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EssEss Dec 2022
A tropical paradise island is Hawaii that conjures a feeling of sheer joy,
It’s very mention evokes thoughts of vacationing one can really enjoy,
Location-wise one can state that it is “ far from the madding crowd”,
It is like heaven on earth, meant for visitors to be wowed

Waikiki in Honolulu is the hub for most hotels with proximity to the beach,
It’s just a 16-minute cab ride from the airport and thus quick to reach,
That the closest State to Hawaii is California - a 2500-mile sector,
Just shows how travel time from elsewhere, involves jet lag to factor

Located in the Pacific Ocean, Hawaii is quintessential if one may say so,
It is the only U.S. state outside North America that is an archipelago,
As the only state geographically located in the tropics,
It is a tourist haven, with always an abundance of optics

The word "Aloha" is commonplace in signages and on everyone's lips,
As a form of greeting it implies hello and welcome - a very useful tip,
The locals are very effusive when they greet visitors with Aloha,
One cannot but express delight by silently exclaiming, Aha!

"Mahalo" is another word that visitors get used to hearing frequently,
It means "thank you" - a gracious acceptance of the locals' hospitality,
The infectious warm welcome to visitors has an air of spontaneity,
Syncing with the embracing pervasive Hawaiian culture in it's entirety

The inevitable fresh flower "lei" welcome awaits visitors checking into hotels,
Lei is a symbol of hospitality, love, respect and aloha in which Hawaii excels,
A lei made from sea shells is an alternative option that one can have by choice,
Irrespective of the form of lei offered, wearing it is surely a matter to rejoice

Honolulu is the capital of Hawaii on the island of Oahu's south shore,
It is the largest city and gateway to the U.S. island chain and much more,
As one of the main eight islands in Hawaii, Oahu is the most populous,
It is also the business hub of the Aloha State and hence very famous

Also known as "The Gathering Place", Oahu aptly lives up to it's name,
As home to the majority of Hawaii's diverse population, it has a lot to gain,
There's the fusion of East and West cultures resulting in a delicate balance,
Rooted in the value and cultures of Native Hawaiian people, with no imbalance

The popular bustling and vibrant Waikiki neighborhood within Honolulu city is unique,
It is the epicenter for eclectic restaurants, nightlife and designer fashion boutiques,
Waikiki is also reputed for its white sandy beach that is a whole 2-mile stretch,
Where visitors throng throughout the day, as if there's little else the mind can fetch

Waikiki in Hawaiin means "spouting waters" and is replete with a gamut of water activities,
Surfing, snorkeling, swimming, canoe paddling and boogie boarding are typical beach proclivities,
With matching stunning views of the landscape, visitors can be seen lazing in total relaxation,
It is little wonder that the beach is always crowded and a famed getaway vacation destination

Friday night fireworks by Hilton Hawaiian Village along Waikiki Beach is a must-watch attraction,
The colorful display evoking delightful oohs and aahs from onlookers though, is of short duration,
The razzle-dazzle of the show skillfully transmits joy & happiness through the art of pyrotechniqes,
A feeling of bliss envelops one and all, on witnessing the sound-and-light show marvel mystique

Dole Whip is a popular non-dairy pineapple ice cream and, in Hawaii, is a cult-status confection,
A key ingredient is unsweetened coconut milk that adds creaminess and flavor to the selection,
Fresh lime bumps up the flavor and adds extra zing to the taste of the final Dole Soft Serve swirl,
Savoring the heavenly refreshing unique taste allows the hedonist's squeal of delight to unfurl

A visit to Oahu or any other Hawaii island is never complete without attending a traditional luau,
Luau represents a gathering meal of food, music and dance and is integral with Polynesian milieu,
It is a party like no other with continuous foot-tapping live music accompanied by Hawaiin dancing acts,
While the compere regales guests with anecdotes of Polynesian traditions laced with interesting facts

Hawaii is also famous for it's sensuous mimetic hula dance - traditionally, a form of communication,
Ancient hula, or "kahiko" with undulating gestures to instruments and chant was an original creation,
Transformed under Western influence to "auana", it now involves sinuous movement of limbs and hips,
The accompanying peppy music involves storytelling or place description well in tune with the scripts

