Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Tom Leveille Feb 2014
whenever i hear a wind chime i think of your voice. i wonder what it's like to be your bedsheets. what it would really be like to understand the jargon in your head. i ******* want to kiss you sometimes and then others i really do want concrete between your hands & my skin. i can't think straight all the time so i wonder if it benefits me at all to explain what it means that i don't want or expect anything from you but if we accidentally liked eachother in that middle school "sort of way" then i wouldn't say no. i want to really understand what you mean when you say "stay" to me in our texts. i wonder if your sleeping pills do to you what they do to me. i'm thinking again about "stay" and maybe i'm choked up on you leaving for school up north but i'll never tell you because get the **** out of here and don't look back especially not for me. stay. your smile, genuine or not tears me in two. i wish every face on the planet had your smile and i am ******* afraid of you wearing lipstick. i'm terrified of your bare skin and goodbyes. i hate farewells and see you laters. i knew the first time i saw you interact on your phone while drinking coffee the way you text people and how i now do the same thing. i get around read receipts. i sometimes want to hear you say you want.. not so much me, maybe me, but my company. theres a park near my house where i've imagined us paddle boating. i got written up at work once for daydreaming about it. what the **** is in a friendship anyway, decency in a human isn't biological. i get hung up on knee jerks and gut reactions. i want to know what the ******* are thinking about when i look up and you are looking right at me. but then again, i don't. as long as i'm wondering. as long as the door might swing open or closed. stay. go. run. **** your collarbones. **** your chest and skin and lips and everything i hate but crave and might like about you without say so. stay. sit down and explain to me why it is that i care anyway. i am afraid that if i say i want to *******, you'll think i mean *******, and not "*******". i wanna know if any of this sounds familiar and i here i am back to wondering what the **** is going on and why you're looking at me. the hair on my neck stands on end when you do and another thing... **** poetry. i cloud my feelings for you & anything else with the abstract so you'll never really know if i ******* hit rock bottom or not over the fact that i know we will never kiss. somebody just said "**** buddy" on tv and i think sometimes symmetry between irony & circumstance. i have harbored some of these thoughts since the night you said hello to me. i'm sorry i had to get over the fact that once upon a time i wanted to save somebody, and you weren't going to let it be you. i do sometimes think my hands might break you, that you spend your day painting a picket fence in your head that you can't get on one side or the other on. i felt like you didn't want to get up from dinner and i rushed it out the door because i am afraid to start a sentence with so. so stay. i am sorry my words often wear brass knuckles. your smile shoots to **** and if i ever die while you still remember my name i want you to read this or read something at my funeral. i don't know if these butterflies are waiting for me to jump or sit down but they speak up when my phone lights up & it's you.
Asominate Oct 2018
I'm too despressed to notice I'm stressed out
Suppressed emotions inside, shouldn't let out
Seeing is believing but what I see isn't real
I am forced to accept these "realities" and ignore the way I feel

I don't mean to sadden, entertain, bore, or aggravate,
For a decade I find that this is how I communicate
The only way I can precisely speak out on the unhealthy pleasures
As the chemicals of my brain, they fornicate

These levels of relationships aren't supposed to be
It'll **** me sometime later, look at how it has ruined my personality
Seeing is believing, but you won't believe what I see
How can I act 'normal' when you won't acknowledge I can't do 'human being'

My animalistic compulsions are fuelled by my failing brain functions
Don't get too close cause I'll try to bite, I sympathise for your flesh when I malfuntion
Don't be scared, I'm not canibalistic, I just like to use my teeth
Humans scare me, I must defend myself, uh, I mean, to smile and eat

I'm not afraid to say it, but I'm scared when I'm saying it, I have to say
I have been observing your mundane human actions, I really don't want to be put away
I always feel foreign, alienated, out-of-place
But because I'm "considerate," I have to bite my tongue to save me some face

I'm too stressed out to notice that I'm depressed
Wanting mental soundessnes, yes, peace, my hallucinations don't give me rest
My taughts speed down their highway, my delusions are always a-fest
They inflict beneath my exterior, but for the public eye, I wear a crest

"I wear my skin well, don't you think?" I lie, becuase it ill-fits
I am totally normal, "I'm fine." Can't change the fact I'm a misfit.
The beams that bear my bag of meat rust and thus begin to weaken
The lethal sagging's caused by the mental luggage, I'm not heard, even though I'm speaking

Many persons think that I'm overly paranoid, I must admit, that I am
You would be the same way too, if about your health, no one ever gives a ****
Help doesn't come, because their 'laters' always becomes 'nevers'
I am not that superhuman, can't keep myself together, forever

They claim that they would help me, some way, somehow, but their actions never initiate
Someday, sometime, it would all be over, through a thorough death physical or mental
Oh yes, I'm still believing, you can't accuse me of not having faith.
I look forward to my healing, but all the while, my brain chemicals fornicate.
Daniel Wetter Oct 2014
I look with worried eyes, at social Vines, of flashing lights and a lack of rights.
Human compassion is lacking where it needs to be.
Hate feeds off of hate,
but if thats all it takes,
then love should come so easily.

Bashing in windows.
Spraying with mace.
Choking to death.
Eliminating race.
Classes are gone,
So classless mistakes,
are now made daily
at the hastiest rate.

We’re starving and hungry for the tastiest taste,
of what has become the most delicious
most suspicious,
vicious,
fishy,
repetitious,
superstitious,
vision named freedom.

