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MKF Jun 2014
He walks in, khakis cuffed
Nikes laced tight.
He says, "I know hip hop is dead
But Imma revive it tonight".
He picks up the mic
While they laugh cause he's white.
He pays no mind,
Just steps into the spotlight.
Their jaws drop
When he starts to spit
They've never seen his match,
He's on that real ****.
He ran out of rhymes, he's freestylin' now
And every syllable, like a puzzle piece, fits.
There's a smile on his face now,
He knows he's legit.
He drops the mic
And walks away,
Doesn't look back
Its more impactful that way.
Everyone just stares
They don't know what to say
All they know, deep inside,
Is hip hop was reborn that day.
For Austin
Mark Oct 2019
Barnyard ****, just raised a city born, sort of a chick    
Even gave her the surburban name of Sandra Dee Fonda
A pretty slow blonde critter, some even say, short of a tick      
Bred way-down and far-away, ‘bout 70 miles yonder            
Y’all be knowing dat Hick-Hop thang, is what it‘s all about            
While hootin’ and scootin’, never let ya kissin’ cousin, flake out
Hee Haw, said it all, when we were a pickin’ and a grinnin’
Ask Goober, what’s dat ya doin’ and what’s dat ya diggin’?  
 
Perhaps I may yet die, with my boots still placed upon            
Cowards never really stay around here long enough             
To actually become real cowboy shootin’ stuff, my dear            
I say, ‘Hang ‘em first and try ‘em later on’            
My life was always threatened daily            
That’s why, I went out heavily armed, just like an Israeli      
         
I’ve been invited to the Marty Party, along with Brother Brown
But, I thought killing a man, was my one and only, speciality
Even drafted a business proposition, for this exact locality
Since I’ve had the market cornered, in da middle of downtown
From Cornfield, Alabama to Deadwood, South Dakota            
There’s no import or export taxes, so no **** amount of quota
So, me, you and even that Clay Ellison, will be riding a winner
Even after killin’ that Chunk Kolbert, straight after his dinner  
 
Perhaps I may yet die, with my boots still placed upon
Cowards never really stay around here long enough
To actually become real cowboy shootin’ stuff, my dear            
I say, ‘Hang ‘em first and try ‘em later on’            
My life was always threatened daily            
That’s why, I went out heavily armed, just like an Israeli        
           
They’ll be gettin’ da same amount of ice, as Knoxville            
But the rich will be a gettin’ it, in da summertime            
While the poor will be a gettin’ it, in da wintertime            
If I owned Texas & Hell, I’d rent out Texas & live in Hell            
So, don’t ever think about, hittin’ ya mother with a shovel            
It’ll leave a dull impression on her already fragile mind            
I’m not afraid to die, as a brave man fighting shall            
But I wouldn’t wanna be killed, like a dog unarmed, so please be kind            
           
Perhaps I may yet die, with my boots still placed upon
Cowards never really stay around here long enough
To actually become real cowboy shootin’ stuff, my dear            
I say, ‘Hang ‘em first and try ‘em later on’            
My life was always threatened daily            
That’s why, I went out heavily armed, just like an Israeli            
           
I see a good many enemies around me, who will walk            
But notice mighty few friends, that are willing to talk            
They would then, drink right smart            
They could then, scrap right smart            
But, I didn’t come here to talk, I just came here to hang            
Just a peekin’ through, the hour glass thang  
 
Perhaps I may yet die, with my boots still placed upon
Cowards never really stay around here long enough
To actually become real cowboy shootin’ stuff, my dear            
I say, ‘Hang ‘em first and try ‘em later on’            
My life was always threatened daily            
That’s why, I went out heavily armed, just like an Israeli.
matilda shaye Nov 2014
that weather changes. I know, I know that's common sense or it should be, but when you're under a roof that you've always felt safe in things like that don't just click, so now it's getting cold outside and I have shorts that cover my belly button and shorts that, well, don't. that you can sit in coffee shops 3 times a week and feel FINE! she's right, you don't love her anymore, but it's FINE! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

that there's an 100% chance you'll get sick of writing about your own experiences and it'll take everything inside you to convince yourself that there will be someone who doesn't get sick of reading about them. like okay another poem about the time I ran away and got on a plane and broke up with her and realized **** I can do just FINE! all by myself, awesome good job my hands are typing the same stuff over and over and it ***** cause now they're bored? they don't care that this is a different city and you probably don't either. I'm finally leaving him! no one cares. except me, really, but I don't. I'm over it.

