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La vie en rose
Like the hard junctions cracked
La vie en rose
Like the lines drawn, exact

La vie en rose
A color not enough
La vie en rose
A touch is far from tough

La vie en rose
A uninterpretable sound
La vie en rose
Some words both not and very profound

La vie en rose
A slight of hand
La vie en rose
Is my demand
BR Dragos May 17
Girls with glasses are cute
but that's only what I think
and she doesn't agree
so she's wearing contact lens
and she's losing them more
often than not
and the house becomes
a minefield
and we have the thread

it's just a small apartment
it shouldn't be that hard
to find them or the
one that got lost

when only one got lost
she would use the other
and cover her other
eye and look around
and point things and tell
me to turn them over so
she could take a better look

and I would sometimes
say "I told you"
but I no longer do it

I look under the cover
and the pillows
and the sheets
and the carpet
in shoes, under them
pockets, corners, folds
sink, toilet, tub

one day
she covers her free eye
and uses the other one
to look at her phone

"Really now?" I say
on my knees, searching
in shoes

she shows me her phone
and what I see is a bottle of

"Been wanting to get this
for a while now," she says.
"After this I'm seriously gonna."

I take a better look at the thing
and by gods
it's not a perfume bottle
not in that sense anyway

its description says
that you spray the things
you lose often with it
and your pet dog, being addicted
to the smell, will find them
for you

I drop the shoe down at my feet
and sit back and laugh
for about a full minute

When I'm done she's out
of the room

And I shout after her
"I don't believe in buying dogs,
I told you."

I don't believe in buying dogs
You either adopt them
or don't have them

but please, whatever you do,
don't ever spray stuff on the
stuff that comes in contact with
your eyes
Glasses weigh heavy on the newspaper
Time to gain news
Rahul Luthra Jul 2018
I'm just a simple person, just like the rest
Well, not entirely simple, but nonetheless
It's like society and the media just say what they want
To create new forms of discriminations, that will forever haunt
As if the already existing ones weren't bad enough
They must make sure that you feel flawed,
and make your life tough
I'm just another person; I removed the word simple
People nowadays even get trashed for having a dimple
"HA, it's just a deformity on your face!"
Well, I hope you trip and fall on your own shoelace :)
I'm just another person, with a not-so-great vision
I need glasses, so that I don't squint at the television
It makes my life easier, but the media has made it tough
Their influences and the consequential societal mentality,
has made my childhood rough
Beauty is said to be in the eyes of the beholder
Yet friendship is considered beauty,
when it gives you a shoulder
To cry on, is what I meant
Not literally
I mean it could
Just didn't want to be misunderstood
Why are glasses objectified,
like in The Princess Diaries
Is it not considered dignified
to not want your eyes to get all fiery?
Trust me, I'm just another person;
who needs the help of glasses
Media's interpretation has ruined this too,
to profit their theatrical farces
This is not an appraisal piece
for the object that makes us see well
This is a shoutout to those,
who feel pressurized by this societal shell
To define beauty may be complex,
but it should not be controlled by someone's interest
You're beautiful the way you are,
to have you the world is truly blessed
Deanna Dellia Apr 23
I feel as though
I have nothing to offer
except witty retort
a painted face
a mouth that still whispers his name
a ***** soaked heart
and a wine stained soul
And a body
that shivers at the slightest touch
because my body can’t forget
what my mind can
my skin screams at the thought
And I’m just begging you
to see me
because I’ve lost sight of myself
I want to use you
as a pair of glasses
to see myself
through your lenses
just to try on
tell me that your prescription
is stronger than mine
tell me that you see something
more beautiful than I

- Glasses
From Part 1: The Abyss
Today I poured a cup of whiskey for a man that’ll never drink it,
The bar tender said “where’s your friend”
“In heaven” I replied,

His face looked solemn,
And for a second I swear I saw him have a flash back in his eyes,
He poured another cup of whiskey,
“For the ones that left to early, this ones on the house”

And so the glasses stayed there,
Un-drank, all night.
When I went to leave they where still sitting, Lonely against the counter top.

I walked by in the morning, there was a police line by the door.
The bartender took a shot gun after closing and used it on himself.

