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Elise Jackson Sep 2017
crime, staring competitions, tears.

these small things that lead us further
into the fog, closer to the moths,
attached at the hip, nothing new.
nothing blue, always red.

your guitar rips through the
navy skyline, alerting the stars of war,
violet mornings creeping over the
trees as sleep envelops your eyes.
i've dreamed of something like
this, but i got more than i asked for.

i'd never go back.
i'd never go back to that place where you
don't exist, the dark, the damp, the treacherous.
becoming a threat, was the purple leaves and blinding snow.

but the next morning was lined with amnesia, we both forgave;

but we'll never forget.
ethan gaskill Jul 2018
i want to be
your vintage crooner for life
frank sinatra mixed with marvin gaye
with twenty-first century style
i'd greet you at the door with flowers
and be your chauffeur to wherever
you want to go i'll take you
there's no rush; we have forever
our life can feel like a movie
almost too good to be true
sooner or later you'll realize
i've always felt that way about you
galas and night dances and jet airplanes to france
would only be enjoyable if i'm holding your hand
i think that we could see our dreams
with our own awake eyes
so come and ride away with me
and we can have the time of our lives
whether sunday morning pancakes or a tuesday noontime lunch
breakfast in bed or a venice bistro will be equally fun
and if god takes us that far
i'd point to you when our daughter asks what a queen is
we could show our children how dedication
and compassion makes life feel like you're dreaming
and someday many years from now
when we have an empty nest
we'll remember the feature film of our romance
and decide that we did it best
What's to fear about

a memory of a lazy
summer day

laying on a patch
of lush green grass

staring at a benevolent
kingly blue sky with a firm
but gentle sun

that suddenly
is drawn on
with frosty contrails
of  a jet with a silent
calm and steady hand



Whit Howland © 2019
Robin Carretti Aug 2018
Here comes the sun little darling's
We all get burned
 Is it your turn
     "U-Turn"
Oh! Where I thou
"Green light Diner"
It's telling us to Go
    *       *       *
The Earth beauty faces
I will be your direct sunlight
In plain sight to the daylight
her blossom tree
All I ask come for me
Her face could eat
The divine flower laced

French brie
Tie a yellow ribbon on me
We have so much to see
Let it be sun-face Moms
apple pies
The Sun  "Watchtower"
Someone knocks you off
Your "Bill" on the Ice Queen

The Goddess rodeo waitress
She got you roped in between
The cigarette 1940 case hostess
             "Rose"
I suppose the sunflowers every booth
her smile sets in place

The stain-glass window Notre Dame
Rock and roll hall of fame
The earth kids rainbow chalk
Sun-fun treetops like a beanstalk
Napoleon Elementary Watson
New Jersey Diner capital admission
The Peking duck *** luck

European beauty hunter's menu
Any luck this will be awhile sip "Starbucks"

1-Antipasti cute Shiba Uni
2-Consomme Chicken soup
3-Sun-face to the soul fruit loop
4-Chicken pepper Salsa
Sun-face lights up Visa
5-Hearts of Artichokes Mona Lisa
6-Soy ****** salmon
My sun worshiper man

Fish tacos hummus
St Thomas
Rome was not build
In one day
The windpipes and
the tablecloths Oh! yikes
Full of dream pipes

Sun tan stripes and zebras
Couscous salad big star dipper
Egyptian Gods camels back
Sun-face diner no time
for the sun-chip snack
Diners from 1920-1940
Sun-face air force dresses

Medieval times two swords
Holy lords Easter parades
" Ice-cream Spumoni"
Dinner in the sky
Robin red breast fly
Italian artwork Coliseum
Look up in the sky
It's a bird shaped
Paper plane bad romance
going insane

Waffle House  jukebox rock and roll
Hall of fame whats in a food name
Cowboy steaks American Flags
Cajun chicken legs fruits and figs
At the caboose Ladybird jet lag
Valentine Diner chairs
got footloose homemade goose