that decisions don't get any easier as time goes on because one second I'm like oh yeah let's turn left and then I read robert frost and think of the road less traveled and I'm like wait? which ones less traveled? what am I actually supposed to do with any of this?

that getting a medium instead of a large $5 coffee doesn't stop you from being ******* STUPID for wasting money when you're TECHNICALLY HOMELESS.
that you're toing to be TECHNICALLY HOMELESS.
but what the **** is a home? 'cause I remember one time I wrote that your smell and smile was more of a home than any house I ever lived in blah blah disgusting but last week when you looked at me and said some dumb ******* that I don't even care enough anymore to write about, I just wanted to go back and lie in bed until I get all these months back. because they were a WASTE.
that it's going to be different. you'll settle and then something will change and you'll miss it and you're a really very nostalgic person in general so you tend to look back on things but
that looking back on things is NOT a good idea. you're just going to get sad and want to lie in bed, but you're technically homeless so that ******* *****, sit your *** on that couch and shut up.
that one day, you're going to have to man up. and you think you've man-ed up and you're flexing and **** and you're ready to rip it to shreds, but nah. you're giving yourself too much credit. I'll see it when I believe it, just like everyone else.
that getting drunk off shots that your brothers girlfriend, who happens to be a bartender at that new-ish bar downtown, keeps handing you won't make ANY of it easier, you'll just laugh and drink the pineapple upside down cake shot and like really like how it tastes? so you'll drink three more and go to walk home and she'll hug you goodbye and make sure you're staying in this city for longer than you did last time (aka 16 years) and then you'll laugh and say bye and thank her for not ID'ing you because you've still got 4 years til that's legal and GUESS WHAT. NONE OF IT WILL BE EASIER. you'll just go home and lie on your god forsaken couch and worry about what the **** is next? and what do you do now? and then you'll try really hard not to make the same mistakes again and to stop your dumb lonely brain from going off on itself again and you'll listen to music until you fall asleep at 4 in the morning and you'll be like, ah..... the **** that they don't tell you but probably should before you get on a plane at 5 in the morning and run away from the people you've spent 16 years imagining running away from, but the city is cold now and they're angry at me and won't ship me any warm clothes..........ahhhhh.....serious **** man
idk, pineapple upside down cake shots
ps I'm not tagging her in this one because it's DONE and I'm OVER IT
ops THATS NOT A LIE
Mark Sep 2019
A dope gangsta is when you can slang dime sacks
Everyday of the week
While his honey-dip struts her stuff
Making sure she's at her absolute peak
If I ever get caught
I'll spend some more time at the central booking house
Hopefully, my homie will stick to his alibi
That's if he's able to, use all of his nous

You've got a head you can't think with
An eye you can't see with
***** you can't play with
Your neighbours an RRR hole
And your best friend is a total pussie

My britch loves to slip my Charles Dickens
Into her wet and shaved vertical smile
It's always a different position every night
And she always creates, a smile on my dial
She don't ever scream, when I slide it into her chocolate starfish
She’ll take one for the team, ya know what I mean?
You just wish ya momma was just like mine
Who never minds ya licking her dish, ever so clean

You've got a head you can't think with
An eye you can't see with
***** you can't play with
Your neighbours an RRR hole
And your best friend is a total pussie

Back home where every man is a potential enemy
Every woman a potential ***
There is not one hip-hop star today
Who has original street cred, you know
They're not street, they're just five star suite
Sleeping with girls who think they’ve got hot figures
At least I've walked the walk and everybody knows
I ride for my *** smoking, motley crew of nig-gas

You've got a head you can't think with
An eye you can't see with
***** you can't play with
Your neighbours an RRR hole
And your best friend is a total pussie
Alex Gifford Aug 2019
You feel the rhythm of the music,
as it bounces through the floor.
You hear laughter and excitement,
the suspense of what's in store.

