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Alaina Moore Aug 2018
I'm starting to think it's me.
Maybe I ask to much,
though, admittedly,
maybe's it's because
I don't know what I am asking for?
I am starting to think, it's me.
Maybe I am the problem.
Or maybe that's just the voice in my head,
like a vice,
crushing any minor thing,
like an atom,
until it splits with the force of a thousand suns.
Or maybe it's everything else,
me included.
Maybe I just say it's me,
because I am my biggest bully,
and easiest target.
I thought I was asking for simple things,
but nothing seems simple anymore.
I just want these ropes untied from my hands.
Trapped in my own mind like a hostage,
who doesn't care if they make it out.
There is no greener grass on the other side,
I just wish this grass wasn't wet.
Sticking to me like feathers and tar.
I'm starting to think that I am just coasting along,
waiting for someone to help me fix my boat for me, before it sinks.
Anne Molony Jan 2018
Despite how
invincible
I feel now
in this moment
surely sometime
today or tomorrow
I'll be beginning
to feel the
opposite again
Purcy Flaherty Mar 2018
Image is everything and lies are addictive, white lies become **** truths in a malevolent world.
~ You will bind the best people available; you'll enter thier clique  in order to further enhance your image and validate your own false reality; once your host is unable to enhance your facade they will be discarded and you will move on to the best people available to you; in order to further enhance your image and validate your false reality., once they are unable to enhance your facade, they will be discarded and you will move on to the best people available to you; in order to further enhance your image and validate your false reality.
This cycle is destined to go on and on and on throughout your entire life-cycle. "What a state of being!"
Climbing will always have it's downfalls !
No  direction just a circle.
List in a loop.
marvin m brato Oct 2018
Like a chain
each ending word
of every inscribed phrase
ties up the innate sentiments
like waving a spectacular poetry
which brings out thrilling suspense
with candid inscription of an expression

A poet has all options
to use instinctive creativity
enthuse with an intuitive inkling
to demonstrate in clear composition
every substantive thought of wisdom
employing artistic serial rendition
words written in beauty as loop poem
Our love blossomed from the sheets, we liked to play but not for keeps.
You set me dancing on the air,
we lived our lives without a care.

Once or twice you bought me flowers,
we'd often talk for hours and hours.
We'd watch the rain through the sky
and play a game just you and I.

~ and there goes my soul again,
I gave my all and we're still friends.
There goes my soul,
There goes my soul,
There goes my soul again.

I've seen them walk down the road,
I've seen lovers come and go;
I've seen them smiling
and I've seen them drunk,
There goes my soul again.

Once or twice you bought me flowers,
we'd often talk for hours and hours.
We'd watch the rain through the sky
and play a game just you and I.

Sketching pictures in the sand,
picking apples hand-in-hand.
We drew the water from the stream,
our bellys busted at the seams.l

~ and there goes my soul again,
I gave my all and we're still friends.
There goes my soul,
There goes my soul,
There goes my soul again.
sSlow old time  jazz song in the key of G
Any song can sound sweet,
if you tune your tone appropriately,
and add a lyric,
with a melody
and I have seen where there is a life,
there is a song
but some songs are not only a love song
that notion was a loop, intense, black and blue passionate song
was not romantic

She was a sad song
and I thought I would know how to make it better
like if I could be the only to love her again,
I believed that everything would fall into a melodious love song
but  I lost a few lines of lyrics
and there was bit melody missing that I couldn't find
and I saw too many scratches on the disc
I couldn't let myself be made no longer
trying to fix her entirety.
.
@Musfiq us shaleheen
scratches on the disc
slay Jan 2018
1
brush my eyelashes out from yours
clasp the nape so not to wake you
purged my blackheads from your pores
i gently exfoliate you
my hair is growing from your head
your nails are shooting out my beds
i file and i shape you

arms and legs unhinged from mine
bares his weight so not to wake me
closed a loop with both our spines
said he wants to figure eight me
i feel his heartbeat in my chest,
and our skin blends with each caress
his presence mediates me
When poets ****
Does it make a fantastical sound
With each plop that they drop is there something profound
Do they get it done quickly with steadfast persistence
Or do they sit there for hours pondering their existence