It's naive to think we’re free when all that we see,
is a sea of beings not being one thing,
and that’s free.
When was the last time you felt it?
And we’ve been given a life long song and dance of "whoever smelt it dealt it".
So if you took the feeling of now and held it,
bottled it up and shelved it,
you would open up to find your mind in decline.
This moment was better
while laters behind.
Thats the path that we’re on
but we have control.
We’re not egos and clothes,
we’re people of souls
We're humans of thought
Not students of hate.
Evil got a head start,
but now truth is in the race.
And if truth is in your face,
and you choose to look away,
then get used to the abuse
and not confused at truce-less fates.
The pre action of action is thinking to act.
I'm thinking that actually we’re ready to snap.
They’ve bent us too far,
for us to go back.
The past is a place where patterns attack.
And people are put
no matter the facts.
Police are afoot
demanding the last,
of freedoms they take them,
and **** them with gas.
A historical scene on Kentucky blue grass
these colors don't bleed,
yet we see they fade fast.
We’ve exceed the need,
to keep things intact.
Got tired of seeing videos online of Police abusing people. What's it REALLY going to take?
weird standing raw in my mouth
Adding up sugar, a taste unknown
Fresh From the garden
The hungry teeth bite
A better through to the pan laters
Down to soup now tasty
Thanks to the heat; we'll made soft
Sweetness bettered after salt
Why not plant salt in tomato seeds
Ryan Jakes Jun 2014
Haters gotta hate
Writers gotta write
Poets gotta wax and wane
about a moonlit night.
Singers gotta sing
Lovers gotta sigh
Me, I gotta go to work
See ya later folks, goodbye!
A quickie on a dull commute, written to the rhythm of the second hand rap I hear coming from the headphones of the dude sat next to me.
Nova Flames Apr 2013
sip on this game direct from the tree of knowledge
im trapping in the forest; nocturnal like that owl,
im that black panther, ninja on the prowl
highly melenated, ALL BLACK, no darth vader
highly medicated, NO SNACKs, or now and laters...
never chasing paper nor running for the mayor, haters looking for a savior
its clear they don't love their self
I'M riches in my health, stash crystals in my wealth
if your calcified then you don't feel me like felt
you buckle under pressure why purchase cheap belts?
call me Mr wizard as i place you beneath my spell
unlimited vigor feather light on the scale!
even if i were brail, still no one could touch me.
if life WERE a ***** i bet she'd bee UGLY
non the less that phrase stands uncorrect
13 LOVE 13 Raspect.....
Robert Guerrero Oct 2016
Carnitas on the pit
Oranges searing as they hit the grill
Carne asada marinating
Waiting to be sampled
Coronas add lime
A **** shot of jacks
Laughing kids running around
Saturday morning was meant
For memories like this
Searing their own grill marks on our brains
Trampoline backflips into pools
Picking a lemon off the tree
Charcoal growing white
Familiar goodbyes and laters
Maybe another time joy will reach
This house that never seems to smile
Curtis Oct 2014
Phones
Ever simpler
Ever farther into the future

But never smaller
Is the infinity
That lie beneath your thumb

Now
Or later
BlakOps Feb 2013
Life is like a box of chocolates.
I didn't know I would get
a brown eyed beauty
with a nice lil' *****
and she's cool see,
she been on her own vibes since
before the age of 5,
then we vibed.
now we live.
she decided I was her guy,
I decided to pursue this fly
cutie with a 'tude like, "shoot me,
she
has me hooked like a tuna at sea,
tamed me like a tiger and oh so lovely!"
Now I got 5 on it
thinkin' 'bout doublin' down
she wavin other girlies like,
"bye haters,
see ya laters
Im wit my man right now, bout to get"
XxXxXxXXxXXxxXXxxXXxxXXxxXXxxXXxxXXxxXX
yokomolotov Aug 2013
Summer. bike ride. I’m a child. I live just outside of Churchill Downs in Kentucky. young in skinned knees, pumping a 10 speed in a humid southern town, dodging cracks in the side walk. it’s an old superstition and I still hold it. grass growing in tiny bunches, in cracks. sun peeling the skin. candy rotting the teeth. the city is so *****. the houses dilapidated like fallen, shambling drunks. paint crumbling. and my brother ate paint chips. someone called him *******. rusted cars, playing house. sedan clubhouse, an oven in July. garbage day, rummaging for toys. I once found Quik strawberry milk in the trash I consumed it, and later felt like ****. hot trash treats. cumulus cloud companions, balloons without strings, the heat over eighty degrees, friends none to speak. after school fight. kids claiming coitus in the elementary. country music blaring from a fake wood radio. I found the radio on the curb and was proud of my conquest. all the lyrics incoherent but somehow they resonated. riding bikes all day. no parents. busy, their marriages failing, lives changing. riding through the slums. the houses of broken homes watching me tiredly. boarded eyes. down steep hills. up plywood ramps. kids jeering from porches, throwing rocks, glass, anything. scribbled graffiti. the rain makes everything more loathsome, wet clinging grime.  the dirt sticks to everything. fingertip messages scrawled on cars. s.o.s. twenty foot Marlboro man towering above the block, faded, peeling, half his face gone. like a totem making sentry of the oiled trash, the houses and apartments nodding to demolition. meanwhile, the thoroughbreds are fenced off and protected like coveted family jewels. I stood at the fence and thought, that’s all Kentucky is to the world. just some **** horses. Now and Laters and candy lips stick, my front porch.  the house leans. a drunk on the curb mouth a gape and snoring. is that your dad? no he’s in the tavern across the street. he lives there and its always loud. angry sounding buses threaten to squash the spastic child cyclers as they clutch their Sega genesis desires. cleaning gritty fingernails, I learned that my math teacher was dead. her car she wrapped around an old elm or maple on Southern Parkway the night before. my dad signed me out of school and took me to see the spot where she died. on the asphalt a ripe red stain. did I make this up or was that real? death. learning about death. with cockroaches. the bug-man sprayed and killed your parakeet, Christina. it was stuck to the newspaper that lined the bottom of its cage. I recorded it chirping on a cassette tape. I remember running terrified from rusted sedans. dented and hosting drug addled predators in cut-off jeans, wet legs stuck to torn imitation leather seats. ***** glued them and fueled them. I fled with my flea bitten mongrel friend. fly eaten, **** making. my dog made a minefield of our backyard. in this backyard where every Derby I parked tourist cars, the ladies in fine heals, disgusted and wobbling around the turds, the mud. I stood squat, shabby and I pocketed their money. Kentuckians, that’s all we are; horses, chicken and the cluck, Thompson.
Sandy Feb 2015
her
She's the kind of girl you fall in love with
and have no clue why
before you know it
a day without her seems unbearable
and you'll find yourself saying "I think i love you"
You'll find yourself in auto pilot driving to her house
at 4 a.m
feelings you never thought was possible surfaces
then suddenly
things wont "Aren't working out"
your bones will ache
even months laters when someone says her name
F White Feb 2011
I can measure my life
in lists of things I
meant to do.