Then you walk up to a lady,
and you ask her for a dance.
Don't be nervous most are friendly,
this won't be your only chance.

If you're a leader with a purpose,
and your follower has grace.
You combine into one being
with a smile for each face.

Then trust will turn to tension,
and this tension is a whip.
That cracks loud like the trumpet,
every time momentum flips.

The adrenaline of falling,
the connection of a hug.
Either focus like an artist,
or it takes you like a drug.

Every hour feels like minutes,
you forget the world outside.
There's just motion and the moment,
it's a rollercoaster ride.

When the sun goes up that morning,
and you rise up out of bed.
You keep dreaming of that freedom,
It won't get out of your head.
Try swing dancing it's a complete blast. This is what it feels like. I hope I can motivate someone to go out and give it a shot. Tell me if you do!
Shofi Ahmed Mar 2017
I
A flower that smells of pure bliss keeps an ear to the ground
It's a serene one sitting beneath the stars down on earth
The moon, far, far, seven seas away, loves to drop into her lap.

The Bay of Bengal billows, music has gotten beneath the skin.
The leaves furl out off the deep wood with the birds
singing out to the top of the trees, rhyming with the leafy dance.
Heavensent, that was in one sanguine day in the spring.
The Mother’s Language Movement in 1952 sprouted like this
on the eighth of native Falgun month—oh magic did it unleash!

On that day our beloved brothers were shot dead
They could swallow the bullets with smiles but won’t give up
demanding the official status for the Bangla mother tongue.
Angels wrapped round the martyrs amid lamenting mothers
Laid them on Falgun’s perfumed ground bleeding corpses
Seas of roses bloomed and blew them out red, red kisses!

They are gone not the stone wall of consciousness they raised
Ah, at the sprout of the spring what were they echoing?
Ingrained deep in the soil the pre-designing voice in the planning?
Who can tell? The world gels on February 21 in celebrating!

The angels then snapped up our martyrs’ souls off the land,
placed them on a piece of Heaven where they can hear the jingle.
Down on earth, a nation springs up, has gotten its wake up call!
Stepping on the sweetening arc of the mother tongue melody
the stone turns a flower, all in a butterfly moment soaring to victory.
Thanks to the movement - Bangladesh itself later comes to be!

II
The sun comes down to the rose painting on the land
In the heavenly Falgun hues it nibbles some wild summer dreams.
“Serene songs of earth stirring the water,” like it comes into play,
rowing the cloud bubbles singing in southern breeze.
Ah, a walk on the sun-kissed kaleidoscope land is a pure bliss.  
Every blossom spray of the wind is soothing sweet
Hop on and play straight to the ruby heart, as if it's a flute.

Mother tongue means speak free, fearless, in full streaming.
Speak the heart to the world without the fear of losing the cloud
that will listen, bouncing back on the brink of the sky river.
Then what did one say, hear, or was awed by in the blooming Falgun?
Could it have been the spring humming in her native lingua
or King David singing in mother tongue by babbling brooks
what in any other language, even with a silver tongue, isn’t possible?

Allah has listened to our martyrs’ crying mothers and fathers
The martyrs’ souls whisk through the galaxies and starry fair.

Soar high over the clouds, take the rainbow's *** of gold away,
Like a hue turns 360-degree in the colourwheel bask into the colour.
Still, dip the toes in Bangla mother’s soil salted with perfumed art
Like Himalayan water swirling down melting deeper deep down
This magicland is polished for everyone be it you, a fairy, a star
or off the ploughed-out barrow a walked out wonder!

A pristine voice duo’s voiceprint gleans to the spring in muse,
Pops in a beauteous scurry and speaks in the mother tongue!
Hidden within the earthy depth, only emerges with time,
only dances in tangent, that day slipped out with the butterflies.
And finally the blue nymphs take the plunge drop down the sky  
That day the mother’s voice triumphed, whose is the most original!
This is a poem from my book Zero and One available on Amazon.
Bardo Jun 2019
I got me a Kangaroo
Lives way down in my pants
He seldom sits quiet
He'd rather get up and dance.

