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Andrew T Feb 2017
LMS
I don't feel safe,
as though a predator has found
the combination to my comfort zone,
and now has unlocked it,
and is stealing my peace of mind.
"Please stop," I plead.

My arms are shaking, my hangover
is bigger than Trump's Wall.
The same blocked number appears and reappears
, then repeats on my phone screen.
I had to block you on my Gmail (Is that even a thing?).
Tinder used to be for fun,
and now I have contracted a haunting for five lifetimes.

My old friends do not want to speak to me.
I understand their worries, finally,
and I hope it's not too late to listen.
But your screeching voice is deafening
and it's hurting my sanity.

I'm sitting on my soft couch,
writing this poem,
and my fingers tremble as I write.
Because I don't even feel safe in my own house.
Once upon a time,
I thought we would say the "I dos."
Now, all I want is whiskey until I reach oblivion.

IRL is the steepest road to travel on,
but I chose a shortcut,
and now I have fallen off and into a descent
into a madness that Ginsberg has only whispered about
during smoke breaks at the temple building.
Quitting to smoke cigarettes is easier
than dealing with your stab-wounds of sentences.

Like my FaceBook Status,
if you've ever felt violated and controlled
by an old flame.
Then grab a fire extinguisher,
press the lever,
and put out the conflagration,
before it burns your life away.

-Andy
Tony Luxton Feb 2016
There's something special about a named train,
the Mallard, the Royal Scot,
more romantic than a mere number.
Ours was the Red Rose, pride of LMS.

The London-Liverpool express
flahing North, four-thirty on the dot,
a sight not to be missed, exciting
street players of jacks and hopscotch.

She thundered through the blue brick tunnel,
erupted into the grass-lined cutting,
swallowed our footbridge in smog and sulphur.
The we loyal fans ran home to eat our spam.
Tuffy Mutombo Sep 2017
Sweaty p(a)lms
Perspiri(n)g pits
Pounding headache, comple(x) thoughts
Heart rac(i)ng at a fast pace
Eyes focus(e)d on burdens
Thoughts compe(t)ing to finish a pointless race
Empt(y) heart seeking comfort

Emotions fighting to be expressed
Mouth dry, stomach turning, soul burning
Pain left to explain what's happening within
A Mess of Words Mar 2020
And last,
there was Maria.

Her birth fell outside
the natural timeline of
all the rest of her family's affairs.

She may have called herself
'an accident.'

I could never make that connection.

She was the closest thing
to passion
I have ever known;
aside from childhood nights
beside an indifferent and well-fed fire.

She was terribly shy;

until she

tremulously

handed me (only one) of her keys.

[Alas
I wonder if it was ever
for the lock upon
her august heart.]

But she sang and she danced
and she ever approached me boldly.
She drew me out of myself
and brought me to wonder.

She even whispered with passion,

daring to share with me
her stately dreams.

And it goes without saying
(though I'll write it and lament)
she kissed with such passion.

She was above and beyond
any other girl I ever loved (...few)

Indeed,
I loved her.

I loved her,

almost enough.
This is not what I'd call a poem. It is rather a lament, during this time of crisis, to remind myself that I once cared for someone of great worth. This was also written without editing. Feel free to not send me any critiques.

(passion in this writing is rather of joie de vivre than of lust)
chris Jan 2017
lms
turn darkness into evil
turn evil into good
Sometimes Starr Jul 2024
LMS
I liked your status
in 2007
I didn't know how ****** we were then

I can't fit the world in my head
Can't fit the world in my head
If I could, it would explode
And all the people would come back
And we'd just be here again

But don't... take myy word for it.

These days I wanna stay in bed, and
I just need a place to dissolve my head in

I can't fit the world in my head
Can't fit the world in my head
And so some things don't belong.
I think one of them's this song

And if you think you can mess with me, you're wrong.
I'm the only thing around for miles and miles.
And if some of them seem minor
Then I'm sure to make it major

So don't front you love it, **** my bones are strong.

Everything I used to want to learn broke
But they still let me ride the same wave.

So I guess you'd say I'm saved
But my Spanish ain't too great.
And I'm fading glory, some things don't add up.

I guess I should change my **** perspective
I guess that's how you get to heaven
But I'll never get back to 2007

I guess I could change my **** perspective
Hey isn't that how you get to heaven?
So I'm never dying, I'm staying here forever.

— The End —