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Deborah Birch Nov 2011
One day I rode upon an Autumn train.
The sky was slate, the wind was cold and blue.
I saw stark trees and brilliant leaves and rain,
and yet I only thought again of you.
I'd come out on this trip to hide myself.
I thought I'd not be found right in plain sight.
Music I had, and earbuds from the shelf,
I soothed myself with them all through the night.
And when the morning came, all cloudy cold;
all still and sad and broken I became.
For in my heart, I'd suddenly grown old
and all I'd left to whisper was your name.
I droppped my hat down low upon my eyes,
and hid in Love's most distressing disguise.
ogdiddynash Jul 2018
daily provisioning

wallet  watch  testicles  spectacles
cash (single bills) cell phone
bottle of water   hairbrush with vanity attached,
personal technology baggie
(earbuds, variety of charging cords etc.)
loose change in order to fall from pockets & annoy yourself
sunglasses (idiot! summers half over) and something else...

pocket tissues!

skin and bone, muscle, all flavors and multilayers,
a language of music only you hear,
the pumping station internal, the gaga motion
product of the palette of body following souled emotions,
the antacid pills after that burrito;
and that strangely named thang called


your teeth  your smile, your shyest guile,
to catch that lady’s hopefully.        
reciprocated pearly whites delight,
pen and pad to record being a sad and mad good lad,
a Swiss Army knife if the tube or bus
should (will) breakdown,
your tiny little bottles of
inspiration  perspiration and perspective,
that you forgot to


the list to do and the list
to add to the to do list
and good heavens,
a serious writing utensil
to fool yourself when
thinking serious thoughts like


the last but should be first,
the house keys!!
keys just an enabler
to do it all again


July 11, 2018  10:22pm
Mohannie Dec 2018
at this time of night
when the moon is up high
the quiet's alive

but no one's awake

I'm the only one up
the lights are turned low
and I feel alive

but no one's awake

the silence is chilling
this blanket is warm
my body's alive

but no one's awake

my earbuds plugged in
I take a quick stroll
the music's alive

but no one's awake

at this time of night
when everything's sound
I feel alive

I am awake.
I really like this one! Hope you enjoy it! :)
Nicholas Mar 11
Nipping on earbuds
Frosty crackling intimacy
Voicemails unreturned
The idea of the title of this poem almost being as long as the poem itself amuses me a lot. I feel like it kinda suggests that, more often than not, the stories we tell ourselves about relationships, the content of them, are often much simpler than the labels and titles we associate with them.
city of flips Aug 2018
men and their egos (I turned twenty this summer) are

they admit “guess you were right”
believing that will make them heroes,
by full on confessing they are *******

I turned twenty in the summer

my tan legs in cutoffs (it’s summer) drives them to madness,
accused, you are pitiless, for their dreams of you involve ransom  
still, you
search and quiet plead like Abraham, to the heated air,
while listening to Whitney Houston and Ed Sheeran,
(on your earbuds just so nobody knows your weakness)
for just that one good man in the township of
***** and Gomorrah

my mother bitter sneers good luck with that,
forgetting I am now twenty years
so old, so advanced,
that my hopes and aspirations are no longer those
the ones in my high school yearbook

my poetry fills pages,
a human urban renewal,
laying out a city of hope

recalling that ***** and Gemorrah were destroyed
moon Oct 2018
do you remember when we shared the same shade from the same tree?
our sweater covering the grass we laid on together,
sharing earbuds,
listening to songs that made me feel like we were the only people in this universe that mattered.
that day was so perfect.
we were
and you still are so