He goes Bo-ing! Boing! Boing!
I can't get him stopped
He's always on the go
Yea! he's always on the hop.

                     II

Well, he ain't no Dodo
He sure knows how to pogo
Even when I say no! no!
He keeps on on the go! go!
(Bit of a yo-yo)

And when he's full of vim
There's no catching him
I only hope my pants hold out
And he don't pop out.

                         III

Now how can I put forward
My Best face
When I got him down there
Bouncing all over the place.

He's up, then he's down
Then he's back up again
Up and down all day
Like a demented drawbridge.

                       IV

He goes Bo-ing! Boing! Boing!
And I go Down! Down! Down!
Whoa-aa Boy!

I go one way
While he goes the other
Man! he's tearing me asunder
I'm every which way.

My mind full of insecurities & fears
And my Kangaroo down there
He's looking up at me saying
What the hell are you doing up there.

                            V

O! what am I going to do
With my wild Kangaroo,
What am I going to do !!!
What! Get him a didgeridoo ???
(A didgeri-didgeri-doo!)

Have you got a Kangaroo
Down in your pants ?
"Ooooo! Whoo!" sang the girls
     "yes! we Dooo Whooo!!!"
What! Wait a minute, you mean...
You mean girls, they got Kangaroos too !!!
Poem about Kangaroos. But this isn't an Australian poem, that's a clue. You've heard of the birds and bees, well this is the Kangaroos in the trees. Must have been a full moon when I wrote this or a remembrance of randier days when I had the hots, my Kangaroo is quite well behaved these days.
Mark Sep 2019
Plastic smiles are always the worst  
They're just the slightest bit off at first  
They make your creep senses start to tingle and make a sensation  
She said, I give off a creepy sort of vibe  
I said, that's an odd way to start a conversation  
 
 
I just ate popcorn and watched girls play volleyball  
Then got made fun of for being such a creep  
But I told them I was only sitting here all by myself  
That's probably why I'm three times more creepier than the ordinary solo creep  
 
 
Mention your red Ferrari, that'll get the ******* dropping faster  
One can be a creep and still get to enjoy the role of being master  
I told a girl at her 18th birthday party, that I wanted to eat that cake off her ***  
Then I had to tell the entire party, that I had to hurry back to class  
To practice going hands solo coming and going while flashing my special hall pass  
I asked if ya wanna take a ride home with me in my squeaky cruising van?  
Truly a mystery why anyone would call me a little bit creepy, ****  
 
 
But I told them I was not here all by myself  
That's probably why I'm three times more creepier than the ordinary solo creep  
 
 
I tried to start an **** once or twice, on a bus full of giggling cheerleaders  
While on the way back from our schools annual college basketball 'bout  
Tried but failed at having *** with everyone on that bus, only as a game  
Even did a strip tease for everyone and I even tried to make out  
They didn't wanna make out but they liked my strip tease of fame  
 
 
But I told them I was not here by myself  
That's probably why I'm three times more creepier than the ordinary solo creep  
 
 
Now I feel like a junior high football ****  
Waiting for the nod, so I can stop doing it into a sock  
Why get a girlfriend when I can just ******* with ****?  
****, dude. Just call a ****** up already and get that out the way  
We all make fools of ourselves sometimes, ok for me everyday  
 
 
But I told them I was never there by myself  
That's why I'm so much more creepier than any other so, so, crazee mudda fuckka.
King Panda Jan 2017
rain
little girl
rain with
hair
rain until
the sun chokes
rain with
your dis-attuned nails
rain
running Pisces through
my head
rain
another word called
rain for
some mallards
rain on
boy
rain
rabid 90’s hip hop
we listen while driving
to the theatre
rain pounding
in the car
in the eyes
rain
the sky seems to
penetrate
my car’s roof
and this poem
breaks through
water uprising
your grey hat
your almonds
and my chin
rain
I wish I could make it
for you
nightingale
I wish I could hear your
breath
in the morning
Salmabanu Hatim Mar 2019
Horses clop,
Rabbits hop.
Frogs jump,
Caterpillar ****.
Worms wiggle,
Bugs jiggle.
Snakes slide,
Seagulls glide.
Lion stalk,
I walk.
Come on all lets dance,
Let's take a chance.
Clippity clop, hop  hop,
Jump and ****,
Now bump your ****.
One,two jiggle and wiggle,
Please don't giggle.
Slide and glide,
Don't hide,
The room is wide,
You can even ride.
Dear Mr Lion don't stalk,
Sit on a rock,
So I can do moon walk.
27/3/2019.
I loved writing this poem
Whoa
Antino Art Apr 2018
We wear this city on our feet
Planting our roots with each step
Our shadows