When poets ****
Is each movement perfected
Or do they just sit and bear down till the poo is ejected
Do they search for deep meaning upon the bowl's murky waters
Or imagine it filled with colorful fishes and otters

When poets ****
Do they wipe as the non-poets do
Or do they defy the norm (side to side?) in the loo
Does it make them depressed, feel down in the pits
Or are most poets joyously taking their sh*ts

When poets ****
Is it melodramatic
Each push pause or squeak intentionally emphatic
Please forgive my crassness (I'm just stuck in a loop)
As I can't help but wonder how poets go ****
Again, sorry. Sometimes, they just write themselves and don't listen to us
Godawan May 31
Tobacco is slow killer
It is nobody's lover
It first hits the palm of smoker
and turns it brown and darker
At next stage it makes lung slurry
Odor begins to come from the body
Makes difficult to breathe in old age
By Coughing and coughing causes
Ultimately smoker's room is separated from others
Due to uncompromisable health reasons
That room is found always filled with mucus and unbearable pains

Those who chew tobacco
They spit all day
Keep their palm ***** all the day
Make home and public walls filthy
And become victims of disdain
Finally they lose their own jaw, teeth and the mouth skin.

Those who inhale tobacco
They always keeps their fingers in the nose
Keep sneezing all the day without any pause
Turning their nose black as hose
Sneezing and sneezing fills their last days

All the above three types of tobacco addicts
make passive addicts to whom they meet
Those who work in the factory lose their lives bit by bit
It is wise to quit tobacco
do swear to quit tobacco
It is necessary to save us
as well as generation which comes
Robin Carretti Aug 2018
Here comes the sun little darling's
We all get burned
 Is it your turn
     "U-Turn"
Oh! Where I thou
"Green light Diner"
It's telling us to Go
    *       *       *
The Earth beauty faces
I will be your direct sunlight
In plain sight to the daylight
her blossom tree
All I ask come for me
Her face could eat
The divine flower laced

French brie
Tie a yellow ribbon on me
We have so much to see
Let it be sun-face Moms
apple pies
The Sun  "Watchtower"
Someone knocks you off
Your "Bill" on the Ice Queen

The Goddess rodeo waitress
She got you roped in between
The cigarette 1940 case hostess
             "Rose"
I suppose the sunflowers every booth
her smile sets in place

The stain-glass window Notre Dame
Rock and roll hall of fame
The earth kids rainbow chalk
Sun-fun treetops like a beanstalk
Napoleon Elementary Watson
New Jersey Diner capital admission
The Peking duck *** luck

European beauty hunter's menu
Any luck this will be awhile sip "Starbucks"

1-Antipasti cute Shiba Uni
2-Consomme Chicken soup
3-Sun-face to the soul fruit loop
4-Chicken pepper Salsa
Sun-face lights up Visa
5-Hearts of Artichokes Mona Lisa
6-Soy ****** salmon
My sun worshiper man

Fish tacos hummus
St Thomas
Rome was not build
In one day
The windpipes and
the tablecloths Oh! yikes
Full of dream pipes

Sun tan stripes and zebras
Couscous salad big star dipper
Egyptian Gods camels back
Sun-face diner no time
for the sun-chip snack
Diners from 1920-1940
Sun-face air force dresses

Medieval times two swords
Holy lords Easter parades
" Ice-cream Spumoni"
Dinner in the sky
Robin red breast fly
Italian artwork Coliseum
Look up in the sky
It's a bird shaped
Paper plane bad romance
going insane

Waffle House  jukebox rock and roll
Hall of fame whats in a food name
Cowboy steaks American Flags
Cajun chicken legs fruits and figs
At the caboose Ladybird jet lag
Valentine Diner chairs
got footloose homemade goose

Purple rain Prince maple
pancakes
Bananas and strawberry fields
lake sun in shape of a snowflake
Forest Gump changes to
Presidential Trump
Vitamin C  honey bunches of Oats

Yummy floats of egg cream
Open table Sun-face dream
Eggs light she's not finished
over easy
Pristine of carrots with
artful daisies
Thanksgiving turkey

Rings of napkins holding
A time well-bred marriage
Well known landmarks of
Carats
Long ago time she saw the light
Daylight Knight like a scale to weight

Whispers of wine and grapes
Sun face courtesan love escape
Sun Faces trillion times mansion
Sun-faces never go out of fashion
Sun faces and dinner places the best in the world eat heartily Drive in and Diners all over the world have a medieval touch with the Vikings and melodies from the heart  of the surface  her smile will always be there everywhere she goes the Diners place her with Rose
Marina Kay Oct 2018
I've heard that distance makes the heart grow fonder;
but somehow it seems to me,
melancholy is the mislaid piece,
for the pangs in my chest
have only grown stronger.

