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Freds not dead Mar 2011
Everyone around me
      I guess I’m at the center
Is coughing, coughing in the warm sunny day
                        The blue bright happy day
They cough like they dig at life
They cough the toy-factory worker’s cough
The cough dressed in summer dresses
In high heels and red shoes and tuxedoes
Cough up wine cough up cheers and congratulation
Cough out their
“don’t worry about it” sickness
cough out pop songs, cough up boppin’ along
cough out vows and Hallmark poetry
cough deathbed knock-knock jokes
“it’s me, Death, coming for your blue-eyed boys”
cough out laughter like phlegm
cough up black bile as a party trick
cough up recollection of stuffed animals
(you and I are in there)
gasp for breath, their faces filling up with blood
going from apple-red to royal purple
eyes dishing out tears
a pat on the back
and everything is okay
people are wrong
about the center holding.
Micheal Wolf Dec 2012
Cough cough cough cough
And now I get it
A subtle play upon words
A sarcastic delivery
Only those privy heard
I shall be giving four tomorrow
In under breath tribute
Just to lighten the day
Cough cough cough cough
To those who deserve
joe jones Mar 2015
Cough cough cough
the cigarette is passed around the group
cough cough cough
the cigarette makes its way to you
and your stuck wondering what to do
you can smoke and be cool or
not and be left out

so you smoke with no doubt
that you made the right choice
because
you are still a part of the group
cough cough cough
Tivonna Apr 2017
No prior warnings,
it has come to visit me!
Minimal luggage,
travelling by expressways,
and greeting all fervently.

I'm to be its host
while it explores all of me,
filling its wants,
leaving me helplessly spent,
cough, cough, hold belly, cough, cough.

Fevered in its lust,
I succumb to ravaging,
held by its power,
with no strength to overcome,
hiding for comfort—cough, cough!

Its visit a mess!
A trail behind it does leave,
my space disarrayed,
imprinting all with its touch,
sore belly held to clean—cough!

This rare visit brings
no joy and puts life-on-hold,
changing its disguise
in hopes of finding new hosts;
open door policy?  Cough!

Tivonna
NaPoWriMo-Day 8
A repetition of word or phrase
Salmabanu Hatim Jan 2019
Cough! Cough!Cough!
Ouch!tough,
Try this cough syrup,
In no time you will be up.
No infection, no inflammation, no allergen,
In a jiffy, everything gone.
My onion sugar cough syrup is better,
All you need is an onion and sugar,
And a jar.
Cut the onion into round slices
Round rings, not tiny pieces,
Place an onion ring in a jar,
Cover it with sugar,
Place a second slice on top,
Cover the same with sugar on top,
Till you are done.
Close the jar tight,
Leave it overnight.
The next day, your honey coloured cough syrup is ready,
Wish your recovery is speedy.
5am, I sit alone my mind feeling so bright
is it early morning or the middle of the night.
The wind still howls winters tune
and trees are dancing in the dale.
I yearn for sun and summers warmth
but all I get is cold and hail.

So comeback Mr Sunshine please
to keep me warm and give me ease.
The winters blues do not please,
just make me shiver, cough and sneeze.

The days start dark and keep me hidden
as if to say that it's forbidden,
to laugh and sing and have the fun
I get from walking in the sun.

So comeback Mr Sunshine please
to keep me warm and give me ease.
The winters blues do not please,
just make me shiver, cough and sneeze.

I long to see the flowers smile,
the shadows form on my sundial.
The smell of grass that's freshly mown,
the shoots from seeds so freshly sown.

So comeback Mr Sunshine please
to keep me warm and give me ease.
The winters blues do not please,
just make me shiver, cough and sneeze.

Smiling children everywhere
running around without a care.
Winter woollens stashed away
and let's forget those rainy days.

So comeback Mr Sunshine please
to keep me warm and give me ease.
The winters blues do not please,
just make me shiver, cough and sneeze.

Take away this winters cold
it only makes me feel old.
Bring the sun and bring the light
and take away this awful night.

So comeback Mr Sunshine please
to keep me warm and give me ease.
The winters blues do not please,
just make me shiver, cough and sneeze.

Early morning sun please shine,
and as I sit with glass of wine.
I'll try to not let my mind splinter
and forget all about the winter.

So comeback Mr Sunshine please
to keep me warm and give me ease.
The winters blues do not please,
just make me shiver, cough and sneeze.

So comeback Mr Sunshine please
and take away this cold disease.
Once again to see you glow
and throw your warmth through my window.
8th January 2015
LifeBeauty13 Dec 2015
Being sick, isn't it lovely,
Sore, scratchy, throat,
Body feels like I'm stuck in a moat.
Boy I feel great more chicken soup please,
No... I want popsicle's, why am I hurting in my knees?
Please take care of me I say with doe eyes,
Who was the Knuckle Head who gave me this dripping surprise?
You? Husband? Oh...by me you will meet your demise.
But before that rub my back and get a new revise.
Sharde' Fultz Mar 2016
The infamous "C" word
I'm actually ambivalent about hearing Cancer referred to in that way
Cause yes its ugly, yes, its terrible
But its something we need to say
We need people to hear that word
And feel the fear, the sadness, the Disgust.  the anger
Let that word settle in the mind and every letter metastisize until it creates a giant mass in this culture
Let it grow so large that it can't be avoided
Let it push aside all the worlds organs and make room for itself until The pain is unbearable!
Let our communities cough cough cough
COUGH it out
And cough it up
Until pharmacies and hospitals run out of tissues
Until its reached the hearts of politicians
Go on. Don't be afraid to say cancer...
And while you're at it don't forget me.
I don't care about my name
But don't forget the faces you DONT see
That's the adolescent and young adult cancer bunch, I know you probably haven't heard much about us.
But what a pleasure it would be!
To awake one morning and have left it all behind.
To not have it's lingering aches and pains
Forever Burdening my body and my mind?

See it doesn't make sense when WE hurt.
So I'm a part of yet another minority.
One with faaar less research...
And far MORE misdiagnosis
We're young and healthy
So a sudden cough
is eeeasily tuberculosis

Or the flu,
Or a headache,
So OUR cancers goes unnoticed.

But even later down the line
When we've found it in our lungs.
Or spine. Or bones because we young adults are KNOWN to get the RAREST kind.

Post-having found it in our blood
Or lurking throughout our tissues
We're once again faced with another haughty list of damning issues.

don't get me wrong cancer is the worst no matter what your age may be.
To see our grandparents have to suffer?
Or an innocent baby with this disease?!
No.
it's never easy on the eyes and even harder on the heart
But THIS poem...
This poem. just for once.
is for a special part.
For this club no one wants to be part of.
This group coalesced with every color and faith but all sharing the same needs...donning the same scars...
Facing questions without answers
Don't you dare have the audacity to be afraid to say, "Cancer"
I say these words for some of my dearest friends,
The Living and the MANY deceased-
For THEY
have shaaared in my unique. griefs!
THEY have encountered these micro. organic. thieves.
That steal our TIME!
Precious, formative, years of our lives.
That we can never get back!
Babies don't have to worry about that.
Our grandparents and elders don't either, these are just the facts, people.
We have fragments of our fragile lives that surgeries can't suture
Time that should be spent in school.
Or pursuing our dreams.
But instead forcing us to think 15 years into our future
Wondering how we'll tell our husband's and wives that we can't have children
that we can biologically call "mine"
It's a time where we haven't even
thought about those things.
just getting to know who we are as individuals, beings.
And finally coming to grips with being in our own skin!
Kids?!
Are you kiddin'?!
Pun intended.
But seriously, there's nothing "punny" about feeling as though your life has ended.

Like a semi truck hit you at full speed and your entire world is left scattered across life's highway.
You're trying to pick up the shards of you left scattered acrros the pavement
As your friends drive by with degrees and families And you're still going through Chemo treatment.
And or -radiation
And or- a bone marrow transplant
or -reconstructive surgery because your ******* were removed.
About a handful of med students were among the first to see my *****.
So don't be afraid to say cancer.
And don't even let me begin on the financial grievances that will follow us, my friend.
Because we're the least likely to have insurance for this thing going in.
And when your universe is in a tailspin and its chemotherapy or die you aren't thinking about the quadruple digits that will soon be applied.
Because unfortunately, you later realize American medicine and pharmacies just as all other industries, thrives off demand and supply.
cancer diagnosis is like being tossed in the land of oz but the yellow brick road is paved with bills.
I prayed to God over my heart like tin man
So I could still show compassion for a friend
Like lion I sought courage because day by day cancer made me feel so small, defenseless and helpless
The depression I faced regularly wreaked havoc on my mind
And if  scarecrow only knew about Chemo brain!;
--his memory's probably better than mine.