cast shapes of ancient oak trees stretching out over Nash Square at daybreak
We grow here

with the spirit of buildings past,
present and rising like a staircase to heaven in the distance,
the plumes of white smoke from their rooftops as burnt offerings for incense,
spires for steeples,
the bundled masses of people moving beneath as the calloused soles
of our feet pounding the pavement,
Our congregation

seated in reverant silence on the R-Line hissing to a stop
Their hushed prayers filing out from within to bring the reclaimed sidewalks of Fayetville Street back to life to join this pilgramage
They march

downtown toward Capitol
holding signs for disarmament
They bar-hop through Glenwood toasting to deliverance
They sprint toward their cars on work week mornings in a blur of faces that become us,
Rush at all hours through our veins
Cross our hearts and keep us breathing
On the shoulders of this giant collective, we hold our heads high

to see that this is home now.
We cross into the unfamiliar
at the walk signal's cue,
breaking new ground, gazes meeting one another
as their counter-culture
coffee kicks in
to add this defiant bounce to each step
this rhythm to hop over puddles as they appear

We don't mind the way rain lands here
and its baptismal effect
We like how its capable of reinventing itself mid-fall into weightless snowflakes, then taking flight
We walk without umbrellas to see it

wearing the greyest pieces of their winter sky the way it caps the peaks of Mount PNC, BB&T and Wells Fargo like hoodies over our heads
We assume monk-like appearances
in robes color-coded by season- from blue collar sweaters to cold hard sweat
We'll wear their city until we're worn out and wet, mumbling last-mimute prayers for our salvation under our breath
We'll wear their dreams

at night, the moment the streetlights flicker on beneath wired telephone poles carrying conversations about each one as far south as Florida, fears unspoken, made visible
on iron park benches too cold to sit on at this hour
We'll keep walking

and wear this city like backpacks over our shoulders

under the shadow of their heavens,
the skyline
a glowing testament
of every step taken
toward someplace higher.
“We love the bunnies, for the bunnies, they hop.”

“We love them all day because they never stop,

…and we love ourselves, when we look inside;

...trapped with the bunnies on the hospital-side.”
My Mother spent time in a state psychiatric institute where they had a courtyard fenced in by an iron fence with white bunny rabbits that hopped about as a therapeutic aid for the inhabitants. When I dream about visiting her I always find myself on the outside of the fence looking at her with the bunnies....but not with my Mother, where I belong.
A Sad Alex Sep 2018
Imagine if one day
Gravity just gave way
It all began to float
Loosened from the floor

And as you begin your gentle rise
As if being pulled by the sky
What would you think about?
Would feelings within you be aroused?

Would you think of the young?
As they float up to their demise
Would you be glad their innocence
was left alone?
Or saddened that their deeds
will forever be undone?

Would you think of the old?
As they hasten their death
Would you be glad
their suffering is at an end?
Or saddened of the mistakes
they could not yet mend

What of lovers, is there a thought?
To a swift end comes their love
To feel their embrace nevermore
Or in eternity each other adore.

Families, friends and co-workers?
Officers, bankers and robbers?
Priest, sinners and saints?
Me, you and them?