today, i cried in class.
not even  your presence or hugs could fix my breaking heart and soul.
i tried doing the coping skills my counselor taught me,
but my breathing only got heavier and the voices in my head were louder.
people used to call me strong for still living,
still getting up in the morning,
still going to school
despite this demon and drags me back to That dark place.
but i'm not "strong" anymore,
i can barely lift my head from the palms of my hands and when i do, i look at them,
wandering why i ended up this way.
depression ***** so like that's a thing
KE May 1
Don't text and drive
Don't walk with you head down when there is a van pulling up behind you
Don't cross the street without looking both ways
Don't forget what her face looks like
Don't forget what his face looks like
Don't forget the sound of my voice
Don't forget the curves in my body
Don't forget how my lips taste or how my kisses feel
Don't forget how we cried together
Don't forget how my perfume smells
Don't forget how my mom cooks
Don't forget to late night jokes and sleep overs
Don't forget childhood
Don't forget about warm hug or deep feelings
Don't forget to say goodnight
Don't forget to kiss your parents goodbye on their death beds
Don't forget punctuation after a statement.
Don't forget to cross your t's and dot almost every single i
Don't forget to get milk while your out Don't forget to tie your shoes even when your not the little kid I once knew
Don't forget to chase after someone who you love during an battle and their walking away
Don't forget everything I told you not to do
Don't forget everything I told you to do
Don't forget about me

Don't forget to take out your earbuds out so you can hear the sound of the rain while your walking.
I'm wearing my earbuds in my t-shirt
to listen music in class,
and text or change the music.
Play flappy bird or Pac-man
Because you downloaded it on your calculator,
Or on your E-reader.
Writing on everything,
And teaching people how to shoot
Crunched pieces of paper,
With a hair tie or an elastic band.
Talking, Laughing.
Throwing shade at the teacher.
Regretting not studying,
But you were smoking crack instead,
So it's okay I guess.
Eating in class.
A full competition
of who can spin the most rounds,
behing the back of the teacher.
(I was 3rd of the whole class :)
And laughing when you get an F
Stealing the answer keys to the homework,
And sending it in the group chat.
4 cups of coffee every morning.
Switching laptops with your friend,
Who studied for the test.
So you both get an A,
And pass the class.

Just another day of school.
Even my will to live is bigger than my grades...
That was the worst pun every sorry.
Rowan Nov 2018
They say "I'm not sure,"
and they know it's veritable.

Cluttered desk--hats and
textbooks and papers and
earbuds all askew, heart
pumping too quick

Sitting on a black plastic chair,
legs curled up underneath, eyes
flickering to The Latehomecomer,
stomach unsettled

"I'm not sure." of what?
head down, eyes searching,
mind spinning, lungs catered
like coffee at noon

Supplied lies, shaking hands
pouring chamomile tea into a
white cup, hoping for--
that too.

"Everything?" on their mind
is falsified and unknown,
twisted skin ruddy,
shoes all in a row,
nails bitten like marionette

"Anything." of confirmation
belongs to the stables
which blossom with the
stench of sweetness and
wild, roving insecurity

"I'm not sure," they
murmur, "what you mean."

Precipices are lonely business
and so are "People like me,"
Forks are steel but the
mind is molten
and rusted in decay

"dream of quiet," they laud
slick on thin ice of
the essay due tomorrow in
history on the death
of too many

Sunglasses are similar
to winter waters and
lightning spirals in;
they are in debt to
themselves, in depth of

"broken moments." that
clash and too much
to think
              slivers down in silver

carcasses of thoughts
"Okay, I can't help you."

"I know," filters out
behind lips of burning iron
"I never expected you too."
floats down the crowded

They're not sure of
everything and
I'm not sure of

I know it's true.
solc liveson Jun 17
we lay together, 6:00am, body warmth touch-sharing,
as the June morning summer chill coming off its night nadir coolness
surrenders very reluctantly,
full length pajamas, blankets and coverlets in use,
keeping cold out while bodies touching generate heat -
a big difference

through these layers of cotton controversy, my right arm,
my cunning, falls awkwardly upon her, advising I am woken
and aware she is as well, hear her earbuds emplaced, make shushed
whispering noises re the future of artificial intelligence
and other such mental knottings

my awkward angled arm rests on her landscaped outline of shape,
coming to rest where legs meet at the top of an upside down V spot,
which makes no request, but accepts my bequest of steady
stroking of her ****** as an unnecessary
but atheist-acceptable to her
morning prayer ritual, kept at the intersection of the
physical and physics theorems

funny how some prayers,
where recitation comes thoughtlessly and routine,
uttered without any contemplation are yet
deep comforting for their inherency,
so I pray a stroking repetitive on her body,
well hid neath a summer coverlet,
wordlessly chanted, wordlessly accepted, silence connoting approving permission