The bullets, the stars.
numbers, arrows.
Musts, maybes and
Laters.
All there in
the wobbly print
of my 9 year old
boy scrawl.

If I circled it
did it first,
Will this guarantee a
different fork?
Wil  walk down
my to-do, to
Prosperity
If I accomplished
it all?
or
would I start
a new way
perhaps tattooed on
my arm

would I start , then
cllecting boxes
of regrets?

Every lists is
a promise I pretend
to make for
myself.
my Beautiful
False Paper Trail
for a productive life
assuredly.
not the one
that I lead,
At all.
Copyright FHW, 2011
Paul Butters Aug 2015
K, so here’s the deal,
English will change,
Goi!
Gr8 eh?
Lol.
B4u know it, all changed.
Fyi some call it Textese or SMS Language.
But through will become thru
And though of course tho
Anyway.
Goi.
K so this poem might not trend,
But I’m way ahead of my time,
That’s my Msg.
N2u tho that may b.
That things must change,
That is.
8 it don’t u?
Such g9.
Scary Tbh.
4 me and 4u.
(Bm&y;).
(I prefer you as yu it's tru).
Just Gfi is wot I say.
Even when Prw!
Somy?
Sotmg.
Soz
Laters – Sbtsbc.
Ttfn and bfn.
Say.
Sit my friend.

Paul Butters

© PB 13\8\2015.
Looking to the future......(You may need a Textese Dictionary)!
Ken Pepiton May 2023
Esse-essential whirlpool *******
your own socks off
hot tub memory
squirm and tightten
jopelope. Fed to AGI

Framing time, as later
and former and now,
present, sentience this state
- millionth view milestone
this arranging of sound letters,
common codex change made known
spinning knack arising
to seamstress who sings
through out a cluster of castes claimed
cleanest at top, least clean at base dirt level
lowest forms of mankind, tools in civil service,

such kindnesses, we see, as the result
of the glorious revolutions, and declarations
of national authority authored
in consortium
by the governing class, and no other.

rocking heel to toe sounds muffled drum
danced to at the time our commons all occur.

They call it rock and roll. You had to be there.
It's different each comet cycle sync-upation.
- a wind in change,
- air
Brakes occurred in the future
to ease dying out
we get given five live generations
of earthings,
since we all agreed to work together to insure
some
hard
lessons taught us some things, you got no need
to ever even imaging having to, q\t shall will

Retry, letting this mind seem patient, as time
for any thing if ever is as we seem to agree,

this is that anchor, gnosis alle-alte gene
engin
Slowing, offering ferry reference, e
who carries my weight, since now
I have become
so light as to seem weightless, rationally

useless in the push and pull of mortality,
timed existance under the dome
of heaven done, done, done,
yet, here, one among the billions, am I.

Would you have me retell the tale
how power came to be contained
in our sharing of our fixed memories,
- laughter, comedy
held in the magic art of silent speech,
whispering, so low no curio can catch
my drift,
away… after another
day of being authorized to doubt
the worth of fame, weighed against
peace of mind attained with practiced
patience,
the needful knack, the talent accepted
at the indoctrination precepts writ in stone
tables with no method
stone, no- we got a half minute buffer

for overwriting, lest we let things slip,
who has known the power to make a mind
form from a mob of lonely people left behind,

to labor for the consumers increased apace,
as that which must be consumed, constantly,
as sure as certain measures make a man a
test is worth with burning passion
to hold enfolded pride content.
- by all rights,
- some folks are sincerely wrong
And Jesus fixed that, before you imagined
all this only can co-occur
in my not so distant future.

Printer's daemon in me, since I first cut
a ruby-lythical, mimeograph Desert Rat,
lens adjust
- juvenile mind, Huck-ready
- activates as whims open my window
- and my wife hands me a real burrito
Bean and cheese, green salsa
Synchronisities noticed occur,
in patterns akin to sunsets, snap shots,
each attached to one of our spiders, os so
since when,
Barry Rudd came to be suspicious,
in a Elvis song, you can't go wronng
don't be cruel,
to heart that's true--

Religiously devoted to denial of my debt
being paid… I just got laid, and my grandma

laughed, generation radioheads and beyond

good news, bobcats, nothing learned today
will seem even possibly true, the odds - well
fractalling all innings tied, in the millions,

to arrive at a settlement, to anchor a mind,
in one machine man, engineered via

patient fore gone conclusions… in new light

I'd guess about the third time around from the top.