All floating softly to death
So many stories
That came to an end
But what about you?
Would you spare you a thought?
Reminsce or curse it all?
Would any regret cross your mind
Or maybe memories would warm your heart
Projects left unfinished
And dreams so long without visit

For this reasons and more
we musn´t dally
So do away with lists
projects and tallies
Life is too short to spend thinking
We must think less
And open up to feeling
For we are not machine but human
And humans die
So go out there and live
Before you are claimed by the sky
The stanzas in this one are kinda weird but I like how it ended up. Funny story about this one, I was in the bus and today was a real hard day at work, my head was in auto-pilot. So I get to my stop and ususally I do a little hop of the last step of the bus, and as I land on the floor I began wondering to myself "What if I didn´t land? What if one day I jump and I just float away, and everything else just, floats into the sky?" One thing lead to another and a new poem was made, that as always, I hope you boys and girls and whatever is in between enjoy.
ryn Oct 2014
On this carousel
You and I
Ringing bells
Time passes by

Scorching bulbs
Ornate bobbing horsies
Enchanting music
Tell of magical stories

I am here
On this side
You are there
Same ****** ride

Opposite ends
Placed we two
We can't see
But each other we knew

Friendly peeks
Directed to you
All I could afford
Keep you in view

Still rotating
Ride goes on
Chasing each other
No closer we've drawn

Enjoy the ride
Soak in the sights
Hold at bay
Reality that bites

Thought about
Getting off
Don't know how to
Come to a solve

Can't hold still
It's eating me alive
Can't just stay
Have to strive

Hand still holding on
One foot dangling
Second thoughts play
But bent on releasing

Take the first step
Don't overthink
Take the leap
Step off the brink

Close my eyes
Time is now
Just let go
Fate I must allow

Ready now
Time came to a freeze
one...two...
three...release


Now off the carousel
Cloying uncertainty
Never been here
Unknown territory

In the music
Found familiarity
Unsure if here
Is where I want to be

What do I do?
Wait a little more?
Hop back on?
Or await what's in store?

Glad I waited
Glad patience I found
There you are...
Coming back round
Madness plays in loops...
A sick little spin on the carousel.
Butch Decatoria Oct 2018
Evening shimmers wet with Autumn rain
It's sheen reflectors, mirrors, eyes

Of cavorting shadows amongst the fey
Like city tinsil this Samhain night,

Oh how lovely colors celebrate
With ghostly kin & youthful lights...

With circus-painted skins and facade
Of candied ghoulish grins,

How sweet & innocent the haunted highs
Infects each home, "trick'r'treat" of hymns.

Laughter like All's been forgiven,
All seems right, again...

Though hidden faces -  forgotten sins,
Speak sie la vie this holiday,

With carved pumpkins, witches' cry,
Screams are as illusion as the fright,

This Samhain evening’s tide .

It's all babes and monsters ball
This hallowed eve
This Samhain night

Tra la li, tra la lay
Then tomorrow is Hop tu naa...
The days after for all our saints...

Come the winter will be white,
As the ghosts this Samhain night.
King Panda Feb 2016
where were you when I came out?
seventeen
asleep in a Philadelphia suburb
with that man
you called
boytoy
lover
caccoon
because everyone likes to feel weeks of web
crystallized between their sweaty toes

I was an unremarkable specimen
called yoda because of the hairs
on my ears
a baby with a flawless twenty digits and
hands like a
painter’s
but love was spring
and had to wait for the grass to green
and the retrievers to shed their
winter coats
so their owners could curse
and huff
and sneeze

you
precious
Kurt Cobain fan
and all things hip/hop
with those glasses and that hair
asked to be my sister
but caught unaware
with **** in your shorts because
you never saw me coming
and
how alike we were
and
what if we met
somewhere
someday
and you said
yes
this is my brother
this is the one who I lost
in the spring
Cindy Long Aug 2017
I look at my purple and yellow flesh.
Smile at the memory of where you have been.
The harsh and heavy marks of our love.
I bite my bottom lip and press my thighs tight.
Stifle moans from the ache it brings.
Explosions raddle my brain and i wish to be with you again.
I trace the indention of rope along my wrists.
The thin line between pain and pleasure.
How we crossed it; played hop-scotch with it.
I giggle to the excitement of my battered soul.
The snap and crack of a flogger on my back.
Spiders crawl down my spine with the words,
"You are mine."
Muggle Ginger Nov 2012
I never understood “made in God’s image” until I saw her.
Anyone who’s seen her has higher expectations for what heaven looks like.

We’re both sensitive enough to know what love feels like,
and reasonable enough to know that it can be broken.