I comfort her,
above and through a floral coverlet for her floral coverlet,
till the sun rises enough to truly warm up our plot,
my praying reaches the end of its rope,
where quality and quantity achieve unanimity resolution
no longer needed,
but am appreciated, besides my arm is cramping,
not designed for the rising, unleveled angle of her breathing bodice

my comfort is her extra comforter,
an offering of coffee my reward,
for my daily work has begun,
and I have many more poems stillborn
that require coaxing stroking
to become
witnesses to living
“Time travel is a very dangerous thing,”
they say.
And I agree.
I sit at my desk, and put my earbuds in,
and there I am,
in that room again,
in that state if mind.
Lilah May 3
Riding home
On the bus
People talking
I want to be alone
Earbuds in
Then right


A melody floods my senses
In beauty
Close my eyes
I feel peaceful
I feel happy
I feel safe
My body is numb
I am free in the music
Flowing across the strummed notes

This music is my whole world.

Nothing can hurt me if I don’t see it
Nothing can hurt me now
Nothing can hurt me
Nothing will hurt

Is pure happiness
From when I was sitting on the bus listening to “Bloom” by The Paper Kites. Beautiful song. I hope my poem captures the feeling of this song that I am trying to convey.
Brother Jimmy Mar 27
To survive this last dreary winter
I hid inside my cell
I fed my eyes and ears false joy
To alleviate the swell

To pass this last lonesome winter
I hid inside my phone
And pushed the earbuds in so far
I never felt alone

To pass this last lonesome winter
I journeyed through my head
And it's almost like I jumped right past
The fear of being dead

To last through long lingering cold
I lit a little flame
And pulled the products of combustion
Up into my brain

To make it through it would've helped
If I had still been young
I had a small square paper door
I placed atop my tongue

To Last and First, now let me say,
Preferring Z's to A's,
I wish I didn't get caught up
Reviewing yesterdays

I long for the Omega
When we shall all be one
And I will catapult past Vega
And melt into the Son

To get through next year's winter
I'll need Your guiding hand
Isolation didn't work
As well as I had planned

Though inner space was quite immense
I'll turn to face your gaze
And trip and traipse through forest dells
Where your beloved prays
KCibot Jun 3
I hide behind
A fluffy pup
Two white earbuds
A nervous smile

I let the fear
Of imagined laughs
Haunt my nightmares
For too long to
Not strike back now

Am I too much?
That's up to you
It's out of the
Cage now and I
Feel free and scared
Isla Nov 2018
it's snowing in november
i'm not surprised though
i have an essay due tomorrow

but calm beats are twinkling into my earbuds
somewhere a light switches off
and i can taste your perfume at the back of my throat
a whisper in the crowd
in the place between dreaming and consciousness
i can feel your skin
and you smile against my lips
and all i want is to get lost in this
but i have an essay due tomorrow
and i'm thinking about you again
i can't focus on anything
grskid04 Jul 2018
I run
I let my heart pound, my legs burn, my feet ache
I let the music blast in my ears
To drown out my thoughts
I keep my hands swinging by my sides in fists
To keep them from doing something else
My feet slam against the sand
That threatens to swallow me whole
The waves crash against my legs
Threatening to pull me under
But I keep running
Literally and mentally
I run from my problems
I run from the people I love
I run from my thoughts
So when I finally collapse in the hot sand
And my earbuds fall out
And the sand caves in around me as water surrounds me
I realize
No matter how much I run
I can't escape

