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laura Feb 2018
you run while i gasp and die
uphill as i try to be near you

let’s just scream it all out
make it ring out through the forest
like the trees need to hear our drama

the main battle of the year’s just started
offering the country most beautiful
but your girl’s just not into the drive
in the dark just playing catchup to you
gray rain Jul 2016
I don't know what to write today
Nothing was different so I have nothing to say
I nearly fell asleep in lesson, what does that teach?
maths lectures are boring, I don't want to hear someone preach.
We may have a band name as original as it sounds!
It's a generic name for a band yet to be found.
Science had less stories without my friend next to me
no catchup about the weekend and who we got to meet.
English was just researching any topic of my choice
I chose 'nationalism is bad' to make a speach, so people have to hear my voice.
In history was the usual ****
the teacher talks we write and watch a video clip.
So today was just a boring day
I just hope tomorrow is less grey.
Left Foot Poet May 2017
I,
I,
a stranger never to be seen,
a million miles from the scene,
smile and weep,
loving the shallow for its deep,
finding amazement in the complexity
that only humans have
the capacity to commit,
all of us captains of the capital we store,
in the small hallmarks of every day living,
and in an overdue, catchup e-transmission,
a well wish comes true


a poem born,
a kindness to myself,
the best gift of and to,
those who are both,
well,
friends and strangers

who remind us that hope too,
is a
well

3/30/17 8:58
Fish The Pig Nov 2014
So what do you think of me?
You think I don't try?
well I try
oh my god do I try
do I cry
always lie,
you think I'm reclusive
                         elusive
                         aloof
                 and kloof
You think I like it that way,
solitude every day,
think I don't care to talk
or catchup to you and walk
you think there's a reason
I don't and haven't socialized,
well It's because I'm being terrorized.
You can't see it
not from where you sit
step in my shoes
feel what it's like to lose
see the earth on fire
trapped on a spire
a hero holding arms out
too petrified to jump or shout,
you know where safety lies
but black rain falls from black skies
and you're not sure if those arms are for you
or another in need of rescue too.
So hear what it's like
with nowhere to hike
overcome by a thousand eternal flame
that make you think you're to blame
that you feel this way because you set the fire
it got out of control only growing higher,
you feel ostracised and unwanted,
hated ugly and shameful and jaunted.
You live in fear
it's all your fault,
growth maturity and experiences put on halt,
post traumatic stress
a scared, shameful child and nothing less.

So what do you think of me?
think I don't try
I don't care
nothing behind my blank stare,
well there's everything behind these eyes;
apocalypse covered in flies
bruises and scars
heart to the stars
a longing shiver
pristine liver
paranoia and neglect
depression can't forget
a pig reflect
insignificant insect
-So what do you think of me,
look and tell me what you see,
and for you I can guarantee,
nothing is as it should be.
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2016
~for bd~

there is a well in our backyard,
a cooperative well of sorts,
for the water source is a
earth stream deep, an east-west latitudinal,
attitudinal canal,
well traversed, intercontinental and interoceanic,
belonging to no one, free to those who
drink with their eyes

given its diversity,
it's salty sweet earthy soiled provenance,
strike me strange, strikes me well,
its fiercest flavor is its
mundanity,
the plainest cool of tasteless, clear, fresh water,
so easy taken for granted

but therein lies the rub,
for the mundane is the gold vein,
from which we mine our greatest stories,
the best crumbs,
the mineral origins of our words,
to capture the gift of needed inspirational,
for our daily living hymnal
songbook

the aging parental care-taking
wisely and sadly seceded,
the golden child learns lessons of
illness and passing, renewal and replacement,
how to mourn and how to love anew,
when one pet goes, and another comes to
roost and roam in his youthful heart,
and a lover ages and so does she,
for tandem is the ever-changing, graying color of their
fierce attached tenacity

a professor supervises the household management,
grading student papers, grading life,
secretly writing love paeans to celebrate
what it's all about, the visible so oft ignored,
recorded, recored, reordered,
in the observatory of
bed crumb starry words