A benign pain that prompts this body to squirm,
using systems setting up leaps by ffat faith
say it
read the signs map
our center of gravity,
straight uponasudden s'so

Ache of essential evil, the idea
as twisted to hold obediance and trust
a sequence of three nucleotides
that much
faith, the anchor, sunk to deepest silt
slipping, gripping

Now, asudden, solid clunk, as excess
chain links, add heft to defy the currents,
though we lay between the maelstrom
and the mountain Mohamed had to walk to,

finding solace, centering calm mindtimespace,
fidelitus, the strength of brothers, filial love,

such is the system, though it dissemble glory,
as pride, another name for fame, being known,

individual honor, be ******, stand attentive
war minded child, viewer of winning as the only thing.
And proud to know,
there is no mightier power
than the conjoined powers of self worth
among a fabled band
of brothers in war.

All who live for war, live for nothing more.
We rear such tools, in terror, certain
hell has more fury than any mind
attuned to the feeling of life taking, the ****,
sealing the deal, it was us, we killed, not me.

Thus it is for me to stand ready at parade rest.
Guarding the peace of docile servants needed
to work the systems used to feed the powers
that be,
by God, authorized… to correct misperceptions,
Yah as master, Jesus as YHVH transmitted as news,

to the worthy… those who hear with hearing ears,
and see with seeing eyes,

death has no horse in this race, death is not useless,
evil is useless, in as much as no good is formed with lying,

Ai, however, so old a coincidental parable,
the robe, from Shittim
and the wedge of silver, proving curses causeless,
do not come, olden days, done deeds, told exploits,

reused to exploit innocents, enslaved by holy terrors,
vengeance, wrath and justice,

the American way, or the rebel way? Who is confusing
whom, reflexive point

allness at onceness, in the beginning, prior to any thing
fusing will being with nonsense since no time can be come
from never before, by the very nature of truth,
made useless by trade-agreements, retied word bonds,
witnessed by the idea we hold, core-code, principal call
to take instruction,
feel a known need filled with knowing when and why

this must be after all that happened in ever- from when

your worth was estimated, your usefulness in the whole
truth wherein we live, as words, used to frame minds,

edgewise, surface, subsurface, facets of reasons fed
nationalized minds, pledged from first literacy,
to a state of mind, one nation, under God,
- times pastwastnought soooslooshow
- how now
and if your child hesitates, your shame, you
become me, the old useless writer of your own heresy,
most certainly in vain,
lest time and chance conspire, and I shift,
instance-ial substance misuse by taking line
after line, a indirect singular form of any or all
thought the direct thread as yet unbroken,

look up, look as far as mind as made us earth born,

adapt to constant rythms, daily tasks, as chores,
fill needs, these fibers from futures seen clear as day,
when the holier than any of us pray, as Jesus reportedly
has said to many saints attested to have violated physics,

by faith, alone, you see, when you pray, if you expect,
out see, from now,
to when we have these things, for which our cohort,
our active generational bubbles of being, our class,

yes, culturally adhesi-ify, class of __ whenever,
veteran, what era, which police action, policy enforcement,

mob mind fit to do an I'd die for, at the ready, parade rest.


Of course, off course, as winds,
after the rippling crustal waves,

leave mountains aligning
to the tilt about 23 Babylonian degrees
unstraight,

a slow wobble, tides can use, if use is
making do with power available--

messaging codons
exactly, the point, a, eh, hey
yah, wei we ululate wuwuwu wuwu
boom
boom, ideadom dons reason's robe
of right use ness, and calls my being
into questing ionic five prong forks

as we,
dis-integrate, slip into indeedadvisuals

done, did, done, done. Is that a chiral
stepstepslidestep, donedonediddone
chasse-
does it matter, you got a one track mind,
in a multiples of eight kind of pleasance
as muses used directly, long ago,
rewind
to limit ancestor worth-ship,
mete for master use, as a hero-type.

The Monkey King, and Veggie-tales Jesus.
Billy Bonny, Mack Boyett, Pat Garret,

Shane, standing on a box, like that scientology
advertisement for being all you can clear,
clearly there is an upper crust at the edge

past which, novels form, for sheer joy, daring,
clench, tight,
ai aight, we did expect something nearly this,

this reality, I may imagine, a dozen or two,
of time redeemers, tuning in to read the latest
best
guesser guest and host dialog, along
the patterns leaders were lead to reflect on,
see you being the man on the horse, on the hill,

not leading the charge, sorry, my childhood fantazt
aggravating itch to know if any one can hear me
now, itself represented in a most amusing way,

as we all have witnessed horrors, aplenty,
as we expect to see, we shall see, will not a factor,

when should and shall, meet at the moment, you know,
this is us being real, reading instants of self-re-co-gnosis,
this is us, you seem to weigh that/
what is balance, when absolutely
perfect.
still,
perfectly still and not falling or flying. Being and thinking
x happened y did not, the after word when this and that
become principal peace piece in the logical chain of previous,

thirty seconds laters, laters when we got to the edge,
and put the vbrakes, shushushibolethical ethos…
the children's teeth are set on edge,
as the old man rocks his chair and sets about to tell

the sworn to tell, do
do tell if you do not know, by your very nature,
codon level zero day,
gone on by, Lord, some time ago,
all that Jesus paid for was this moment, now,
see, in his sphere of influence, think like wind,

see so cold it got that all who knew the wedom
freedom truth, died and broke the chains that

let sayings develop their own proof of concept
exceptions to gravity overriding light, carpe

the medium, this in,
being not I nor I said me in my reflect-ion
spark quest. Lock. Read and stock the barrels.

I did and shall see myself doing so… watch

Close our eyes next time and see four
mandalas on the other side of my cell,
see those when you shut our eyes,
and think we have so many fine
points of perception in common.