Purple rain Prince maple
pancakes
Bananas and strawberry fields
lake sun in shape of a snowflake
Forest Gump changes to
Presidential Trump
Vitamin C  honey bunches of Oats

Yummy floats of egg cream
Open table Sun-face dream
Eggs light she's not finished
over easy
Pristine of carrots with
artful daisies
Thanksgiving turkey

Rings of napkins holding
A time well-bred marriage
Well known landmarks of
Carats
Long ago time she saw the light
Daylight Knight like a scale to weight

Whispers of wine and grapes
Sun face courtesan love escape
Sun Faces trillion times mansion
Sun-faces never go out of fashion
Sun faces and dinner places the best in the world eat heartily Drive in and Diners all over the world have a medieval touch with the Vikings and melodies from the heart  of the surface  her smile will always be there everywhere she goes the Diners place her with Rose
Cindra Carr Jul 2011
Sweet Salacious Sally was a special girl.
Long and lean, Sal wore pearls and kept a blackjack in her purse.
Shiny and bright, Sally was doing all right.

Sweet Sally rode up to my house on her jet black hog.
When Sally came by, attention was paid and the game was on.
It was time to play so I slid up behind her.
Last looks left the neighbors gawking.
Sweet Salacious Sally was a special girl.

cc063011
Bryce Dec 2018
Finally,

finally the winds have subsided
the grasses are no longer golden brown

The world is growing in joy!

I can feel my heart burn, the blood of love leaking upon the planks
But it is safe, it is home
It is the lapping shores of the familiar stones
No violent black rock of dreams to stop me from ascending the cliffs
finding solid ground
growing food and making love to the true beauty of it all

And the islands at the edge of the world
Anatolia, the dreams of a new kingdom
One where I was the man I was
Calyps, though kind,
Was a beautiful temptress and had nothing good to say
Just figments and dreams, illusory
She would never make me king.

So here I am friends!
I, your friend
Your crown and solemn head
Please, I ask with faith--
Give me this place to stay.
Ashley Chapman Sep 2017
In pubs with bar flies.
Kronenburg, Becks, Carling, Stella Artois and Fosters,
Dancing in our blood,
Utterly inured; we are endured by all:
The solipsism most profound.

And when Johnnie, Jack and Jameson join,
The sentimental and the morbid
Are conjoined.

And ****!
In the custody of beer halls,
The shadows that draw, fade,
And calls – e’en Death’s! -- are put on hold!
No time; instead, before the last, another pint.

For in this hallowed inn,
Drinking what’s in the glass,
And espousing the glow within,
Cares regress.

No woes,
Or loaded psyches,
For when the pressure builds,
The best: a jet of yellow bliss,
Relieves the pain,
On Armitage Shanks' porcelain.
Quinn's is pub in Camden. Armitage Shanks a ****** & toilet manufacturer.
Stephen E Yocum Oct 2013
The Island Moorea,
backpacking Tahiti,
In the heat, the sun,
The rhythm of my footfalls
crunching loose gravel road,
The swish of pack swaying
in conert to my measured pace.

Breeze pushing branches of Palm,
Ocean waves breaching shoreline long.
Island vehicles passing, occupant's laughing,
a man laboring under large pack, alone walking,
Who could have been freely riding,
Unthinkable to Island Folk,
in hot tropical places.

Some humble homes pasted along the way.
Greetings exchanged with smiling faces there.
Not long afterward a new sound approaching,
crunching gravel, rolling up behind me.

A lovely young girl, perhaps nineteen,
long brown naked legs bike a peddling.
Hair jet black, long to her waist, wearing
a sarong, split up the side,
Shoulders bare and brown.
Dark eyes of wonder, sparkling of youth.
A radiant smile adorning a splendid face.

We went for a time at my even pace,
looking and smiling each in our place.
"Hello there," I said, she giggled, beamed
even bigger. Perfect teeth displayed.

"Why you walk?" She asked in heavily
accented puzzlement.

"To get to where I'm going". I replied
This response producing a pleasant laugh
from the girl. In which I too joined in.

