Kirsten May 2014
The intolerable cold wind had sprung out,
obliterating anything on its passage.
The hours Spent outside felt more extenuated as you walked on.
It wouldnt be long until you'd feel your own audable behaviror freeez -
but vanish.
Jaycee Oct 2015
Do you want to sit in the front seat?
Because I really don't at this point
when did I even start wanting to sit
there and why? Did I think it'd make
me feel more mature or somehow..
better? Than I was before or maybe
I felt closer to them since I was
sitting directly beside them..
All I know now is that I don't want
that seat that for whatever reason
became so important to me.
I don't want all these responsibilities either.
I miss the back seat and drinking mixed up
ice cream that I begged for so dearly
tell me why did I have to age; grow older
why did I long for it more than I longed to go
to the park down our road..
When did my cousins become my foe?
And why is everything so hectic; fast
*why can't everything just slow down..?
Hopefully, this will make sense to someone.
Mike Hauser Mar 2013
Hare Krishna's
In their Pickups
Depressed Comics
Down on their Luck
Teenage Girls
Screaming Meme's
Commie Pinko's
Leftward Leaning
Vincent Price
Flo and Eddie
Rodger Rabbit
Priscilla Presley
Nuns in Habits
Dwarf's in Ponchos
Deadbeat Dads
Munching Nachos
Right-Wing Nut Jobs
Trading Slogans
A few Hero's
Including Hogan

Are just a few of the sights you see
At the front gates of Graceland
Memphis, Tennessee

Buddhist Monks
With Electric Banjos
Holding Signs Up
Of Marlon Brando
Taxi Cabs
Blaring Show Tunes
Pregnant Women
Down-loading Soon
Derby Jockeys
Flying Monkeys
Skittle Junkies
Bozo The Clown
Bumper Stickers
Crazed Toad Lickers
Rhinestone Cowboys
In their Skivvies
Gothic Girls
Heebie Jeebies

Are just a few of the sights you see
At the front gates of Graceland
Memphis, Tennessee

Blue Haired Granny's
In pink Moo Moos
Ballerina's In
Tattered Tutus
Number Crunchers
Even have Some
Out to Lunchers
Model 50's
Do Wop Daddies
One More Round Of
Flo and Eddie
People Sneaking
Across the Border
Lonely Fry Cooks
Taking Orders
A Few Wannabes
Not Saying Much
Will The Real Elvis
Please Stand Up

Are just a few of the sights that you see
At the front gates of Graceland
Memphis, Tennessee

Thank you...Thank you very Much

Ladies and Gentlemen
Elvis...Has Left The Building
emma joy May 2013
I got out my Ouija board
and asked the demons why
fish can't live on land
Freedom is taken for granted
they said
and you are undeserving
Care not for the glass
For it is the cut that hurts
Mind the trap
So your fingers won't bleed

Look forward, not to your sides
Stay focus on the good,
Touch not someone else's heart
Just touch your lady's moons

Mind the gap of spring
Where lays ahead
The trap of summer
Disguised as autumn leaves

Reconcile your heart and mind
Reckon your pace
Find equilibrium in kind
Not someone else's face

Atlast it is rewarded
A smart heart and kind mind
Atlast it is best
Not to search, not to find.
To Cath
Echo Dec 2014
~Look, I'm sorry I told you that you are ugly.
Sometimes I just can't believe what I see.
We can be friends, maybe.
I'll tell you how beautiful you are.
Because you are me.
Sometimes I hate you,
Sometimes I don't understand you.
But one thing we can both agree,
Is that I don't mean those things.
And I'm so, so sorry...
that you had to be me. </3~
. . .
allyson Feb 2016
you tell me i'm the first person you ever really loved
we lie in bed and you stroke my hair
as if it's something i live for you to do
after our drunken bodies intertwined on the couch to American Beauty
tears of frustration from my paper eyelids
why can't i control my outbursts
why am i so sad
why can't i find anything to make me happy
you sit across the room and refold my green blouse for the 13th time and gaze at my suitcase
i realize you could never comfort me again
turning away because i can't bare to look at your face
you're sorry you lied and you thought it would be better if i didn't know and now we're in a sauna in italy
two bottles of wine down
and i can't tell if this is passion or desperation
passionate desperation
it was the last time your lips kissed my neck and i think back on my mistakes and i crush them up and i snort them
there is an ocean between us and theres no reason you wouldn't think that she's prettier
i always made fun of you for liking the front bottoms
i push your hand off of my thigh as i sob into my plate at breakfast
i cry in the airport when the lady from customs asks me about my trip
i cry harder when she says she hopes i can visit you again soon
we embrace for the very last time
i tell you to never speak to me again
you don't
you never looked back as i pulled my suitcase through security
i wish you had
i'm really sorry about the front bottoms
Matthew Harlovic Oct 2014
One for the man bunkered down in the trenches
sent in by his country as a henchman.
He's laying in the mud, praying for safety,
losing less blood than what's shed daily.
In this hazy hell, a drug buzz is needed.
Morphine seeps in, easing the beaten.
And in no man's land, a man cries for mercy
but his cries are cut off by the hands of Murphy.
Early in the morning, he packs his bags.
Rucksack on his back, heading back to base camp.
There's a damper in the room, sunken like the marsh.
Friends have fallen, it's clearly marked.
And his heart aches but they can't be dead.
Nah, he sees them every time he lays down his head.
From time to time, he jolts up out of breath,
but he never felt more alive, when he was close to death.