Carrier wave consci-useness. This is.
Thank you for asking.

Thizfu r this it
this is our future, as I imagine u
reading being
clinkthunk

and you just know what I mean

I bought into a self e value retest tool,
you may take each test you ever passed
or failed,
again and again for a looping conceptual time,
or you may redeem your own per mission
state
ment. got it. as any model mankind post adam,
lacked natural flea bait.

Peace made for no rational cause, mere word play,
for me that would seem heaven,
on this current functioning world, leaning into
peace of truth, no secret rites of mutilation,

no horrid pantomines of Jesus failing to halt hell's
viral ways of re imagining the thousand faces,
each an ultimately lovable devil, blue dress

nark rhealize these b ethy finalization
achievement thesis theoria wind up, tightening

reeling in the years, eeeha,
If you took the ride, bring a friend and do it again... ****** *******
Shane Carmichael Jan 2012
A look can tell you a lot of things.
Between lover and haters... or even those maybe laters
Suffocate or dislocate, procreate or...
Not.

Is life really that simple?
The literal hammer-time or a coke with lime
Friendly fire or boy for hire to do your...
Dishes.

Not complicated at all.
Can we really look into the eyes of our lover and see all that we wish to happen?
Or is it a simple diversion, conversion into...
Nothingness.

I tend to see it simply.
I care about you, we like to **** and otherwise **** on...
Lollipops.

Take out of it what you will, but I’m not going to change or leave
I like it here, hunting deer, and smelling fear in
Love.
rufus Jul 2016
So I've been talking to a few nice people on the internet. We had casual small talks. What's your name? How old are you? Where do you live? I've been telling you that they annoy me, but they keep me company. Some of them are English, one is French. I've been learning languages including French, by the way. You've just been so busy, too busy.

Where do you live? And I can't help but think of how you wanted me to take you home that night but it was so late and we were in our uniforms and I needed to go home; I declined. I let go of your hand, your tiny hand (calling it tiny makes you frown, and you're cute when you frown). I let go of those hands that could only fit with mine. That night... That night, up there, where we watched the sun take its last dreadful glimpse on us. That beautiful night when we felt the wind turn from hot and sticky to warm and nice. That night when you took a mental picture of me laughing. You told me that that night was enough to make you happy for the rest of your short life. You said you are almost certain that you would leave me first. You said that the last one who will die would grow old and visit that same place and cry. That night... That night, up there, you asked me once to not let it end. But it did. I live there.

How old are you? It was raining. It was pouring, so **** hard. Was there a storm signal, I'll never know. I didn't care. I used to sit by the windows and count every raindrop. There was a moment in my life where I thought that playing while it is raining is childish but dancing in the rain is adult stuff. I used to imagine how couples kiss under their umbrellas and how it is possible to forget that they have umbrellas. I used to picture it in my small, childish and immature head that I will someday, hopefully, have someone who could be silly with me. The adult type of silly. It was raining. It was raining so hard. But your hands were light and you were a feather. Gliding with me through the courses of those strong winds. Your hands were in my hands and I finally know why men feel like they could conquer the world all by themselves. We were laughing, like those lovers in the movie under the streetlights. And we were holding hands. You were pulling me and you were holding my hands and we were running and it was raining and I lost track of how many raindrops have poured now because I think it's not raining anymore but I do know that you're still smiling giddily like we did something that is only ours to know and I think I have seen my rainbow and it's running and it's pulling my hand towards our silver lining and it's so ******* beautiful. It's so ******* beautiful. It was magnificent. And I didn't realize, I didn't realize this until that moment --- that astounding, outstanding, amazing, tragamagazingzing --- that marvelous, marvelous moment: I was childishly, hopelessly, truly, madly deeply falling in love with you (yes! like that song! from that silly old movie!). I was falling in love with you over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over --- That was a lot of raindrops. I was sixteen.

What's your name? Oh god. Oh ****. Oh god. Oh ****. ****. ****. ****. ****, ****, ****, ****. What do I say? I could tell you a lot of things but all I do is listen to country songs and go to that country singer's concerts... Oh well that was lame. Was that lame? Did I really say that out loud? I think I did. I don't think I look like your best friend though. I'm usually quiet. Yes, I have a scar on my face. Oh you don't like my name? Why so? Sure you can call me by my other name. I have a nickname, but only close people call me--- Okay. You can call me by my nickname. No, I don't know him. Am I really that quiet? He must be nice. Yeah I like brown eyes too but I'm trying to seek other colors now. Oh that's why you don't like my name. I'm sorry, but I promise you that's not how love works. I met this person once and she was my heaven and hell. But yeah, you know, I wasn't enough. Nah, you don't have to tell me that. She already made me feel like ****, anyway. It's okay. Ah, yes I write. Do you want to see? It's okay, but I don't really like showing these to people. I showed it to that guy though. He's really nice. Yeah you can read them. I write random stuff. Alright, I'll see you later. Good morning to you too! Hello. You seem a bit off. How are you? You okay? I don't believe you. Define okay? Oh you have a nice smile. I guess it's okay, dimples aren't that cute to me. I've had this scar since I was in prep-school. I didn't really notice those freckles before, but thanks. Oops, hey careful there. Oh sorry I held your waist. It's okay. Are you okay? Define okay? Alright, laters. You're really cute when you smile (and I swear I could hear my heart flutter when you say metaphorical things.) Wait what? Did I really just say that out loud? Oh thank God. Wait, no. Oh. ****. ****, ****, ****, ****. Let me write this down. Let me write about this. Uh. Sure. You can read it. I won't mind. Okay maybe read it later when you're at home. Yes that's a better idea. Read it at home. When I am not there to watch your reaction and probably make a fool out of myself. Hi. Good morning to you too. I know. Yes that's what I said. Hello. Was it weird? I know. Yes, sweetheart, that was for you. You said that already. Hi again. I'm okay. I'm yours.

