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betterdays Jul 2014
hey little one
i see you sitting
over there
on the fringe
of society

i see behind your
smile
to the tears pooling
in the corners
of your eyes

little one...
it is ok to be
so scared
life is a big thing
to undertake

yet you have to
take a step
and join the fray

little one
sitting quiet in
the shadows
waiting for
your spotlight,
your allocated time...
your little ray of sunshine....

little one....
i see you there
waiting to be told
but you gotta
make your own stories
and create
your own fold and creases
in the game of paper
and life's origami  leases

give it time
                 give it time
i promise you, little one
                          you will find  
                                    your way
Cedric McClester Nov 2015
By: Cedric McClester

When Trump and Carson fall
And the foolishness ceases
Rubio will be there
To pick up the pieces
He’s salivating
As his chance increases
He’s now looking at curtains
And White House leases

When Trump and Carson fall
And the race is in shambles
He’ll bet his  house
You see. The man gambles
He’s not alone
Cuz there’s many other examples
Of men who’ve picked up swatches
And other samples

When Trump and Carson fall
And they look towards the rest
Rubio’s convinced
That he alone is the best
In fact he’s thinking
Nevertheless
It will be him and not the others
There’s no contest

When Trump and Carson fall
As inevitably they must
And Marco Rubio watches the others
Bite the dust
As they complain
Then spit and cuss
Marco will be the one
To lead the rest of us




Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2015.  All rights reserved.
1119

Paradise is that old mansion
Many owned before—
Occupied by each an instant
Then reversed the Door—
Bliss is frugal of her Leases
Adam taught her Thrift
Bankrupt once through his excesses—
to a friend

No! those days are gone away
And their hours are old and gray,
And their minutes buried all
Under the down-trodden pall
Of the leaves of many years:
Many times have winter's shears,
Frozen North, and chilling East,
Sounded tempests to the feast
Of the forest's whispering fleeces,
Since men knew nor rent nor leases.

    No, the bugle sounds no more,
And the twanging bow no more;
Silent is the ivory shrill
Past the heath and up the hill;
There is no mid-forest laugh,
Where lone Echo gives the half
To some wight, amaz'd to hear
Jesting, deep in forest drear.

    On the fairest time of June
You may go, with sun or moon,
Or the seven stars to light you,
Or the polar ray to right you;
But you never may behold
Little John, or Robin bold;
Never one, of all the clan,
Thrumming on an empty can
Some old hunting ditty, while
He doth his green way beguile
To fair hostess Merriment,
Down beside the pasture Trent;
For he left the merry tale
Messenger for spicy ale.

    Gone, the merry morris din;
Gone, the song of Gamelyn;
Gone, the tough-belted outlaw
Idling in the "grenè shawe";
All are gone away and past!
And if Robin should be cast
Sudden from his turfed grave,
And if Marian should have
Once again her forest days,
She would weep, and he would craze:
He would swear, for all his oaks,
Fall'n beneath the dockyard strokes,
Have rotted on the briny seas;
She would weep that her wild bees
Sang not to her--strange! that honey
Can't be got without hard money!

    So it is: yet let us sing,
Honour to the old bow-string!
Honour to the bugle-horn!
Honour to the woods unshorn!
Honour to the Lincoln green!
Honour to the archer keen!
Honour to tight little John,
And the horse he rode upon!
Honour to bold Robin Hood,
Sleeping in the underwood!
Honour to maid Marian,
  And to all the Sherwood-clan!
Though their days have hurried by
Let us two a burden try.
A L Davies Oct 2012
wednesday  ..
                      is faded black jeans/old white tank (too big) (hole from belt buckle centre front)

glass of water stuck into the rings left by past week's mugs of beer
sitting by the ashtray. and you are better than a nip of rye in the truck cab heading to work.
the dust in my lungs (wide open saskatchewan fields)
is not as important as watching the clouds stain purple with the sunrise
patting two gorgeous farm dogs who run over from behind a silo turned to bronze in the light
(there is an angel laying naked in the wheat grain)
to nip playfully at my calves while i unchain the derrick,
somewhere in my mind's recess it feels like i am loosing atlas from his *******
tho i do not register the thought until later upon waking from a nap.

saturday // 1:15:44 pm
i am in only briefs now working on a song/i clocked 4
                                                               ­                                       hrs greasing truck 1117 this morning and
hauling pallets.
daylene from dispatch brought in donuts.

i'll spend the afternoon listening to kanye and talking to women online.
—there are no girls in estevan. i have (kind of) looked.
                                                       sometimes i believe this to be pathetic but then i think further ahead
and it's not so bad.
you do really meet some nice girls. phone is replete with their numbers &
they keep me company on long rides to and from leases,
asking about work. hoping that i am well.
(once back home by christmas account will be deleted and i can
take them out at my leisure. you'll understand i hope that i am not
a desperate man. but one has to work with that which he has.
would you rather i go lonely? make my home in the mud to croon hank williams to crows?)
(temporality.)