We're 3000 miles apart,
on separate time zones and continents,
your absence from my eyes
captivates my consciousness.

Replaying our memories
in an infinite loop,
my mind plays its tricks
to remind me of you.

As if I could forget
that spellbinding time we spent,
on the days and nights
right after we met.
Missing Jordan.
Julia Ruth Aug 2018
Raw
Those nights
When  you just lie there
And stare into space
And that feeling of your heart being ripped and tossed
Is on loop
With the same song playing over
And over
And over
Again
your eyes shut and the numbness ceases with your dreams
But you wake up
With your sheets stained of tear dried mascara
And that raw feeling
And your lips pale
Because the pain doesn’t stop when he’s gone
#alone #dark#numb #sad #anxiety
8/22/17

I can't stop thinking about you. Since the first moment I met you you're a constant in my head. Why? What is it about you that leaves a lingering effect? I don't want this. I keep dreaming of you, it isn't always the same. You're the closest thing to me in some, in others you're the furthest thing I can see that's still in focus. Round and round and round and round you spin in my head. I don't even know what exactly I'm thinking of when I'm thinking of you. I spend my time thinking about not thinking about you and I'm caught in a loop of you. I hope you're ok, I hope you’re safe, I hope you've eaten today, I hope you sleep well, I hope you're healthy. When will these feelings and thoughts fade? How can I spend so much time thinking about someone to whom my existence is much too much to even acknowledge? I don't hate you for this, but it still hurts. All my 11:11's are spent on you. I wish clarity, I wish stability, I wish happiness, and I wish love for you with whomever or whatever it is...

-JCM-
CK Baker Apr 2017
to exonerate the clipping
we took the back road to oswega
the tudor house rabbits
had long lost their heads
(presumably to the *****)
and what remained
of the scape
was dead
and dry
and orange

that happy home
on the brink
of cattle loop
was now gull grey ~
the needles
and stragglers
(from shady bay)
remained in numbers
on the outskirt
of the park

the fabled town
of horse drawn tours
was stone washed ~
on the back of
government docks
sat decrepit toppers
set on high tide
against the lighthouse
and its measured song

flutes and fiddles
and acoustic sitars
ride the accompaniment
nose rings
and signage
in the hands of
staged protesters
the sickly spit strewn
with tidal run
and ocean bags

hedgerow trimmed
alongside the sea walk
rolling hills bend
before the chuck
mint juleps
and flop hats
peak the parade
clydesdales
and royals
blinded in back
Shofi Ahmed Jan 27
Zero is enduring
zero is deathless.
Nothing is up to it
none can mirror it
though forever
it's an open case.
The eyes are yet to
see an open face!

Because like it's
nothing is in perfect shape
purely a perfect circle!
Nothing matches it
as like Fathima is none else!

Ever more sprawling pi decimals
never go unnoticed propelling
to the end surge before her.
Before the original one
Fathima is yet to be mirrored.

All the planets turn circular
before the unseen perfect circle.
Fathima nails it snapped it up
circled it with her hair!
Before the furthest sighted eyes,
the dot at the earth's centre
at its pool of primitive water.

Fathima embeds in a loop of her hair
thus supercharges the water!
It finds the cut, the golden ratio,
constant continuity in her hair's inner flow.
And the Big Bang happened
there, their breakthrough!
The potential worlds to be
from the first drop of water
she gets them all buzzed out.
From down the rock bottom,
from the zero null
Fathima finds and raises the sun!

Nothing is comparable to it on the ground
nor up on the high, we only see the fire
of a heavenly phenomenon is beyond the sight!
Patricia Soriso Jun 2018
---

1. how long have i been awake?