But like Dorothy,
all I wanted was  HOME.
More accurately all I wanted was what I once knew as normal.
Before I lost all my hair.
Before the steroids changed my face.
Before a couple weeks in the hospital destroyed 15 years of barre work and master classes
I wanted so desperately for the old me back.
But I later learned that that girl was just a memory
I'm a different person now
And during this experience I've grown from girl to woman
And have adopted this new normal
That embraces EVERY moment
That experiences time outside of the conditions conditioned by this world
And the parameters of the classic, outdated, Irrational American Dream.
And what seems to be this incessant, false, idealistic, actualization of what it means
I mean
They ask you what you want to be
Before you can even read!
So we're so bent on the future that when our plans are sent off track we beat ourselves until will bleed

Having watered, nurtured, and cultivated.the white picket  seed
And forgetting
There's no template set in place to affirm whether you have achieved.

So don't be afraid to say cancer
Cause it reminds me of what I've learned
I've witnessed miracles first-hand that a scalpel could never know
I love!
And I love hard
And from a place of deep, sincere, empathy
For my fellow man no matter how great or small his burdens be
After what I've gone through my faith outweighs my fear
In fact, I'm fearless!
I'm indestructible
I'm a pro at sweat and tears!
And It didn't take cancer to make me realize these things
I certainly would have been perfectly fine. without it
This wasn't given to me as a punishment.
But allowed to happen as a testament
And now I stand here before you
With a raggedy lung
And A quarter of my intestines

For Dawn, for Jordan, for Lili, Bill, for Merideth, for Carly, for Taylor, Delaney, for Meghan...
For Katy, for Beth, for Eugenio
And for Jen...
I stand here today for the 72000 Adolescents and young adults diagnosed with cancer year on end.

To give a voice to those of us that are too scarred to speak
A voice to those of us that are no longer here to speak.
and a voice to those of us that are  so happy that they can finally start to see a life after cancer that they don't ever want to speak of it again.

I'm here for all the silent warriors
All those that have *****-stained chain mail, cancer cells dripping from the tips of their swords.
With chemo pumping though their veins and radiation burning through their breast plates--whose shields don ribbons and middle fingers, and crosses and curse words!
and I'm begging YOU,
OOOH you lucky few that have not the pleasure to take on this heavy, honorable, garb.
That when you're raising money.
When you're saying your prayers.
When you're deciding how you're going to make some sort of difference in this insane and tragic world.
Don't be afraid to say cancer.
Don't forget about us.
Matalie Niller May 2012
Nudge a numb cockroach and he'll love you for life
just ***** little lemonheads
can't actually survive a nuclear explosion
but can cause catastrophic evolutionary queries
like "Why do the good die young?"
Can you believe
that long ago only the bad died elderly
and were witches with elixirs
potions and spells to make God blush and his **** turn to mush
so powerful
they made people go crazy with
judgement and micromanaging
but I'm the real witch
right-o I ride broomsticks and eat toads for snacks
my back is a lump of coal from the Devil's morning hookah
smoke billows from my ears
cockroaches my best friends
we cut off our heads and run into fridges
my pelvis is frigid except
for those **** roaches.
Sharde' Fultz Apr 2016
The infamous "C" word
I'm actually ambivalent about hearing Cancer referred to in that way
Cause yes its ugly, yes, its terrible
But its something we need to say
We need people to hear that word
And feel the fear, the sadness, the Disgust.  the anger
Let that word settle in the mind and every letter metastesize until it creates a giant mass in this culture 
Let it grow so large that it can't be avoided
Let it push aside all the worlds organs and make room for itself until The pain is unbearable!
Let our communities cough cough cough
COUGH it out
And cough it up
Until pharmacies and hospitals run out of tissues
Until its reached the hearts of politicians

Go on!  Don't be afraid to say cancer...
And while you're at it don't forget me.
I don't care about my name
But don't forget the faces you DON'T see
That's the adolescent and young adult cancer bunch, I know you probably haven't heard much about us.
But what a pleasure it would be!
To awake one morning and have left it all behind.
To not have it's lingering aches and pains
Forever Burdening our bodies and minds?

See it doesn't make sense when WE hurt.
So I'm a part of yet another minority.
One with faaar less research...
And far MORE misdiagnosis
We're young and healthy 
So a sudden cough
is eeeasily tuberculosis

Or the flu,
Or a headache,
So OUR cancers goes unnoticed.

But even later down the line
When we've found it in our lungs.
Or spine. Or bones because we young adults are KNOWN to get the RAREST kind.

Post-having found it in our blood
Or lurking throughout our tissues
We're once again faced with another haughty list of damning issues.

don't get me wrong cancer is the worst no matter what your age may be.
To see our grandparents have to suffer?
Or an innocent baby with this disease?!
No.
it's never easy on the eyes and even harder on the heart
But THIS poem...
This poem. just for once.
is for a special part.
For this club no one wants to be part of.
This group coalesced with every color and faith but all sharing the same needs...donning the same scars...
Facing questions without answers

Don't you dare have the audacity to be afraid to say, "Cancer"

I say these words for some of my dearest friends,
The Living and the MANY deceased-
For THEY
have shaaared in my unique. griefs!
THEY have encountered these micro. organic. thieves.
That steal our TIME!
Precious, formative, years of our lives. 
That we can never get back!
Babies don't have to worry about that.
Our grandparents and elders don't either, these are just the facts, people.
We have fragments of our fragile lives that surgeries can't suture
Time that should be spent in school.
Or pursuing our dreams.
But instead forcing us to think 15 years into our futures
Wondering how we'll tell our husband's and wives that we can't have children
we can biologically call "mine"?

Even still.

don't be afraid to say cancer.
Because it forces me to remember what I've learned.
I've witnessed miracles first-hand that a scalpel could never know
I love!
And I love hard
And from a place of deep, sincere, empathy
For my fellow man no matter how great or small his burdens be
After what I've gone through my faith outweighs my fear
In fact, I'm fearless!
I'm indestructible
I'm a pro at sweat and tears!
And now here I am before you
a living testament,
left with a raggedy lung
And A quarter of my intestines

For Dawn, for Jordan, for Lili, Bill, for Merideth, for Carly, for Taylor, Delaney, for Meghan...
For Katy, for Beth, for Eugenio
And for Jen...
I'm here today for the 72000 Adolescents and young adults diagnosed with cancer
year on end.

I'm here for all the silent warriors
All those that have *****-stained chain mail, cancer cells dripping from the tips of their swords.
With chemo pumping though their veins and radiation burning through their breast-plates
--whose shields don ribbons and middle fingers, and crosses and curse words!

and I'm begging YOU, 
OOOH you lucky few that have not the pleasure to take on this heavy, honorable, garb.
That when you're raising money.
When you're saying your prayers.
When you're deciding how you're going to make some sort of difference in this insane and tragic world.
Don't be afraid to say cancer.
Don't forget about us.
The first poem is mor elike 5 poems in one. I felt that people wouldn't care to read it or even sit and listen to someone recite it at that length. Who knows? So I tweaked it a bit and took out some parts. The cool thing is that I now have the option to manipulate the poem like a puzzle to suit whatever atmosphere I want it to complement. Enjoy!
Kelly Lutz Aug 2010
If I had better hand writing, baby, I'd write to you every day.
It doesn't help that I forgot what half the alphabet looks like in cursive, or I'd try that instead.
And my type writer is broken...
I knocked on your door about a week ago.
But when I heard your footsteps, I ran away...
I'm sorry.
I'm all out of excuses.
Maybe I should call...
Madds Mar 2012
When the smoke engulfs you,
smothers your lungs
cough cough splutter
and your head spins
in the indulge of pleassure
cough cough splutter
Swarmed by the rush of people
in Sydney minding their own business
walking these twisting streets
cough cough splutter
it's at that point that you realise
this is where you're supposed to be
who you're supposed to be
and what you're meant to do.
Lenore Lux Nov 2014
My stool is black again, I've been smoking
She said, "I thought that you quit"
I said, "I never meant-" cough "I never meant"
She said, "You said you could anytime, anytime"
But what's the worth of words spoken,
when you never meant, you never meant

To give the impression
you'd follow through
Only to sate the voice of reason in a poisonous
miasma of destructive and ambivalent
tendencies held too long and too deeply pressed