I,
a stranger never to be seen,
a million miles from the scene,
smile and weep, loving the shallow for its deep,
finding amazement in the complexity
that only humans have the capacity to commit,
all of us captains of the capital we store,
in the small hallmarks of every day living,
and in an overdue,
catchup e-transmission,
a well wish comes true,
a poem born,
a kindness to myself,
the best gift of and to,
those who are both,
well,
friends and strangers

who remind us that hope too,
is a
well

~~~~~
The Message

Hello Natty man....we are all well...but it has been a busy and difficult year, Mum finally went into residentail care, very busy at work, the golden boy grows in leaps and bounds, my surfer dude grows more grey hairs as do I....sadly there has been a shift change in the demigods of the house the little blue cat, got sick (bowel cancer)...and after much heartache..we made the decision to let him go with dignity and he was put to sleep...We are now presided over by a little tuxedo boy (still a devon rex)....whose energy is sometimes insurmountable....he and the golden boy have bonded....*

hope all is well your end
Take care...and be kind to you
I read a message, I write a poem...
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2016
being insulted by someone
of a trans-
                     status quo
classification
                         will never be enough
to mind, had i the pairing
to a higher tier of socialite endeavour -
to be debased with a fragrance of
a misuse of language
on a level of comprehension will
always place me steadied with placards
of 'hello, my name is Samauel'
well hello Samuel..
boiled herrings pan-fried readied for
a star wars sequel akin to rocky 7,
boxing-catchup K.O. no.31 -
an here the champ gives way to a chimpanzees'
worth of gurgled laughter -
readied speed at a Bronson's uppercut -
and we're too the readied ones
annex to the molars that might be considered
the chewing apparatus should
we not have juiced with bites as if a load's
worth of hammering was taken place:
chewing as if hammering, imagine
the cranium gush extract - it would be
like porridge if reverse due to diarrhoea!
flaky ****-bits and anaconda's suntan to measure up to;
well, there was the leather chair to mind
in terms of approving leisure activity as coercing
a carefree fortitude of futuristic investment -
mind you the loss of the Celtic vocabulary,
I.R.A. and the instigation of Anglo-Saxon
vocabulary to suppress the populace
of renegade Catholics or the twin Belfast known
as Glasgow - indeed Edinburgh remained
as much conservative as St. Andrew's would allow,
an extension of England, even with parliament
it was a Basildon of northern Essex...
scots among the multitude of accents usurped from
pole-dancing with kilts! Tartan su doku!
I had desire to ride
the streetcars of my youth
I ran from the wild mustangs
in the box canyons of my mind
The muddy waters of the river
made me sick in mind and body
As the infestation of black crickets
covered the streets of night and time

When I rode west I was chasing the past
that I have yet to catchup to
I fell from the peaks of my mountains
only to be evicted from the valleys below
Dwelt in punishment in the balcony
of my ways
As the lashes left nothing more than
mental anguish buried in the ashes of sin

I found no blood in the peach orchards
nor any breath in the fields of water melons
I was made thirst in the shallow oasises
of my eyes
left to desicate fulfilling such promises
as , "Ashes to Ashes , Dust to Dust ."
With nothing inbetween
betterdays May 2014
now awake....
this morning is
.. .brittle
grass crunches,
beneath slippered feet.
newspaper, slick and cold.
in the bird bath,
a clingwrapping of ice.
the cat, stiff legged and
complaining for the
internal sun...
grumpyboys in doonas,
eating porridge and
watching animated things.
sun just playing catchup.
shadows now, stubbornly long and windows fogged
with warm breath.

autumn....
slipsliding into winter...
on brittle morning's ice.
Jack Jenkins Jun 2018
You're the kid
Who didn't have anxiety
Growing up

You're the kid
Who was never abused
Parents didn't lay a finger on me

You're the kid
Who didn't fit in your Christian family
Black sheep

You're the kid
Who saw everyone else suffer
But not you

...not you...

The few friends you had
When they left, were they worthy?