It's not a sob story, no it's just old glory

Two for the man bunkered down by the park bench,
clutching a cup, praying for penance.
He's laying on cement, waiting for change,
and trying to stay dry from the god-damn rain.
In this day and age, a drug buzz is needed.
Morphine tabs, tap in the defeated.
Lungs splitting, teeth gritting, he's wishing for mercy.
Two times the dose, he curses out Murphy.
Early in the morning he packs his bags.
Rucksack on his back, he heads back to PADs.
He grabs a tray, sits alone, and says grace
because there's no space open for the "nutcase".
Arm's race to golden gates, he dragged a debt.
He carried his country as heavy as regret.
He carries his friends, they dangle from his neck.
But the thing about memories is that you can't forget.

It's not a sob story, it's just old glory

© Matthew Harlovic
This is a hip hop song that I wrote and soon will be releasing on You could argue that hip hop isn't poetry or you can read the story I wrote. For clarification, this story is about two different lives of the same man. The first, is of his time on the frontline. The second, is his time as a homeless Vietnam war veteran.
Tori G Mar 2013
I put up this front that
I'm ready to move on,
Ready to talk to other people.
And I try it, what's the harm?

But at the end of the day
When  I lay naked and speechless
In my own bed, I realize some things;
I will always need your loving touch.

I will always need your soft kisses
I will always need your gentle caresses
I will always need your warmth
I will always need your sleepy embrace
I will always need your affection
I will always
Y O U.

*But I will never admit that to anyone...
Julie Butler May 2015
what could she say for me to lose you ... ?
i'm in a war against keep
fighting an army of loose truth
& if you win, who loses ?
& if you lose, do I approve blue ?
it isn't sane for me to choose clues
over an ocean of proved truth

what do I lose if I lose you ?
all of my come-trues
have become you
& if you lose me, do you lose ?
I'm not this someone to hold onto
we can expand views if you choose to
open a window or your mouth
either will do
not to confuse strews with don't do's
I am through with all this proving
I'm a wanter wanting all of you
ensuing all this sousing
jeffrey robin Nov 2015

We have so mastered the poetic manipulations

Of writing convoluted " deep shit "

Concerning the superficial appearance

Of sexuality

That we have completely forgotten

That Love is a deep and lovely experience

Of truly honoring the creator

And the creation

By truly caring for each other


Our words

Are merely the babblings

Of teenagers


In front of the mirror

With little meaning or substance


And as such


Mere mockery

Of human existence
Micheal Wolf Aug 2014
So you don't like me, should I feel bad?
Have you had the life I've had?
Have you lost it all you wife your kids?
Had no one in the world but yourself?
Walked for miles and got nowhere
Looked at death and seen a friend there
Used a duvet as a sheild, laughed to hide a flood of tears.
So when you sit and gossip you only have half a story.
The affair I had that blew it all
Only existed in another's thoughts
You see I did change and wasn't me
Depression did that to me
But once ill I was no more use, for building a house and taking kids to school
I hear you found some other grass but when I left he packed his bags
No you blame it all on me
Oh why oh why didn't I see?
All that was wrong was all my fault so now I'm gone who is its now?
Mine again! How odd is that!
So who really lost the plot
You drove me to the edge of life and appeared to be a model wife
So now I'm done with all your hate and all the lies and pain
You may never realise it's you not me who ruined your life.
A piece I wrote some time ago
darry bible Sep 2012
Into the night,
running through fires
etched by morning liGHT  
count all the scars
and them that´s not in sight
we'll not all see the same stars
heart of a
southern cross has no flaws
the muse of souls that shaped us
takes us
faced by the same moon,
in step in time and in tune
maze of the mind
that shields us from time.
a breath away
the Bridge of sight
or a sunny day ,
"timeless AND aimless
into the night,
running against the wind
just for spite,
breaking through bars
count all the stars,
a seamless statue looks back,,
, were all graced
by the same moon,
we carry with us,
muse of a life lost to soon ,
just a breath away
from another day
,etched Horizons haste
for a sunny day
(shin on me )
don't let IT be ,
when the clouds
fall to the ground
I know your around,,,,
YOUR SOULS lace can feel
your embrace beacon of sound,
feel you all around,,,,

when clouds fall to the ground
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