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Luis Valencia Oct 2018
I smile
Hoping to give someone a reason
To talk to me
I’m ignored

Lately I’ve felt lonely
I have friends
But there is still an emptiness inside of

I look at walls of beige
And carpet floors
I feel like I’m in a cage
Or a display case

Each day I live in a character
Someone who I wish I could be
I feel like I’m not genuine
I’m a clone of what society fixated as normal

It’s exhausting looking in the mirror
And seeing a ghost
Fighting it seems useless
It just crawls back into my mouth
And burrows there

Why must we become someone we’re not
To feel whole again
laura Oct 2018
Piano and guitar playing light songs
soft tape, fresh rain, streets oblique
christmas lights on her walls like she
lives in a dorm, eucalyptus smelling
fresco paintings with 666s on them
bring on the full Fall, dim cars
outside and their alarms or engines
in the pause of our sleepy conversations
we go in deep when we’re satisfied with
the noise we’ve made
Timothy Oct 2018
There is no comfort on the storm tossed sea,
Where haply death claims lives without a trace.
There in the froth, the gale, the waves that be,
Convulsed from clime to clime, and now embrace
What I just cannot fathom nor conceal,
The dark and boundless depths that now reveal—
The lives, long gone, a homeless corpse up churn'd
The shores that change but ne'er cease to recall
A rage that sank both sailour and the learn'd,
No knells, no coffins, graves, or ev'n headstones at all!

O, rolling ocean, ship's wreckage contained
Inside thy stomach deep and rotting be,
The slave, the free, the captain thou retained;—
Mere bones, that once were faces, they to me
Are nameless and unknown, they be not mine,
All wrapt in tangle, fathom deep in brine.
Somewhere someone adored and loved their form;
Yet now fore'er engulf'd in bub'ling foam,—
Still in the barnacles that are their dorm,
Old ship was matchless to the storm—hear thy last groan.

Yet standing on thy shores, heave to and fro,
No evidence of death that catch my eyes;
Thy waters glass, they sometime toss and go
Without impending gloom, no darken'd skies.
My love, ocean, rekindled all for thee,
Within my heart, within my soul, and see;—
Time changes not thy waves wherein I play'd
As childhood waned, adulthood now I find—
Both cheerful and the cheerless waters spray'd,
Thou givest hours of cheerfulness and death unkind.
( Dedicated to Tryst. )
© Timothy 20 January 2015
Mygreatestescape Dec 2016
No one
laughs at God,

not at war,
not in hospitals,
No one
laughs at
got nothing
left to keep,
No one laughs
at God
even when
death comes
to reap,

But everyone laughs
at God,
at bars
and in clubs,
and in living
rooms of
when jokes
and wine
are spilled

And at
get togethers
dinner parties
and in movies,
where everyone

No one laughs at
not in their faces,
because then
they're racist,
Not during history
when reading
and proof,

But everyone
at Jews,
when the economy
when someone
a ******
themed Halloween
breaking an
awkward silence,
when blaming
everyone laughs
with their
mouths open,

No one laughs
at war,
not when children
falling down
like flies,
Not when
dare not bat
an eye,
Not when
more than rain,

But everyone laughs at
the teachers not
when little
kids are being
looking for
someone else
to blame,
around dinner
and brunches,
they laugh
unfathomable pain,

No one laughs
at egalitarianism,
not when
was *****
in her dorm
not when
are killed for their
not when
is a restricted
with a

But they
making ****
because its
just for fun,
isn't it?
will be
is an excuse
for each
and outcome,
words are
all they have
in their dictionary
to describe
and her

It's all so funny,
two faced
in our ignorance,
at each other's
monstrous and
killing humanity
with our
Doesn't anyone ever get tired of hating each other?
Carter Ginter Jan 2018
I finally took the sweatshirt out of my car
It smells like you
Hotel linen suffocating my senses
And for a moment I'm lost
Even though we're not great together
You still run through my mind too often
The quiet nights in your dorm room
Walking along the beach together
Me making jokes in the haunted house to calm your anxiety
Talking to goats at the pumpkin farm
Even getting hyped while playing video games
You are everywhere
And I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss you
It's so conflicting because
I know we were unhappy at the end
But maybe it could've worked out
If I tried a little harder
Instead of just giving up
But I didn't know where it would go
And it wasn't healthy anymore
You wanted forever and I wasn't sure I could give you that
I'm trying so hard to live in the moment these days
Which is hard when I can't stop thinking about you
But I hope you're doing ok
Nico Julleza Sep 2017
October fifth, the night begets
Midnight hallways of uncertain threat
A whooshing of trees marks ambiguity
The cold hovering beneath my very feet