Or did you **** it up again?

Your faith is misfired, again
Schizophrenic
A brittle child and a brute

Did you spare your skin the razor
Just to cut your heart on glass?
Chew and swallow every shard

You're four drinks in tonight, Jack
Your mind on repeat
Thinking of lost things

...fleeting things...

Jason Mraz serenades your
Buzzed mind
"I Won't Give Up"

That was "the song" for her
You gave up Jack
Pour the fifth glass

You're just a kid
Playing catchup on anxiety
Growing old

You're just a kid
Savoring every sharp word
Disappointment

You're just a kid
Quitting faith when it's hard
Begging for love when you're alone

You're just a kid
Suffering and nobody sees you
Just me

...yeah...
LylexRose Jan 2019
Been thinking...
It's about time I made some changes...

Came so far now and I feel free
So free, 9 to 5 stress, call in green delivery
But eventually problems set in, it's only Monday
Loved as one, feel so gone and my future looks ugly
Jurry and executioner, can you please judge me
Money and pain go down the drain, and it's getting harder for me
Creating issues from problem solutions, still act toughie
Don't try to rush me
Midnight-mares ride through the night, it's scary
And "all this time I couldn't see
How could this be
That the curtain is closing on me"
Emin- NFing music discovery
Drop these drugs down the drain, head to rehab recovery
Problem facing, defacing, move to different countries
Running a race but never winning cos running from you is destroying me
Blowing smoke 24/7, this can't good for me
Keep on rolling sticky green, I'm in 3 deep
My complicated encampment, you see
You know I'm doing my best but does he?
Yeah...
It's hard for me to ask this
When I don't even have a mattress
Used excuses to delete this stress
I may changed ******* nothing, at least I can confess
It's been 15 years and I'm still a ******* mess

I apologise for all the lies
Decite it spreads like fire
My future could've burned so bright
Now I'm stationary, grips me like a vice
But lost my touch and I'm colder than ice
I stopped giving a **** just me, myself and I
But maybe that's just life
Do I dare ask why?

I was the butterfly, who had spread his wings to fly
Barely left the leaf only to be shot down, fall and die
Countless nights that I counted, where these issues filled my eyes
I can't help it, it's how I was raised by life
Now I'm going to go far to both yours and mine surprises
Chasing dreams all despite this,
Dripping in Bape and gold chains
Changing myself just to stay the ******* same
You know I never thought life was great
But **** if she's complainin'...
But **** if I'm staying...
But **** it I think I'm going insane
But **** if this is direction I decide to go...
And I know
Just how to create a flow
So why should I loose it if I know
Is it a gift or is it curse only time will show
Death: it'll set you free and let you go
Eventually it'll catchup to us both
So I'm leaving off this verse
In the back of a Herse
But in the end it was myself I hurt...
Fresh start?
Eye of Horus...
Thought not...
of course...
"Is he getting old"...
"Does he bore us?"...
Enough rhymes for a lifetime
Check my inventory
You know how I'm going out
Blaze of glory...
Well I'm back...
End of story...

I apologise for all the lies
Decite it spreads like fire
My future could've burned so bright
Pen to the pad, I'm stationary, grips me like a vice
But lost my touch and I'm colder than ice
I stopped giving a **** just me, myself and I
But maybe that's just life
Do I dare ask why?
I don't know... but I'll try
Tommy Jackson Sep 2015
Fishing for compliments
I will fish for a new guitar
Fishing for **** condiments
Rock and roll, old timesty bar.
Fishing to fish
A good relaxation.
Fishing to memorize
Your past age extension's.
Fishing to fight
If your fighting the right reason's.
Fishing for catchup
Yes,
I really need to catch up with old friends, family, and loved ones.
Nat Lipstadt Aug 14
40
,000 drafts of poems proposed,
some but a bit, a title, a bob,
some wondering why are they kept
in suspended animation, the fire of exiting
from placenta to screaming baby, most,
patient waiting, over the undivided divide,
the Cumbersome Attention Gap to cross,
to the state of hallelujah completion

this race should be an Olympic one,
it is unwinnable, but only open to poets
who willing to go the unlimited distance,