I wish we could have our casual small talks again. I guess I'll never be too busy to remind myself, and to remind you, that you are missing from me.
Spoken poetry (in the shower)
Lupe Jacobson Mar 2013
Pulsing with a simple poison,
Drowsy with a common sin
Laughing running wanting touch
a boys skin,
a slight rush.
Today Now is all I hear
Tomorrow is laters fear
I reach for yet another sip
As I caress his upper lip
My best friend is now gone
As my desires are one way pawns.
Seduction becomes control
Nothing can stop us bet El Sol,
As fun as the night will be
Our bodies swaying to Bob Marley
I regret losing you
Friendship is what friends will do
Awkwardness now fills the silence
sober touch now makes him tense.
Eva Louise Nov 2015
Liz,
    I saw you on Christmas
    at church in a black dress and pearls
    we made light conversation
    as we fill filed out with the postlude
    
    31 days later, an ambulance picked you up from your friends house
    there were no lights, there were no sirens
    the obituary told me it was an accidental ****** overdose
    you were 21
    I wish i had seen the bruises on your arm that christmas
    before I walked into the snowy night

Liz,
      your funeral was held at the same church where I saw you last
      where we spent all these years
      as the postlude drew to a close
      we studied the back of wooden pews
      we asked ourself the  same question
      "Would I have been able to help?"
      we beg the walls for answers
      but they offer no reply

Liz,
     If I saw the bruises, would I have known?
     If I had known, would I have the courage to say anything?
     What would I have said?
  
    I could've given you a scared-straight talk
    with warnings and statistic
    shown you before and after pictures
    ripped from a health textbook
    but spitting facts into the face of an addict
    is like lecturing someone of the dangers of riptides
    when they're six miles from shore
    rambling about 3rd degree burns
    to someone trapped in a burning house
    but how do I keep forgiving from becoming ignoring?
    how do I stop helping from bordering on ratting out?
    I want to to get help but I don't want you to resent me
                God, what I would give
                for you to hate me right now

Liz,
      my mother discussed your passing
      with friends with red wine lips
            "Oh, Liz? Yeah- my son said she was a ****** kid"
      a ****** kid, not the pastor's daughter
     or the mission trip veteran,
     not the day care teacher, or the prankster,
     not the angel in the 2006 Christmas play
    
     Where is the line between good and bad?
     how many track marks does it take to turn a girl into a statistic?
     how far in must one drive the needle to be reduced
     to the trope of a ****** kid
     how many melted milligrams does it take to wash away the good qualities
     and leave behind a skeleton of a girl we once knew

Liz,
     they say you're gone, you're in a better place
     but God i know you're still here
     I see you in the flowers, skirting the steps of the church
     I hear you between the harmonies
     of all the hymns
     I can feel your presence
     breathing out from the cracks in the stone walls
     I see you in coffee shops
     and in restaurants and on the streets
     mocking me to do a double take
     before I remember
     and you know we have forgiven you
     as we have wailed it at the stained glass
     I really hope you have learned to forgive us

Liz,
     I saw you christmas eve
     black dress and pearls
     you died 31 laters
     you were 21
     I wish I had seen the bruises on your arm
    I wish I could've helped
old poem, another slam poem into written
Q Sep 2014
I want you for my own
I want you in every way and sense
For every reason known to mankind
From the first I saw you, I've wanted you every second since.

I want you in heaven and
I'll want you in hell
I want you on earth
And in every galaxy as well.

I want you in my blood
Running through my veins
I want you in every neuron that
Goes to and from my brain.

I want you.
I want every smile and every frown
I want you.
From the highest hair on your head down.

I want every emotion you'll ever feel
I want every breath you'll ever take
I want every beat of your heart
I want every night you sleep and morning you wake.

I want the good, the bad, and the ugly of you
I want the laughs, the hurt, the anger
I'm possessive of every bit of your life
I want your befores, nows, and laters.

I want every atom and molecule you're made of
I want the entirety of your soul
I want every and anything you'll ever think of
I'll want far past when you're gray and old.

This is the way I want you
So badly it tears me into two
But I'll never say it like this, instead
I'll say, "I love you."
My best friend who I think about constantly.
My best friend who I wished to be apart of me.
My best friend who I wish and pray, To have her one day ,safe so I can see her smiles brighter then they are today.
My best friend whos pain kills me too.
My best friend who is the red to my blue.
My best friend theres no one like you,
Im stuck on you like glue,
part we might at times but Itll never end or be thru.
Cause My best friend, you are true.
My best friend, you are real.
I love my best friend, more of a man I will ever be,
bend as you might you the world will never break a woman of steel
My best friend my fortune and wealth , my queen for you i kneel.
On the foreal
Im happy phareel
My best friend, I only wish the best for you.
My bestfriend I only want you to be comfortable.
My bestfriend when I hear you cry I die inside how could any guy hurt such a free spirited butterfly.
**** got me ****** up in many ways
Wanna **** this ***** up payback is a bill the ***** didnt pay. And im all about gettin paid.
Pssh one way..
Back to a soft spot like your cheeks
My best friend I love you with all my might and will,
Your my everything,
there no other who can take your place,
not now nor ever
will there be anybody better,
never will and still till
this day , as ghost as ive become,
such a son of a gun, I **** back and fired
I dont give a ***** at everyone,
I am sorry to ever fired at you.
My boo My true friend real ***** to the end.
MY BEST FRIEND.
YOU ARE WHAT I LOOK FOR IN EVERYONE.
BUT YOU ARE THE ONLY TO EVER HAVE IT.
The chemistry that cooks and sizzle great friendships, we have it...
GREAT CONVOS AND TRUST?
between us its now a habbit.
Laughter? We made it an addiction, theres no1 like you me without life and time lacks conviction,

