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Sally A Bayan Oct 2017
Past midnight...
apart from a nocturne playing
i hear a symphony of peaceful breathing
and snoring...rhythmical, this quiet evening,
it sends me soaring up my own universe,
with eyes closed, it grows more immense
creates some kind of a calm, in the silence
surrounding me, and my muse's presence.
stardust and moon provide me a crown
while i float...and probe around,
seeking something i don't know about,

in this journey,
i feel the absence of souls, slumbering deeply,
dreaming their simple, or strange fairy tales.
the firmament, wears a navy blue veil
stars are dots, they glow and scintillate,
like a warmth in the cold....emancipates
my invisible wings flap and fold,
a door **** hands take hold,
my destination...bright, resplendent,
"Cosmic Coffee Shop," a place, transcendent,
brewing a blend
-the dark, the positive
-the sweet, and the negative
a sign says, "write....there's pen and paper
in every corner..."
an invite, for people to create prose and poetry
where coffee is free, smells...tastes heavenly
a place to share...with brethren, in poetry.
(an old poem)
1:01 AM

☕️ Sally ☕️

Copyright November 21, 2016
on a sleepless night,
  ...a plane roars
     ...breaks the silence-
Brian Ong Aug 2018
Hi. Do you care enough to hear me whine?
I fear that you don’t see me
collecting dust in the dim corner of your room.
And while you stand and stare,
completely absorbed by your own despair,
I remain
ready to serve you  
and your meaningless life.
I can clean your room, yet I can’t clean your mind
of the false reality exemplified by your kind.

We are similar though, you and I.
Wasting our time amassing, acquiring, accumulating.
Honestly, we’re mere specks of life,
surrendering to realities constructed by our minds.
Don’t you know that your beloved earthly pleasures
are one and the same as the ******* that I collect?
Hard-earned, elusive, temporal, disposable.
Its laughable how ignorant you are;
consumed by your own subliminal thoughts,
leaving you searching for the remnants of what is and what is not.

Can’t you see the fallacies present in your head?
Gleaming yet blinding, salient yet obscure.
Armed with benevolent promises
that ultimately leave you for dead.
Can’t you see that what you crave
will inevitably **** you down to your grave?
Incessantly coated with wondrous, tempting illusions
that disguise its true nature--garbage.
Garbage. Connect the dots, you fool.
Can’t you see that you and I are one and the same?
done for class
Sofia Von Aug 2012
Its all just words
No faces
No looks, no clothes, no smell
A simple connection

It could have been anybody

But it wasn’t

It started off as a hobbie
Something to keep boredom at bay

By now you’re junior olympics... At least

It can be as flawless as beach glass

Or jagged
and farspread like the trees still dieing

I never know what to expect
An idea
... Clearly I could continue

It’s like my little escape hole
A therapist that Actually understands and wants to
We just click
Alined by the sun
Some would say

But I dunno if that’s true
All I know is what I feel

Should I not feel what I feel?
Do I feel what I feel?
Is what I feel real?
Or is it fake

Is it a lie?

Or should I make it one

I don’t know what’s best
How can I

I’m new at this remember

All I know is the words of the known
Who are unknown to me in one world
And an empty chair in the next

I sit down and wait patiently

Until its finally my turn, here is where I’ll sit

There is no shame finding comfort in the little things the chair offers
Its smooth silky surface
The wine stain down the middle
the dots that resemble a smile in the corner

You don’t forget what you know so well
You open up your palm

A baby snake inside

He doesn't take it
He doesn't **** it on the spot
He doesn't grimace with disgust
He doesn't burst out in laughter

He picks it up
and cradles it in his hands

And sets it free

Back into the world where it belongs

And then he gives you a dalia

You take it and tuck it behind his ear as something to be admired

He blushes

He needs you too

But its real
Almost too real

So you push it away
It’s impossible
It might not even be close to what you think it might be


And stay silent


We start again

A haha here
A smiley face too

Climbing up the uncertain mountain that has never been climbed before

The chance of falling high
But you like the chase

And for now
Its enough

You don’t really care if you summit anyway

A possible when
always dangling
Inside the clouds
Donall Dempsey Oct 2018

( for Linda Rose Parkes   )

The sea stands
by my daughter's side

like a huge monster
she has tamed.

" friend?"
she pats and pets it.