Sacrosanct creatures in Epiphanius state
With dust in shelves and candles that melt
A frightening woe nigh unsaid nor upheld

Twas an airy voice lurking the dark
Such lush but nothing of any spark
The floors were tilted and web's shifted
Fixated minds suddenly felt desolated

With all the corners of every dorm
She yearns something, finding her prose
Crossing borders, ruffling like a storm

The woeing wind woes as she goes
Nothing to keep, nothing to show
Her runic is fading, losing its tone
It never stopped till morning and all is gone
#Wind #Night #Mystery #Dark

(NCJ)POETRYProductions. ©2017
Laying around
about the dorm room
Looking for quick
Stupid cash
We came upon a listing
My roommate and I
in the local paper
Artist models needed
No experience necessary
That was key

The guy on the phone was chirpy
He lived
Close by in Oakland
He gave us directions to where
He would pick the two of us up
Would take the bus
He would be in a station wagon

He met us sure enough
Old as the ******* sea
Formal suit and tie
Maybe a hat
We drove back to the apartment
And entered
First my roommate
And then myself

A ****** yellowed set of rooms
Where we will be heading to the right
To the kitchen
I’ve noticed the battered ***** *****
To the right
Stains and an attached clamp lamp
A single stark bulb

We were greeted by an even chirpier young lady
She was like a baby Joan Jett
All rocker black and leather
Sleek hair slicked back
She seemed somehow to like
really really old men

She took over and reached
for the plastic folder
She handed it to us
“You need to look at this before we go on
This is what we do”

Obediently, we cracked it open
and peered inside
Bent over we studied
Sticky plastic pages
Of brightly faced girls
Smiling with awkward innocence
No bright eyes nor youthful effanescance
No desire
Nothing wet
Except their palms with thoughts of escape
And 100 dollars

I only remember the girls whose makeup faded around the neck to betray
the true color of their flesh
Not flushed at all with sticky expectation
They left no impression in their nakedness
They should have been in class or doing something else

But our Joan!
Joan was a star.
Her photos were full of sass and delight
She was more than happy
to show you her ******
Over and over and over
She said
it’s a club
The guys pay a monthly fee
And they come here and shoot
In the apartment or maybe outside
They cannot touch.
There is no *******.
Mostly they shoot

A Pixie Star.
This was were that old man’s money was.

I don’t remember what she told us
What she used to do before
this had to be a moment
A rather short moment
She would move along because
This kink was overstuffed with
and ineptitude.
Kink that might be easier to deal
On a properly lit stage
Or a quiet motel room with the shades drawn
Cash up front.

But for now
She was the enterprise.
And what would he do without her?
We three giggled and guffawed
in the little kitchenette.
We weren’t game for the arrangement.
She knew that.
But she liked to talk.
Men like that are pathetic.

Seriously why would we do this?
All those faces in the book!
Four on a page
Excitedly, we thought that we recognized
One or two
I know her!
Look I know her! I’ve seen her
in the Poli-Sci Building!
I’m sure we did not know any of them.

The mattress.
I could not fathom what happened on that thing.
I don’t want to know.
I had to look the other way as we left.
Did he perform
With hangers and kitchenware
Can ******* be that messy?
Just opening your legs?

We said goodbye to her!
She was wonderful.
She would sparkle forever.
Joan Jett!
Piling back into this hoarder’s
station wagon amongst
the musty boxes and newspapers
strewn all over the backseat with us
He drove
to the bus stop
A waste of his time