15/10/2012
there are now three beer cans on the carpet & one on the washing machine by the
bathroom door which i will drink in the shower.
it was sort of a long day.
oil field poems though.
Nat Lipstadt Apr 2014
life is our poetic reality,
you are the best ever
metaphor,
the one poets
keep stealing from
each other,
at the intersection
of our eyes crossing

your disruptive crying poetry,
bring to me in NYC,
and I'll take you to
poetry slams,
tango parties, a real Chinatown,
blow smoke up your nose,
Waltz step on your toes,
drink with you
in Central Park at five am,
visit half a dozen museums,
take you to the ballet,
and then you can maybe,
cross a few to-do's
off of our mutual
intersections

care taken,
if you want hide deep,
but to late for thee and our world,
your name on the roster
of poets by night,
tinkers, soldiers,
and some who tailor
poems bespoke
for the ones who
dare not reveal their true (s)elves
in the words they write.

1431
poems in ye old inbox,
genteel knocking,
whispering thru stolid front door
love me a little lot,
little lot, love me?

these are the holy-of-the-holies
attention-me-crystal-cries,
prayers, wry observations, nature collations,
me and thee adorations,
heart rendering
screams of need,
these are the moments in your life
raw-roughened gifted
or threaded smooth cursed,
but tendered unto my caring

am old man.
my poetic voice is just
memories that are
repetitive lies and lines.

speak in simple sentences declarative.
this is nature's way.

darkness approaching is indeed my
au courant poem, mon actuellement.

I have seen betterdays

ain't young enough to be afraid no more
write what pleases me.

this day leases me
what pleases me
and this is as close as I can come
to being human
and writing my flawless poem.

Anything I can do to keep you,
happy and poetry-free
from midnight
till the **** crows
and slumber trumps
the restless words
that will wait
till mo(u)rning born,
and the kingdom of poetry,
awoken,
comes alive

These four senses all recombinant,
On the cheek, on the tongue,
Wafting, tickling, blasting, visioning
Merging into a single touch
That my pointer finger,
by force majeure,
Declares, here,  poem aborning,
Contract with this moment,
now satisfied.

Al,  what you did not ask was this:
With each passing poem,
I am lessened within, expurgated,
In a sense part of me, expunged,
Part of me, passing too,
Every poems birth diminishes me

long have I searched for my
flawless poem,
knowing it my be
my next one,
each a doorway to the next

this one, and the
one before,
never good enough,
keep the essay going
in fourth gear

I taste skin,
like a good poem,
the cheek, the shoulder bare,
the in between spaces,
the minty hint of décolleté,
the ankle chain,
turning my breath heated,
tips of red noses,
I take and
I keep
and no,
no refunds, no returns

nowadays,
grandpa's tools
outdated, shelved,
in their final
resting place,
blades dulled,
the technology
of his verbiage,
rusted by old age

the reads diminishing,
his touch, antiquated,
his best days, resting on top of
the ocean internet waves
his summertime buddies,
sand sun grass and
sea air perfumes,
singing,
"awe, we got ya,
cosy and comforted,
awaiting you in your chair,
overlooking our truest
sheltered applause"

so I write for me,
write for her,
for with her,
in love's sight,
life is
easy like Sunday morning,
and
that's why I'm easy,
like Sunday morning

wake up unscrubbed,
sleep still in the eyes,
dream crusted,
probably unaware, child,
that you are a poem
sleeping

when a little girl,
reverting, designing
real from dreams,
processing, reforming,
the dreams lusting
to be poems
to go awandering

don't
let the sin memories
of ancient words,
black gold bubble up
with the first striking of the blade

Delve
(excavate your soul deep)
Not

I did not come this poem to write
I did not come to repeat
Solomon's poem,
nothing new under the sun

don't,
daunting
wish to delve into my delusions,
my original sin
the deceit
the conceit
I am unique
I am original

*Experience anew,
Each time,
Say:
This is my first time,
This is my first work

I do not need your validation.
I validate myself
and in doing so,
who else
comes along
for the ride
on our tide?

create with no shame
create with no measuring stick
only this:
everything that is done well
                           is good art

