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StoryTallinn Mar 29
Until the sun rise
I will be my own light
Until the cloud disappear
I will be my own sun

I have lost a battle
Not the war
Sorry but...
White flags do not belong in my backpack

Steps after steps
Miles after miles
This was not supposed to be a sprint
But a marathon
Christmas  trees
Stana Claus
Decorating
Presents
Food
Parties
Get-to-gethers

Busy
Rush
Maddness
Crowds
Panic

What  is it all for.?
Siyana Aug 11
I'm panting, I'm waiting
hoping and praying
that my efforts will finally be paid..
I'm wishing and thinking
"please luck be efficient"
working my life away...
I enter the rink,
with one punch I drop to my knees
blood streaming down my nose,
but I've worked too hard to settle for the broke life..
I'm sick of rummaging the fridge to not be able to grant food,
my stomach loud and hungry,
but there's nothing I can do..
So I take this shot,
yearning for the best,
all I want is to live free of debt.
Not be able to know what it feels like for your rent to be late,
but to live comfortably without worried about money.....
KiraLili Apr 2015
Is elegance lost in these days we live?

Movement is no longer so anymore but rushed and agitated

Design has forgotten the simple lines

Poise has been replaced by abject hustle

Fashion has forgotten its place replaced by the everyday

Nature the only reminder at times of stoic beauty

Not merely aesthetics has waned but the mannerisms the pace of it

The tastefulness and savoured selections of elegance and the feeling

It goes past the decorations of this day for elegant things last and endure

So much more than style elegance has virtues and grace and timeless qualities

It is beauty and gracefulness of that way of being

Is it lost or just outnumbered and drowned out by noise ?

Or are we too busy to see it ?