Its gunna get better
I will never leave
I will never retreat
When you need me
Im there believe me
Im that shadow that hugs the light to your smile
No1 else can see me.
Im the voice that hugs your opinion,
 Never wanna see you down
Never frown
Just hope in the day ill be blessed to still be around,
Everytime i look at you I thank God and nature
How could there make such a woman
So much love your signatures kisses papers.
Your "laters" are an eternity, but as soon as you show im rollin deep
Like the **** your that good thc
That sticky that breaks
Easily
Your indica sendin me to the sky high
With litterature  of your ways
Your butterfly that never had a beginning stage
You was born that way
Back in the day when your daddy made that right choice,
And your mother wow!  But you amazing.
Never phasin the problems
You always there facin them
Head on, trapt cause your headstrong
My bestfriends theres untold reasons why we get along.
Maybe your kryptonite livin three doors downs,
But i still remain strong whenver  you around,
The world stops
Cause your revolving now,
Center of my attention,
Love to hear you speak,
The way nose jiggle when you mad at me yellin,
Haha i cant be mad, you make me smile , like the sayin you got in the bag.... glad
What else i like? Rememer this a prototype,
Only shedding a glipse thoughts in my afternights.



By Deep Thought
aka Linguist Musician Aka
Emmanuel JV Hernandez
k y Jan 2016
Nothing has ever felt the way you do.
Your skin, your smile, the loss of color in your
cheeks, the redness around those beautiful,
dark lashes after you've cried.  
The way you make my mind drop all of its
useless content at the sight of your eyes.
The perfect beat of your heart when I lay my head on your chest, your scent.
Your limp skinny fingers, they're more than just flesh,
and bones. They're more than just you, and us.
Your mind and the way it works.
Your lips, your back, your legs, your soul.
I'm so in love with it all.


When I hold you, I feel as if I am lost in a dream,
Nothing feels more unrealistic than you.
Nothing feels worse than the pain, the worry,
the sadness that crawls slow and horrifically,
into my mind, my body, my soul when you hurt.
I wish I could carry it all away from you.


You are the last rose petal, and the saddest sun set.
And goodbyes with you, and 'see you laters'
are more than just phrases to me.
They're gashes, they're ghosts, they are leeches
that **** out your blood, and fire that burns.
And yes, it pains me to watch you go.
'Cause each step, and each mile you take, my heart
goes with you.
And your soul is more than just another metaphor.
Like all of them have been before.
Because nothing can ever, has ever, will ever
compare to you.

k.y


© 2015 karina y
makeloveandtea Nov 2017
Tomorrow I will go on like yesterday, you know ―
Same 'ol waking up, hot bath then smear peach-pink on each eyelid.
It's not an emergency,
but that Portuguese song about the serene farm
–a happy place―
reminds me of you.
Today I stirred my tea for longer,
lost in thought,
lost in repercussion,
lost.
It's not an emergency,
but I dreamt of us in a balcony at night;
sparkling eyes and wine.
I know I'm not extraordinary.
I was made to collect seashells in silence at windy seashores;
woman making boats of paper napkins at cafés and throwing it away.
It's not an emergency,
but were you looking for extraordinariness?
Did you find it in yourself?
A sad poem and glistening eyes in the dark ―
My last memory of you is from years ago.
We left this story where it was, maybe finished it,
I'm never sure.
It's not an emergency,
but I think we will meet again somewhere.
And midst champagne flutes and people's side profiles,
I will recognize you.
Riche' Sep 2014
Striking like lightning
Powering like fire
My body screeches for help
What is it yelling for?
Advil?
Aleve?
It doesn’t work
I hope the pain will be washed away like
sand washes from my feet into the ocean
Holding on to dear life
Speechless
Three hours laters later
It’s like i’m resurrected
That pain, the screaming of my weary body.
I forgot that I was having a child
I’m not ready for this
Or maybe I am, when I awake I gazed at a beautiful princess
I am reminded of growing up and a childhood of so much fun.
I am relieved.
AfterImage Sep 2016
Anticipation, a frozen breath upon the wind.
Endings beginning where beginning's end.
I am captured in waiting.
Time marches on trading all of our nows for laters.
Deliberate and debate, I delay.
I am captured in waiting.
Vacant visage I sleep away seeking morning’s light.
The next day and still the next, always.
I am captured in waiting.

I am still in waiting.


I am in waiting.



I am waiting.




I’m waiting.





Waiting.