But I get up
And I run                                                        -G
Evie Apr 15
my blood feels restless in my veins
i need to move
to walk
to run
to speak
to scream
to be heard
to be ignored
i kick out the screen separating me from the night air
the roof spans before me
my bedroom two stories above the ground
i step onto the shingles
in my kitty cat socks you gave me
my t shirt goes to almost my knees
it waves around me like the skirts of a ball gown in the breeze
my hair tangles around my face
the moon illuminates my skin
my earbuds sing to me
feeding me slow sad rap
from a beautiful person dead and gone
"i just wanna lay my head on your chest, so im as close as it gets, to your heart"
my tears are grazed off my face by the wind
"nobody wants to talk to me, but everyone wants to walk with me"
i crumple to my knees, the shingles rough
"i just keep it to myself and try not to cry to loud"
the sobs ive been keeping inside shake my small shoulders now
no one can hear me
my voice is snatched away by the gale
my screams are sent to the stars
the moon reaches for me
the planets love me
the galaxies are my friends
the universe will care for me
as it has cared for many broken souls before
Lucas Oct 2018
Trees always have to go out with a bang, don't they
explosions of bursting color
freeze-framed fireworks of fall
bursting and cascading,
leaving ashes and hot coals to cool in soft grass

...I used bursting twice, didn't I?
alright, let me go open up my thesaurus...
blast? pop? rupture?
just replace it with one of those and call it good.
Back to the poem:

my popped-collar peacoat straightens my back
gotta match my posture to the pompous portrait
black wool on an over-scratched scratch paper
might as well just pick it all off
allow the color some room to expand
(I don't even own a peacoat, I just like the metaphor and imagery)

you could set the sentinel alight for the same effect
a more smokey atmosphere, sure,
but the color would be a little brighter
and I'd have the mushroom of smoke to match my coat

I've substituted my earbuds with the crunch crunch crunch
of leaves
crunch crunch crunch crunch crunch ––––
shoot that one looked good but it just flattened
crunch crunch crunch
invariable sound
back to my Beats by Dr. Dre

The arrow of geese points south
that's really all I have to say about that
some sort of metaphor about flapping my arms and following them?
I like jacket weather though
better stay grounded
hands in pockets; arms in long sleeves

insert some connection to death to match nature's descent into winter

Gosh, this season is too good to stand for something so sad
let's go jump off the roof into a pile of leaves
drink hot soup and get cuffed
watch steam and frost paint picturesque mornings
read in a dogpile of blankets
Winter may be coming
but so is spring ya goof
get off your melancholic horsey
I don't even own a peacoat :/
feeling irreverent but poetic...
Lilah Mar 26
She walks
Head high
Hips swaying
Boots planting sturdily
Unwavering confidence
Emits from her every movement
The epitome of style

She flips her red-dyed hair
Blue eyes staring straight ahead
Lips slightly parted
Face as still as stone
Unfaltering authority
Emits from her every movement
The epitome of beauty

She moves her head from side to side
From the music in her earbuds
Eyes closed
Immersed in her favorite song
Unyielding passion
Emits from her every movement
The epitome of happiness

She takes out a notebook
And starts writing
Her pen moves fast
Along the lined paper
Unrelenting thoughtfulness
Emits from her every movement
The epitome of intelligence

She opens the car door
And sits in the passenger seat
She starts to smile widely
At her mom, talking about her day
Indefatigable love
Emits from her every movement
The epitome of caring
About me. I felt like I needed to write a positive poem about myself. I really like it!
JB Aug 2018
The whispers
The laughs
The names
The jokes
The speculations and guesses
They talk about you
They are shocked when you speak
They think you are weird
For being quiet, kept to yourself
The lockers talk
Earbuds in
Head down
Nose in a book
Mad face drawn
It works, they stay away
They don’t approach
Ignoring the quiet judgment
You are almost there
To the peaceful relief of the quiet corner in the library
Where nobody goes
The rows of books, other lives you get to live
Because you would rather live in those than your own
People talk
You ignore it
You are used to doing so
You don’t care anymore because
You realized a while ago that
Sometimes it could be a luxury
To be a nobody.
Graff1980 Mar 10
Shop online now
to buy
all of these
little things,

Like portable
gaming devices
to distract you
from the sad view
of other who
are hurting,

Like t-shirts
that barely fit you
but look cool
and advertise
for your favorite

Like lite
wireless earbuds
so you can’t
hear us
when we yell

The internet sale
is better because
you don’t even
have to leave your house,
you don’t have to
go to a store
and see anyone

— The End —