Uh oh
Cough, cough, cough, cough

. . .Cool.
AntRedundAnt Jan 2014
Her hair was long, brown, and wavy, like homemade brownies.
Her eyes were different shaped blues, lighter than sapphires.
Whenever she blinks, I look forward to seeing those sapphires again.
Her teeth are perfect imperfections, retainer and all.
Her bite is one of love but packs a punch.
Her nostrils flare when angry but remain miniscule.
Her mouth a light pink, like Starburst, my favorite by far.
Her smile brings me back from the darkness every. Single. Time.
Her tongue is exotic and playful, and I long for it.
I have never heard her whistle, but I know it like the back of my hand.
Her laugh is intoxicating and contagious; I find myself acting the fool just to hear it.
Then she coughed and I patted her baby back.
Whenever those pesky headaches come, we lie still, thus foreshadowing what will come.
Our arguments are stupid, but they happen nonetheless.
Her neck is thin and ripe for the taking.
Her *******, much like Goldilocks: not too big, not too small, but just right.
Her spaghetti arms flail about when I act the fool, and then that precious laugh again.
Her elbows are full of cream, and you will never find them itchy like mine.
Her wrists are disproportionately large for her size, which makes her all the more unique.
Her handshakes are delicate. Ladylike.
Her long and skinny fingers were weird to me once, but they have contracted and fit perfectly between mine.
Her palms tell the future, and she has great things in store for her.
Her thumbs have no story to tell, positive or negative.
Her shadow is smaller than hers, but no shadow can overcome her.
Her cats keep her company, but luckily we found each other.
Her heart is as big as her brain, and thankfully they mutually agree on most occasions.
Her ******* are stumpy and droopy; this is no Snow White fairytale.
Her shoulder blades are tense but minute.
Her belly button (an innie, not an outie, not an Audi) never collects ****.
Her private parts pulse like her heart above with passion.
Her backside is small and smooth. She has no hourglass figure, yet she does, too.
She has no stretchmarks in my mind, but I have enough for the both of us, anyways.
Her whole system is that of a heavyweight fighter; she’s a little spitfire.
Her legs are perfect and skinny; she has “the gap”, not that it matters.
Her knees buckle and wobble in my presence. I should know: mine do when she is near, too.
Her ligaments reinforce her, much like her willpower.
She has the calves of a dancer, but she has not trained in years.
The ***** of her feet are poised, ready to spring into action to tap tap tap away.
Her toes curl against mine, in an attempt to hold hands.
I have never seen her footprints, and I have no intention of ever seeing them. Ever.
Her promises elate me since I know she is good for her word.
Her one-liners are worse than mine, and I laugh all the harder for it.
Her grin, or rather her smirk, warms my heart like a furnace in the winter.
The last time we spoke, it was mumbled in bed, a hushed goodbye for that awful biology class.

She is my rock, ever leaning forwards
with nothing but my Dunder-Mifflin shirt to keep her warm for the foreseeable future.

I told her, Te amo,
well before she was ready to say that inane phrase back in English.
Inane since words do not do it justice.

But then she broke my heart.

My hair was tearing at the roots, unable to stay attached.
My eyes were set ablaze with passion anger, if it weren’t for my sorrow to drown it out.
Whenever I blink, I see a snapshot of what it was, what it cannot be, what it will never be again.
My teeth were her favorite: buck-toothed and all, but that was when I smiled. They hide from you.
My bite isn’t nearly as big as my bark, but do not tempt me.
My nostrils have hair creeping out; it’s hard to keep clean after something like that.
My mouth is louder than all my thoughts combined, but I still can’t find the right words to say.
And my smile would be what brought her back from the darkness every. Single. Time.
My tongue, like my private parts, is limp and dead; phallicly flaccid, there is no passion here.
I have never whistled, but why should I learn now? I keep quiet to quell the roar.
My laugh is contagious, or so they tell me. It’s high pitched. Effeminate.
I cough. I get stares. My cough makes you uncomfortable. Your infidelity makes me uncomfortable.
Whenever those pesky headaches come, I lie still, and for a minute, just a minute, I die. I’m at peace.
Our arguments were stupid, but now there’s nothing left to talk about.
My neck is fat and swollen. **** my thyroid. This vitamin D deficiency is taking its toll.
My ******* are fat, but a momma’s boy would be: too much in the trunk, not enough under the hood.
My arms are as big as her thighs. We measured. Maybe it gave her peace knowing she was small.
She tells me I have a black woman’s ***, and elbows, to boot. Not enough cream. Not enough carrots.
My wrists are the cankles of my life.
My handshake is firm, but is it firm enough?
My short and stubby fingers claw upwards, desperate for air. Her hands are nowhere to be seen.
My palms have no future, and I worry I’ll follow suit.
My thumbs tell all the best stories when joysticks are underneath them.
My shadow eclipses me. It’s not how you feel, it’s how you function.
I’ve never owned a pet. Maybe that’s why I don’t feel possessive.
My heart was full of love, but the love spilled out when you broke it on Friday, December 6th – Saturday, December 7th, 2013, 5:00 AM.
My ******* are tiny and ***** from the cold. I feel the cold indoors, too.
My shoulder blades are dull and sagging with the weight of my world on my shoulders.
My belly button (an innie, not an outie, not an Audi) collects all of the ****.
My private parts, like my tongue, are limp and dead; phallicly flaccid, there is no passion here.
My backside is large and rough. Are you getting the point?
I have all of the stretchmarks, for I am her antithesis.
My whole system is that of down and out former has been; I’m all out of gas.
My legs are thick and fat; I suffer friction with my tree tunks.
My knees buckle and wobble in her presence; I’m weak around her because I’m weak.
My ligaments are partially torn, which perfectly exemplifies me: hanging by a thread.
I have the calves of a soccer player out of shape. Hashtag truth.
The ***** of my feet sting -- unable to carry two hundred plus pounds of failure.
I have finally seen footprints; I’m just glad they were mine.
Her promises mean nothing. My trust is shattered. My faith withdrawn from this or any other world.
My one-liners make everyone laugh but me; I know I mask the pain. Do they?
My grin was effectively wiped off my face when you told me.
The last time we spoke, it was on good terms. But how good are those terms with this double size?

I was comfortable, lazy, ever dependent on her
with everything in my life, especially that which she didn’t need to deal with.

I told her, You deserve to be dumped.
She nodded slowly, crying, and whispered back, I know. My hate described by inane words.
Inane since words do not do it justice.

Then, it hit me.

Our hair is fairly short together, not unlike our time apart since the incident.
Our eyes well up, and the only drowning I hope we get is of love.
Whenever we blink, I want to make sure that I am in front of you, and you in front of me.
Our teeth, much like our personalities, are disparate, and that’s okay.
Our bite is one of teamwork: you can’t bite with one row of teeth.
Our nostrils could use some work. Hair and flare rhyme, but neither fits in our time.
Our mouths chat chat chatter away. We have nothing to talk about. We have so much to talk about.
Our smiles are the reason why people find us cute, and they’re the reason why they were shocked. Let’s give them another reason.
Our tongues dance across language barriers. Mi español no puede vivir sin tu ingles.
We have never whistled. Finally! Some common ground (opposites attract).
We’ve been told that our laughs are nearly identical, like a choir singing in different pitches. Sing.
We cough together, because we know we can take care of each other.
Whenever those pesky headaches come, we take a deep breath, hold on tight, and move forward.
Our arguments ARE stupid. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Our necks are like the Happy Meal and the Super Size Me. I love to see us smile.
Our ******* are life; I don’t know what mine do, but I know yours will come in handy someday.
Our arms have their “things”; you have that birthmark, and I have unseemly hair growing everywhere.
Our elbows could be a rom-com: one smooth, one rough, but they can’t get enough.
Our wrists make sure our hands can keep us afloat.
Our handshakes are delicate but firm.
Our fingers latch onto each other, like a bear trap.
Our palms SMACK together when you high five me. Goofball.
Our thumbs are bound to get sore if we keep caressing our hands while holding onto each other. Raw.
Our shadows slink away when they see us shine so bright.
I hope to God that Rosie the pug is as derpy as your heart can take.
Our hearts have duct-tape all over them…it’s a work in progress, but bones get stronger when broken.
Our ******* are disproportionate. There, I said it.
Our shoulder blades dance across each other when we lie back to back.
Our belly buttons (innies, not outies, not Audis) keep us close to our moms; you’ll agree someday.
Our private parts tingle as we move in motion and rhythm. It’s been too long, mi amor.
Our backsides are like Venn diagrams: yours could easily fit in mine.
I have all the stretchmarks, but I hope you get them after birth someday. We share everything else.
Our systems are the underdog rising up, straight to the top; it took its time, and its chances.
Your legs could fit in one of my own. Please refer to the stretchmarks line.
Our knees buckle and wobble. Please refer to the private parts line.
Our ligaments have taken a beating, but somehow, there’s a strand holding us together.
We have calves of different passions, but we both know what the sweet sting of success feels like.
The ***** of our feet touch down as we’re back to reality. The honeymoon stage is over. Cloud 9.
Unfortunately, we’ve seen footprints, but I think they’re circling back around to meet up again.
This promise should be the last until the most important one comes up. This is it.
Our one-liners keep us close to our dorky sides. Honestly, something is probably wrong with us.
Our grins (or smirks) show that we can’t really stay mad at each other for TOO long.
The last time we spoke, it was yesterday night (or was it earlier today?), but I’m sure you woke up.