He asked
How should this ad read
so that
this doesn’t happen again?
We offered no suggestions.
It had been fun
However idiotic.
I don’t remember
how long it was that
we kept our bus trip
BJ Donovan Sep 2
From years ago when I memorized your face
  it was burned into my brain when we started
  our affair. Bits I called you. I was Bo.
  We meant more than life itself. Remember?
  The last time I saw you was in your dorm
  when we ****** our goodbye and if only.
  I went into the wilderness to find a way.
  My life was torn asunder and I lived the
  broken life of the poet in the garret as
  I pieced it back bits by bits with angels.
harmony crescent Oct 2018
flashbacks to pjs and long drives
bleached blonde hair and big blue eyes
sad little sunsets hidden behind crumbling houses
made the stratospheric masterpieces that we stumbled across
as we grew up and traveled farther
all the more stunning
we never talked about them though
just trusting that the other treasured them as much as you did
i never doubted that those sunsets were still hidden
in the caverns of your big, odd, heart
now its not just your heart thats big
look at you, so tall in the crowd
walking... somewhere, anywhere, who knows
certainly not you :)
your head high, eyes to the sky
or wherever, anywhere but down
that was never you, you never looked down
except at me, when i would lay on the floor of your room
and giggle when you'd snort
and your goofy laugh
no wonder im out of sorts
i loved that floor
it was always there for me to sit on while you sunk into your bed
i just miss your eyes on me, no thoughts behind them
it was just our moment to sit in the sibling-ness of it all
now we run but i miss when we crawled
we'd stress about the crazy week coming up
but i could never cry in your room
except for that one time
but that wasnt your real room, just your dorm
the dorm with the door
the closed one
that i just stood and stared at for a little bit
like it had slammed on me
and my throat closed
and i choked for a second because i thought
"i hope theres a window in there"
"so he can see the sunsets...
... and maybe remember me"
just maybe
i cried because i wasnt sure
i doubted that you would remember me
that you would remember those sunsets
i doubted they were still shining in you
i want to say that mine are still shining bright
but you dont ever call
and when i call youre only half there
and i understand that where you are is so much better
than where i am
but i still want you here
on your floor
your old floor
where i giggle
but theres no laugh
where theres a sun
but no beautiful light
not anymore
for my brother, who left for college
Anna Patricia Jul 2018
where did i lose my warmth?
at which place had i turned my switch?

in starbucks? secondhand bookstores?
was it in the local bar or the liquor store?
in houses i crashed, couches i spent the night on
or of dorm rooms i slept at and sheets i found comfortable?

to what girl had i offered it in lieu of the rush?

had i made the trade with the girl
who dragged me through unlit streetlights
as she had her lips perched on mine,
opened my heart with intensity that made her tremble
and eventually turned me into a massive mess.
was it her? i was always too drunk to recall.

or perhaps i gave it away, little by little
to the bartender in a black shirt
with a walrus at the back,
and his sadness was seen in his eyes every night.
we never really spoke.
i ask for shots, he gives them to me.
but he understood. i know he always did.
he looks at me in a way.
all fuckups know why we do the things we do
was it with him?

or was it the cigarette lady
from where i lit my first menthol stick
and swallowed the cough
that i really wanted to release?

maybe it goes farther back

had i lost my warmth in words?
in unsent text messages?
literature? poetry? essays? prose?
metaphors – not at all.

i lost it when i was eight
when i knew about my father's infidelity
when i felt my first rejection
when i felt so unwanted
when my heart broke for my mom
there, in that very dark room had i lost it all.

but the better question should be:
was it ever there?
Walking up in my college dorm
Yeah,my life ,it was pretty normal
Looking for a date to the spring formal
Wasn't worried 'bout noting eles, no majoring in undecided
Notebook full of bad songs I was writing
Never dreamed anyone else would like'em
Now they're sitting on a Wal-Mart shelf

