"juneau" poems - Hello Poetry

location and destination undetermined and unknown cell phone shuts down, battery dead no one can find me now I could get lost hop on a train to Juneau, Alaska if I wanted nobody would know or realize vanished from society the feeling of being completely disconnected engulfs my soul location and destination undetermined and unknown sounds like an adventure to me

0

Jul 11, 2013

Jul 11, 2013 at 6:38 PM UTC

cbr

Blank Coordinates

location and destination undetermined and unknown cell phone shuts down, battery dead no one can find me now I could get lost hop on a train to Juneau, Alaska if I wanted nobody would know or realize vanished from society the feeling of being completely disconnected engulfs my soul location and destination undetermined and unknown sounds like an adventure to me

13

no mountain too high they said i rip the wood from the trees, to build the road to Juneau and bathe in the endorphin river dry my ankles and let them breathe the cold air so the people know im just a nobody break my hands to feel my legs again break me down so i can love again

0

Dec 13, 2017

Dec 13, 2017 at 11:49 PM UTC

yano

A Review of House M.D. Season 1, Episode 11

no mountain too high they said i rip the wood from the trees, to build the road to Juneau and bathe in the endorphin river dry my ankles and let them breathe the cold air so the people know im just a nobody break my hands to feel my legs again break me down so i can love again

12

You’re afraid of all that river, the way that it rains so much in Florida yet the lavish deserts in California are dying. The way that Juneau is only reachable by plane but you can see it perfectly fine from Google Maps. Really, technology’s a miracle, except when robots look like people and one day we won’t be able to differentiate skin from slabs of metal. Wait. You’re getting ahead of yourself. You’ve never even met a robot, though you’ve heard that they’re out there, manufacturing our cars, plotting an inevitable rebellion that will **** us all— stop. Stop! Right now, your world’s peaceful. You're fine. It's not like you have heart disease or, god forbid, cancer, yet you still have this unsettling feeling that the world is going to get hit by a comet, and maybe this is it, darkness. Maybe this is why you’re so afraid of fire, steel, of ambulances, thunderstorms, roses, smoke, modern art, the color red,

0

Sep 4, 2016

Sep 4, 2016 at 12:27 AM UTC

oona

Robot Rebellion (and the end of the world)

You’re afraid of all that river, the way that it rains so much in Florida yet the lavish deserts in California are dying. The way that Juneau is only reachable by plane but you can see it perfectly fine from Google Maps. Really, technology’s a miracle, except when robots look like people and one day we won’t be able to differentiate skin from slabs of metal. Wait. You’re getting ahead of yourself. You’ve never even met a robot, though you’ve heard that they’re out there, manufacturing our cars, plotting an inevitable rebellion that will **** us all— stop. Stop! Right now, your world’s peaceful. You're fine. It's not like you have heart disease or, god forbid, cancer, yet you still have this unsettling feeling that the world is going to get hit by a comet, and maybe this is it, darkness. Maybe this is why you’re so afraid of fire, steel, of ambulances, thunderstorms, roses, smoke, modern art, the color red,

22

Shadow and moonlight, Darkness and starlight, Cool gentle breeze, On a clear winter night. Juneau is watching, The stick in my hand, Back and forth moving, Watching her watch. Through cold winter air, The stick quickly flies, Moonlight reflecting, Watching its arch. Up Juneau jumps, And runs like the wind, After that long stick, Like a bird on the wing.

0

Nov 6, 2011

Nov 6, 2011 at 11:28 PM UTC

ken-kennedy

Shadows and Moonlight

Shadow and moonlight, Darkness and starlight, Cool gentle breeze, On a clear winter night. Juneau is watching, The stick in my hand, Back and forth moving, Watching her watch. Through cold winter air, The stick quickly flies, Moonlight reflecting, Watching its arch. Up Juneau jumps, And runs like the wind, After that long stick, Like a bird on the wing.