2. my eyes are heavy from witnessing the same ****,

3. like i’m stuck in a cursed time loop of desolation,

4. but i’m more than scared to close them for i might stumble upon the ending of my unfinished dreams and decide to not open them anymore

5. how long have i been like this?

6. i hum a good song in my head to silence the thought of entirely giving up

7. hoping that a perfect rhythm and melody is enough to imprison the horrifying memories that’s been living in the corner of my mind for too long

8. i wish that i hold more words to tell my truth

9. and that my body is strong enough to handle its aftermath

10. i wish that i still have time to witness the sunrise

11. even if every time i breathe –

12. i feel myself fade away
how faint his final cry
how frail his last goodbye
plays on low as he drifts away
'song of the sandman lullabye'
he wraps himself in memories
he finds a dream and falls
the music on a constant loop
makes its way down hollow halls

morning light now finds no breath
the pen's ink soon to dry
his final words
his quiet death

'song of the sandman lullabye'
If I were a Rainbow
The children would run to me
Turning upside down, I would be an iridescent swing,
The children would mount my rainbow wing

Swaying high up in the starry skies ascending on the moon
The children do bunny jumps, counting stars till noon
Awestruck and desirous they pick a few
The colours pink purple orange magenta and blue

Swaying down to the flower garden
They would pick flowers from the boughs laden
Threading in a star and a flower into  an ornamental  garland
Adorned as neckpieces , running around ,making one happy land

If I were a Rainbow
I would dismember all the semicircles making one hula hoop
The children would gleefully twirl and sway into the  enormous loop

If I were a Rainbow
I would become one big ramp
The children would joyously roller skate  up and down
Lighting up the ramp

If I were a Rainbow
And all of these came true
I would turn upside down making one radiant smile across the sky
The children would happily smile back at me , waving me good bye
Wrote this for my younger son ,Anshul on his birthday (19/02 ) , this year .
But never posted  . I am glad to post it as my 100th here .
Thank you all ,my HP friends .
Had been a little unwell and did not post anything in the last 2-3 days .
Penning down the thoughts
Am I not done with the words
Have I used them all?

Round and round
Thoughts and words
In the loop bound


The thoughts have been naughty
Jump off the mind cliff,  doughty
Don’t want to be worded
Flight to nowhere boarded
Off the radar crash land , all spotty
Knit Personality Aug 2015
I wish to be that rarest kind of artist:
The greatest artist of my ilk and age.
I wish to be that one who flies the farthest
The paper airplane made of ink and page.
I do not wish to be this flying ace
For medals or for glory or for fame:
I want to tell the eons of your grace,
And loop the sky forever with your name.
But I'm no clever paper engineer,
And flawed design will keep my plane aground.
No matter how it's thrown the crash-site's near
Because its whole construction is unsound:
My plane won't fly because it has no wings,
And good intent alone can't fly the lightest things.
Ava Jan 20
Someone take me off
this endless ride,
I feel sick as it circles
around and around.
Shofi Ahmed Oct 2018
It’s on everyone's eyeline
where the flying clouds
look down time and again
on this perfectly placed mural.

King Solomon keeps an ear on the ground
the Queen of Sheba tiptoes on this way.
Only to find seas of silent blooms already
musing dipping in sun-kissed dews
on gently tilted roses that won’t drip down
not from this a picture perfect navel-high!

Velvety rose up from the ground
forever green earth is hanging low
in the dew on the rose that won’t fall.
Blossoming, eying on an acute high
evermore hopeful to scale high aspiring
to the faraway awaiting houris’ pool.
They will move neither to the north
nor south nor they go up or down until
Queen Fathima the Queen of Heaven
shows up there on the ‘as above so below’ *****.

There too the newly resurrected earth be primed
to loop into the Golden section at the same height.
Laying the stepping stone on before her
mosaiced to measure on the phi adhered navel-high!
Houri: The Beautiful native woman of paradise.
The Math Behind the Beauty argues that "Leonardo da Vinci's drawings of the human body emphasised its proportion. The ratio of the following distances is the Golden Ratio: (foot to navel) : (navel to head)".
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