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Cné Dec 2017
From below
Desire climbs
Up the channels
Of my mind
Shot of whiskey
Glass of wine
Now the ladies
Are looking fine
From the top
Going down
Love strikes fast
When I'm around

From within
My idle mind
Sparks a flame
Of desire design
A shot of whiskey
A glass of wine
Now all the men
Are lookin fine
A little flirt
A little smile
I think I’ll stay
A little while
....

Traveler Tim
& Cné
Mark Edwards Jr May 2015
Waking up, another day, another sip to drown the pain, but **** it all and let it drain, and down it pours like falling rain. I do it all yet all in vain just like a ****** into their veins; to get a rush, emotions flushed, their minds they cleanse, it never ends.

Another hit, another bump, another shot I'm waking up. Hit me hard, hit me now, just one more, just let me drown. I crave escape, I cannot wait, the demons wail, hot on my trail, in my pursuit they never fail. My thoughts collapse, I'm feeling trapped, my true potential remains untapped.

A complete disgrace, the years erased, and through it all I cannot face, the things I've said and things I've done, the pathetic man that I've become. To those I've known, those I've loved, to parents who miss their fading son; just me forget, I won't regret, no consequence I'll ever fret.

Just one last drink and I'll be fine, disillusioned lullabies, to keep me safe, keep me warm, I only need what I've come to scorn, but such is life and so I'll fade, like a distant sun when cometh rain, just one last time to cleanse the pain, an empty shell, all that remains.

05/10/2015
Tori Ginter Jul 2018
You didn’t even call...
I told on Monday how I’d only had a couple days till I was gone.
But that wasn’t enough for you
I’d have to be dying in order for you to call
Little do you know I am, it’s why I must leave this place that is killing me slowly.
But I still have hope
A dream
You’ll be standing there at the end of the aisle right before I  board.
I will drop my bags and run as fast as I can into you
You’ll be the excuse I’ve been looking for to stay
But the reality is
You’re the excuse that makes me have to leave.
Your silence screams leave more than goodbye
laura Oct 2017
No I'm not jealous, you are
millenial me seeing green with that
type of money, I'd hit the cams
if I didnt look **** in my head at least
for a shot at that kind of money

maybe I should deal drugs instead?
Third Eye Candy Dec 2012
At Nineteen Miles An Hour, Smoking On A Train

chugging along the lilacs of twilight in the plasma darkening of a stretch
we fetch the improbable road to our destination. we give a ****. but the birds are listening.
and that might lead to luggage. so much, you might sweep the light fantastic
into army hats. you might march a sustained coup on your hopeless epiphanies.
at nineteen miles an hour, on a train... you see your god.
are you too light to darken the right words
to a happy demise?

are your zeroes at odds?
GreenTrees Aug 2017
Sand castles drifting into the wayward sea.
As the last tower falls I feel complete.

My spirit escaping to unknown shores...

© Karl V. (2017)
Kewayne Wadley Aug 2018
Loving you is like going on vacation without any money.
Away from all the tourist attractions.
The best views all in walking distance.
The places no-one likes to go alone.
My heart no longer my own.
Following where ever you go.
With legs of its own.
It runs like a teenager,
Street after street .
Making faces, having fun.
Your voice a constant favorite heard on station after station.
My heart jerking in place, smiling.
Dancing to the sound.
Loving you is like going somewhere new.
Welcomed by friendly faces.
Shown the sights left off travel brochures, travel channels.
Loving you is a constant  happy hour.
Strawberry & Mango margaritas on the house.
Loving you, being my favorite part
J Jul 2018
I wonder if the color green releases calm and renewal energies because it is the earth's carpet, magnetizing us down to earth.

I wonder if the color red wraps around passion and chaos because the blood in our veins rush evermore when we see something we love, and it rushes to our brain when our world turmoils.

I wonder if the color blue spreads hope for the sky as a crutch for those who have nowhere else to look but up to their god or to the formation of clouds that one cannot make sense of their cotton candy essence.

I wonder what color we are. What color does the earth reflect on us? Are we chameleons, morphing into different shades by the hour or are we permanent markers, bleeding deep? Maybe we are gray and receive color by what we surround ourselves with. That's how science works, right? A reflection of light in our retinas.