"You go One Chicken?" She asked
I stopped then and turned to her.
"Where is One Chicken?" I questioned
with a grin.

She raised her graceful arm,
one finger pointing up the road.
"One Chicken there," she informed.

It was a store/bar, sort of place,
In the very midst of nowhere.
Indeed, more than one chicken roamed,
Many chickens did and a pig or two,
mingling free and doing their thing.

We entered out of the bright daylight,
into the deepest of darks,
Like in a movie theater, when arriving late.
Eyes adjusting slowly to what lay ahead.

A few Island Beers later,
I had acquired several new friends,
The girl my invitation to the party of
already happy people a little drunk on beer.
The Music was mostly of French persuasion,
With a bit of Bob Dylan thrown in.
The Beatles also had a tune or two.
The Liverpool beat resounding down Tahiti way.

Before the light did fail, I shouldered my pack
and walked some distance from Chickens and Pigs.
Found the beach, hung my Hammock for the night.
Built a small fire and opened a can of Spam delight.

She appeared again about ten,
looking beautiful in the new moonlight.
Newly washed hair, still damp and
smelling fresh of Lilacs,
Or some such aromatic scent.
We did not speak, no words were needed,

Made love on the sand, 'till the retreat of the
tide and sand ***** did come out, in their
eerie numbers, to eat what was at hand.
I suppose even us if we let them.

We retired then both to my hammock,
A pretty neat trick if you can swing it.
And we did.

She was so childlike and yet,
very much a woman grown.
There was no pretense shown,
no false inhibitions rendered.
These were not limitations of her culture.
people that respond to their emotional impulses.
An open and free spirited people living
passionately within each minute.

It all felt more akin to a dream than real,
All around me there was beauty,
Loving and being loved without hurry,
Free of guilt or even a single expectation.
Living in that wondrous moment,
of uncomplicated human splendor.
Like some Garden of Eden surrender.
A real life Gauguin painting.

In the morning, we swam in the sea,
frolicked like kids having a day at the beach.
Made love in the sand, I dozed in the sun.
Upon awaking she was gone.

I waited an hour or two, packed up my camp,
shouldered my load and returned to the road.
A few minutes later, again I heard the now
familiar crunch of rubber tires,
rolling road surface and there she was,
a straw basket in her Bike's basket,  
A huge smile on her unforgettable,
beautiful face.

We sat in a grove of trees,
among birds singing, in sight of the sea,
Upon a Palm log and ate fresh bread and
fruit. Drank strong black coffee (French Roast
I presume,) nibbling some marvelous cheese.
We tried to talk, but she understood little of
what I tried to say, my French was nearly
nonexistent, only adding to confusions sake .

She leaned her head on my shoulder,
the way lovers do and tenderly held
my hand within her two,
As if not wanting to let go,
Those gestures said all there was to say,
And we savored each silent moment.

We parted there, she on blue, rusty bike
and me on "shanks mare",
Off in two different directions,
Each out into the depths of our own lives,
Gone just like that. . . And yet,
Indelible, never to be forgotten or replaced.
Some days and nights, that young maiden of
Moorea does still visit me, in dreams as real
as can be. She never grows old, nor does the
beauty we shared for that one brief moment in
time immortal.

Someplace among the Islands of Tahiti
there is a woman in her sixties, most likely
a Mother, even a Grandmother yet living.
I hope she recalls as fondly the American blond
man with the big Orange Backpack, that in 1972
she met upon the road, near "One Chicken" and
loved freely and completely for two days and a
night, as that man does so fondly remember her.
Now the New Adventure excitement dares...
And...HUH? Your waiting Preview disappeared!
But, why? With so much Stories we do care
How fruitful and ******* your Holiday reared
You signed with a Smile; That much Girls adore
Inside the Jet would Paradise lay its Leis
From there the Codec stopped; Much I restore
What may have consumed the rest of the Day
Spottings? Cocktails? Folklore or Breaker-Dance,
None which I Follow or Dare to presume
This is your Notebook; Far to live by Chance
On how you Grow and Party in your Room.
Preserve your Courage. This is your Best Hour
To check New Frontiers; Increase your Mind by far.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
Kitt Jan 2018
Blue sky, smooth sailing
Balancing neon lights of my mind's eye
(as glassy waves lap against my feet)
And the innocent sands of a white-gold beach fantasy,
Soft, warm, and as sure as the day.