Ain't it funny how life changes
You wake up, ain't nothing the same and life changes
You can't stop it, just hop on the train and
You never know what's gonna happen
You make your plans and you hear God laughing
Michael H May 25
Rhythm and cadence
Foretell the surveillance
Of a mighty time
That thinks toward rhyme
With the trees of giving
Are eternal living
Diving or surfing networks
Riding the form
Of humanity's dorm
The grasses are greener
Where you are
The lives are leaner
Near this star
The will to give is profound
Aligned with every sound
Love fulfilled
Is the beauty to be willed
The stork has arrived
For ambition
1 -- In a series I will post right now with little breaks, concurrent Patreon and poems here, I may not stay to date with Tags. I apologize . Hope you enjoy. Thank you.
I was going through
this box I've had
since my father died
it's full of the things
he saved about me
my third grade report
card calling me social
but not much of a rule
follower or my dorm
room clean-out card
all those things but
what tore me up
were all these short
stories I wrote when
I was 17 or 18 and had
these dreams of being
the next Joyce I barely
even remember some
of them but what I do
remember is that dad
always wanted to write
a story together father
and son and kept giving
me ideas to start my half
of it and I never did
I never wrote a ******
word I might have sent
him an idea and then
never followed up and
now he's gone and what
I wouldn't give to just
write a few **** words
for him to show him
I took it seriously and
maybe give him just
that one more chance to
open up and tell me what
kinds of things rested
in the broadness of his mind.
Joy Oct 2018
Autumn came quickly this year.
The skies tinted themselves gray.
The children were suddenly
under three layers of clothing.
I noticed I drank hot tea
instead of iced coffee.
My summer dresses
were replaced by my favorite
grubby sweaters.
Scarves flew in formation
to guard my neck from the cold air.
My music playlist went
from rock and roll
to acoustic.
I promised this autumn,
sadness will not strike.
I promised to leave
summer paralysis
back on the beach.
I was not to fall off
like the yellow leaves
from the oak outside my dorm.
You met me on my way to lecture.
You were cowarding
under three layers of clothing,
eyes tinted gray.
You were giving off
the scent of exhaustion.
You said I looked as if I were out to conquer the world.
You said I was armed with my algebra textbook.
I said you looked in harmony with the weather.
You laughed.
I believe you meant to stab me with that laugh.
To remind me how in August
your blue eyes did not want me.
But it's October.
And I'm detached from the thirst for you.
Autumn came so quickly this year
it made you irrelevant.
October turned your blue eyes
a negligible splash of gray,
made you fall off
like a yellow leaf
from the oak outside my dorm,
blurred you with the backdrop.
Autumn came so quickly,
October painted my green summer eyes
a fiesty, burning yellow,
a flame in contrast to the tinted sky,
made my footsteps soothing
like an acoustic guitar,
made my lips taste like hot tea in my own mouth.
Robin Carretti Aug 2018
*  777* Goth
Whats worse both
Even Steven Universe
Will I ever find

/ Curse

Coming to terms with
Cancer doesn't care
Did Heaven
A disease ending up
Absolutely nowhere

Lotto like death
Poison mushroom
Exit button mushroom
Thanks for space race
Baby mushroom
Fantasy Island of
Alice in Wonderland
mushrooms to chew
Rabbit hole stew
What a mush
washy of lush
Being taken
Stroke of a brush
All our money-losing
Clouds white and brown
One mans poison Pubs is
cute baby cubs pleasure
Moving Buffy slayer City
Jungle  Jane single
Poison *** in the city

Pollution give me

My London Fog
Poisoning mushroom
The Prince the princess
being kissed by a frog
What! the magic mushroom?
for migraines
Herbal cure
remedy taking planes

LSD healing drive
Mushroom for the brain
The Godly tribe

Trees are being
chopped down
Everything from
Handed down
Laughing stock of
Computer clowns
I am not feeling the vibe

Shitake what does it take
Like a fungus

Tasting someone's poison
Mushroom soup he is
wearing his graduate cap
What a mushroom head

Ladies of Venus group
Coastal storm in my
wedding bed

Riders of the storm
Stan the evil door or
Jimmy Morrison
Nicole with her Kidman
Are you kidding me
I am assuming
The good earth
Is being devoured
Every hour I feel
like writing
Who is buying mushrooms
Slivered like a snake
Making room for Go Daddy
Poisonous suits of Grooms

Healing hand is
Godly skywriting
The silence of
the Lamb
Moms Lambchops
Steamed fresh mushrooms
Stranded with most
expensive lipstick
Money withdrawal
My Drugs like a
good book fictional

Only in my dreams
Did I ever see poison
Something is being
planted in my showroom

Artwork Arsenic and lace
Whole place faces of mushrooms
Homemade Butternut squash
Nose of a button mushroom
  Near the vegetable
Stand his hand
lands he started
Eating my mushroom's
Marsala mushroom
Grilled Chicken and
bacon salad overload
of mushrooms
I never promised you
a rose garden
In our College Dorm
Pool games no drugs
of mushroom

Trees and Snow White
poison apple she is cute
as a button
Throwing apples compared
To oranges who would
be glad they got stuck
with poison
Good earth what is possible

Poison brain watching
Cable whats accountable
Midterms all nasty germs
The world is poisoning
our mind brainwashed
I left one nasty mushroom
behind I won't bite
Poison is everywhere if you let it come your way it is in our plants it is the way a person galavants how the time flew. I don't even have money to buy the most expensive shoe. I see a lot of mushroom gravy  Mom make homemade gravy every Sunday Its an Italian thing. We rarely have mushrooms  He always dresses like little boy blue this is not a fairytale we feel poisoned by so many things even watch out poison mushrooms better not be in your meal
the money is like a drug but got poisoned
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