The first time you use a new toothbrush is nothing like the first time you kiss a girl,
But I still love them both.

Her laugh is a paradox; an outsider would think she either just said the cleverest thing ever or she wishes she could retract it faster than it was said.
Only I know it’s simply because it’s beautiful. It’s easily my favorite language.

I have considered wearing a wiretap so I could go back and listen to all of our conversations again. And I hope that it picked up her heartbeat. She told me, it’s beating exactly like life should sound like.

She offers to iron any wrinkled clothes. I don’t have any. But I have a wrinkled heart.
I thought it was made into origami but it’s just a wadded ball that missed the wastebasket.

The way she dances to hip-hop shows her versatility,
yet you can tell she doesn’t do this every day; but she still dances.

I’m almost too nervous to hug her - knowing it will have to end.
Whenever I let go, I feel like I made a mistake.

Her voice trails off into silence,
like an hourglass that’s trying to hold itself together.

I like that “click-clack” of her boots.
It lets me know I’m next to someone really going places.

She goes to the mini mart with me even when she doesn't want to get anything,
besides more time together.
This has always been about her.
Sara Aug 2019
I’m useless, when I have no feelings of romantic attraction I’m safe and my best self.
But once my heart feels a beat, I’m a loser to myself and I lose my charm
The charm which compels me to be free

I don’t like me, so why should they?
I project the exact opposite of what I know is good, in order to perhaps cast away.
Do I not want myself to be happy?
Is that too much of an emotion to behold?

I try relax and connect with myself again but it’s this effort of trying that initiates the polar opposite

I’m sexually aroused by people who mistreat me -or in further actuality- who I make uncomfortable, self conscious and ultimately- encourage hate.
I need to feel hatred to arouse my love

People who are good, and good with my good, who allow themselves to be transfixed and emotionally, loosely captivated, maybe terrify me.
I freak, I freak out but in a different way that doesn’t make me act on my ****** senses  
Instead I turn to self-depreciation
Sorry for being bleak, I have to get this out my head
Jeff Gaines Mar 2018
Cardinal
Oh, Cardinal
You great scarlet bird.

You hop along my porch rail
But you don't say a word.

Defiant
So Defiant
Of nature's camouflage.

There is no way to hide
Your bright red entourage.

Orange
Bright Orange.
Your sharp pointy beak.

Gathers the worms and the seeds
All the meals that you seek.

Feed
Feed her.
This mate that you court.

Such a noble young man
You dance and cavort.

Sing
Sing sweet
You and your friends

I'll love your songs every morning
'Til winter comes 'round again.

Babies
Your babies
I'll meet them come next year.

When in the Fall, they'll alight on my porch
And bring my morning's cheer.

Cardinal
Oh, Cardinal
I'm so glad you're here, you see.

I knew your parents and now you have come
Singing just for me.
I live pretty far out in the country. The birds here are really awesome. I love to go out late at night and listen to the Barred Owl or spend an afternoon sitting in our back meadow to watch the breeding pair of Peregrine Falcons that have a nest in one of our Methuselah oaks.

But every morning as the sun rises and I have my coffee on the back porch ... the Cardinals always seem to be the early risers. Their songs begin with the very first crack of light. They seem to have gotten used to me, as they now land on my porch rail, pretty close to me.

They sing and court mates and sometimes, I swear, they just kinda bop around on the railing and watch ME!

They are simply beautiful and I LOVE having my coffee with them each morning!
Cathyy Mar 2016
Would you let me walk you back to school?
And maybe later, teach me how to play pool?..
Oh maybe Friday if you're free,
Play dinosaur mini golf with me?
I know I'm uncool..
But I like who I am when i'm with you

Wont you tell your bro to add me back
Tell him I play guitar too but mostly when I'm sad..
Rock and roll is pretty cool,
And Hip Hop was better when it was old school..
But I write acoustic tunes...
Oh you know I do.

Did you ever get the message that I never sent?
You always said you could read me,
Well did you figure I was upset
When you didn't answer the phone
All these days I've felt alone
Just a little hollow and not okay..
But i'd still be here tomorrow,
Despite yesterday.

Oh I'd still love you tomorrow,
Even if my heart breaks apart today.
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