arcassin B Sep 2016
By Arcassin Burnham

In a trance with a different light in mind,
I provoke,
Like the entertaining women dancing for their menfolk,
That's a joke,
Degradation of women is not the subject mostly when
Need to be told,
I guess it might be getting old,
Solid gold,
Chambers with secrets in it like Harry Potter,
Feeling elevated off the ground like a helicopter,
Cops and robbers,
Tell the coppas that I did not shoot the sheriff,
Guess they'll shoot me down anyway call them
Heart stoppers,
Have no beef with anyone , I'm more like the safe haven,
More like a beacon, if you want heaven then just behave and,
Life is too short to be worried about a grave and,
Your mom just lost her job and your dad is on the deep end,
Do what's ....best for your life despite the things you've seen around
You,
You're a..
Lost cause to them, but you'll make it , they won't be better than You,
You buss your *** everyday to pick up on the homework but you can't
Concentrate on the lessons because of a kid that that picked at you and bothered you your whole life,
But your more than meets the eye, okay.
©ABPoetry2016
http://arcassin.blogspot.com/2016/09/than-meets-eye-freestyle.html
My sweetheart has no comparison whatsoever
She is queen of her domain to rule endeavor
I am her servant she is my beloved and savior
She takes me in odds in cover and to recover

She is commanded by arrogance and is hubris
My heart is enchanted my lips are ready to buss
Her beauty takes her to eternal flight with fairness
Incessant struggle of love always remains endless

Without her I always face hesitation and anger
I am completely in control and in me she to stir
She is light of my eyes without her all seems blur
Your beauty is my abode and my love is dweller

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
SummertimeLace Dec 2015
I woke up
Got ready as usual
Found eighty dollars
Kissed my little brother
and hugged my dog
slipped on my socks
and slid on my shoes
walked to my bus
In the warm morning air
To my surprise
My best friend Lily was there too
And I thought nothing of it
We chattered like normal girls
And giggled a little
I got on the bus
she stayed behind
The buss driver was different
But that was no matter
I silently took my seat
And then my alarm went off
It was all a dream!
AaliyahGisele Feb 2017
As the road sparkled with ice,
The sun shined on my face,
I looks at my shoes and I bent down to tie my shoe lace,
By the time I got done with tying my shoes,
I seen the buss coming to pick up the other kids, who were just down the road from me,
When they were finally on the bus, the bus came quick quick down the street,
That I thought my bus driver wouldn't see me, but thankfully, she did not pass by me
Emma Feb 2014
Because this is my fault
that it's you and me
not us
please do remind me
who stormed off the buss
screaming "you cheat!"
when you were the one who got caught
and you thought
that it was my fault
that you weren't loyal
had to sleep around
let our love spoil
so yes it is my fault
I made the mistake of loving you
a fictional story
Nolan Higgins Jul 2016
It's the same Sun
but it sets differently here.
Instead of the deep purple shock
of the Sun setting behind the foothills
there's a light orange hum of
the Sun fading, sinking into the ocean.

A straight horizon,
endless, unmarred.
The oil rigs, instead of staining the landscape,
add a christmasesque luminance.

Nobody is in a hurry here
and there hasn't gone by twenty minutes without the crack of a firework.

Wuats not within walking distance is no more than two buss transfers away.

Sand; everywhere: the tires of my bicycle, the souls of my boots, bedsheets, washing machine, rocking chair : Sand.

Tank tops and shorts: informal
T-shirt and jeans: formal
By the beach.
Alex Camu Apr 2018
Kiss me goodnight
Kiss me goodbye.
Sing me to sleep.
Buss me to wake.

Once again,
Kiss me goodnight
Kiss me goodbye.
Sing me to sleep.
Buss me to wake.

For the last time,
I love you, goodnight.
I love you, goodbye.
My sweetheart I will praise you in my poetry
Till the time my hands can write and eyes glow
I don't mind what the circumstances could be
In stream of beauty with all love odds I will flow

You have taken my heart now I am just restless
You have taken my eyes I have no image to glow
Keeping your photo in front I am anxious to buss
You have given poison which will take me slow

My beloved can we compromise on love intensity
Come and embrace me in real trance to just share
Let us on some point of time we should just agree
Before real light comes to take me away in a glare

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
When you place your hand on my heart
Music of love starts blooming in my body
I place my hand on yours not to depart
I feel the taste of beauty boldly to be free

Let my love understand the real language
Through which a passion travels just in us
This is how beauty and love to make bridge
To reach to the wonderful land of to buss

Heart strings when touched play love tune
Cold winter changes in to hot month of June
When jumps to my lap full moonlit moon
Then I suddenly feel all colors of monsoon

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow

— The End —