Be Fertile and Radiate
Excerpts from stuff written between late March and early April.
I write about poetry, writing and their intersection inside of me, probably too much.
Vivian Nov 2014
they're nothing alike, but they both rejected you in similar ways and that means that they're more alike than you'd like them to be. parallelism is everywhere and try all you want you can't avoid the syncretism of the universe, the constant assimilation and recreation, the mundane Phoenix, no ashes but still - rebirth. you know if you listen to drake right now, tucked under the covers and spooning the pillow like a lover liable to leave, you will be sad all night, possibly through the morning, bleary-eyed in chemistry and barely aware in rhetoric; you didn't do the assigned reading and haven't started looking at apartment leases yet. my roommate's shoulder is healing and mine is just now beginning to ache; parallelism is everywhere, and try as I might, I can never seem to outrun it.
Derrek Estrella Dec 2018
On the evening of August 6th
The body is separated, eviscerated
Stone walls
Lost thralls
A family takes their evening stroll
And finds themselves imprisoned
Their umbilical cord, cut down the half
Microwave oven
Searing monsoon shower
Vagrant feet are shackled
Eyes are blinded with exhaust pipes
The East is not allowed to cry alone
Decay, wail on
Wail on
Contain us
Dear Marcus, free me
From these Pyrrhic victories
Clean this dusky mall
I feel safe under phosphoric lights
Guerillas swing on electric wires
Transatlantic conversations
Acquired on paper
Perverse
Desecrated
Red cloth seizes everything
Stray, running felines
The impassioned, waving flag
Kept in a velvet pocket
Stay here, stay a while
This cold era is a rising draft
The Bermuda Triangle
Quarantined
No more ships crawl along the winded shore
A time capsule
The nation sinks into antiquity
The brink of armageddon
Cusp of oblivion
Crimson hand of eternity
An old, whittled clock
Last minute
Cold Turkey!
God almighty
Peace is never promised
But we may yearn again
Nobody is free
But we are safe for another hour
God almighty
Leases on the lands
Paid in thorns
Nations playing circles
Mr. Versus Mr.
An ever-changing world
Stagnant and tightly oiled
Save this soil
It will cave in silence
The clockmaker sits in the backdrop
Readying her tools
Jack Piatt Jan 2014
No snow days in the sunny states
But free bus rides to the other side
Climb, climb, climb …
The fruit is higher

Ignore the dead ones below
The pieces that dried up
Waiting to be picked

And what is picked besides guitars, noses and colorful roses?
Okay, so …  lots of things
But how they are picked – much more interesting!


An ocean full of notion
Notions to fill an ocean

Emotions
ooOOHHHH
the EMOTION!

I’d like to shower it out
Maybe hike a mountain and let loose a shout!

Release

I don’t like leases

So Re- lease


Let go

No snow when the sun’s in town
No frowns when a smile’s around

Let’s take the underground and move it up a floor
I’m bored with being bored


You want to write a letter and mail it to space aliens with me?
Probably take a long *** time to get there
But, oh the look on their faces when they get it!

Worth the wait.

Totally.
(c) 2014
If my dear love were but the child of state,
It might for Fortune’s ******* be unfathered,
As subject to Time’s love or to Time’s hate,
Weeds among weeds, or flowers with flowers gathered.
No, it was builded far from accident;
It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls
Under the blow of thralled discontent,
Whereto th’ inviting time our fashion calls.
It fears not policy, that heretic,
Which works on leases of short-numbered hours,
But all alone stands hugely politic,
That it nor grows with heat, nor drowns with showers.
    To this I witness call the fools of Time,
    Which die for goodness, who have lived for crime.
Nat Lipstadt Jan 2015
dying and living in a pantheon
~


a dusty storage place
for basement keepsakes,
somewhere out back,
full of emeritus stocking stuffers,
an ex-trendy,
royalty-dethroned room

where kept
ancient scriveners,
last year's flash frozen princesses and
plastic wrapped scribes,
cloud stored,
on soft decaying hard drives

prior renters, leases unrenewed,
now pushed aside,
upcoming upstanding upstarts,
looking to trade up,
let bigger quarters,
an existential reminder,
that in the word game,
no perm-press recognition,
in today's poetry biz,
it's what ya done lately

deaf dumb blind,
unsung former idols,
talk to mirrors
that no longer answer,
dial 1-800-pantheon,  
sorry, number no longer in service,
so you voyageur-visit
the other side of Styx,
a bluff overlooking
a body's work,
where glory fleeting
comes to rest,
where time judges well,
partiality impartial,
selects thy best