Graying sky, persevering
Forging ahead through tempestuous waves
(growing faster in speed and height than a father's son)
I cling to the sample of that white sand,
Bottled up in a tiny plastic pip.

Blackened sky, capsizing
Plummeting into jet-black sea
(stained in the lights of my fallen Titan)
The pip shattering, without my notice
Icebergs visible on the horizon of her heart
My sand lost into the radiant black seas
Never to be seen again.
sara Dec 2018
I think the world is ending
and I really wish I didn’t.
There’s a rat under the floorboards
and a knife inside the kitchen,
and in the alley by the bins
a man there ******.

The streets all smell of *****,
and ******* indecision
has us riddled
in the middle
of our end and our beginning.

In the town a politician
with a jet black tongue
licks the seal on our decisions
without every truly listening
to anyone.
well done, Britain x
Dark n Beautiful Sep 2018
Another Version

Hartley Forde

You can’t see the wind,
But that old mango tree,
Outside my window,
tell me it’s there..
.
I never travel with a raincoat,
Even though I hate getting wet,
Then here comes the aches and pain
And I started to wonder,
was it because I got a little insane..
I thought that I could
Have run faster than it pours
I haven’t heard of
any aircraft that outrun  a jet plane yet,
But, not so anymore,
I never leave my coat and cane,
When I am on a stool,

Oh dear, what has happened to me?
Am I aging? I am not young anymore,
Nor grey, nor old: for age is just a number,
But when the toil of the day
Merges with the aches and pain
With sighing sounds I start to wonder:

I still dance the night away, with my social tunes,
And waltz across the floor to all-time favorite of Strauss
See how I step back in time with the reggae beat,
Lighter than a feather on my feet,

Smiling, with my pearly teeth from ear to ear:
Life just isn’t fear: because age is just a number
That’s when the rubs and oil granny left me:
Come alive again in the neck of time,
to soothe the pain of my aching joints
I smile once again and said
“Oh dear, what do they say again,

Age is just a number and life begins at forty,
Because, I am just starting to be naughty:
Downhill !

written by:
Hartley Forde
D Awanis Jul 2018
Darling, who ever told you that home is made out of bricks?
Home is whenever your heart feel at ease and be at peace
Home is whenever you go to places and in love with the streets
Home is whenever you listen to the music and jam to its rhythm

This two-story building made out of bricks,
is a place that shouldn't be burden off your shoulders
is a place that should you reminisce in joy instead of grief
is a place that should be a sanctuary rather than asylum

Darling, who ever told you that home is made out of bricks?
Home is whose eyes were jet black with a heartbeat
Home is whose smirks feel like summer in winter days
Home is whose touch melts away even the toughest iceberg

"Well", you said, "this two-story building made out of bricks,
is a place where I hear more yelling than laughter
is a place where my dreams died and buried deep
is a place where I used to shamelessly call as home"
KE Aug 2018
She walks the day like a dark soul covered in dark clothes and jet black hair
She walks the night and her eyes collect the blue light of the silver moon ahead of her.
She's a modern day school girl with average grades and mid length black hair; she's interesting to me and I don't know why.
She sits at a lunch table full of people like a sociopath sometimes it makes me so sick, making me wait for someone to come up missing or found dead in the Manhattan plaza or so spooked they'll miss school.
I wonder if she eats or maybe she ***** the souls of her "prey" or maybe she doesn't eat and only wears a black hoodie because she's anorexic underneath. To me she's a little curvy to be nothing but bones.
Her presence is cold like ghost. She's wears her hoodie all four season 365 days, and all 12 months.
The night of a full moon, the night of a super moon, bright red moon I saw her walk straightforward into bright blue light skipping off the streets like dust I tried to catch up but it was too much. I got to the end of the street and she appeared behind me. Her hands ignited with blue flames and she took hoodie and her dark browns eyes wear now dark blue portals and her mid length black braids wear now was now straight blue flames. I am the girl in black hoodie.
jane taylor Jun 2016
how i have ached to walk amongst the evergreens
encased by dazzling quaking aspen
in my rocky mountain home

