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Antino Art Aug 2018
maybe the buildings are hollow,
occupied only in facade on the first floor of storefronts

maybe this whole town is a hologram
of neon against puddles
on the pavement.

maybe the citizens are ghosts
floating by
in circles, or squares of city blocks,
around a routine,
or droning through on electric scooters
as if on muted theme park rides
to the next sensory diversion;
to the nearest gastronomical pleasure;
toward the weekend and its next party
celebrating the loss of time,
I see their tired faces

staring out from the glass
of coffeeshop windows
on every block.
I see their piles of beer cans
beside the trash chute.
I hear them singing
on *****-cruises to nowhere

What part of this cycle
that turns days into dust
moves us closer to heaven?

What feast from what new restaurant downtown
will feed our souls?

From which lonely night do we finally emerge
beside the one
whose presence fills
these hollow buildings
to the top-most floors?

Which of the empty lots
between us do we fill
with a conversation
about how this is all a dream,
or how we'll keep each other awake
on a bench
beneath a street lamp before dawn
waiting for the first bus to take us home.
Lyn Senz 2 Jan 2017
I host my ghost
inside this life
all thought is fraught
with endless strife
my fate withstands
all tempted ways
all reasoned plans
all judgment days
there's nothing left
but shame and fear
to blame the ghost
I host in here


©2016 Lyn
King Panda Jul 2016
rest, girl
rest, mother
rest, red disco queen

rest, white willow singing
rest, wind chimes
rest, redbone dog

rest, black sky
rest, yellow moon
rest, opaque stars

rest, *** on stovetop
rest, toes cracking
rest, boy typing

rest, sister
rest, child
rest, soul

rest

the sun machine
is coming down

rest

the children are
watching fire

rest

the thunder is born
with the night

rest

you too will know me,
sister
you will catch my wind
it smells of

tea tree oil
Lizzy Jan 2015
"Poor Yorick!",
His soul is saved.
Safe and sound,
In cold unbeing.

Cold unbeing,
For whom I am so hungry.
It's bitter tundra will fill me,
But my fire won't go out.

The burning won't stop,
And my ashes only gather.
There's something very wrong,
With a blistering winter.

Oh Yorick,
I envy.
Your sleep is undisturbed;
Where I am only tired.

You are bones,
And King Hamlet is a ghost.  
Floating like him and stagnant as you,
I cannot rest.

My sleep is disturbed.
Like the king, I can't find peace.
But like Yorick,
I am hollowed bones.
Aiden Phelps Jun 2016
It’s been since October,
Since I’ve last heard from you

The cold wind blows,
And sometimes,
I hear you calling my name.

The ghost of you following me
Everywhere I go.

The sun comes alive,
Giving me hope
That in the end,
Life isn’t so bad
after all.

I may fall.
I may have my moments,
When I feel like a loser.

...Deep down inside
I know that’s not true.

My life has a purpose,
This I know.

This purpose I’ve yet to find,
But it’s still a long way down
The road less traveled.

All I ask, is that you
walk with me
And stay by my side

Be my guardian angel,
Be my compass.

Guide me in the right direction,
because I don’t know
which way to go.

I’ve been lost for so long,

It’s time I step out of the shadows,
It's time I start living my life.
Yesterday would have been my dad's 69th birthday. I miss you, dad. Meaning behind "Ghost of You": https://thoughtsandactions.net/2016/06/17/meanings-behind-poetry-part-vi-ghost-of-you/
Patrick Mar 2018
I am a ghost.
For I exist but do not live.
We take these bodies as if some host,
That is not us; Not even close.

I continue moving through the waves of contempt, battering against my soul like waves against some ancient ship.

This old vessel is coming close to a breach; What it needs is to find some beach. The rough waters of life are tearing it apart, turning brilliant blue to as black as my heart.

Poisoning every drop that washes against the body of a man who cannot ever win. If he does nothing he will surely drown, but any effort will also bring those around down.

So this ghost haunts the vessel, and at least for a time, he watches the world slowly fade to black; as he exists in a life upon which he turned his back.
Jordan Rowan Feb 2016
Slept in and saw the moon fall asleep
Dead motor rising underneath my ***** sheets
Camped out for days to see a love of mine
But she met a man, now I'm trying to **** some time
I feel like a ghost on highway 5

Caught dead with my spirit in my hand
Claim your prize when I help you understand
You think of love but I think of fun and games
Regrettable nights with moon howled names
I feel like a ghost in your brain

Burnt out exhausted with roads in my eyes
Fought for once but now I'm despised
I want to drive until my engine starts to rust
Until the memories I had turn to ******* dust
I feel like the ghost of teenage lust

Improper sayings that sting under the skin
Emotions like to implode you from within
Have you seen my head, all lit up with desire?
But you were the one to light it on fire
I feel like a ghost too dead to be tired
eF Sep 2017
When I am a ghost.
Those that weren't around, will say
They were there the most.
Where were you when I needed you most?
Only around for the good times.
the champagne,
And the toast.
kevin hamilton Sep 2018
true death and restless spirits
i remember all of their names
like they were mine
and the charity of cold
chimes forever
in a sea of salt

kicked down the cemetery gate
and kissed the ground
forgive me now
for the pain i caused
that night, canis minor wept
and all was dust
on the acropolis of troy

i am the one
who fell from dark
into an even greater void
Esmena Valdés Aug 2018
The sky is a bowl of withered stars.
With emotion veiled
in the corner
of those truly murky blankets.
I spoke with the ghost of a fulminated tree
he told me his story
that is mine.

So his indirect revenge.