We ******* up. Admittedly you more than me,
but I digress: one mistake is not enough to throw away two years of work.

I forgave you.
You were elated. Let’s try this once more, with feeling!
I’ll inanely tell her again, *Te amo.
Luz Mar 2
I gathered all the golden words you sent me
and I tried to cash them, but they were counterfeit
so I set them on fire to warm the coldness
-left inside the heart
but their toxic fumes hurt my lungs
and I had to run away
cough!, cough!
DP Younginger Nov 2014
Red streaks of thin hair, finely cured,
Sugar-coded skin, sweet yet sticky inside…and then you sniff,
Freshly sliced with soft cries for help, the grass grows,
Dried in the most delightful setting; a miniature shadow of the sun,
The initials share a basketball in one palm-
-The pop from the stereo reflects the ripple of a king-
-----------------------0----------------------------0------­-------------------
A complete package within, once the engine has revved- the liftoff-
Find yourself inside of her powers; the majestic magic maneuvers the mind,
Mend many memories and flick the switch on the motionless projector,
Guilty pleasures please the people and protect peaceful guidance,
Keep close the cultivation of a captivating lover-
-She will rise in your soul like helium in the lungs-
--------------------0--------------------0----------------­----
She, who I breathe for, calls my name; forever entering the cave,
I broke off a chunk of everything she has grown to be,
Crumbled, chalk-like pollen, piles into mounds of distraction,
I set flame to the lone match and touch the wick- a silent sway-
She burns, her hair still a fiery-ruby blend, but like all living expectation-
-The ash separates and with the wind…she performs flips-
The poem is supposed to look like a gorgeous nug of ****.
Val Graz Jul 2018
Mommy I'm sorry I manipulate you for,
The alcohol I feel I love more,
And Daddy I'm sorry I pretend I'm naive,
About all of my bad deeds,
I tried so hard to stay dry,
But the rain it pours inside,
I'm drowning in my own self,
I'm suffocating with my mental health,
And I try, I try so hard,
To be who you care for,
The girl who laughs just cause she can,
Who asks for hugs before bed,
But I'm not her anymore,
And I'll never be moving forward,
But really I'm just someone,
Who feels way too much at once,
I cry at night when I'm all alone,
Dancing with my demons on my own,

Please don't hate me, I couldn't survive,
I do that enough for myself, and I can no longer hide,
That I don't have a problem with substances,
That I can recognize when I've had enough of them,

I'm so tired of pretending it's under control,
This feeling of alcohol that sings in my soul,
The cough syrup that makes my shaky thoughts,
Become shaky feet, legs, and hands,
I'd rather feel physically ill,
Than continue to be mentally unwell,
So I will continue to veer off the tracks,
And spin out of control, it's just a fact,
I have no sense of when to stop,
Please don't make me stop,
It's so hard to be in my own head,
Every day it's like a death,
I die a bit, a piece of me fades away,
And I'm sorry to inform you, to say,
I'm not okay, I'm just not alright,
With myself I will continue to fight,

Please don't hate me, I couldn't survive,
I do that enough for myself, and I can no longer hide,
That I don't have a problem with substances,
That I can recognize when I've had enough of them.
Mitchell Duran Nov 2013
It was 98'.
No, it was 99'.
That was the year.
Yeah, that was the year.

I had just landed abroad and knew no one.
Well, I was there with my girlfriend, Page.

I knew her.

We had to get out of the states.
There was nothing for us there.
We were drowning in that nothingness - that lacking future.

Cookie cutters everywhere.

Everything I saw was like an outline of something that had already happened.
I couldn't sleep.
I couldn't ****.
I could barely call my parents to let them know what I was doing.

Nothing really.

Floating downward like a leaf broken from its stem.
I was scared.
I'll admit it.
I was terrified of the next four years.
Twenty-five seemed so far away and so close, all at the same time.

We had a found an apartment to live in while in the U.S.
We were lucky because people we met later on said it was hell trying to find a place after arriving.
I was never too good at that stuff anyway.
I always felt like people were trying to cheat me or something.

It was small.
You would have said you loved it, but secretly hated it.
One could barely stand in the shower.
Want to spread your arms wide?

Forget about it.

There was a balcony though and you could watch the street traffic from above.
People look so small when your high up.
Down the street, there was a large theatre where they filmed movies.
I rarely saw them shooting, but I could tell it was a good place to.
It was beautiful at night when the lampposts would flicker on, orange spilling on the street.
Everything was damp in the Fall when we first arrived.

"What do you want to do today?" I asked her. She was laying face down on the bed.
Whenever she was hungover, she would do that.
All the covers and pillows over her face, blocking out the world and its light.
I did the same thing, so I couldn't really say much.
We were hungover a lot those first couple months.
Then came the jobs and everything changed...mostly.

She moaned something that I couldn't understand.
I was standing by the window, staring at the pigeons and crows perched on the roof across from us.
They had made a little nest under one of the shingles.
Clever little ******'s.

"Look at those things," I said.
The coffee I was drinking was bitter and made from crystals.
It gave me a headache, but it was cheap and we were broke.
I stepped back to get a better look at their nest and knocked an empty beer bottle around.

She moaned again and rose up from bed, kind of like a stretching kitten or a cat.
Her back was arched like a crescent moon and she stunk of ***** and Sprite.
The blankets were twisted and crumpled and she was tangled in them like a fly in a spiders web.
I went into the kitchen and poured out my coffee, thinking of what to do with the day.

"Breakfast?" she asked me from bed.
My back was to her, but I knew she wanted me to make it.
I put the electric stove on and opened the refrigerator.

"No eggs," I said back to her, "I'll be right back."

She moaned and slithered back into bed.
I threw my jacket and slippers on and made my way downstairs.

"Dobry den," I said to the cashier.
He was a tiny vietnamese man with a extremely high pitched voice.
I struggled to stifle a laugh every time I came in.

"Dobry den," he said back, sounding like air escaping from a balloon.

"Dear God," I thought, "How does his voice box do it?"

I went straight to the eggs, pretending to cough.
All around me were packaged sweets and rotten vegetables and fruit.
There were half loaves of brown, stale bread wrapped lazily in thin plastic.
Canned beans, noodle packets, and cardboard infused orange juice lined the shelves.
Where were the ******* eggs?
We needed milk too.
Trying to drink that crystalized coffee without it was torture.
I don't even know how I did it earlier.
"I must be getting used to the taste..." I thought.

I opened the single refrigerator they had in the place.
It was stocked with loosely packaged cheese, milk, beer, and soda.
There they were, those ******* eggs, right next to the yogurt.
I looked at the expiration date of a small carton of chocolate milk and winced.
"Someone could die here if they weren't careful," I whispered to myself.

"Everyding O.K.?" I heard the cashier squeak behind me.
I turned and nodded and showed him the eggs.
He was suspicious I was stealing something.
It was ironic.
I put the eggs on the counter and handed over what the cash register told me.

"There you go," I said and handed him the 58 crown in exact change.

"Děkuji," he peeped.

His voice sounded like a stuffed animal.
I nodded, smiled, and quickly got the hell out of there.

"You know the guy that works at the shop across the street?" I asked the body still in bed.
Well, she was up now, back up against the wall with her laptop on her lap.
"You mean the guy that has the voice of a little girl?"
"Exactly. I was just in there - getting these eggs - and I nearly laughed in his face."
"That's mean," she frowned, staring at her laptop.
Many of our conversations were with some kind of electronic device in between us.
We needed to work on that.
"I didn't laugh at him directly."
She smiled and nodded and moved down the bed a little more.
Only her head was resting on the pillow.
I cracked two eggs and let them sizzle there in the butter and the salt.

"So, what do you want to do today?" I asked Page, "It's not too cold out. We could go on a walk."
"Where?"
"I don't know. Over the bridge and maybe down by the water."
"It's going to be so cold," she shivered.
"I was just out there in slippers and a t-shirt and I was fine."
"That's because you're so big. I'm tiny. I don't get as much blood flow."