Both of them smile
for the camera

as if either
could never die.

This the moment
of the photograph

that fixes them
both in place

held in a forever
of black and white.

The moment
before this moment she

had ****** her hand
into the sea's massive body

and like a surgeon or
a magician

brought forth
a shell.

To her it is
a little miracle.

She plunges her hand  in again
conjures up a bikini top.

Blue with white
polka dots.

On her next slight of hand
she creates bladderwrack

with such a casual
nonchalant magic.

"What is..?" she
enquires of me

She falls in love
with its sound.

Will "bladderwrack...bladderwrack...bladderwrack!"
all the way home.

She is my tiny God
making a universe in her own image.

The camera clicks
captures the creator in the act.

Her pet sea gazing at her imploringly
like a Kraken on a leash.

She pats it with a splash.
A wave licks her toes.

The sun shines in glorious
black and white.

Her laughter
my prayer.

Dawn and the the sparrows balancing on the very tips of bamboo had come to welcome me to a new day. It was going to be our last Jersey day so I wrote this as a thank you poem to Linda Rose for not only having us in her home but for (hopefully ) surviving us.

We had such a delightful time with Linda Rose and hubby Mike. Life was like the most glorious sax solo.

I love the way her mind plunges into her unconsciousness and plucks forth an image or a thought that will startle you into an awareness of self that encapsulates the very essence of being. She is so brave in her concepts and prepared to take risks that bring about such ideas and with such a generosity of soul.

Her writing reminded me of my little girl seeing the sea for the first time and amazed at what she could pull out of it.

She looked after us with such kindness and caring that we are still glowing with it all.

And such poetry and such audiences! Such a pleasure to be able to read and hear others read in Jersey Opera House.
Skyla Dec 2018
Go out and buy yourself some pretty pills
Take them for the purpose of a thrill
Exercise like it’s your religion
***** the good and bad decisions
Starving isn’t fun, but someone ought to do it
You were destined to be worthy and you knew it

You want bread, it’s all in your head
You want to be fed, but you wish you were dead
You were born with a knife in your heart
As a child you were struck by a hundred darts, of the cruel words of society and of the jittery snicks of the sugar plum fairy girls, with their angelic faces and porcelain skin, black sockets for eyes and with the devil, akin.
Angels don’t exist here, only devils within.

Scrub your raw, bleeding gums
Until pretty girl juice dribbles from the razor sharp corners of your mouth
Trickling past your rotting teeth
Your skin, sallow and an expired yellow.
Purple spider veins strung out across your arms and legs, connecting the dots from the gaping stab wounds made by your mother’s sharp, bone-handled knife, which you snuck from the kitchen drawer.  Truly an antique. But now, antique and rusted with your blood.

Your mouth is filled with dirt and bugs
No more innocence, no more kisses and hugs
You aren’t your mother’s little girl anymore
You’re now the devil’s successful corpse

Dirt filled girls.  Dead rotting girls.
Expired girls.  Decomposing girls.
Hush, no one can hear you because
Dead, rotten girls can’t speak anymore
When they try to open their empty mouths, all that comes out are hollow screams and shrieks that pierce the void of the suffocating air in their coffin
Worms and roaches seep inside their bloated skin, making them itchy, itchy, itchy.
Dead, rotten girls can’t complain.
The devil’s thirst is quenched, and now he ate.
You begged for this fate.
Sam Hawkins Dec 2015
Down from Arizona desert cold and absence of ice and snow
three white painted terracotta pots
by the Villa apartment on the tabled walkway—
Christina’s place.

Stacked, each alternately inverted one to the next
stabilize a snowperson body.
Can you picture it?

Black painted buttons all the way up?
Lips of dots, an orange twist of nose,
deep eyes void black.

Burgundy scarf tied around the neck,
positioned just so, it could be fit
to a Christmas Chihuahua.

By its playful form and surprising attitude,
may it well succeed at pleasing every passerby
and draw out, on each scroogy face, a smile.

It’s been doing just that for me, as I park
opposite each night, my headlights there shining.

Still, I have not and shall not peak inside
the alluring, open terracotta skull,
since I have imagined not wishes,
nor disappointments, nor elves and cookies,
but practical ash, randomly spiked with spent cigarettes.