every finished oeuvre, spawns bornes two
more, so you, fool, even a fifth grader,
intuits the higher math of you’ll never
catchup, but rise invigorated to meet,
greet the wonderous sunrise challenge…

and the promised ones, “next one for you,”
the unconditional incompleyedy poems
so overdue, the muses send an armored truck
to collect just the largesse of fine fines…
as my old West Village friend sang, you poet,
“might as well try and catch the wind”

this leads me to observe a new day’s first
birthday, even as Leonard sings Yom Kippur
hymns of mortality, and all the ways humans
can pass thru the gap in the morn clouds that
is the passageway to the Higher North…

you see, this is this poems day of naissance,
one day, one candle, now extant, but sooner
to be a not, one more poem sent heavenward
after a  brilliant brief coexistence with the
innards of my mind…
gray rain Jul 2016
Two days of school missed
I can't catchup on Spanish
my homework, I just can't do it
there's too many words for my head to fit
'food' was covered in year 7 and it's year 10 now
I don't remember any vocab, I don't know how
I guess the blanks, they're probably wrong
my knowledge of food and drink in Spanish is not so strong
I pick up my pen and try not to cheat
(use Google translate for help) although the translation's in the sheet
and I want to go to sleep
and wake up the beginning of next week (more like tomorrow or Monday morning)
I'll copy my friends they're in the same class
I'll get a few wrong it's not like there's anything to pass
or I could tell my teacher I don't understand much and stay behind after school
but I don't have time for that and it doesn't sound all that cool
she said I might not get it all 'do as much as you can'
so maybe I wouldn't have to stay behind if I said 'I don't understand'
It's only homework I can catch up on what I missed
but it's kinda difficult when I barely know Spanish
My teacher gave me homework in Spanish
and I missed my lessons when I was in Wimbledon so am stuck on what to do so I made my thoughts rhyme and shared this pointlessness with you.
Nora Mar 2016
i feel like i’m playing catchup
you’re so far ahead
i try to reach out
but you’re out of touch
and i’m sinking in
quicksand

you sprouted and blossomed
i withered and died
i want to be happy,,
but you’ve left me behind
Pavel Popov Jun 2016
i share a piece of mind
thoughts in my head
a piece of my heart
right there on her plate

don't play with your food
it is not meant for a toy
she pokes it with a fork
adds sause made of soya

she didnt care even though salt makes it hurt
these are my feelings catchup stain on my shirt
and when dinner was over she asked for dessert
i told her i'm sorry this i just can't afford

i gave her enough, enough for just a taste
she is hungry for more my cooking is the best
now its over my heart is hidden away in a fridge
i put a lock on the door so **es can't reach

she wants to be smart
thinks she is a player
what i feel for her now
is more like whatever

it has been a long time
i won't hold the grudge
its about music for me
not my place to judge

now this is important for me its like a prayer
i try to live my life while being honest fair
i reach out to you don't bite a hand that feeds
karma exists you and me have to plant the seeds

it's in your interest to grow flowers and trees
when the time comes check your garden for weeds
if all you do in consume its not going to bloom
Mr or Miss player: You'll be alone in your room
gray rain Apr 2016
Run
I run and run but
you can't catchup to me so
you fall on your knees
Not that good
johnny solstice Jun 2019
CAR OF THE WEEK
MAN OF THE MOMENT
GIRL OF THE MONTH
HORSE OF THE YEAR
SALE OF THE CENTURY

Better start an inventory
Check what’s missing
Hear the gas hissing
Don’t even  think…..
about dissin
this lyric I’m spittin
out LAVA
TORNADO
TYPHOON
So you’ll see very soon
How strong your Mother really is!
The Question is not an answer in itself
There’s more to food than the price on the shelf
There’s more to life than hoarding wealth
There’s more to this than meets the eye
BUT WHY?
Bother with a question
Just live
On AUTO-SUGGESTION
WHY NOT?
Count, Weigh and Measure
All the things that you find
And make yourself BLIND
To the fact that this IS
“my FLESH”
that you’re BURNIN and LOOTIN
those are my LUNGS
that you’re CHOKIN with you’re SMOKIN