I flipped the two eggs and looked down at them.
Golden and burnt slightly around the edges.
******* perfect.
Now, just gotta wait a little on the other side and make sure to not let the yolk harden.
I hated that more than anything in the world.
Well, that and hearing **** poor excuses like it being too cold.
It was nice out.
She'd be fine.

"Come on," I sighed. I did that a lot. "It'll be fun."
She looked up at me from her computer with a dead look in her eye.
"What?" I asked her.
"You're such a...nerd," she said.
"No I'm not."
"You're so weird. Some of the things you say sometimes..."
"Like what?"
"Let's go on a walk."
She exaggerated the word walk.
I laughed and knew I was being a little too excited about a walk.
"Yeah. So? What are you doing? You're just laying there doing nothing."
"It's my day off," she scoffed, jokingly.

We were unemployed.
Everyday was a day off.
This was not something to bring up.
It was touchy subject.
One had to go about it...delicately.

"We need to find jobs," I stated, "And we can probably ask around or look for signs in windows."

"Oh JESUS," she gagged, coughing and diving back under the covers.

"I'm just thinking ahead so we can stay here. There's got to be something out there we can do."

"Like what?" she asked, her voice muffled by blankets.

"I don't know...something," I mumbled, trailing off as I flipped one of the eggs, "Perfect."

After breakfast, Page finally got out of bed and took a shower.
I tried to sneak in there with her, but, like I said before, one could barely fit themselves in there.
We compromised to have *** on the bed, though I did miss doing it in the shower.
As Page got dressed, I watched her slip those thin black stockings on, half reading a magazine.
I had gotten a subscription to The Review because I was trying to become a writer.
I thought, maybe if I read the stuff getting published - even the bad **** - it'll help.
Later, I realized, this was a terrible idea, but I enjoyed the magazine all the same.
Page finished getting dressed.
I jumped into whatever clothes were on the floor and didn't stink.
Then, we were out the door on Anna Letenske street, looking at the tram, downhill.


"I can see my breath," Page said, "It's cold..."

"Alright," I said as both of us ran across the street, "It's a little cold."

"But it's ok because I'm glad were out of the house."

"If we would have festered there any longer, we would have stayed in there all day."

"And missed this beautiful day," she said mocking me, putting both of her arms in the air.

The sky was gray and overcast and a single black crow flew over us, roof to roof.
No one was out, really.
It was Sunday and no one ever really came out on Sundays.
From the few czech friends I had, they explained to me this was the day to get drunk and cook.

"Far different then what people think in the States to do," I remember telling him.
"What do you do, my friend?" he had asked. He always called me my friend.
It was a nice thing to do since we had only known each other a couple weeks.
"Well," I explained to him, "Some people go to church to pray to God."
He laughed when I said this and said, "HA! God? How many people believe in God there?"
I had heard through the news and some Wikipedia research Prague was mostly atheist.
"A good amount, I'm pretty sure."
"That's silly," he scoffed, "Silly is word, right?"
"Yep. A word as any other."
"I like that word. What else do they do on Sunday?"
"A lot of people watch football. Not like soccer but with..."
"I know what you talk about," he said, cutting me off, "With the ball shaped like egg?"
I nodded, "Yes, the one with the egg shaped ball. It's popular in the Fall on Sundays."
"And what is Fall?" he asked.
You can see our relationship was really based on questions and answers.
He was a good guy, though I could never pronounce his name right.
There was a specific z in there somewhere where one had to dig their tongue under their teeth.
Lots of breath and vibration that Americans were never asked or trained to do.
Every czech I met said our language was a high contradiction.
Extremely complex in grammar and spelling, but spoken with such sloth.
I don't know if they used the word sloth.
I just like the word.

As we waited for the tram, I noticed the burnt orange and red blood leaves on the ground.
"Where had they come from?" I wondered. There were no trees on the street.
Must be from the park down the block, the one with the big church and the square.
There were lines of trees there used as leaning posts for the bums and junkies as they waited.
What they were waiting for, I never knew.
They just looked to be waiting for something.
I kicked a leaf into the street from the small island platform for the tram.
It swept up into the air a couple inches, and then instantly, was swept away by a passing car.
I watched as it wavered in the air, settling down the block in the middle of the road.

"Where's this trammm," Page complained.
Whenever it was cold out, her complaining level multiplied by a million.
"Should be coming soon. Check the schedule."
"Too cold," she said, "Need to keep my hands in my pockets."
I shook my head and looked at the schedule. It said it would be there at 11:35.
"11:35," I told her, still looking at the schedule. There was a strange cross over the day of Sunday.
"You mad?"
"No," I said turning to her, "I just want to have a nice day and its hard when you're upset."
"I'm not upset," she said, her teeth chattering behind her lips.
"Complaining I mean. We can go back home if it's really too cold. It's right there."
"No," she looked down, "Let's go out for a bit. I just don't know how long I'll last."
"Ok," I shrugged.
I looked up the street and saw our tram coming; number 11.
"There it is," I said.
"Thank God," Page exhaled, "I feel like I'm about to die."

Even the tram was sparse with people.
An empty handle of cheap liquor rattled in the back somewhere.
I heard it rock back and forth against the legs of a metal seat.
"Someone had a night last night," I thought, "Hope that's not mine."
We had gone to some dark bar with a lot of stairs going down - all I really recall.
Beer was so **** cheap there and there was always so much of it, one got very drunk easily.
I couldn't even really remember who we met or why we went there.
When everything's a blur in the morning you have two choices:
Feel guilty about how much you drank, lie around, and do nothing or,
Leave it be, try not to think about it, and try and find your passport and cell phone.

We made our transfer at the 22 and rode downhill.
Page looked like she was going to be sick.
Her sunglasses were solid black and I couldn't see her eyes, but her face was flushed and green.
"You alright?" I asked her.
"I'm fine," she said, "Just need to get off of this tram. Feel like I'm going to be sick."
"You look it."
"Really?" she asked.
"Yeah, a little bit."
"Let's get off at the park with the fountain. I don't want to puke here."
"Ok," I said, smiling, "We'll get off after this stop."

We sat down on one of the benches that circled around the fountain.
It was empty and Page was confused why.
"Maybe to save money?" I suggested.
"What? It's just water."
"Well, you gotta' pump the water up there and then filter it back out. Costs money."
"Costs crown," she corrected me.
"Same thing," I said, putting my arm around her, "There's no one here today."
"I know why," she stated, flatly.
"Why?"
"Because it's collllllllld and it's Sunday and only foreigner's would go out on a day like this."
I scanned the park and noticed that most of the faces there were probably not Czech.
"****," I muttered, "You may be right."
"I know I am," she said, wiggling her chin down into her jacket, "We're...crzzzy."
"We're what?" I asked. I couldn't hear her through her jacket.
She just shook her head back and forth and looked forward, not wanting to move from the warmth.
Dogs were scattered around the brown green grass with their owners.
Some were playing catch with sticks or *****, but others were just following behind their owner's.
I watched as one took a crap in the center of the walkway near the street.
Its owner was typing something on their phone, ignoring what was happening in front of him.
After the dog finished, the owner looked down at the crap, looked around, then slunk off.

"Did you see that?" I asked Page, pointing to where the owner had left the mess.
"Yeah," she nodded, "So gross. That would never fly in the states."
"You'd get shoulder tackled by some park security guard and thrown in jail."
"And be given a fat ticket," she said, coughing a little, "Let's get out of here."
"Yeah," I agreed, "And watch for any **** on the way out of here."

We made our way out of the park and down the street where the 22 continues on to the center.
"Let's not go into the center. Let's walk along the water's edge and maybe up to the bridge."
"Ok," I said, "That's a good idea." I didn't want to get stuck in that mass of tourists.
I could tell Page didn't either. I think she was afraid she might puke on a huddle of them.
We turned down a side street before the large grocery store and avoided a herd of people.
The cobble stones were wet and slick, glistening from a small sliver of sunlight through the clouds.
Page walked ahead.
Sometimes, when we walked downtown in the older parts of Prague, we would walk alone.
Not because we were fighting or anything like that; it was all very natural.
I would walk ahead because I saw something and she would either come with or not.
She would do the same and we both knew that we wouldn't go too far without the other.
I think we both knew that we would be back after seeing what we had wanted to see.
One could call it trust - one could call it a lot of things - but this was not really spoken about.
We knew we would be back after some time and had seen what we had wanted to.
Thinking about this, I watched her look up at the peeling paint of the old buildings.
Her thick black hair waved back and forth behind her plum colored pea coat.
Page would usually bring a camera and take pictures of these things, but she had forgotten it.
I wished she hadn't.
It was turning out to be such a beautiful day.