Last night, as I walked out, with my night’s anticipations,
my grab-bag of happy tangles, Christina’s hanging silver chimes
issued soft whispering over terracotta, and I caught
a remembrance of Amazing Grace how sweet the sound.

Mojo my psychic dog turned me sharply then,
and he took me away–we two, going home
to the starry desert.
The uniVerse May 2015
Always thinking
what am I thinking?
lets start writing
should be sleeping
why am I thinking?
I need to sleep now
bored of sheep, lets try cows
maybe I should count the spots
or connect the dots
of my thoughts....

Dalmatians are the cow canine
ten, eleven, twelve
deeper I delve
sleeper I'm not
wide awake, no
half baked dough
money makes the world go round
funny how it doesn't make a sound
yet people are so loud
it's not needed
nod your head when greeted
nod your head when agreeing
or leaving, deceiving, grieving
maybe thats bowing
bow your head when grieving
Robin Hood had merry men
and they were thieving
still need to be sleeping

If only I could dream of you
as we sail the ocean blue
you would get sea sick
and I would drown quick
this is how my dreams end
much like our relationship
conscious thoughts
maligned with nonsense fraughts
I fraught of you today
tonight, this night
every night
you my light
my darkness
my rainbow
tied around your neck
so delicate
a pretty little thing
no tongue ring yet
toast lands sunny side
glass half empty
I'm half fool
a joker in the pack
Batman that's a fact
I only come out at night
your caped crusader
I tried to save her
but the current dragged her under
she now resides in the depths of my mind
a shipwreck
my Mary Rose
how I loved your eyes and nose
and everything attached
did I remember to put the door on the latch?
turn off the oven
come give me loving
and affection
Marvin Gaye, Joan Armatrading
sing to me so I can sleep
sheep, cow, dalmatian, sheep..........
Kyle Kulseth Dec 2016
Rub these eyes.
What a misspent night.
I cast one die, tumbled through to light
               aimed away from
               where I left you
on a corner, towards a ******.
               ...You know...
Hung my hat
on these stupid hopes,
tried to steer us two on an icy road.
               Slid through stop signs,
               you stopped speaking.
Anyway, I'm flying out tomorrow.

Tired as Hell
switch planes in Minneapolis
On the way from Richmond to Montana
This far North,
     the snow is never far away.
               Last one through
                       the gate
               and still sleeping.

Slug this Fall
down in airport bars.
A snowbound move, but I got disarmed.
               so I aim to
         where I came from
Gift myself with what's familiar
               ...You know...
Out here there's
not a lot of noise.
A few pinned dots between the bullet points.
               Here it gets cold,
               just a few miles
from the real Continental Divide.

Head dipped down,
and shoulder leaned windward.
Take two steps, try calling in the morning.
This far North,
     some flights can get grounded.
               Not much
          here and Seattle.

*Heavy coats
and fortified spirits
keep us warm between our vacations.
This far North
     no Saints to preserve us.
               Not much
          here and Seattle.
zuMee Sep 2018
Takes a hit of that Which
Goes a round
Comes a round
squared inside the ring:

:Giggling fist: :connect the dots
lands one on the nimble joke
to Which
a Universe is the punch-line.
Emma Oct 2016
It makes me go "Jesus Christ. Look at the view"
Middle of October, birthday,
Driving past Bantry bay
Treading boots on a carpet of brown
Leaves, the forest walk in Glengariff

I walk and wonder
Why the ivy leaves sprout from the mud  
Scattering green shapes on the ground
Spread across the floor like mushrooms

I see the thin branches hold a preschool painting
A trillion burning instances of colour
And nothing is human here, but you
I am only the moss that clings to the trees

Like a pointilist masterpiece
The apple-green and autumn yellow spots
Gather in canopies above the rocks
While the white streaks and dots
Dance wildly in the black stream

And so
The orangeness, as I turn, flies diagonally,
Looking down across the dampened stones
The colour of fire paints the falling petals
That flip like red feathers