I am purple. There is a cloud of mystery and romanticism that shields me like a cloak, but my emotions run like rich velvet. Maybe one day I'll find a yellow who bursts rays of warmth. I think I would like to be with a yellow one day, the golden hour of colors.
September Rose Jun 2018
Go asphyxiate yourself

On your dilusional thought of love
One day you'll find the one

And all your problems will dissolve

Your happily ever after

The true perfect match
that you cant spend a waking hour without dreaming of how much they mean to you

Grow old with
Every second of your life as long as you both shall live

Scrap book with and share vows of love
Love
   Love

Your fairy tail ending with your Cinderalla and Prince Charming

Search for the eternal solution to loneliness

Your soulmate
     Your other half

True love will set you free


Is that right?



Go **** yourself
L B Aug 2018
On rising heat, killdeer flush
to decoy enemy--
threat to its young that roams too close
They rush to skim on hayish blur
wailing over wildflowers drying

Fretful twitter in perpetual flight
swifts-- twirl and hurl their bits of bodies--
debris
from a cumulonimbus of a late-day sky
toward a ridge of stag horn sumac
presuming horizon primordial
behind which time and city-- drift and wobble
on rising heat-- after rush hour

Rising Heat
Rising--
to meet my mind
on its way down
from my post behind
the laundromat
where I view it all--
rising--
where I usually go in search of quiet
to almost hear the ocean
     two hundred miles away
to strain words from wind
     in careless conversation
to wonder over
     missed whispers....

But not today
In rising heat, I went down
in search of something better--
     your eyes again
     solvent for my presence of mind
     dissolvers of hours and the order of things
But I need an excuse!
     To turn, to trespass, to disturb the peace!
     For your eyes again!
And still I need more-- being feverish, weak
Or?
Or... should I take the cure?
     To deny ...To deny

To deny what?
Overtones from a sea of years?
I don't know!  Whatever it was!
Nothing explain it...

I melt... I'm gone....
An old poem that keeps finding itself a need for expression.
PoserPersona Jun 2018
I.
The moon sings the languid flower,
  to bloom at midnight hour
Harmonious feast transpires -
  luminescent choir

Pedals mirror la hue de Luna,
  but pale below her glow
Though the desert sweet aroma,
  is fragrance plus photo

Neither causing nightly failure,
  in idyllic charm
In fact, those powers are greater,
  together than apart

II.
The moon a long gone distant rock,
  yet pulls on ocean tops
Cereus lures with sweetest tricks,
  and stings with countless licks  

Battered holy asteroid face,
 woos flawless solar gaze
And even though it causes mire,
  lunar eclipses fire

The cactus thrives in driest sands,
  and chokes in fertile lands
Alluring lonesome wanderers,
  promising mere water

The lucid beauty bewilders,
  as much as it can haunt
In fact, those powers are greater,
  together than apart

III.
You, once my cereus and moon,
  were drowned in my love well
Perhaps, I was this to you too,
  though your hole I’d not delve

However, what was first velvet,
  morphed into devil’s horns
Winter shed those thorns in my chest,
  now spring gifts hope and more

The icy grips of each winter,
  provides spring fuel to spark
In fact, those powers are greater,
  together than apart

IV.
Although we have gone our own ways,
  I wouldn’t change the past
For each step was necessary,
  to find true love at last

We were once greater together.


I’m now greater apart.
Andrew Dec 2017
Living in the moment
Is where I gain my power
This is my hour

I have interesting thoughts
In the shower
This is my hour

I look outside
And see flowers
This is my hour

I have no time to cower
When this is my hour

This moment
I must reckon
Just for a second

I feel life beckon
Just for a second

I start to feel in it
For a minute

I feel *****
For a year

This lifetime
Builds a tower
But this is my hour
What4221 Oct 2018
It's in that golden hour
When the light drifts through the window
And the dust in the air is beautiful

After a day of tired work and sore muscles
When you finally get to sit down again

When you look at the grass, the ground, the sky
When you feel your heart beat pulse with thunder

Where time fades into the tempo of your favorite song
And you feel the day pulling the last breath from your lungs and filling your heart back up

Where you remember childhood summers
Lemonade and ocean waves

Backlit by the afternoon sun
And the clouds lazing across a blue sky into forever

Where your eyes glow in the light
And your smile softens the wrinkles in your brow

It's in that golden hour
Where home feels just a little bit closer.
MARIO Aug 2018
They complain so very often about the length of my showers. What could I possibly be doing in there for a whole hour?