Through the window I could still see the glasses of untouched whiskey,
But instead of two glasses there were three.
Nat Lipstadt Mar 2018
I'm your man,
your very own first Northern Star,
the first of the 3 legged stool,
upon which enthroned poets,
the world, do rule

the honor bequeathed me  
to be a  first follower cannot be
disdained nor diminished,
in this case,
the greatest is to be the first,
a quenching of thirst
so long in the parching,
the throat left burning

so come to me,
message me a message,
find me a find, a poem so fine,
I vow,
our vowed embrace will n'ere be broken

give me this honorific,
let us together be terrific,
raise our glasses,
arms entwined toasting you
and all that breast of yours
bursting full of fulfilling future~contains

I am a father.
I am a grandfather.
I am a First Follower.
I am a First Responder
for all who need a leg up.

my legs are as old as time,
measure me not by the rings and  the
metered scales of gray hair aging,
but by the muscles of my affection,
the solemnity of my irrevocable promise

the blessing we earn when you post,
while we wait in quiet attendance -
for your good works

"Blessed are You Lord our God, Ruler of the Universe
who has given us life, sustained us, until just now,
allowing the reader and the writer, to reach this day."
We are proud individuals
who feed into bold lies
spoonfed like we're blind
through hands of our deceitful leaders
still they rise.

Technology is forever shoved in our face;
"hurry up n buy it!"
(before it reaches expiration date)
consuming gadgets at such a fast pace
may that be the devil
that determines our fait.

In the hands of the media we lay
side by side on a sinking ship they say
far, far and further away
we depart from real life
and sink into a screen of shame.

Our can fake a smile
but their tears don't lie.
and though we let them remain on those sites
we sit, we sigh
and spin our glasses of wine
all the while wondering why we see them
with blubbering hearts and watery eyes.

Our elderly generation
worked all their life
hoping in their older years
that they could relax for a while.
Instead they have to sit there
with frail hands and ghostly smiles
overlooking us poison the planet
and see it turn cold and vile.

We drink until our heart is liquor
we love until our love turns bitter
our emptiness then begins to spread-
until on the inside we all go dead-
and it spreads quickly
and painfully
like the plague
and everyone is too far gone to save.

"Men are to be machines"
We say with a hand on their shoulder
as we push them out the door
off to a war
which will scar them so much so
that they won't want to live anymore.
And while not even a trace of a scar
sits on their skin,
the blood which seeps from their bleeding hearts
soaks and stains deep within.

Mass confusion;
we look to the sky
for the answers we need finding
within this cold society.
We disagree until we die
about matters of no relevance to you or I
but fury is the new joy
and may we fight until all is destroyed.

So many harsh whispers in the streets
so many expectations no one dares meet.
Some go insane
just to be the same
but just who is this madman
that we all aspire to be?
Does he have a name?
Has be ever been seen?

If now was your time to die
would you be happy
with the content of your life?
Or would you be regretful
that for the most part
you were entertaining society's lies.

If you're not happy with the way of human progression
then be the light in a sea of grey
and this horrible new game of life
you will no longer play
and instead serve now to define
a new society.

Jazmine MacIntyre
Inspired by 'Iron Sky' by Paolo Nutini.
Brooke White Nov 2017
When I was a child, the hallways stretched for miles
Mahogany and ceramic floors, polished bookcases
A mansion for fictional paperbacks
All neatly tucked under fluorescent lighting

The librarian would wait behind her desk
She reigned silent
besides the tapping of her fingertip to her glasses
I can’t remember her ever looking happy

Until the day I noticed the chirping
Sang somewhere between the realistic & historical fiction,
a bird cage sat next to the woman’s desk
It was an unexpected visit

I should have brought a better dressed book to check out
Mine was bound by yellowing pages
But I met the canary and heard her song
As I watched the librarian smile
haley Oct 2017
you are left behind
the victim of a mirage you'd stepped into
one yellow rain boot to deep

the  dvds slithering out of their cases
scratched by fading sunlight
are your prized posessions
for every moment they hold inside
is as meticulously thought out
as the words you speak

there is more than just clutter
old boxes and chipped teacups
behind my ribs

i entrap so much more in the cage of my bones
breathe it out into a sky so ethereal that
I could float with the clouds and yet
seem so usual.

with eyes pinned on the screen
seeping into my temples
naked feet fumble with the sand
fumble with the hopping and twirling toes
of beach dancers

fumble with the endless badges i have gained
over the ribbon on my chest
places i have gone
but, it is all as futile as it is alluring

sand is just tiny, little rocks
i will fade, these images
will fade from my memory

like the endless
titles in a book store
and i will return to my reflection
ingrained in silver circle.
Anya Sep 2018
I catch sight of the me

The me behind self consciousness
social anxiety

The me behind my ******* hair
prim and propper

The me behind silence
Choosing my own thoughts
to the company of others

Now, I'm not saying
Being this way is wrong
But in my case

I'm trapped
in a cage of my own making
and I only get to peer inside
At the me that could be
Tommy Randell Mar 22
I thought it was Saturday
But it's Thursday -
That's officially the earliest
Any weekend has started this year
And it's only March -
Where the hell is my life at?