We made it to the Vlatva river and leaned over the railing, looking down at the water.
Floating there were empty beer bottles and plastic soda jugs.
The water was brown, murky, and looked like someone had dumped a large bag of dirt in there.
There was nothing very romantic about it, which one would think if you saw it in a picture.
"The water looks disgusting," Page said.
"That it does, but look at the bridge. It looks pretty good right
tread May 2013
cough

cough

     ahem

  she's we, you see

        creep. liquor. creep. sack of ****, that's what that is. creep.

                    liquor.
Andrew Rueter Nov 2017
I scoffed at my minor cough
Until I was immobile as a sloth
I had to press pause on my life's tale
After I became a beached whale
And my body turned frail
In my illness jail

My stoic resolve tested
My pain threshold crested
The way I act is antisocial
The way I feel is anti-hopeful
For I treat others poorly
When I'm hurting sorely

In sickness for health
I give away my wealth
To feel one hundred percent
That's the physician's intent
To make me experience drainage
But I need the healing medicine
So I can practice the discipline
Of removing my diseased shark's fin

Ramses II, known as Ramesses the Great
Had a permanently fractured finger
And his teeth were significantly rotten
The pharaoh's excruciating pain
Must have effected his reign
A massive amount of men slain
Is discomfort what's to blame?

When there's no pain relief
We give each other grief
And there's a lion with a thorn stuck in its paw
Eventually that simple thorn becomes a claw
Third Eye Candy Nov 2012
a soft cough is often lost in ramble, turned and double-crossed.
a lunacy of macaroni, and quite tasty paste -
the usual gods decanting the vinegar of all hope lost...
and a wasteland just going to waste.

what doom is this ?
does it trouble rainbows, or climb spikes in blood sugar ?
does it still keep you where the dark-side of the moon is the first light ?
a soft cough, a red robin, and a thought

