"juiceless" poems - Hello Poetry

I type 'Life'. My greatest invention yet. They are born and they die according to this curve I drew up using my favorite software. They'll see soft lights. They'll fight. They'll go. Where? I'm working on it Still. I type 'War'. The adventures of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, A bunch of sideshows And there's a massive one scheduled at 8.54. Stay to watch? I type 'Love'. They like this a lot. They react well to it. Strange how they rise to their feet at the slightest presence of Love. I copy and paste 'Love love love love love love love love' Then I crunch on a moon. Cold, sweet, juiceless. Hmmmmm. I type - 'Gobstopper'.

0

Aug 21, 2011

Aug 21, 2011 at 8:16 AM UTC

maxine-chen

Gobstopper

I type 'Life'. My greatest invention yet. They are born and they die according to this curve I drew up using my favorite software. They'll see soft lights. They'll fight. They'll go. Where? I'm working on it Still. I type 'War'. The adventures of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, A bunch of sideshows And there's a massive one scheduled at 8.54. Stay to watch? I type 'Love'. They like this a lot. They react well to it. Strange how they rise to their feet at the slightest presence of Love. I copy and paste 'Love love love love love love love love' Then I crunch on a moon. Cold, sweet, juiceless. Hmmmmm. I type - 'Gobstopper'.

22

Creases cemented in skin of ages, bending forward ratcheting wrinkles piled like a car crash, systemically dried routing for moisture moguls, malfunctioned, marked measures of time spelt skin attack, pillowed ruts run deep, prolonging their birthmark, plumping....out on a date with new age spaces yet to be filled Sarcasm streets, filching frowned brows suns' stolen chastity, lifting out brown messages spotted at random grey mandarins, juiceless, bribing to be heard, a manifesto hidden, shrivelled prunes wallowing in dried skins reaching out for the bottomless custard jug

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Apr 29, 2013

Apr 29, 2013 at 4:13 PM UTC

laura-susan-smith

Skin

Creases cemented in skin of ages, bending forward ratcheting wrinkles piled like a car crash, systemically dried routing for moisture moguls, malfunctioned, marked measures of time spelt skin attack, pillowed ruts run deep, prolonging their birthmark, plumping....out on a date with new age spaces yet to be filled Sarcasm streets, filching frowned brows suns' stolen chastity, lifting out brown messages spotted at random grey mandarins, juiceless, bribing to be heard, a manifesto hidden, shrivelled prunes wallowing in dried skins reaching out for the bottomless custard jug

15

My sunbaked hands, that are worn in places, handle the grapefruit moon. Juiceless craters embellish the surface that is smooth to the touch, but ¾ it’s natural size, as it has been prematurely picked from the tree above. Flatlands an Amazonian green, resembling the most courageous leaves that journey to find the purest sunlight, with polka-dot peaks that resemble the tint of dewy summer grass in the shade. There is a hole where once stood a pylon that connected the moon to the universe it knew. The scar’s mark forms a pupil and in it’s orbit I see nothing but the incomparable eye of a chameleon. While it twitches and inspects the world, tiny white rovers scuttle across the glossy hide of their new-found planet and big black bugs invade. Bugs! I drop the moon, as it is infested, and recoil as it hits the ***** concrete floor of what is known and rolls into what is expanding.

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Jun 12, 2013

Jun 12, 2013 at 7:51 PM UTC

joseph-simmons

The Fruits of Our Actions

My sunbaked hands, that are worn in places, handle the grapefruit moon. Juiceless craters embellish the surface that is smooth to the touch, but ¾ it’s natural size, as it has been prematurely picked from the tree above. Flatlands an Amazonian green, resembling the most courageous leaves that journey to find the purest sunlight, with polka-dot peaks that resemble the tint of dewy summer grass in the shade. There is a hole where once stood a pylon that connected the moon to the universe it knew. The scar’s mark forms a pupil and in it’s orbit I see nothing but the incomparable eye of a chameleon. While it twitches and inspects the world, tiny white rovers scuttle across the glossy hide of their new-found planet and big black bugs invade. Bugs! I drop the moon, as it is infested, and recoil as it hits the ***** concrete floor of what is known and rolls into what is expanding.