author an audience of sole one
that be more than
good and plenty,
a heaping teaspoon of sufficient,
glance back at discarded, outdated maps,
glory may transit
but satisfaction eternal,
when you read the old writes thinking
****, did I write this?
"Yes," answers a creased smile
cracking crusted lips

~~~~~

then blood of pride and satisfy, rejuvenates

chest warms, heart thumps,
quill beckons, tablet charges - jot hot

write for whom the bell tolls,
knowing full well
this raucous bell tolls for thee,
you re-become an
irrational ill-defined room possessed

heat,
this realized, fevered and fervent, physical pleasure,
sensory gladness,
the fat fullness of creation,
flooded breathable sunlight,
stormy uncalming indigo waters,
a natural disquietude beckons,
arousal of an old-friend welcoming

this encompassing emotion,
no-direction-known fearful commotion,
your mind, all skin,
tissues enflamed,
your ears speak,
your tongue listens,
five senses unified in
disheartened happy discordant perfection,
this you recognize,
this familiar,
is not a storage place
this, your true everlasting pantheon


glory glory - expel thy word works,

*the burnishing of fain fame
is not walled jailed,
but in-deed
actionable and transitory best honored,
peaks of mountainous-emotions, homeland, motherland,
recording, recoding in words-vision notions,
this is the one,
the inky clarity pantheon place
of the living poet
SelinaSharday Oct 2018
"Da Dramatics"

when I hear I don't do drama..
It makes me..
Pull back my hands..
Cover my face again..
Look away.. shy away..
Because..
No miracles can be performed here today.

If You don't do drama..
See drama may be rolled up in my sleeves.
As I act out my creativities..
Share my masterpieces,, drama may be what bleeds.

Drama in the sense that.. How I color my days..
How I blur out the craziest of ways.
How I finger paint with audio lyrics..
How I try to make sense of dimensional physics.
Confessions and testimonies,
bleeds from my knees.
And if I have to hide so much inside.
Zip my lips...Be ashamed of my slips.
Hide shades of identity.. Blur what bothers me.
Only offer out the candy..
The weather hasn't always been kind to me.
Your telling me there's no place for me.
because there are days times I need to be
as naked as can be.
And I need you to be naked around me.
To Dance naked with me.
Well I'ma need you to be able to take it.
As I can't fake it.
Drama is musically.. parts of my harmony.
Tamed/drama .. You have to be strong enuff cinematically
With ears of christianity
  Embrace me theologically  and love me.
Don't fear the pets I have chained. On leases beside me.
I'm a soldier dramatically.
Drama does not define me.
But It can be calmed made to behave spiritually.

Except the dramatics as you accept my harmony.
SelinaSharday S.A.M 2018
Drip Drip.. shall I hide my slips.
Shall I only show my dainty perfections..Pretend my roses don't have thorns.
Don't be blown away by my storms.
Don't be afraid when drama performs. Allow me to sound my alarms. I need you to Drip da drama for such is life and life is not without strife.
Nat Lipstadt Mar 2014
Private
Parts


she awakens.
her hands journey to my private parts.
now, they are in the public domain.
I liked it much, so,
I copyrighted her moves.

indeed, I copied them
right down
saved them,
write down,
write here.

ain't young enough to be afraid no more
write what pleases me.

this day leases me
what pleases me
and this is as close as I can come
to being human
and writing my flawless poem.

this pleases me too.
Sunny K May 2016
I have sought You in bits and pieces,
because You are scattered across souls;
I have possessed the places Your heart leases,
for I have not found You as my home.

Do I seek You in those whispering trails
that silhouette my velvet skin –
as prayers and penance, when all else fails
to disrobe me of my mortal sin.

Do You kiss my fingers as strands of beads,
that I touch upon in times of need;
in hopes that You will grant me grace,
or embrace me with Your graceless greed.

Do I find refuge in Your vaulted heart,
with idols that idle in your wake;
in sermons, in summons, Your will You impart,
only Yours to give, only Yours to forsake.

And what of in temples that You have built,
in Your name, of Your fame that You have distilled —
those towering minarets that I cannot breech,
resigned only to altars at which You preach.
A covenant, I covet
with the revenants above it —
Your Altar
Alters You —
my haunting Beloved.

I have sought You in the most essential of ways;
in touch, in taste, in the most sensual displays.
Between covers,
Did I discover
You in a supine repose?
A restive being,
at rest in being –
fated only to my
depthless prose.

Find me, You say, I am yours to find.
A part, never apart, we are seamlessly entwined.
Long for me, for us, and for our Eternal Affair —
For, my Beloved, ours is not a caravan of despair.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2016
an under 30 year old should be partying right now,
gimmicks of chums  and the laid leases on the daisies -
well -  not this one,  he's finishing off a second beer