thought ?
AntRedundAnt Jan 2014
love   apple   like   time   know   feel   heart   bed   little   life   home   red   boy   georgie   sleep   away   left   dear   ruth   gone   just   right   long   mind   hope   hair   mi   parts   say   fear   met   laugh   makes   sailing   make   tell   hands   day   poem   different   small   words   private   wish   legs   child   man   free   te   welcome   easy   apples   meteorite   smile   flower   want   way   arms   look   eyes   better   war   lie   good   thing   truly   teeth   passion   thought   work   seen   letters   friend   talk   brought   future   fingers   knew   imagination   sure   told   space   cold  la   mask   black   big   bite   age   size   shadow   petals   inane   stretchmarks   medic   we've   wouldn't   hear   tap   really   best   goes   face   gray   maybe   things   dream   tongue   forever   hate   set   room   death   need   truth   comes   night   lost   calves   pain   end   years   brings   touch   feet   blades   memories   new   core   times   dead   favorite   finally   minute   brain   hearts   getting   belly   far   rain   blue   knees   filled   stupid   woke   cream   fit   young   brown   se   fat   tan   cough   spoke   says   unlike   footprints   ******   rough   forward   buckle   blues   task   shoulder   grace   *******   reason   nostrils   firm   juice   palms   someday   mis   thumbs   screams   arguments   wobble   *****   elbows   *******   wrists   headaches   amo   pesky   ligaments   one-liners   thoughts   later   ash   clouds   lips   dreams   breath   mouth   hold   sense   taking   world   bit   speak   dance   gave   shall   ready   skin   air   single   breathe   button   peace   choices   hill   wrong   weak   close   use   quite   sky   phrase   darkness   justice   sound   unable   brave   holding   deep   grabbed   ****   try   building   paper   lunch   think   kind   stay   days   smooth   perfect   learned   care   fair   hard   grant   sweet   high   fruit   short   terms   kept   relationship   underneath   presence   water   looking   fool   sorrow   tree   second   delicate   nearly   happy   line   tall   tried   sad   satisfied   point   feels   falling   purpose   game   lazy   que   amor   agree   known   naught   loss   broke   failed   games   limp   grin   final   spring   act   south   flare   race   sake   car   large   wishes   neck   blink   knife   seeing   idea   steve   company   greens   spread   ship   lo   sally   sum   drowned   december   weep   sting   smiles   lessons   promises   successful   whistled   drowns   perfectly   pleasing   failure   brothers   cliche   harder   thirteen   ale   signs   limit   serenity   mundane   origin   chat   sapphires   handshakes   skinny   contagious   succeeding   super   refer   maturity   destination   civil   uncomfortable   collects   clack   liz   beatles   vez   attract   accomplishment   backside   throes   flaccid   audi   oneself   beastie   applesauce   naivete   bungalow   outie   there's   couldn't   isn't   they're   let's   'n   primos   primas   cantuta   fronton   redd's   mott's   innie   phallicly   tiny   fight   yo   para   walk   ****   hello   light   flash   silent   stone   does   forth   conversation   polite   green   minutes   ****   clear   flesh   couple   wake   anger   throw   torn   tangle   play   shattered   soldier   land   victim   carry   battlefield   came   darkest   blood   battle   warm   shine   reminds   lose   eye   dismay   hide   impossible   fast   earth   grab   stand   die   worse   year   people   white   story   hit   god   anxiety   realize   fall   asleep   dark   course   apart   morning   remain   beauty   ****   slowly   start   happen   remember   pray   past   easily   straight   mean   hand   driving   instant   thunder   messages   friends   old   coming   pen   seeds   shape   wasted   word   living   tore   shadows   knowing   bad   class   joy   trust   leaves   path   sun   ways   leave   meet   broken   head   weight   means   mountain   boys   true   stars   learn   sliced   naive   decided   player   actually   reality   ease   music   hood   desperate   promise   wishing   begin   miss   caressing   moan   thighs   heard   pretty   emotion   figure   floor   exotic   sand   hits   angel   awake   dreaming   probably   wins   seek   stretch   loved   tears   heartbreak   punk   walking   piece   furniture   unreachable   roots   near   deserve   simple   cats   tail   precious   lovers   loves   mother   tongues   clueless   share   taken   yesterday   faith   freedom   ripe   cursed   running   yes   unknown   feeling   going   stairs   opposite   wonder   afloat   packed   bones   acting   playing   wind   passions   dismissed   hourglass   reached   stares   mouths   singing   shaped   trapped   toll   dies   rock   trunk   discovered   especially   dull   choice   awful   patient   great   indoors   attached   thread   shoulders   warms   bright   bring   ending   drowning   sadness   winter   baby   looked   cute   beating   tight   kids   crying   ran   intoxicating   growing   saying   opposites   melancholy   gives   follow   clearly   dove   tu   soon   entwined   juicy   drown   laid   took   moved   bear   anyways   shirt   negative   clean   guide   sore   location   faux   nodded   glance   caught   chances   week   started   today   obvious   sweat   ***   quiet   laughed   worry   round   ladies   mama   smack   goodbye   rising   sides   wished   beds   infinite   positive   scared   admittedly   mistakes   meal   common   rises   toes   bullets   bound   suited   birth   clothes   belt   pounds   ground   barren   sitting   table   woe   swimming   stick   deepest   motion   cleared   sing   angry   action   sons   smiled   bedroom   wall   wiped   grins   mad   july   store   road   snow   pulse   important   adventure   exactly   foundation   trap   colors   floors   neon   outside   language   summer   north   fifty   served   wavy   kick   raw   thirty   row   changed   hanging   lied   drenched   companion   begins   strength   flies   direction   okay   stories   inky   stubborn   cloud   track   described   lover   replaced   pit   packs   circling   honest   wage   dinner   slave   paradox   faking   screamed   lightning   exterior   stopping   complete   deal   rifle   dependent   gifts   dancer   vision   students   horror   punch   anymore   pack   sagging   folk   honestly   tearing   prepared   creatures   listening   rhythm   unique   roar   card   glass   stage   desert   offered   fought   suffer   awoke   master   eating   furnace   glad   choir   graceful   *****   treasure   ships   bark   musical   strand   bee   finished   pink   slink   stronger   disclose   gravity   schedule   march   medicine   hates   weird   brush   laughs   helped   june   pitched   dumped   tense   sin   withdrawn   stem   proved   whispered   anew   amazing   louder   english   knocked   chilly   boots   false   mistake   toffee   whistle   smirk   gas   poised   buttons   bet   necks   elate  vi   bleak   decades   intention   plane   swollen   unseemly   en   sir   creeping   tells   success   doth   ***   balance   ant   fourth   fits   matters   pan   shook   tingle   dusty   reaching   thanked   careers   pile   tempt   ix   xi   xii   xiii   moms   hushed   spears   twinkling   works   fairytale   double   fighter   shocked   barriers   boot   thanks   solitary   lesson   owned   systems   groan   weekend   tomatoes   cider   calculating   drawer   partially   handy   stumpy   album   appealing   pet   unfortunately   jokingly   hotel   teacher   tag   eighteen   leg   dash   peep   betwixt   swear   attempt   inescapable   venues   worker   suit   coughed   remembers   rhyme   listed   chatter   stuff   assist   blocks   sheen   stanzas   jobs   cleaned   handshake   natural   moi   fantasy   cheers   smaller   curl   nay   leaning   frequent   eggs   cuando   el   desayuno   tus   beige   imperfections   difficult   darlings   overcome   oranges   keys   newfound   fairly   occasions   stats   ponder   pools   ablaze   rushes   fret   quell   breads   progress   comfortable   settling   desks   tile   trails   rainy   homemade   stunned   cemetery   plus   ideas   avocados   bananas   apply   latch   rocky   digress   experiences   vacation   sanctuary   earlier   rocket   precise   various   author   pie   explosions   *******   lighter   matched   plunged   isaac   jefferson   abe   measured   saturday   claw   welcoming   gear   trained   suffocation   leapt   gap   lee   disturbed   es   thrill   alarming   grill   frankly   importantly   una   fray   candied   amalgamation   nasty   american   optimism   guns   craters   contracted   rampant   unattainable   spilled   courts   carrots   shuffled   combined   blonde   forgave   artillery   sandwich   comfier   limitation   personalities   friday   strongly   crude   banana   tennis   limits   quaking   recesses   loot   andromeda   shells   playful   luckily   area   upwards   flail   largest   sappy   freckles   biology   fruition   cases   overtook   pinks   instruments   brownies   birthmark   reinforce   laptop   pirates   blinks   frontier   forwards   resonate   capacity   mumbled   marched   scraping   prompts   multiply   haiku   football   como   function   unfeeling   eighty   backsides   prompt   raced   blare   likewise   pro   chrome   gran   pears   puede   corazon   elated   indecisive   basketball   burgundy   synonyms   braced   effeminate   mutually   duties   companies   honeymoon   flailing   patted   mayo   headon   pero   misma   marveled   aforementioned   abhors   forefront   hesitating   identical   creepy   possessive   screeched   gotcha   infidelity   friction   barrage   nonetheless   disparate   itchy   apex   gettysburg   lunchtime   pickup   muchas   then   and   trading   distinguishable   pitches   bunk   ven   ladylike   encompasses   diagrams   underlying   spaghetti   soccer   trashcan   papa   disarming   finalmente   clashed   rosie   smirks   snapshot   pug   songbird   spitfire   yanks   thankfully   mesa   flexing   virginia   effectively   variations   eclipses   tambien   outrun   incident   vitamin   willpower   underdog   hardboiled   miniscule   checkerboard   entrust   siento   heavyweight   davis   thyroid   foreshadowing   frances   heresy   starburst   deficiency   sawing   peruvian   leche   antithesis   villanelle   alliteration   hora   vivir   clacking   droopy   whizzed   britney   futbol   parameters   disney   mangos   disproportionate   orbiting   tanka   stubby   intro   listo   goldilocks   teamwork   pbj   exemplifies   rey   retainer   tenia   triples   espanol   estuvo   castillo   ferrying   suficiente   racecar   dorky   garganta   veo   julio   peripherals   labios   rojos   foreseeable   frito   groggily   venn   macbook   inanely   hubo   goofball   you've   she's   weren't   wasn't   we're   others'   you'll   should've   haven't   what's   you'd   they'd   man's   boys'   god's   woman's   fruit's   orion's   newton's   lincoln's   adam's   momma's   ******   jackson's   audis   dulces   disproportionately   charon's   deseos   avocadoes   hailey   eran   beatles'   ingles   he   she   it   rackets   --   hashtag   sixty-three   duct-tape   joysticks   sherman's   15   6th   32   500   7th   2013   extraño   barenaked   tamales   6-year-old   tierras   derpy   ewell   rom-com   themit's   adan   mudpits   puddlepits   war--hell   culp's   shitpits   completaron   chocolatada   levantanse   duraznos   n'sync   huevo   cholitos   levantaron   manzanas   endurece   wozniak's   dispara   nuez   open-endedness   innies   cankles   dunder-mifflin   tunks   buck-toothed   outies   grief-blown   a-gawking
I uploaded all of my past work onto the site already, so everything from here on out will be new and original. This is sort of an experimental idea of mine: take all the words hellopoetry has tracked for me, put it down as if it were a poem, and see how it flows. It actually kind of works sometimes, but I'm not sure. I'm sure it's mostly terrible, but I wanted to try it. Let me know what you think in the comments below!
i Mar 2014
take the cough syrup,
dear.
it will help and heal
your sore throat and
bitter soul.
Hayley Jul 2018
Cough syrup
Red
Leaves you dead
Cherry
Filled with kodine
I leave a note filled with
Tears & love
This is not your fault i reapeat
Over And over
like a catchphrase
After I have written my last words
I sneak off into the darkened bathroom
The shadows in the corners
Amplyfiying my anxiety and the darkness in my head
The emptiness of my bed
After a moment of hesitation
I bring the bleach bottle to my lips
the mint smelling liquid burning away
the skin on my soft lips
I hold the liquid on my tongue
Oh how it burned
Oh how that first drink burned
I sip two more times
Two more times
The flesh of my tongue
Lips
And throat
Raw
I cough and gag
I walk back to my room
Deafeated
I am not dead
Suddenly as I sit in my lime chair
A red gleam catches my eye
Cough syrup prescribed to me
Months ago
Three teaspoons gone from it
I unscrew the cap
Guzzling down the vile liquid
The smell, and taste enough  to make me gag
I down half of the poison
Letting it purify my insides
I smile for the first time in days
Finally free from
Burdening all who care for me
I stand my body diminishing from the inside out
My once pink insides
Now dyed a ****** red and happy
Happy to be rotting
After a few agonizing hours of awaiting to  become a rotting corpse i stumble to my kitchen and examine my mom's set of knifes
Each one has sharpened teeth designed
To cut me open like a tender cut of meat
My eyes gleam in childlike wonder as I try to pick which one will slice my veins
I choose one like a kid choosing candy
Selective and critical
Finally i pick one and slide it quickly d across my wrists
I am shocked at how much blood comes pouring
From my wounds
But i quickly become addicted
Addicted to my blood
Addicted to the pain
Addicted to the thought of my death
After several cuts
I walk to bed to see if I can become a corpse in my bed
When i awake
I am dissapointed and relieved all at once
Relieved to be alive
Disappointed to be alive
Over the day my sticky red insides
Reject any nourishment
Expelling any of it through my mouth
My thoughts run a mile a minute
I find myself unable to focus on anything
My muscles feel ghostly cold
Meanwhile my skin is boiling hot
Once my mom comes home
Rushed to the hospital
Ordered not to fall asleep
in the rumbling car
But all my tired brain
And sticky red insides want
Is a permenant
Eternal
Happy
Sleep
But i was never given that sleep
That oh so sweet release
Water was washed through me to get rid of
The toxic red in my system
Now my insides are pink and truly happy again
Happy to not be rotting and decaying
Happy to be alive
cozy april Mar 2014
Drinking
Cough Syrup
when you don't
have a cough
is ironic,
because in
reality
you are sicker
than you thought.
ryn Oct 2014
Red
Strange malaise,
One I can't place.
Struggling of late.
Discomforting state.

Persistent lethargy.
Sloth-like and heavy.
Burning internals.
Frequent intervals.

No temperature.
No warning lever.
Don't know what's wrong.
Been rather long.

Medicine trough
Can't rid me this cough.
Expulsion so violent,
Incessantly recurrent.

Over a fortnight
This ailment I fight.
Still hasn't eased.
Can't be appeased.

Development is seen.
Now spitting green.
Not just all
That joined this brawl.

It's just the coughing.
No injury I'm suffering,
I haven't bled...