As the stream flows clear as molten glass
And the foam, so dove white on the surface
Bubbles against the edge of it
Splashing boulders,
Rinsing toes
nish Aug 2018
do you know what phosphenes are?
when you rub your eyes
those little blinking dots
the ones of different colours
that dance around alluringly

you are very much like phosphenes
a vast array of colour
destroying boundless darkness
make me forget my fatigue
i immerse myself in your beauty
breathtaking, indescribable

but as soon as i open my eyes
you disperse into nothing
i'm met with the sight of another bleak day
until i close my eyes again

a̶n̶d̶ ̶m̶a̶y̶b̶e̶ ̶r̶u̶b̶ ̶e̶l̶s̶e̶w̶h̶e̶r̶e̶
I came across this word today and I just HAD to use it, hope you enjoyed :)
Egeria Litha Mar 23
A vibe **** to the nervous system
Gut punching news
She's a wet dog shaking it off
during a monsoon

using her saliva to write
something brilliant will eventually
stream through


Doubt drowns her tear dews
and prevents a release of
magic from her crystal drops

Nothing will flow
dots in a row
tonight is a loss
SZ Oct 2016
Do you also wake up in the middle of the night and almost reach for me
because you forgot that I'm not there anymore?
I slept next to someone else last night,
But I had a dream that I was next to you,
And I have never felt more disappointed in my life than in that moment when I woke up.
I can't tell which is worse, the disappointment or
Trying to sleep while holding myself together because it feels like everything is about to spill out of me.

According to everyone I should just go meet someone else,
but it's not that easy.
I have no interest in talking to anyone when I'm sober,
When I'm drunk I just end up telling everyone about you.
I can't tell if I'm waiting for someone to confirm that you're never coming back
Or for someone to lie to me so I can feel better for the night.

Can I ***** out all my feelings too, along with the *****?
I almost thought I had, the night I was dry heaving into the morning.
That was the night I got so drunk I couldn't stop asking everyone I saw
I'm sure all the strangers in the room thought I was crazy.
I have dreams about you all the time and even in my dreams,
You still don't love me.

If I stare at your Facebook chat bubble long enough,
Will I see the three dots of you beginning to type a message?
If I stare out my window long enough,
Will I see you walking towards my front door?
I still want to punch a hole through the wall whenever I hear a song that you used to sing to me.
That's become particularly annoying
since the Chainsmokers got popular.
Apparently I can't get over you
while still listening to your SoundCloud playlists
But I'm not sure what else is worth listening to.

The other day, my friend commented on how fast I walk.
I told him it was because I had gotten used to your speed
since you're much taller than me.
In reality, I think it's just to make up for the parts of my life
that haven't been moving at all.
Julia Mar 7
Stickers all over my body
A collage as my identity
like tattoos

They don’t hurt when you peel them off hairless skin
But I will never let them leave
sticky residues

I have a long roll of stickers
that never ends
And I walk down the street

Sticking them on everything
just like friends
A flower sticker on the window

A saxophone on the telephone pole
Fried eggs on the sidewalk
Stickers glitter in the crystal shop

Those dots that color code life
I use them now to organize the world for everyone
And I give every little girl a lollipop

A fairy on my fingernail
A snowflake on my cheek
this poem wants you to read it really hard.
Lilly frost Oct 2017
If only things were as easy as 1,2,3
Like elementary
Arithmetic and spelling
Simple science
Gym was always stunning
Recess was revered
The swings were sacred
Writing on the jungle gym
Running off with friends to play
Being enchanted by the smell of coffee and trees
Magic every second you breathe
Simply because you were somewhere you weren't supposed to be
Close your eyes
Now what do you see?
Dots of color?
Phantoms of light?
Remember when you saw dragons
Whole worlds enchanting
When you walked people said it seemed like you were dancing
Remember when you were happy?
There was no worry about what to do
What are you going to be?
You had your whole life
Figure out what to do
Well what now?
What's your plan?
Too bad
Too late
It's not elementary
None of your dreams can come true
You're completely *******
Unnamed Oct 2018
I wage war against
The stars of this universe.
I decry this sky
Of unbroken lights
And dim futures
That will never be.

There’s a cluster of dots
In the night sky
That reminds me of you.
They’re vehement,
Standing high above my ground;
They look down upon me,
But maybe I’m above them.

Earth could be the zenith,
And the stars simply lie
At the feet of our existence.

But then again,
That would be rather egotistical;
We must not cheat
Our feeble consciousnesses:
We are at the mercy of those
Eternal spheres of pure,
Unforgiving, luminous fire.

“And so long as men die,
Liberty will never perish”
I do hope the statement proves to be true.
Let us be everything except for what we are not.
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