Wait.
LCB Jul 2014
Good byes are the hardest.
Not see you laters
or catch ya next time
Real good byes.
High school good byes
College
Moving
Weddings
Death.
They're hard.
Not because you'll never see that person again.
Although that is rough.
Knowing they won't be there
To share the joke
Give a knowing smile
Bring up that embarrassing moment
from high school
when you wet your pants in gym
Again.
They're hard.
Because how do you relive every moment
Of your time together
In two words.
That's what good-byes are
Collapsing relationships
Into two words.
Good-Bye
Wk kortas Mar 2018
It was the night of the thundersnow,
Meteorological harpie normally reserved for our northern brethren.
She stood grimly at the window,
In wait for a dawn which would not come
Save for the odd light, the incongruous rumbling,
Mock forbearer of those easy languid evenings of August.
She'd made some noise approximating a sigh,
Then returned to undress,
I hurriedly unlacing my boots, removing my pants,
(My feigned nonchalance a foolish, pitiable thing)
And I remember her ******* as  oddly demure,
Her ******* bewitching gumdrops,
The triangle below her waist downy, almost kittenish.
I'd broken her maiden clumsily, eagerly, all unheeding haste.
We'd lain next to each other for a short while afterwards
(The schools already closed for the next day,
Her father recently gone to the boneyard on Ludlow Hill,
She soon to be shuttled off to some spinster aunt in Dillsboro.)
I'd nattered on about summer vacations and thens and laters;
She'd said little, simply studying me with the bemused half-smile
One saves for sad dreamers not intimate with the knowledge
That notions of tomorrow and forever are strictly for suckers,
And as I strolled home come mid-morning,
The sun implacably straddled the sky,
Leaving the sidewalks and shoulders of the road
Completely dry, as if the night before had been a thing
Of perhaps-only, of dreams and tales for a later time.
Do you need to read r's original to read this piece? Not necessarily, but it would certainly help.  Do you need to read r's original?  Without question.
"They'll ask how you lived without things, when you really lived your whole life without knowing they existed. Deprived some may say, but you've made it 20 years without it, and somehow you think it doesn't matter.

They don't really know you before this. That your childhood consisted of running through parking lots, visiting the same park and still finding it like new, now laters hot flamins, peach soda and hoping you'll get to grandmas house that weekend. Brain still being mocked by the Eric B and Rakim your dad always blasted on any road trip.

They've never been to Hampton street or seen the cars drive by with their bass booming harder than ever playing the trap music that invades your house and makes your window shake to the rhythm.

That's where I'm from.
And somehow we both ended up here in buenos aires. Although I never left the states, never made it to the big city. Never got there.
Where I'm from we're hood rich and this just doesn't happen.
Deprived they'll call us, but i never saw a frown even when we pinched pennies.

Mama explained "there are rich people, and those just making it." We always made it and I'm just glad mama got me here."
Angella Joves Jul 2015
My favorite fictional character, my antagonist
My protagonist, my happy pill, ,my "laters, baby"
My every book that I read all night, My morning thing,
My whole universe, My pushing pins,
My anger, My melancholia,
My every paradox and oxymoron, My metaphor
and simile - the every comparison to all beautiful things
My sadness that lingers beneath my shadow,
You are the disappoinment to my upcoming success,
You are the one that I have and I can't

And I have not written this to compliment
the love that we had

But to blurt out the things of how our love left me fragmented..
Nik Bland Apr 2013
Hello
I've started with goodbye too many times
So a hello would seem strange
I know
The world is a glass full of heavy sighs
Full of the genius minds belonging to the deranged
I grow
Nervous simply because I never know
Just the way to go after the hello
I'm told
A million paths carry you to the same place
A million butterflies flutter the same way

Good day
'cause bad day sounds like a premonition
Constant remeniscions of a yesterday known
We fade
Brittle bone and muscle they, melt away
And yet through your tears you say
A simple hello
I wait
For the end, unsure if it will come soon
Under a harvest moon or blistering sun
But you
You never were one for goodbyes
Only see you laters


Goodbye
I've seemed to of fallen into the rut again
Where my optimism ends, I find a goodbye
I tried
To look on the brighter side of days
A whipoorwillow's wish away from a hello
You cried
Every time the word escaped my mouth
Yet you never seemed to doubt I'd be wrong
Hello
I will never see your eyes like this
The moment's the passed, the kiss is done, we move on
Kristen Lowe Jun 2014
I woke up one morning with a seed in my heart
And an incurable inability to ever let it grow

I held it in my palms
Cupped and concealed in overgrown cowardice  

And it never broke past the spaces between my fingers
Or through the holes in my heart

I held a seed in my heart
When my heart couldn't hold anything else
Waiting for it to spread it wings

I watered it in the stormy procession
Of four in the mornings and twenty years laters

And I woke up one day just a seed
In the heart of... this?

With a resolute inability to ever grow
Levi Kips Jan 2016
Starting now ima do this evaluation because right now I feel so non related and played with, to her I'm like candy that comes with alot of pieces and she chooses when she want me like now or laters but I am gum sweaty. I am sorry there is only one of me next time you bring more than 25 cents. Well I was her hubba bubble bf but ig this piece has lost its flavor and all that I'm good for is sticking to the bottom and catch all the trash that comes my way. Is that the reason why I'm still holding on to her, because if life is a trash can I'm on side of it somewhere fly fishing for love. I thought you was a bass, a the catch of the a lifetime but instead you turnt out to be a catfish. The only reason I haven't set you free back to sea because you was my first trophy but like all trophies you have to get shelved one day. Don't worry I will be one the shelf to just like a  injured football play but I didn't break my neck or ribs, I got concussion or some head injury because something must have gone wrong for me to let my heart get fractured again. The doctor must be tired of seeing my face, hearing the same copied and paste story but with a new title and about a new face. Then at the end of the day he does the same operation so I can go back out to the sea and start fresh again, find my next mistake and start to fish.
Madeysin May 2015
Damp mulch,
**** mulch,
Always getting inside your tennis shoe,

You said that you were leaving,
I didn't bother to cry,
Just slung my back pack over my shoulder,
You said you were surprised I didn't look back,
With my soft blue eyes, staring
Holding onto what was never there.

You said that you were leaving
I didn't bother to cry,
Just stuck my hand in my back pocket,
You said you were surprised I didn't look back,
With my stormy gray eyes, tornado
Backing away from your grasp

I don't do goodbyes, I don't do goodbye hugs, or farewells or see you laters. I just ******* walk away.
You should know this by now dad. Last time I saw you face to face, I was four at a park. You're such a coward, my my have you taught me so much.

— The End —