i yearn to fall again while skiing
and catch a wisp of icy sky blue
snow powder crystals
on my tongue
******* feelings
rise and fall
as they melt
and disappear

i long to breathe in your scent
sitting on the peak of wooded ridges
amidst slate colored boulders
sea salt combined with cinnamon
laced with wildflowers
crisply filling my lungs

i hunger to once again
behold again your red rock formations
creating tender hollows
through which timid coral sunsets peer

i crave hiking at dusk
into your jagged emerald forests
and sit wistfully mid the columbine
while darkened sunflowers juxtapose
against the jet black emptiness
enticing the stars
to etch enchanting paintings
on inky cobalt skies

hankering to be at the sundance film festival
coyly peeking into restaurants
covertly spying on the movie stars
on old park city main

itching to experience waiting patiently
for a moose to cross the street
its majesty splashing gingerly
sending chills throughout the galaxy
magnificence abounds

i pine to have memories gently cradle me
like worn out patchwork quilts
warmed by incandescent fires
wrapping me in soft colored canvas
the past craving transformation
by an echo that’s now dim

faintly crying out for
an old familiar artist’s brush
that still lingers
to snag times gone by
and paint the future in

amalgamating the antiquated
with the present
luring in
my destiny

i dream to don my fringed leather jacket
and hear my cowboy boots
fiercely clicking
against charcoal shadowed midnight sidewalks
while i watch the harvest moon

i’m parched too see your autumn chestnut leaves
against the bloodshot auburn sky
as cardinal hues give way to glistening winter
melding into tender spring

your summertime birthing
tingles down my spine
as chartreus aspen leaves
morph to golden bisque
enticing ute country
to blow in
copper colored indian summers
with cherry fragrant wind

yutaahih you were called
by the apaches
their historic essence
somehow ingrained within
my every cell
thirsty to lie enveloped
like a long lost lover
in your rugged western terrain

once having left your presence
i return to you now
my heart flutters
with wild anticipation
to see your precious face again
utah

©2016janetaylor
after a 5 year absence, we are returning to utah at the end of this month
Jordan Rowan Jan 2016
Stepping in the middle of a hurricane fire waiting for the winter to blow
Somebody was listening but you were on your way to Mexico
Down there, they won't care if you want to run around town
The women don't love you but the one you do sleeps in a Minnesota town

Can you see the horizon falling like a diamond in the middle of the violet sky?
You thought you were clear until a tear came to your eye
Everything was moving along and you had your pride in your hand
Now you've got a decision, do you run or fight like a man?

Somewhere in the city where everything was pretty, you found the windowpane
You saw her silhouette burning like a jet through the campfire rain
You shouted out and saw her open up the window to her moonlit room
As a man grabbed her waist, froze you in place, now you've gotta move on too
Paul Hansford Jan 2016
The oxygen that we breathe
in
and
out
every minute of every day
is not lost
but shared
re-used
recycled
recirculated.

If we are in the same room –
or sealed hermetically for hours
in the cabin of a plane –
we breathe continuously
the same air,
the oxygen goes from me to you
and back again.

But air currents,
prevailing winds,
the jet stream,
cyclones and anti-cyclones,
all move the atmosphere further
and further still,
so that even if we are
on opposite sides of the globe,
separated by oceans,
it is a statistical certainty
that I still breathe in
atoms of oxygen
that were once
inside
you.