of his feline promenade  that's english suburbia twirls
rather than a grand archway  of paris -
sitting underneath the sea of black and the moon
marked clearly  hardly scythe or fully chubby -
somewhere half-way between both -
well, the beer was blossom, the cigarette
a morbier cheese - and the traffic,
this traffic night traffic - watching it on
collier row road  by the aquarium store
on the brick up-stand, sometimes the moon,
sometimes the traffic - busy bees and dressed and
attired - ready crowd pleasers - i was there once,
hardly a success story, from pedigree pampering
self-conscious bewilderment, to a near-homeless
mutt ragged with 3 weeks of unwashed hair
prolonged by wetting it -
hardly a stink, but still the grease from the pollution;
and lie the children of dentists are told,
pea sized amount of toothpaste, brush quickly
under 30 seconds... go over it, and as nicotine staining
proved prior to this tactic, indeed teeth became
nicotine stained, now using less toothpaste and
shortening the brushing to under 30 if not under
10 seconds... my teeth have no nicotine stains...
after all, we need dentists and what not, we need
to feed them, we need the middle-men to tell us
it takes 3 minutes and a thumb's length of toothpaste
to get the job done, twice a day...
indeed, my mouth was converted into a toilet -
it's mint in my mouth, it's charcoaled roses on my neck
and cheeks, it's quasi-mint under my armpits
of anti-perspiration unshaken can snow muck,
i'm well oiled like Cleopatra - i have babe powder
on my *** - all the pleasant toiletries you know -
but what i don't have and you won't ever give me
is the smell, the smell like Jack Daniels from the
brothel and the sweet taste of the girls -
see, a pea sized dollop of toothpaste and under 10 second
brushing, and still the nicotine staining doesn't
coat the inner side of your chop chopper chops;
ah but still getting drunk watching saturday night traffic,
everyone's so busy i figured the best job around
was to get a profession in laziness.
Thank You, I think I just heard " Made it Right By Them All."

Thank You for saving the world today,
On this day November 19th of the year of our Lord 2015, You , he , Her and even Me have saved the world with the grace and love of God you see.

How was this fortunate renewing of the lease on life made to so miraculously come to be?

By Truth, Love and Understanding, Yes this is what has cause such things of new leases on life in every way on this day come to be.

So in this note, to take notice and the beauty of the you in me and the me in you, is to tell us all that i and mine are grateful for your loving work in saving the world and all there in , upon, and abouts its existence. for any and all whom cause the good people such as us, who are seemingly or even fantasy or quite possibly hypothetically connected to all existence  to ever fret, hurt, feel disturbed, uncomfortable and without abundance and resource are those who have seemingly caused all the worlds harms and pains even the very suffering that has been the true stain on us all, and what is so wonderful about the you in me is, that you always take those people to the side and speak to them and inform them of how this connection seems to reside, yet not only in just our little family but in varying degrees or so it seems, all people are connected and thus effect the every existence and events of our world you see, and by doing this kind and giving act of correcting them, they suddenly turn their heads and realize they have been in error and can not imagine why they ever did that or this to harm such good people as this. They then speak to us and all those whom they have hurt and say, though debt is not the way any more, i am wishing to make it right by you and yours for what harm i have done,  what might i do or give so as to end and correct any pains you have as you now live? and we shall say, oh thank you for coming around and without a frown, we are doing rather well and now have you as a new friend, seems all we need is always there as it is for all the world, and well, seems only a few things we could use but mostly anyone out in the world that is still in need, by all means that are good, i wish that you assist them in what they need to increase their abundance and life indeed.

Suddenly all over the world everything is found to be a turn of the head and a resounding sentence utter, heard as saying " oh my, it is that simple?, yes that simple. " and relief and end of suffering is felt everywhere.

No homeless are without shelter, no hungry go without food, no soldier finds any need for harm to another, and find the real and only wars are the wars on poverty, on homelessness, on fighting the lack of energy, food, water, fuel and so suddenly and before we all knew it the world was feeling one another in joy and happiness.