Simple virtues so beautiful should be easier to find

Elegance.....
Is it lost?
Nat Lipstadt Dec 2015
Time: 7:30 pm
Temp.: 68F

~~~
overlooking the runways,
festooned by
accidental heavenly whimsy,
or humanistic whimsical inten-sity,
all the the planes and trucks are flashing
electrifying speckles, of eclectically synced
red and green

it is not my holiday,
but no matter,
like every New Yorker this day,
I am happily celebrating its
double U,
unique, unusual

"record breaking warmth"

yes, the Fahrenheit is outtasight, and by the dawn of
early eve~night,
the Centigrade is spiraling in reverse retrograde,
as the temp eases on down, just below seventy degrees,
on this dewinterized twenty fourth day of
December, two nought and fifteen

traffic is light, the terminal, an unbusy, slim shadow of itself,
the maddening crowds gone, now all are among
the dearly departed and either/or, the newly arrived

so composition of the observational, brings cheer and smiles to my faith,
(I mean my face),
the crowning quietude of clear skies, the absence of street smart
city  bustle and hustle,
the languid atmosphere at the gates,
(where seldom is heard an encouraging word)#
makes me reconsider the true meaning of
the au courant phraseology of this day

"record breaking warmth"

for there is indeed
a calm invisible warmth suffusing all tonite,
chests glowing from fireplaces within,
contentment chamber containers in both hearth and heart,
and I am thinking
miracle,
about all the human warmth
on this celebrated evening,
holy night

indeed,
it is breaking records of
recorded human fusion,
the united commonality of millions warming
his and her stories world-over,
that your personal poet is
warming to record
# but not tonight, as I am
unbelievably,
upgraded!
Desire Feb 26
"Excuse me ladies
and gentlemen, sorry
for the interruption..."

@desire.is.dope
2-26-19
0838
Deb Jones Jan 2018
Living in the moment
Being mindful
Taking each minute at a time
Being present
Putting down whatever I am doing
When someone is talking to me
Or needs me.
Especially a child
I am making memories
They will remember later on
Especially that they were loved
The sweet sound of a child’s laugher
The music of my life
Closing my eyes and soaking it in
Pretend to be shopping
As a child laughs in another aisle
It seems rare nowadays
The hurried frazzling hustle and bustle
Laugh with your babies
Give them your time
They will return it 10 fold to you someday
Talk about your dreams
Ask them about theirs
Tell them stories
Read them a book
Love them freely
Don’t feel constrained
If they want to go shopping with you in a princess dress and clacking in princess shoes...
Let them
Don’t answer “No” because it’s easier
Listen to their reasons and give them permission
Don’t ever let them forget
You love them
Not for a minute
Not even for a minute
Lawrence Hall Aug 17
German refugee husband: “Liebchen – sweetness – what watch?”

German refugee wife: “Ten watch.”

Husband: “Such watch?”

Carl the Bartender: “You will get along beautifully in America.”

                                      -Casablanca

I­ check the time on my retirement watch
(A Seiko; they did not think much of me)
And consider that there is no time at all
Unless Creation is some sort of clock

Childhood is watchless, timeless, careless, free
But adults must be catalogued and timed:
Bulova, Timex, Rolex, and Longines
And even a railway Regulator

I check the time on my retirement watch -
And hustle off to my chapter two job
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is: Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com

It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on amazon.com as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  THE ROAD TO MAGDALENA, PALEO-HIPPIES AT WORK AND PLAY, LADY WITH A DEAD TURTLE, DON’T FORGET YOUR SHOES AND GRAPES, COFFEE AND A DEAD ALLIGATOR TO GO, and DISPATCHES FROM THE COLONIAL OFFICE.
Kenji Dec 2018
I try to hold these secrets inside me, I try to keep everything locked within me...
Like a misguided key that is lost, and is being searched by others.
They say I am hard to read, but I can see through them like glass, they reflect on me as I reflect on them, a soul of a mirror, I keep my twins within, through the promiscuous looking glass.
With this strange inability to voice out my emotions, I keep everything that suffocates me, to myself.
My minds like a ****** deadly disease with no shame or lies to hide it.
However, this altering personality has a mind of it's own.
Expressing, but spilling too much, I surrender in regret.
I have no shame in hiding this strange disposition of my deceiving facade, I embrace myself in pure madness as my mind twists in insane obligations.
Defeating, but never defeat-less.
Where are you? Are you here? Come to me, dark lonely serpent, don't fear me
Leave, leave me alone.
Soul aches in mindless misery as I sit and talk to myself, and the unknown.
These spirits and forces suggest I'm living a lie and it isn't home.
These lucid dreams I have every night give me messages, and signs.
Some dreams are paranormal and realistic like a spirit is trying to speak through to me to get to the known dimensions to be seen, to be heard.
But some dreams are just vivid escapism methods to wonder other dimensions.
I see everything in my perceptive dreams, even in the conscious, the world we see to think to be real.
I see the child's tears as his mother stabs his dad in vicious anger.
I see the animal's wimper and sorrow as it limps in agony being tortured it's whole life, just searching, and searching for food.
I see the beggars dead eyes as drugs has overtaken their pure mind, the loss of hope, but I still see something pure, screaming to jump out.
I see the maids strength as they battle working days and days, getting underpaid and never seeing their family just to hustle and make money.
I see the lawyers fight for moral justice and integrity as the case has been lost, yet, they keep on fighting, they never give up.