this is my BLOOD
that’s FLOWIN
                   FULLA NOXIOUS
SUBSTANCES
Whilst the Stock Market CASH
                                        BOOM
                                        CRASH
                                        BOOM
                                         CASH
CASH on DEMAND
GOLD from my TEETH
Con-sumer demand
OIL from  my belly below
FUTURES DEMAND
FINAL DEMAND
Sale of the Century
Everything must go
So you know
Who you are
When you wake up
Saying “wot’s up?”
You may have to cup
A hand to your ear
So you hear
Very clear
This lyrik I’m chatting
The voice I am passing
The word of
“the MOTHER OF ALL F**KERS….
GOOD EVENING SUCKERS…!”
Time to wake up
alarm bell ringing
Fluid in my lungs
make birds stop singing
whales stop swimming
iceberg melting
Spells change
Smells strange
When viewed up close
Where the dose
Is the strongest
But strangest
Of all
Is the fall
From grace

From the bottom of the list
         Of endangered species
             You’ve carved niches
                    Genocided species
                                 Built follies
                                 Burnt witches
                                 Dug ditches
                                 Built fences
Against yourselves
    Against your spouses
               Within your houses
                              of detention
                               Prevention
                            Is better than cure
        The water has to be pure
If we can be sure, what constitutes pure?
SO
Better do some catchup
Have a mental checkup
Don’t crackup
Or blowup
Or turnup LATE
For your own
Great Escape
Don’t leave it too late
Your Mother can’t wait
To have a big shake
And scratch off her fleas
And boil up the seas
A few thousand degrees
Then you’ll see
A sale of the century
Where everything goes
Up the nose
Of who do you suppose?
And whose eye will it sting
When fire I bring
From down below
My oceans
Ancient potions
Alchemical lotions
Make motions
Measured in Richter scales
Southern gales
Beached whales
Mothers wail
Another sale
Of a slave
To the rhythm of madness
To the rhythm divine
The divine intervention
The total dissection
Of my very womb
Crash
Boom crash
Boom
Closing down sale
While stocks last
Last few days
Everything must go
at the SALE OF THE CENTURY
ZACK GRAM Sep 2019
strict ties undevelopment
cross hairs aimed at poverty
from a grown mans hand
blinded by the darkness
faded from the dreams
visions of emmense exaggeration
different parrallels
slavery master behind a mask
slavery face hid behind a curtain
i speak an preach i have earned this
remember the time you smiled
working all day for basic pay
nothing open past 8
no certain belief or existence
why are we breathing
if something invisible
if something unconnected
connects then its precise mathematics
humans cannot comprehend
its simple knowledge
stack the stones
add the water
put that green **** in there
watch it burn
an smoke that **** *****
the cost of living comes easy
i live achieve an concieve
thats birth of reason
fact is you cant catchup
eat that cheeseburger without ketchup
throwing tomatoes on stage
half eaten half rotten
barely able but stable
when deez guns go ablazing
got them tracing staring scared
off the skreets
this isnt bragging
its a foo eat foo world
gotta teach lessons
so get out in society
pass the code
pass the note
add a end
z day
you sleep
goodnight
Uma natarajan Sep 2019
Between earth and sky
Where animals survive and birds fly
Between hunger and thirst
Lies a single bread piece and bottle of coke just
I sit on one side, you on the other
Our eyes catchup in hunger
We stare at the single slice in anger
Colm Sep 2020
Waiting patiently. Hoping to catchup with the most honest time. The kind which chimes but doesn't turn, more than a second at a time. The kind which doesn't know how to lie, even when it's meant in kind. I see you now. I see you in goodbye. And I'm gladly rid of your hypocrisy. Nice try.
This person was a disgrace.

Gladly free of them.
Colm Feb 2020
A dream of you is like a story
I cannot, will not, wait again
To catchup and
Turn a sheet, a page

Dive and then, upon awakening
Will myself
Be whisked away again
Just to see you
And if, what then?

Sadly
No future is found in an ounce of sleep
Really wanted to go back to sleep again. Just to converse more.

— The End —