1

Don’t worry yourself, purrs Negative Voice I'm telling you this to protect you No lead in your pencil So pointless in fact No person of worth would respect you Dear Negative Voice, I see what you mean But just a brief point for reflection I’m not sure I’m really an absolute waste Consider some minor correction? It’s better for you, coos Negative Voice To know that you’re practically useless No rain in your storm cloud So juiceless in fact You’re toothless, inept, and excuseless Dear Negative Voice, A stirring reply Is this in totality truthful? I’m sure my ineptitude has measured bounds And even just sometimes, I’m useful The beauty of living this version of truth Is, you are at maximum harm Nothing they’re possibly saying to you Will add to your sense of alarm Providing agreement to monster-y ones Might also afford added aid Appeasing and easing an excessive ego May downgrade a wailing cascade Dear Negative Voice, Deep thanks for your thoughts A note of some gentle resistance I notice I’m having the thought that I’m worthless Historically helpful, but now with no purpose Distinct in my voice, yours holds limited purchase So now I can give you some distance I humbly suggest This grateful request For inner, more peaceful existence

0

Oct 15, 2024

Oct 15, 2024 at 5:58 AM UTC

jill_1

Self-talk about self-talk

Don’t worry yourself, purrs Negative Voice I'm telling you this to protect you No lead in your pencil So pointless in fact No person of worth would respect you Dear Negative Voice, I see what you mean But just a brief point for reflection I’m not sure I’m really an absolute waste Consider some minor correction? It’s better for you, coos Negative Voice To know that you’re practically useless No rain in your storm cloud So juiceless in fact You’re toothless, inept, and excuseless Dear Negative Voice, A stirring reply Is this in totality truthful? I’m sure my ineptitude has measured bounds And even just sometimes, I’m useful The beauty of living this version of truth Is, you are at maximum harm Nothing they’re possibly saying to you Will add to your sense of alarm Providing agreement to monster-y ones Might also afford added aid Appeasing and easing an excessive ego May downgrade a wailing cascade Dear Negative Voice, Deep thanks for your thoughts A note of some gentle resistance I notice I’m having the thought that I’m worthless Historically helpful, but now with no purpose Distinct in my voice, yours holds limited purchase So now I can give you some distance I humbly suggest This grateful request For inner, more peaceful existence

38

My life feels so stagnant Am I even alive Every day I ask Is it even worth the drive I can't even catch it My life going by But why does it feel paused Should I give up or just try People I see smiling Everywhere I go But the life that they live Do they fully know Did they ever feel What i experience now Feelings of no progressions No high but always down I go to school everyday Learn something useless My life is like a dried fruit That is forever juiceless My mind seems to be a hole A forever dark abyss Should I flirt with death Or give it a harmless kiss Every day I wake Up Why do I feel so numb Maybe I'm too smart Maybe I too dumb My life seems so complex All I want it to be is simple My souls seems to being going On a one way straight to limbo

0

Dec 8, 2014

Dec 8, 2014 at 10:55 AM UTC

trelaaa

My life

My life feels so stagnant Am I even alive Every day I ask Is it even worth the drive I can't even catch it My life going by But why does it feel paused Should I give up or just try People I see smiling Everywhere I go But the life that they live Do they fully know Did they ever feel What i experience now Feelings of no progressions No high but always down I go to school everyday Learn something useless My life is like a dried fruit That is forever juiceless My mind seems to be a hole A forever dark abyss Should I flirt with death Or give it a harmless kiss Every day I wake Up Why do I feel so numb Maybe I'm too smart Maybe I too dumb My life seems so complex All I want it to be is simple My souls seems to being going On a one way straight to limbo

32