I see the business mans wife drink wine alone all day just waiting for her husband to come home, but he's busy ******* his secretary.
I see the birds squeal in pain as its wing has broke, and no one coming to it's presence to help it.
I see my sick grans soulless eyes as Dementia  has overtaken her and she lives in permanent confusion thinking her brother whom died 20 years ago, is still alive.
I see, I see everything.
With a strong Moon in Pisces energy, this perceptive mind is never at rest. It's still fighting to love so unconditionally and help everyone at my feet.
I bleed, I ache, I scar, I cry, I surrender, and, these are my reasons for needing to hide.
With a mind of such empathy, I battle even helping myself.
But this is my insight, as a spiritual teacher.
I will die helping the unwanted...
I will die spreading love and justice...
I will die in lonely misery...
And I will die knowing my life made sense if those I sacrificed for, was all worth, the pain
...
Moon in Pisces:
-Emotional
-Intuitive
-Dreamy
-Empathetic
-Helpful
-Spiritual
Feeling quite lost, a lonely angel sits
with a confused heart, buried deep in her thoughts;
loving and wanting this man so much,
yet realizing it isn't right...

As the hustle and rush
of the day's end is done,
along comes in another depressing
seemingly endless night...

Will her dreams of ever-lasting love
ever come true?
She knows what she wants with him-
her chest feels so tight...

She's tired of trying to pretend
or deny her longings aren't there;
Not knowing what to feel anymore-
She stands for a moment, then takes flight...

2008

COPYRIGHT; Sabrina Denise Healey,
~Angelmom~
Ivan Brooks Sr Aug 2018
I woke up very happy
This joy isn't for me alone,
But for nearly everybody
Who calls this world home.

I woke up energized
To continue my journey
For me and those marginalized
For the poor who has no money.

I woke up determined
To continue with the hustle
My exuberance remains untamed
In spite of my personal struggle.

I woke up feeling blessed
For dear life and its woes.
I, yesterday was depressed
Today I care less about what life does.

I woke up very pumped
Determined to do better.
Yesterday I erred and stumbled,
Excellence today is what I'm after.

I woke up feeling rejuvenated
To change the poetic narratives
So I remain resolute and obligated
Hoping my poetry will impact lives.

©IvanBrooksPoetry
22/8/2018
This came from nowhere...maybe I woke up for this.
patty m Aug 2017
Heckling and constant flux
no credibility, to my name
yet consequence can't dampen my flame
Letting loose lightening bolts, I jolt the arrogance
off their faces; traces of **** this ***** can slam down Poetry's
Fist.
I show my deadpan with pride nothing to hide when there's
booing and jeering, searing looks
and the hook when they pull me from
center stage, because of the war I wage
 
Rot, Rust, Rats, Cats,
insidious nonsense spouted
through rain stained rooms
the gloom thick with smoke
and dope, and *****
what do I have to lose
I am
what I am
paying homage to tenement towers
the castles of hustle
buy, sell, ****, ****
smoke, dope, dig yourself
a grave.  Where are the brave,
not gangbangers beating down doors
or kids shooting kids like flipping lids
off of trash bins, their sins piling up
wazzup with that ?
While dealers are selling coke and crack
i hear booing and jeering
see the sneering looks hard and cold
while I'm sold down the river,
a sometimes sage,
hooked, overlooked and yanked
off stage.  Don't friggen listen
to some homie ******
on values and hope
while robbing you blind,
the witnesses, are missing and no one can find
the holes they bury their heads in
or those out of their minds. 
Shadow rats, grim reapers of youth
it doesn't take a slueth  to see
injustice, suffering, pain, and who gains
by decree, not you or me?
Why quiet my voice with white noice
strip my clout, pout, and spew
rhetorical views
It's old news, it happens every day, can't get
rid of it like liter, or by flittering your thumbs
or pounding on drums.  Get a job!
This is no sob sister, mister!
Spouting what went on back when,
we're here and now and the power
we emaninate creates new history
crawl out from under your misery
you need more than to procreate
any dog can whelp pups,
but kids need more than a mother
or some other mouth to feed
laying round, wanting to breed
more and more welfare babies.
Crawl out from your hole
extol the mighty foe and fight
for what's right, and right the wrong
not with rap and song but with
action and the Satisfaction of a good days work
money in your pocket and a family fed
get in the black and out of the bed
No need to feed habits, habits are for nuns
no need to be broken, no token hits,
cause nothing comes free but brings
only addiction.  I know I know I'm *******'
and you're tired of listening to me. 
But I am and I am what I am
and I'm not a quitter, or loser, but I am
bitter with frustration over such as YOU
Robert C Ellis Aug 2018
Calcium mineral spinerets
Transient forecastles. Ghost turrets
The architecture of clouds
Having disposed of their tanks
Set sail for the horizon
A Hustle among the ranks
zebra Mar 1
the red light of sin illuminated her ankles
she, a thousand frisky demons
comfort me
as i yield blood eyes
for switch blade kisses
that push through retinas glass aperture

dark girl with a penchant for hideous pleasures
*** crimes like blatting pistons
her mothers womb twisted with regret
as i live in her hell ****** stare
******* talons that pierce ******
like diaphanous ribbons

her **** floating angels
and feet sweeten my face
in subduing rituals
of hard knocks
getting her mood up
for blowing **** loops

my nose; her **** soaked door ****
her ******; a squeeze hustle
innocent fig strained
mix meistering patterns
of extruded clay;
a pomade of raised bumpy torpedo's
fingers to *****
***** to fingers

i run to her
like bones of air
and she teaches me
in the blood of pandemonium
to make ice in hell
I will not renounce my subjectivity in favor of a sealed objectivity
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