I’m thinking, to tell you the truth. The shower is no different than a rainy day. We think. We focus. My skin absorbs it like the sharp thoughts of the day, and it washes off me like the hope of the month. It drips down my face like the love of the year. It covers me like the agony of the lifetime.

In this sunshine state of Florida on this very summer, it rained like ****. God cries even longer than I shower for.

The only difference is God doesn’t get a water bill.
lovelywildflower Oct 2018
It's 6:00
Time to let myself down again
CK Baker Mar 2017
fischers rap
on a hot tin roof
bristol creek pools
over rock and seed
english wolfhound (and the barkbuster)
stroll pine lane
vibrant colors
of a cool spring
in cob yellow and
forest green

field mice squander
in cotton wind
goats and ferret
hold seven hour trim
raven and ****
meddle and forage (on a splendid fiaker goulash!)
crickets and frogs
hidden
in swollen grey logs

creepers fill the
cut stone walls
coy wolf high
on a frayed white rope
eagles perched
at trudy’s bend
catamounts laze
on a snow base cedar
(pared arbutus bent  
through a failed ground rock)

brush spider spins
a timely web
brown bears fumble
at the spirit jamboree
quizzical squirrels
***** their nuts
as pillow clouds float
over telegraph trail

12 point dances
on talus and scree
hen hawks float
in a big hard sun
clydesdale and coach
trot copper smith road
(glancing down
on finch and the warbler
whistling through
colander row)

lavender fills
the peat soil box
mountain cats
guard the heavenly gates
black eyed ridge
is wide and open
the country squire hails
this fruitful land
Girard Tournesol Nov 2018
Pale the drown of tears before the light
That loneliest hour of the day or night
From breathless slumber to death's door
Seeks the soul the haunts of peace
Michael Marchese Oct 2018
The underlings stare
In submissive awestruck
Subjugation in landmine-filled
Landfills, are stuck
In the trenches, the feces
The carcass-strewn muck
Where the vermin-spawn ****
As they're taught how to work
And to fend for themselves
Like the Fall of Dunkirk
As the imminent doomsday device overhead
Incapacitates them
As mere prey to a web
Of a global dominion
Ambition connection
Subconscious hive-mind
Buzzing out the objection
And phobia-spreading
Pandemic misanthropy
Greed in disguise
Subsidizing atrocity
Not for me,

I am
The justified treason
The reason the man-hunters
Close open season
The cease-fire peacekeeper
Proliferation
The water war's rising
Desertification
An MIA runaway
AWOL defector
Still haunting the tombs of detente
Like a specter
With what I assure
Mutually in the end
When I send go-aheads
On the ICBMs
And avenge the dependent expended
Caught in
This crossfire for-profit
Arms race it has been
Daisy Marrow Sep 2013
The first time I saw you it was in math class.
I didn't notice anything about you at first I just memorized the back of how your head was.
After all, I had an hour to ****.
The second time I saw you were in English class.
You sat next to me but not by choice.
But I was happy about it.
It took me about four to five weeks to talk to you,
and I wasn't even the one to speak first.
You introduced yourself and then we worked together on an assignment.
It's been two weeks and I haven't said another word and I probably won't out of random.
My anxiety swallows me whole
and I'm sorry I can't even say hello.
But I have had time to notice you.
And let me just say
I'm in love with your taste in music
I'm in love with the way you hold your books
thinking that if you change the sound of your voice when the diagonal changes,
or if you struggle reading words you've never seen before and sit there for a few seconds trying to piece together what they mean.
I love how you can play the mandolin, you should show me sometime.
As I think about these things I also pick up how you would never even think of me.
I mean really,
you probably want some girl that's outgoing and can strum a guitar solo at midnight with you.
You probably want someone with long hair you can intertwine your fingers in,
or someone you can spend an afternoon together after church with.
I can't move mountains
and I can't even speak without looking like a fool,
but even if nothing will ever happen
It would be just as quite exciting being friends with you.
We could trade books and make each other mixtapes.
It hasn't even been a month yet and I'm already writing mediocre poetry about you.
I'm sorry about that by the way.
I'm not asking for a relationship but a friendship with someone like you would feel just the same.
I wrote this in like 20 minutes and I apologize I don't even know
2013
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