SøułSurvivør Mar 2015

a smile upon
a practiced face
is no longer
a smile

doll heads
are just painted
they use
cunning, guile

but you can see
through the

ask for honor
real truth
and watch

they'll find
hunting ground
but their eyes
will be

the baby blues
that look at you

(c) 3-18-2015
Sierra Mar 2015
The magnificent Midwest.
Where meth-heads migrate only to make a living off of welfare checks and a lack of motivation.
Scattered across the land in clusters,
Making up towns of shattered trailers.
Even in the greyness of winter we beat ourselves to death against snowed in windows
Searching for the sun, just like moths to flickering street lights.
Still we have hopes of moving west.
Sombro Nov 2015
I found three heads
Rock toils from the earth
Their eyes expressive with sculptor’s mistakes
It seemed as if the forest had let slip
Its fantasy into mine
Why heads? Why just three?
I don’t think they were meant to be there
As the trees hear you coming they hide their playthings
Perhaps I was too quiet.
A poem I wrote a while ago. I love it because it tells me that there are amazing things lurking behind every fog and every dark night.
Helen Sep 2014
Hey guys

I have found several Daily Poems from this site being shared externally with no acknowledgement to the rightful owner :(

Head over here....


and if you find your original work there then I highly encourage you ask this person to either a) link the poem back to your original or b) remove them from his site. He claims to be a poet and is misleading people by not putting original names/original links to the works he is posting!

Go through them carefully as the titles of the poems have been changed.

Please share this because I have read at least 3 poems from this site from 3 different people over there with no acknowledgement to the original author!

Update ~ Sept 6th 2014 ~ You are NOT going to believe this. I found Shane Linville on Facebook and you will never guess who is one of his favourites! Chris G Vaillancourt! That's right, the very same well known plagiarist from days gone by at HP. He was such an insidious piece of work

*Bugger! Not the way I'd like to see my name next to a Daily Poem but getting the awareness out there is a nice thing too :)
Update... To those listed below with stolen poetry who can't access the link to the blog because its been made private you can still contact word press to advise them and they can check the blog to make sure it's been removed. His name is Shane Linville! I'm just sorry I didn't have time to go through everything he had posted :(
The link above contains the following stolen poetry (that I know so far)
Indifference by Purple Orchid is posted as Her Soul
The Bells of Civilizations Ring by Sjr1000 is posted as World of Disease
Morning Light by Silas is posted as Morning Light (no name change but no link to the original)
I am Stone by imadeitallup (no name change but no link to the original)
A Fool for You by MYstro mAdden posted as Your Love
These a just a few... If you know any of the above poets... please share with them
GGA Dec 2014
Tilted heads stare into spaces.
Tilted heads around dinner tables.
Tilted heads walking down city streets.
Tilted heads as they walk on the beach.

Sitting side by side in street cafes.
Searching postings of weekend retreats.
Never bothered by voices expressed.
Self-absorbed and consumed but never suppressed.

Over-share meals, feelings, and pangs,
GPS tells us your when and your where.
Pictures in mirrors, duck lipped eyes wide.
Never a moment too private, declared!

Be well, be good, and please keep in touch.
Alastur Berit Oct 2013
I wash myself off,
a mop head.
Used and dirty but with a lot accomplished.
Sometimes I'd like to just
screw it off.
My head, I mean.
Get a fresh one.
(Get some-) Don't even go there.

If cleanliness is next to godliness then the devil
must be a janitor that doesn't
switch the water out
rooms and just spreads the dirt around.
Floors and mops get dirty that way.

Is god water then?
Or maybe the cleaners.
Destroying dirt despite the devil's
Cleaning souls like toilets.
I'd like to think that god is a woman
who's cleaned toilets for
twenty years.
That's perspective.
That he's worn out his jeans
replacing rusting pipes.
Maybe god is the feeling of being off your feet
after a long day.

I don't know if I believe in god.
But I know I've met a mop head
or two.
All just a little dirty.
Not one brand new.
Brad Lambert Mar 2012
I am in love with you sometimes
like when I am riding the bus
beneath luminous buildings stapled deep
into the polluted black of the sky
that sadistic monoliths so horribly scrape.

Then there are times when I want you dead.
I scream loud into my pillow
then press my ear to the cotton
but after my punches it is too scared to reply
so all I hear are the echoes of my scream.