But I see red...
:(
Cold n cough,cold n cough,
very tough, very tough.
caught on 16th december
Amid  cold and thick fog cover.
first made sore throat,
Then made nose tight.
In the night  robbed rest,
That led to lose sleep the best.
Tried  haldi-milk of grandma
But  sleep was still away .
Tried tulsi kwath of mama
that led pass  the night anyway.
In the morning nose started
  Used the  wife's formula of
Warm salty water gurggles
As sun started setting down
Cold n cough again  grown.
Amid this   called to daughter
She advised to go to a doctor.
Doc  gave antibiotics n advised rest,
O my god what a bad  taste.
You made recall  four generations ,
You're  great for those nice reasons.
Lack of sleep led introspection
That led scanning thought congestion
That is why thanks  for coming, 
For the  reasons of my inner cleaning.
Forced to wear coat n jackets
Paving  the way for hot snack- packets
Reminded me to  stop sour & curd
Start milk ,cheese and bread.
One week surrendered to you,
But still I owe a lot of you.
Dress well and eat warm .
You would be whole year in form.
Hana Gabrielle Jan 2013
I hear you
like the ringing in my ears
in the time
between consciousness
and dreams

fading scar tissue on my skin
feels so far from healing

aggressive breath
anxious sweat
pearls at the base of my neck

like puddles reflecting
that one lit up window
that spoke volumes
on the subject
of loneliness
and surrender

smog drifting higher
hugging the sun
in its suffocating embrace
so let the kids play
because tomorrow
the headlines could tell you
that it's finally time
to give up
give in
give away
anything
and everything you tried to save

cough like
your eroded throat
is the holy vessel
and your pain is scripture
pretend you didn't repeat
the things you pretended
to not have heard
so give me your last breath
and I give you my word
I'll never let your anguish
be remembered

so come on
and cough.
Hana Gabrielle Jan 2013
cough
like you could evict
the bitter thickness
of failure from your lungs
purge the fallacies you're pounded with
the shame
of cheap whiskey
and the voicemails you've saved
just to remind yourself
that you ruined things
punishment
because it feels righteous
when it comes from within
cough
and when your lungs settle
the heaviness remains
so take another desperate drag
because perhaps
this will finally be your last
Kara Rose Trojan Dec 2014
My Second Letter to Allen Ginsberg
Dear Allen,
Almost five years ago, I wrote you a letter, and in
That letter, I purged my drunkenly woeful cries
That seem so first-world now and naïve –
The things I grimed over with luxuries I didn’t
Realize that rubbed against my plump limbs
Like millions of felines poised at the
Tombs of pharaohs.

Oh, Allen, I’m so tired –
These politics, and poly ticks, so many ticks that
Annoy my tics. Allen! I smear your name so liberally
Against this paper like primer because the easiest way
To coerce someone into listening to you like
A mother
or predator
tugging or nibbling on your ear –
Swatches of velvet scalped from a ****’s coat
Are you and I talking to ourselves again?
Candid insanity : Smoky hesitance.

Dear Allen, I’m so tired –
Yes, I love wearing my ovaries on the outside like
Some Amazonian soapbox gem glistening from beneath
The iron boots of what the newspapers tell me while
I cough at them with the hurdled delicacies of alphabet soup.
Give vegetables a gender and call them onions, Allen.
Sullied scratch-hicks pinioned feet from slapping
Society’s last rung on the ladder.
Ignore the swerve of small-town eyes.
Scapulas, stirrups, pap smears, and cervical mucus – now do you know who we are?

That fingernail clipped too short, Allen. We’ve all got AIDs
And AIDs babies, haven’t you heard? Hemorrhaging from the political
****** and out – they haven’t reached the heart.  
Since when have old white men given a **** about some
13 year old’s birth control? I’m riding on the waves of the
Parachute game and I swear this abortion-issue is just a veil outside Tuskegee University
Being further shove over plaintive eyes, swollen and black.
Pay up and
shut up.

I still remember my first broken *****, Allen.
Can you tell me all about your first time?
The vasodilatation that made veins rub against skin,
Delirious brilliance : unfathomable electricity.
I made love during an LSD experience, Allen,
And I am not sorry. I see cosmic visions and
Manifest universal vibrations as if this entire world is
A dish reverberating with textiles and marbles, and
All are plundering the depths of the finished wine
Bottle roasting in the sink like Thanksgiving Turkey.
The patience is in the living. Time opens out to you.
The opening, between you and you, occupied,
zoned for an encounter,
given the histories of you and you—
And always, who is this you?
The start of you, each day,
a presence already—
Hey, you!

Ah, Allen, if you are not safe, then I am not safe.
And where is the safest place when that place
Must be someplace other than in the body?
Am I talking to myself again?
You are not sick, you are injured—
you ache for the rest of life.

Why is it that I have to explain to my students that
sometimes what I'm spouting is prescribed by a pedagogical pharmacy --
but all they want to know is "what do the symbols on the television mean?"
I am completely aghast against the ghosts of future goners --
I am legitimately licensed to speak, write, listen like some mothers --
I am constantly cajoling the complex creations blamed on burned-out educators --
I am following the flagrant, fired-up "*******"s tagging lockers --
Pay up and
shut up.

Yes, and it’s Hopeless. Allen.
Where did we get off leaping and bounding into
The dogpile for chump change jurisdiction, policing
The right and the left for inherent hypocrisies when
Poets are so frightful to turn that introspective judgment
Upon ourselves?
We didn’t see it coming and I heard the flies, Allen.
Mean crocodile tears. Flamingo mascara tracks
Up and down : up and down: bow – bow – bow – bow
Buoyant amongst the misguided ******* floating around
In the swirlpool of lackadaisical introspection.
What good is vague vocab within poetry?
Absolutely none.
Would you leave the porchlight on tonight?
Absolutely, baby.

Dear Allen, would you grow amongst the roots and dirt
At the knuckles of a slackjawed brush of Ever-Pondering Questions
Only to ask them time-and-time-and-time-and-time-again.
Or pinch your forehead with burrowed, furrowed concentration upon those
Feeble branches of progression towards something that recedes further
And further with as much promise as the loving hand
Attempts to guide a lover to the bed?

Allen, I wish to see this world feelingly through the vibrations of billions of bodies, rocking and sobbing, plotting and gnashing like the movement of a million snakes, like the curves collecting and riding the parachute-veil.

Ah, Allen! Say it ain’t so! Sanctified swerve town eyes.
And everything is melting while poets take the weather
Too personally
And all the Holden Caulfields of the world read all the
*******’s written on the walls and all the Invisible Men
Eat Yams and all the Zampanos are blind and blind
And blind and blind and blind and blind
Yet see as much as Gloucester, as much as Homer,
As much as Oedipus.

Oh, Allen, do you see this world feelingly
and wander around the desert?
Colored marbles vibrating on the curtailed parachute paradox.
Lamentation of a small town’s onion. Little do we know, Allen,
That what you cannot see, we cannot see, and we are bubbling
Over in the animal soup of the proud yet weary. I can see,
However, how the peeled back skulls of a million
Workboots and paystubs may never sully the burden
Of an existential angst in miniscule amounts.
Pay up and
shut up.  

My dearest Allen, there is always a question of how
The cigarettes became besmirched with wax to complement
What was once grass, and
What was once a garish night drenching doorknobs.
The night's yawn absorbs you as you lie down at the wrong angle
To the sun ready already to let go of your hand
As you stepped, quivering, on to
The shores of Lethe.
Humpty Dumpty learned to crawl
then he grew and climbed a wall
then suddenly he had a cough
coughed so bad that he fell off
now in pieces on the floor
his cough is cured and is no more
Dark Jewel Jun 2014
Heave your chest out,
Lock your ribcage.
Feel the burning in your throat.

Cough out your heart.
Meg Bray Apr 2014
My words are seldom,
Barely a whisper,
Lost in the wind of literacy,
I am entirely sure,
I am afraid to be heard.

The truth is hard to swallow,
Like a gulp of cough syrup,
We gag it down.

Words will taste bitter on your tongue,
Like the cough syrup,
We choke on the words we wish to speak.

But swallow the truth whole,
And bring your words forth,
Do not make the same mistake as me:

Be heard.
ryn Nov 2014
.    _ _
     /   /  
  /  /  
 ||
    
enticed by   \\  the alluring
promise of everlasting sweetness•i had
shed all trepidation to indulge in this lone
songstress•hanging on its own, just enough
within my arm's length•seemed so easy but
a formidable test of strength•i had reached
and plucked without in mind, the doubt of
myth•held it for an instant before sinking
in my teeth•it's the sole mouthful that
had brought about this perpetual
racking cough•it's the apple...
that i should've never taken
a big bite        out of...•
Riley OHalloran Mar 2019
The cough in my throat turned into a sandpaper burning sensation,
and yet I sang so loud today that someone complimented me.
Nothing will keep me silent, but I know you want it.
Every cough is an abrupt clap of the vocal chords:
that's what a voice teacher once told me,
and I can feel how right they are every time I cough
and feel like my throat is burning and bleeding all at once.
I want to not do anything with my throat except sing,
not cough, not breathe, not swallow,
just sing, loud enough that you can't help but hear.
I have no self-preservation, but who are you to call me out?

— The End —