16

A soul just like the rest of us. *trapped in a world so bland, so tasteless.* May colors paint our world with neon. May we all find that hidden key. The minds we once had as children ran so wild and loud! As if life as we knew it then would be the same forever. But... we were wrong weren't we? My dreams aren't even a place of the impossible anymore, they're empty, leaving my body with enough rest to begin the next day just the same as the last. ©YourNightLight

0

Jan 12, 2015

Jan 12, 2015 at 10:40 PM UTC

yournightlight

Juneau

A soul just like the rest of us. *trapped in a world so bland, so tasteless.* May colors paint our world with neon. May we all find that hidden key. The minds we once had as children ran so wild and loud! As if life as we knew it then would be the same forever. But... we were wrong weren't we? My dreams aren't even a place of the impossible anymore, they're empty, leaving my body with enough rest to begin the next day just the same as the last. ©YourNightLight

10

i saw glaciers in your eyes, icy plains and lost streams. i felt you fill my lungs your salt water burning with each new breath, drowning in you with every exhale.

0

Jul 8, 2020

Jul 8, 2020 at 6:56 AM UTC

_rk

juneau

i saw glaciers in your eyes, icy plains and lost streams. i felt you fill my lungs your salt water burning with each new breath, drowning in you with every exhale.

7

I live in a trailer park, beyond a decade now. I suppose outside of here, they're called "mobile" parks. Here, they're trailer parks. There is a trailer hitch, but that ain't pulling this ***** nowhere, no-how. Trailers in Juneau, Alaska stand crookedly rectangular, with a 60s/70s "I wasn't built for this **** tiredness. Rust, moss, fungus, dirt, cat **** dilapidation, all common traits to the TP kingdom. These are rhomboids with a forceful will to be real homes, on steel beds with wheels, propped up on cinder blocks, ambition, and dreams. Modifications and additions have been nailed, and ******* and glued and affixed in every possible manner conceivable. An 8x4 plywood laid on a tarp to stop a leak is not a repair, but an improvement. These improvements make the mobile into a trailer, flirting with that trophy ***** ********** called home. No disrespect. Expensive, alluring, pay-as-you can, home **** They'll take you for all your worth. And smile. And so will you. Real people **** and make love here. They die of cancer, go through pregnancy, pick their nose, do math homework, ********** write poetry, ********** do **** mow lawns, hold children hostage, make coffee, help their neighbors, go to vote, make art, ***** their neighbors, dream. They slide their backs down the walls of their homes in bouts of sorrow, turning their guts into fistfuls of rocks and despair. Heaving out their regrets in spit and snot and fury. They all live here. And so do I.

0

Mar 9, 2024

Mar 9, 2024 at 2:05 AM UTC

forest-kvasnikoff

Where I Live

I live in a trailer park, beyond a decade now. I suppose outside of here, they're called "mobile" parks. Here, they're trailer parks. There is a trailer hitch, but that ain't pulling this ***** nowhere, no-how. Trailers in Juneau, Alaska stand crookedly rectangular, with a 60s/70s "I wasn't built for this **** tiredness. Rust, moss, fungus, dirt, cat **** dilapidation, all common traits to the TP kingdom. These are rhomboids with a forceful will to be real homes, on steel beds with wheels, propped up on cinder blocks, ambition, and dreams. Modifications and additions have been nailed, and ******* and glued and affixed in every possible manner conceivable. An 8x4 plywood laid on a tarp to stop a leak is not a repair, but an improvement. These improvements make the mobile into a trailer, flirting with that trophy ***** ********** called home. No disrespect. Expensive, alluring, pay-as-you can, home **** They'll take you for all your worth. And smile. And so will you. Real people **** and make love here. They die of cancer, go through pregnancy, pick their nose, do math homework, ********** write poetry, ********** do **** mow lawns, hold children hostage, make coffee, help their neighbors, go to vote, make art, ***** their neighbors, dream. They slide their backs down the walls of their homes in bouts of sorrow, turning their guts into fistfuls of rocks and despair. Heaving out their regrets in spit and snot and fury. They all live here. And so do I.

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