You ought to be ashamed for what you've done.
I am a strong, resilient, independent young person
and you blank face, you liar,
you slaughterhouse chief...
You ought to be ashamed.

Does your heart beat like a racehorse
when the Jockeys come off?
Are you aroused when a man in a suit,
a business-man suit,
tosses the homeless a quarter?

Do you hope that it lands by their tattered, torn shoe heads up?
Do you think they just need a little luck?

If you do,
then I have a secret to tell you:

*You are the most flawless person I have ever seen,
and holding hands on the city bus scares the living shit out of me.
The lamborghini langoustine
moves so fast it can't be seen
now you see it
now you don't
will you catch it
no you won't.

The Hills erect their Purple Heads
The Rivers lean to see
Yet Man has not of all the Throng
A Curiosity.
NV Apr 2016


Ugo Victor Mar 2016
Keep your head up
My father said to me
Young redhead troubled
by the world around me

So when you think I'm nodding
In agreement; I'm sorry
You only misunderstood; I can't
Hear you, you see

When life burdens me and my
Head drops
I bring it back up because
Heads up
That's what my father taught me

Red head

That's the lizard in me.
The missus wanted to go out;
I wanted to stay in.
So I did the washing-up
And emptied out the bin.
But still she wasn’t too impressed;
She was determined, I could see.
I needed to improve my odds
And it occurred to me;
Perhaps I should just toss a coin
To have an even chance;
So I suggested it to her
And she gave me such a glance!
She said, “You are so tight;
Have you a ‘double-headed coin’?”
I asked, “Would I do that to you?”
She said, No!  Use one of mine!”
Then she handed me a ten-pence piece;
I tossed it in the air.
It hit my thumb as it came down
And bounced to who knows where?
Deciding it had found a crack
Right beside me in the flooring;
I went and fetched my tool-box out
And soon began on sawing.
“Leave it!  It is just ten-pence!”
That’s what the missus said;
But I said that we didn’t know
Whether it was tail or head?
Seeing how determined I’d become
She left me on my own;
Went off in a strop
And soon began to moan!
I heard her say, “He’ll wreck the house
Just for a silly coin!”
She came to offer me another
But still, I did decline.
I smashed the tongue and groove
And slowly lifted up the floor
But when I looked into the space;
I took fright at what I saw.
There was a cavity right below;
Between the house-brick void
Because the coin was not around,
Well it must have fell inside.
So off I scurried down the stair
As fast as I could go
And with my lump-hammer and chisel
I gave such a mighty-blow!
About an hour later on
I’d smashed out half a brick;
The missus was annoyed with me
And said, ‘I made her sick!’
I pushed my hand inside the gap;
Then I ferreted about,
Got my hand stuck sideways
And could not get it out!
The missus grabbed me by the belt
Then she pulled with all her might;
She could not move me anyway
So she disappeared from sight.
She returned with Fairy-liquid
And squirted it on my wrist;
Pulling-it and pushing-it
I soon regained a fist.
But, there still appeared no coin;
My hand was black and blue!
The missus asked me to give-up;
There was nothing else to do.
She said it was too late now;
Even if we wanted to go out.
We might even have enjoyed ourselves
If I hadn’t mucked-about!
It seemed to me, she’d took the hump;
I disliked her attitude
And after all the work I’d done
I found it very rude!
I said, “It won’t take long
To put it back together.”
She said, ‘she didn’t give one,
She’d reached the end of a long-tether!’
Off she went to bed
Without wishing me goodnight!
I followed her just after,
‘Cause I sensed things wasn’t right.
She was lying there in bed
With a face ‘as dark as sin’;
Said she had a throbbing-head
And that she didn’t want me in!
Off I went into the spare-room
Feeling like a condemned-man;
All I’d done was for the best,
If it hadn’t gone to plan!
At times like this, when I feel down,
I fancy something hot
So off I trotted down the stairs
And boiled-up the pot.
Back inside the bedroom
With hot-chocolate in my cup;
I threw my trousers on the bed
And something fell from my turn-up.
Would you believe; it was the coin?
It really made me smile
After all the fuss I’d made
It had been there all the while!
I dashed right in to tell the wife
Thinking she’d be ‘chuffed!’
I said, “We’ll have to toss again!”
But she just yelled, “GET STUFFED!”
Barton D Smock Sep 2013
conduit of bliss

with a phobia
of narcolepsy



as if hacked
by a definitely

fuck     newly enrolled

in a course
on private


my brother


who staged
his after life
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