as an example fuel cost went so low that all product ts and food prices which were 80% of the cost being transportation and fuel cost, all prices were lower and more wealth in the peoples pockets, more food produced and low cost transportation allowed fore the abundance of food to be effortlessly delivered to those whom have less and retrieve the abundance of those who have more of what is lacking here, and without need to cause a fuss the whole thing made to world flush in wealth, food, clean water, kindness and prosperity, so much so, every tear and hurt seemed wiped away and not one freedom was ever taken and no right was ever lost, in fact all were restored and even increased due to the lack of need causing crimes to evolve  and thus dear friend we saved the world.

Oh and by the way, in all this rather sudden turn of events, you made it right by them who are the very one seemingly so tied to all existence, or so as it seems in the way and means that it so may seem that the world would ever suffer when suffering is found here indeed.

Thank you, for now we can finally heal and enjoy a fresh new home, and all the things that allow for us to heal each other, repair any and all pains as they are wiped away and smiles replace the aches and joy replaces the pain, and even a few windows open here or there is not even considered much of a thing to be pained, for we all in the world have dignity and privacy for respect of ourselves and others has to mankind returned and increased in all its wonderful ways.

And so to make a long letter of note shorter than my normal rambling quotes, we find love need not hope, but trust, and i trust how hope is now a common thing when only having to worry about whether your child's first prom date shows up on time. and not if he is a good enough guy, for the standard of life of all is golden rule and saved and lived by Truth love and Understanding, and grace and Forgiveness caused the world to realize how , oh how so, we missed it for so long. well, welcome home and thank you and your welcome for saving the world, with the love and grace of God and good friends to meet in the future of our renewed lives.
P.S. and terror and those terrorists are only found in the words in museums, along side the exhibit, corrupt authorities and special interest and corporate greed, etc, so yeah, awesome job guys. make it so, and so it is made and no slow poke in this endeavor were ever to be slow in their loving labor of such a sudden and beautiful change and saving of the world indeed.
Al Jolson Story (1937 Radio) - Hello My Baby
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WAtYzbI8yp0

Frog - Hello, My Baby, Hello my Honey... 5 min
h ttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4sT99Y4AnmA
This is the proper response to the seeming changes that took place due to a mic and a post when a man has found he was tired of needing and feeling abused, so, if they run with the rules that they respond to those things of him, then by all rules means the same must be done in this, and all be made well, and no pains come to those whom have harmed no one at all, none, we have harmed not, yet been harmed, and for our act of expressing our possible theories and oddly outsiders expressing odd pressure that coincides with said theories, then we are treated as some how now something to be intimidated by...? how does that work? we are watched none stop and well, lets not pretend that the threats have had serious effect and have been played by all sides, cause if not, then please realize we know not from where they come, just that they resonate on all broadcasts and ways and means a man can ask for to be informed. so, what would you do, and well that what would ... do makes its own point as it were. were it not such a point of um, tension and distress in some avenues that we know not of the identity in full nor have had confirm able proof or the like.
softcomponent Apr 2014
lips are smokey and nicotined
-up for a night in the dishpit.
the moon leases it's image
for a minute an hour before
stating the lease will expire
sometime between 2040
and 2101. if I'm lucky, I'll be
happy in longevity, or happy
in a 50 yr span which is as
fine as the former. either way
there is a sense of leaking
facets on a Sunday night, a
Ritalin-induced euphoria kept
alive on a caffeine spike. the
bus is always late these days,
which means I am often late
these days, late as daylight,
late as life in fact and as early
as fiction to the evening ball
of predicated tech-gurus riding
hybrid Toyota's in Silicon Valley.
high on a drug called birth and
ingesting like an addict 3 to 5
times a day, I stave off the
ultimate crash.

but eventually, the drug will
**** me.

*it always does.
Marci Ace Apr 2016
My heart shattered and broke into pieces.
It’s bigger than my body and signed way too many leases.
“HEART 4 SALE,”
Please come and get it.
It causes me much pain for God is my witness.
It’s unbearable to take, and too much to hold.
I left it to be recycled,
But it was too big to fold,
The pawn shop wouldn't take it, because it
wasn't made of Gold.

-Marci H.
To the ones, with the broken, unidentified heart! God Bless -Marci
Molly Jan 2018
Bless you, child.
The lines of your palm
a yellow legal pad
I want to write down my life on

to sign myself over to you
in the one moment. The next—