I will make a prayer to the rainbow after the flood,
after us,
after you and me.

There is no solution outside of love.
Empiricprotagon Nov 2018
you had frequently checked her favorite place
like she's going to sit there as usual

you talked with that place
like you talked with a person
cause you think it's a part of her

she's your favorite ghost
the one that you've always talked to
in every night that comes as a gloom
without expecting any answer

she's your favorite ghost
the one that you've always imagined
her presence sticks in your head
her memories floats on the stream of your blood

three years has passed
it's unbelievable that you survived

you're going to where your vision guides you
it's going to be beautiful
but it won't be easy
This is a note for myself to keep myself living.
cause i never really moving on since my grandmother's death.
Esther Krenzin Jul 2018
I stand alone, the ghosts of my parents lingering
in my heart
Remembering the death
the change
the upheaval of life how it was
The remains of my soul splinter
and crack
As I remember the terrible deeds that a
desperate girl committed.
~
I, that girl, remember humanity as
it was;
whole
untainted
pure
But the fear and pain overcome and all reason
leaves
Forged into iron and steel that
bleeds tears
~
"It hurts so much," I whispered
"I just want to be whole and normal."
I'd do anything to fix myself
Even if it meant destroying my
humanity
~
I found I was afraid to leave this
world
For in all of its horror and evil
Beauty still existed amidst the pain
And I wanted to live
and laugh
and feel
I wanted to experience
and love
and dream
But it was all ripped away that
fateful night
Lost and destroyed, out of
sight
~
But then a gentle woman appeared
And smiled at me with kind eyes
With the touch of a hand I
was set free
Finally able to just be me
I started to cry from the absence
of pain
And I knew the world for me
would change
A chance to live a life once more
No thought to what came
before
~
I was able to touch
and dance
and fly
Dream
and sing
and touch the sky
I'll start again and my story I'll tell
And proudly wear the scars I earned
well.

-Esther L. Krenzin-
-Roguesong-
(For Ghost, the misunderstood "villain" in Antman and Wasp)
DEW Mar 2016
Body of shame.
It haunts in tatters.
All this grief smites all that matters,
'til there's no one left to blame.

It has the fading scars
of good ol' times*
plastered
like flaking paint:
Tattoos of radiant beach sunsets;
forgotten "beneath" a shore
of its memories
like an ordinary pebble
under a mountain of stones.

Ethereal grasp
never touching a thing,
yet finding itself
touched
by desire.

Where goes the time?
Past yet to come.
It has broken scales that balance wine,
*yet it's sober to passion's drum.
Haven't written anything here for a while.
Been writing too many twitter poems, haha.

I hope you all enjoy!
zebra Dec 2016
the ***** ghost
comes to those who have suffered long
the agony of torrid loves hunger
he is a savior that needs to be saved
a glittering pageant of ****** despair
his color sapphire
a weeping shell
a dark cloud of smoldering ash
that never burns out
he is heat and light
he can smell the musk between your legs
taste tears of want
as if they are his own
his ****
bursting like trees
bludgeon hard, substanceless
no you can't put your finger on it
your heart
a weeping furnace

your parched mouth dire
is his
the emptiness between your legs
is his
he comes to you a vacant smudge
then,
white attendant with black eyed gems
be not afraid
he was lost in life
a moralist
who could not find Jacobs ladder
nor free him self of false boundaries
set upon him by the good people
their minds spider bites and corpses
who imagined a god
who loved them by decrees
of thou shalt not not not
and did not know
that flesh needs flesh
and only human love could save him

then to the grave,
just a ***** ghost theory
to the living
My poems remain explorations of the subconscious ******
If i where a film maker or a novelist  you  would see me telling a story, not judge me, although i admit to my paraphilias  
These poems  are lunar anamorphic streams of consciousness from the deep chaotic subterranean glitz of transgressive  impulses we all share
Read them if you dare...You might find that part of yourself that you don't want you to know about and then again  you may feel more complete some how if you do....I always loved that dark thing that sleeps with in me
Silverflame May 2016
At day you can’t see them, because they are nowhere to be found.
But when the light is out, they head to the empty playground.
For while you are surrounded by walls, in your bed dreaming.
This is the place where their childish hearts are pretending to be beating.

The seeker is covering their eyes while counting loudly to ten.
Here they get the chance to play their favorite games once again.
Fighting carelessly over plastic toys and digging in the damp sand.
It looks like a lively place to be, instead of yet another wasteland.

They are hiding in the trees, giggling. Who can climb all the way to the top?
Tiny hands are holding on to each other, spinning around until they almost throw up.
Going down the rusty red slide: some are going fast, others nice and slow.
And if they hear you coming, they’ll be gone like the first flake of snow.

Far away, you might hear a familiar sound of squeaking swings.
Laughter is echoing through the night, carried into the town by bird wings.
They are trying to evade being captured, while running in a green ocean of clover.
But the sun is lurking in the dawn;
soon their fun and games will be over.
I had such a weird dream a couple of nights ago, and it gave me inspiration to write this. And don't ask why I dream about dead children, because I don't even know why myself.
Lizzy Apr 2014
I've been laying in bed for hours
Pretending you were still here
With your arms wrapped around me
Whispering how much you love me
In my ear

I do this every night
Curl up to your ghost
Pretend you never left
Because I needed you the most

And I still need you
Because every day it gets harder to breathe
You filled my lungs with air
I didn't want to leave

But it hurt too much to be without you
And I knew love was dangerous
But just like you said
It's socially acceptable madness

Well I'm out of my mind
Completely off the rails
But it never bothered you
And I let this love fail
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