Do they carry your thoughts,
your feelings,
your poetry to me,
or mine to you?
Who can say?
I can but hope it,
as I thank you
for keeping me alive.
Iain M Apr 4
Peeling myself off the floor with shaking legs,
My head's spins and my bones feel lead heavy,
I grin through ****** teeth as the question begs,
what happens to the river when you break the levee.

****** knuckles, bent noses, and black eyes.
Dissociation hides behind a smirk and a dimple,
that practiced mask that self loathing buys,
I say I'm getting better, like its ever that simple.

You see I'm an expert at burning bridges,
a true to life true crime social arsonist,
I bathe in jet fuel to clean my stitches,
Just another on fire narcissist.

So leave my mirror be, cause its a cracked reflection,
the bad guy won my mental election,
Please don't trust his smiling inflection,
and save yourself from my infection.
Deadwood Jawn Dec 2018
I've been surging with...
                        N E U R O T I C  E N E R G Y
                  
                                                                ­        All day
                                                             ­           at work.

I had to
         try and
               keep it
                     under control.

Control...                                    Control..­
o                                                   o
n                                                   n
t                                                    t
r       ­                                             r
o                 ­                                  o
l                                                    l
.       ­                                             .
.                 ­                                   .
.                                                    .

It's her. It's her.
Come on... Summon it.

I can still
              S E E  H E R
            e             e
          e                   r

E        V        E        R        Y        W       H        E        R        E

S h e ' s
                    a l l
                                    a r o u n d
                                                                ­ m e . . .

Dark, neurotic,
          blackened,                                   ­             - crimson goes here -
                  jet aura

I am
  Terriblyyyyyyyyyy                                       They spent
                                   y                                      more time
                                     y                                    with her
                                         y
                                              y
               ­                                  y
                                      s   s s
                               s
                            s
Jealoussssssssss

I should have come...
Right..?

We argued.
         Arrows shot everywhere.
              It felt good to
                    trade blows
                         with her.

I was                                           (haha!)
     so ****
        angryyyyyyyyyyy

                                  I­ must say, she
                                      takes a lot -
                                  Resilience? Nah...
                                      EMPATHY.

WHAT AN ACCURSED WORD.
EMPATHY. EMPATHY. EMPATHY.
HOW I SEEK YOU!
EMPATHY. EMPATHY. EMPATHY.
                                       .
                D I S C O R D.
                                  e  
                        ­      e
                          e
                      e
            ­    e
            l
b

Sometimes
I
Am
Just
So
Mad
At
You.

Sometimes
I
Am
Just
So
In love
With
You.
                                                  ­                               I am not
                                                             ­                    special to
                                                              ­                   you.

                                     Queen of the Nine!

Every time the healer healed me
I think I wanted to hurt again.

When she touched me yesterday...
I...
   It was...
        I just...
           I was...
              I really...
                 I craved it more.

It is unwise to persue her.
Distance yourself, warrior.
You must protect the..
             FRAGILE
               GLASS
                VASE
                   IN
                 YOU.

It is in pieces.
You are in pieces.
Look at what you cannot have.

                                      ... I shouldn't have become
                                          vulnerable to you
                                          that very night ...
(Written a day ago in a journal I have) Regarding frustration, guilt, intense anger and also regret. Plus, jealousy. Overall? A bad time. Many conflicting feelings. A long talk is due with an unrelated friend. I must exorcise the negative energy. I will also invest my empathy in others now.
Oliver Philip Dec 2018
Capricorn  ♑️
~~~~~~~~
Capricornian don’t mind me. I can’t live as you.
As you have the highest of standards always.
Peridot,Garnets, Agate or Turquoise to wear
Ruby’s grace a  beautiful young maidens hair.
I can see the jewels in your eyes as you smile.
Carnelian stones or Malachite for soul healing
Or Jet ,Smokey Quartz or shiny Black Onyx.
Red Garnets,Blue Aragonite,Green Tourmaline
Nonsuch is the birth symbol ,graceful as thee
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip.
December 19th 2018.
Capricorn as a zodiacal sign.
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