Is it a Déjà vu do you think
To fall madly in love
With someone on the subway
And for the whole experience
To be an anticlimax
Because they have red hair
Like all the other ones?

It's got to be clinical
Me wanting to save The World
One poem at a time -
I mean even supposing
I write one every day
What's the odds
Me staying on message?

( I should say about now
   It is often at this point
   In the telling
   I wish any poem I am writing
   Was only 4 verses
   And about something more
   Than my surreal ramblings
   Of my Day In A Life...

   But to continue this poem of focii ... )
It is the equinox, and even the clocks
Have bumped an hour forwards -
So the days don't start too early
And the afternoons get to drag on -
In this country that's how we hang!

So, to bring things to a close,
My new Varifocals are just the job -
Fast moving though it is
The World is clear to me
With nothing but a flick of the eyes -
And, now I can read their lips,
People are saying the most wonderful things!
Who knew?
elaine Aug 2018
It’s hard to escape this insanity when your world is on fire. I’m left gasping for clean air only to find war smoke.
Papers are thrown, glasses are shattered.
And I am uncomfortably numb.
The blunt surface and wooden *****
Confined within impenetrable walls
However reverb dangerously.
Numbers reappeared to disorientate me.

It was the lion I sought advice from
For a dove that had been travelling with a rose
With a weight as heavy as its wings
Against the torrent of winds and sky.

I counted the time as if I were a clock.
Gently did it leave while I was not looking,
Its music turned down by long fingers
That lightly grazed the glasses
Like tracing back the steps that I at first hastened.

Never again will I see with my lashes curled by  
Its own Evening Dew.
I only pray that the silver soldier marches
Next to me with armor close to my chest
Close to my eyes so no gaze could ever *******.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
ogdiddynash Jul 2018
(thanx all for the great suggestions)

women who wink

drive men to drink

together, glasses clink

tattoos follow in ink

and that ain’t the only thing


the tiller tied & forgot,

the slip knot jinxed

the sailboat nearly sinks


he cries aloud “you minx!”

I’m all done in,

you’ve got me sminked,^

you winking whilst me sailing on the oceans brink


she smirked and laughed that slinky mink,

“clearly you are confused - I’m a lynx,

count to cinq, don’t overthink,

join me overboard into the ****,

I’ll finish you off in the the kitchen sink

where drowning possibilities are next to nothink

promise, we’ll be quite in sync”
^Smink/To smink/Sminking/Sminked...pretty much any context you want.

When you smoke (strictly ****) and drink (alcoholic beverage of you choice) at the same time. Together these two factors get you wicked f’d up and create a great sminked out atmosphere.
D Awanis Oct 2016
Never thought I'd listen to Kodaline,
as I walk down the Memory Lane

Oh, Clementine
For when I was with you I've always been sane
You said you'd be at nine
But since you were no longer mine,
I spent all night with you in my mind
And glasses of champagne on my hand

Oh, Clementine
It's hard for me even to draw a line
Letting you go costs insanity I can't define
With countless loss of dopamine
But I guess if you're fine
I'd do my best not to intervene

Oh, Clementine
February 14th you're no longer my Valentine
Driving through the sreets I ran out of gasoline
But the time is due and I've come to the deadline
While sighing 'I'm done'
I know it's time for me to be gone
I wish you lower your Glasses a bit
Then try to witness what you have Ignored
For Praises Sundry are much apt to meet
Though such Configuration keeps you bored
That you, a Technocrat I'm not surprised
Such Mages and Bards you kindly eschew
For whatever Purpose which you advise
I'll take as the Brother I always knew
And I'll LOVE you still; No Set Values bake
Since your Blessed Genesis I do voice
This is not a Tomb; Nor white-painted make
But another Graced Name I will rejoice.
Now it's up to you, which you interpret
On Pop's Face-Memos the Meaning you get.
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