L'appel du vide.
I am not a girl supposed to be tied down.

Yet you coax me with your frankness.
It frightens me, your realness
I would like to blow you like a puff of smoke
and watch you drift into fog

with your commitment.
With your leases and your plans
and your baby names and your mortgage
and your job

and the way you admit you may
not love me in a year or ten.
Well I may not love you in a day
or two

I say, praying I seem nonchalant.
Your adoration wraps me up,
seems we were made to be
yet you’ve heard how the proverbs go

I do not like the thought of growing old.
My perpetual sadness will always
tighten its grip on the rope, you know
the brightest flame is always fastest cold.
Em MacKenzie Aug 2019
The puzzle piece was right but the picture’s wrong,
gifted with a short window but I needed long.
You know there’s no outcome I can see obtaining a win,
and your outsides are mingled with those that are in.

You can’t tell me that I’m clearly right,
I thought I was the only one putting up a fight.
You know we can’t go around in this circle anymore,
and my insides are bruised, swollen and sore.

But I’m not fit to rule, no,
I’m broken in half instead of small pieces.
I beg for each molecule to grow,
but I’m out of contracts and short on leases.
It’s plain to see the impact on me
that naturally you shape the best version I can be,
but I’m not fit to rule, no.

I’ve got strength in supply except where I need it most,
under the impression that I’m hanging on to a ghost.
For once I concur that the best things in life are free,
but my outsides keep my in from escaping.

But I’m not fit to rule, so,
I accept the disappointment with the empty hands.
Another deal that’s a cruel blow,
the hour glass; broken, but there’s no stopping the sands.
It’s plain the see the impact on me,
but I’ll continually suffer in solitary.
But I’m not fit to rule, no.

Keep on running, keep on gunning,
close your eyes and plug your ears.
Keep on running, I’m sure they’re coming,
share the skies but not your fears.
Stella Mar 2018
Pain
It’s all I know
It’s all I see
It’s all I hear
It’s all I feel
When will it stop?
It is slowly tearing me apart
The physical pain of my injuries
The mental pain of knowing I wasn’t wanted
The emotional pain of my demons
It just needs to stop.
I can’t stand it anymore
It’s there
Always
Subconsciously
I don’t know how to make it stop
It’s starting to get too much.
The pain of being abandoned
Ignored
Abused
Emotional and mentally
I just don’t know how to end it all.
My existence revolves around pain
I don’t know how to just turn it off
The pain of being unwanted
A shadow
Pushed around
It HURTS
I don’t know what to do anymore
Maybe I will just end it all
Or resort to harming myself
I just need to do something to end it
Or at least leases this feeling
The only thing I know is pain
I guess I’ll just have to live with it
It's true. Well, I hoped you liked it. Thanks for reading.
insomniatrical Sep 2020
I almost forgot what good days were,
That it didn't have to be extra to be extra special.

But today we are lazy,
And we are at home,
And we haven't done anything at all.

You're making food,
I am watching a movie,
And today has been a good day.
Lauren Leal Oct 2017
If there's anything that you should know
Is that I never really wanted to go
I would have used myself whole
To help you, that's the goal

Then there would be nothing left of me
So, I had to leave you see
There just wasn't enough for you
I ran out and didn't know what to do

To come up with more pieces
I made deals with Demons like car leases
To full fill your needs
Responding caringly to every plead

The cost was my happiness
That made me a mess
I never got a chance to be alone
Away from you or my phone

I buried every anger and every sadness
Which lead to my madness
You never paid no mind to me
I can do this can't you see!

I was left in the dust
You were steel and I was just the rust
You only know what what I spoke
Or that too I make a joke

You never asked about my heart
So that's why I left, because I fell apart.
Enneagram Personality 2-1 = Me.
All I need is one mic
One stage one bar one cage
Cuz my poetry deepens mentalities
None could **** me I gotta stay true to the street
Cuz if I don't they'll come back in hunt
Me in my dreams or better yet sleep
Wither I'm dead or alive physically
I took the new form of reality
Diggin' bigger flaws saddens my grandpa
But I keep my head high close with the claw
Cuz you'll never know when you gotta dump the laws
I know my time is planned
understand
Everybody gotta number waiting
But I be ****** if I'm the first
To be a victim of Satan
Keep the gun blazing while I'm still praying
To the father to guide me and protect me
But how can be shelled when life is full of hell
Only time will tell sunnys days exchanged for dark days
Sounds of war play on the battlefield I defend n stay
Still knockin' what the media say


All I need is

Now that worlds pass adolescent
Mother earth is florescent
Father time abscence
made for a shallow environment dont take it out on me be mad at the establishment
Put on earth for my past present and futures sins
Will I die reincarnated or will the Lord allow me to enter in
I'm stuck in a perpetual perdition
Ultimate wishing but seems happiness is missing
Genuine hearts ripped apart
Families feelin' the pain
Sticking like a dart from the calender chart
Everyday is a growing step closer to judgment day
But better watch out for the demons who'll prey
Over your soul mad feasting break the leases
Neve let myself become stiff creases
That try to keep me in a  fold lyrics made to scold the bold
And you can my feeling cold
Since the society temperature
Is freezing below
Tempers and rages grow
So All I know is my words that flow
Astronomical far from comical
Opened my third eye so I can receive a miracle
....yeah
All I need is...
Pluck Sep 2018
Can’t live with me so they want to **** me.
I pray God save me from the friends cause I can’t be caught off guard by an enemy.
Think about it, Someone has to be close to stab you.
Guess those are the cuts we just have to laugh through.
So many times now I only smile when I bleed.
There’s always an apology followed by a “I need.”
Loneliness is safer.
Put the love under an eraser.
Put your forgiveness in a box & friendships under leases.
I’m already broken, it’s hard to hold together the pieces.
SassyJ Mar 2018
Turn around as the moments pause
as fullstops escape a rooted fool
watching the admiration melt
those words that flow to silence
from a ****** to the verified meanders
every time now and again the bitter taste
acclimatise the altitude of my brains
far beyond any bearable responses
of the tiny tiny teases and leases

The rope is stricken in handheld tickets
roaring as the rocket of emotions pocket
sirens picket setting the rotten resistance
one that is quieter than the quiet quoted
as the phrases evaporate in misty clouds
remnants of sweetness decant unknown
the pace slows and the taste envenom
painting the blues in a pungent smile
Cynthia Jan 2019
Do you want to know how you broke my heart?
You played with it until it fell apart.
You took it in your hands,
and then you took it to your advantage.

When you were please or satisfied,
you'd leave it alone to die inside.
When you were angry or mad,
you threw it away with everything you had.

Our love was just a bunch of leases,
you folded my heart until I couldn't iron out the creases.
You make me feel like I deserve this abuse and pain,
but you know what? I still what to try again.
It's the home of the Texas see the Lexus
Sittin' on chrome my home near the astrodome
Dickin' down the baddest yellow bones
Off of yellow stones cuz my diamonds
Lookin' like yellow stones once the sun shines on
My ices causes wrecks see my checks
Clear out me and my homies to homettes
Ballout this is a shout out to all those playas about
They business living restless so none could touch this
Once I hammer you go in a permanent slammer
Eternal damnation nothing but platinum
On ya stations from nation to nation
We creating a world wide swang got even the spirits to sang
Can't help to clang ain't no thang
Since I was made an outcast feel the blast it's an easy task
Suckas can't even last one round
From my guns sound make em break from town
Htown holding up all the pounds
Check my gravity pieces from my  nephews to nieces our money increases
From property leases **** y'all pleases
We giving no apology rap ology
Running mo' girls than Goldie
Mack 1-O for sho keep the six fo'
Three feet off of the floo"' look what's in sto'
Daytons laying up like Gary Payton
But this a g_love that ya can't catch heat in
Gangsta funk is what I'm speaking on
FleXin' from zone to zone with my Stacy Adams on none could clone
Texas we all stay with berretas so watch ya cheddar
Cuz ****** out with cold hearts minus the sweaters


They say Yosef don't rap yo what's the haps
On these new jacks with they rap wacks
Say they killers when they really ain't
Makin' no figures leave holes in ya figures
Catch what I'm saying sprayin'
Nothing but rawness my flows leave ya jawless
Flawless victory from my lyrical machinery
Subs still drinkin' out the finest Pubs
And throwing dubs to **** cherubs at the club
Strip see me I'm a player and I'll never slip
Watch where I'm walking and I'm still talkin'
Dangerous territory my clutch similar to Horry
**** the fake horror stories they bore me
Iraqi war veteran who better than
Me to wreck the microphone so smoothly feelin' Fugees
With that La La see times fly by
In a maze you dazed can't phase
Me out the darkest days rhymes equals
Pay with no delay from the heart of the Tre
That's third ward we leave scars carved with barbed
Wires rollin' like tires
Down ya boulevard we too hard
For the industry cuz ain't no soft in us G
95' flow bringing back that mellow
Accent flows adjacent to the mic I bent
Once the rhymes is sent feel my presence
Nothing but magic makin' classics
And mass caskets covered in plastic
From the flows that stretch like an elastic
Smoggin' the city so it's bound be traffic
Jams as I slams ya ear drums again
And again ya can't break away from the wind
That's bound to touch leavin' hataz in a crutch

— The End —