The fitting finale to Hawaii luauas is generally the famed Samoan fire knife ceremonial dance,
A knife, partially exposed & wrapped in oil-soaked cloth is set alight for the performer's stance,
Incredible acrobatic stunts involve twirling, tossing and catching the knife to the fast beat of music,
The appreciative response of the audience builds up the momentum, reaching a crescendo almost seismic

Sauntering in the beach, one can watch people meandering about with gay abandon,
The inescapable feeling of blissful relaxation is typical of a destination-Hawaii vacation,
The days fly by, making you wish at the end that the stay could have been a tad longer,
While treasuring joyful memories in the interim, your thoughts go to similar places yonder
Shashank Virkud Mar 2011
There's a city glowing in my ears,
biting blur of the nightlife.
Figure I've been here for a while.
My supplies were piled high,
now they're in short supply
and I'm high.
The walls of my
apartment are red.

I wait until the streetlights
flick on before I flip into a
somersault, I wait until the
streetlights flick on before
I call you out tonight.
The walls of my
apartment are red.

Dead presidents, don't
answer for me,
I paint the walls red.
Dead presidents couldn't have
seen it coming,
I paint the walls red.
Dead precedents, don't correct me.

Could have been a fool,
could have been a rule
you didn't know, so
when your friends are
wrong sing a song that
won't offend anyone.

You kept me waiting for hours,
you were shining. In a dress like
blood and flowers, you were shining.
You better sell it hard tonight.
The walls of my
apartment are red.
Moon Humor Nov 2014
What is it about this drunken town where the snow falls like cement
that made it so easy to fall in love with the delirious nightlife that never sleeps?
It seems like when I’m with you at night I never sleep.

We’re dancing around the cemetery like we threw a ball for souls.
No one believes you when you say you see something from the corner of your eye
but we all feel the chill and agree that tonight we will never sleep.

Do you remember the night you told me to never hold back? ******* I wanted
to cry but I forced a smile through my lips and eyes. I laid next to you with a blank mind
for hours knowing that you think I‘m a mystery. I learned that the train yard never sleeps.

The ******* microwave is broken again when you come home drunk.
You called me a **** and punched another hole in the wall and
I’m scared enough to know that tonight I’ll never sleep.

That bag of ice clutched tight won’t leave his hand jammed in his pocket. When
he gets home he feeds the crystals into the glass and heats it up. Tweaked out
and wandering the streets at three. A woman mutters, “**** addicts never sleep.”

Have you ever dozed off in warm grass while watching
clouds passing lazily by? My god I swear there’s nothing better than
a nap in the sun for someone who never sleeps.

Glass rips my forehead clean open and exposes my frontal skull bone while
strange men hold me down and taunt me with knives and chain saws.
Reoccurring nightmares are why many insomniacs never sleep.

A sensual shower at midnight, that fat hit at two did nothing. Lavender and candles
aren’t working. I’m staring at the ceiling. You roll over and pull me close.
“Leah, please, go to bed. It kills me that you never sleep.”
A ghazal.
I hear the nightlife scream its thrill, raucous calls
of unadulterated glee.
Drunken voices resolve, then pass, fading
into their night.
I realize love lost for a city I dared lay a claim to.

Keep me awake and I'll finish this poem. I'm into some
serious sleep-debt. One problem
is being too willing to see the other side.

Despite misgivings that've run amok, I trust my ethics enough
to study the dark arts.
Good morning Roman Countryside.
The City of Rome's dawn asks kindly
would I arise?
Zywa Oct 2023
In the neon light,

shadows appear and vanish --


Strolling nightlife girls.
"Desolation Angels" (1965, Jack Kerouac), chapter 1-2-65: "Neons, Chinese restaurants / coming on - / Girls come by shades"

Collection "MistI"
Briana Galbraith May 2012
Her blanket of curls drape lightly around her face
as she carelessly handles a cigarette between
red-stained lips that grip
white and tan paper.

A flick of a flame grazes the tip, smoldering incandescence
highlights her mouth, a shade of sun-burnt orange;
the tiny lit secret sits at the ridge.

Without hesitation, she takes one long drag
and emits a lifetime of fear, worry, joy, and love
that settles into the nightlife. The escaping smoke coils
into the air, leaving a soft haze above her head.

She knows who she is,
and she knows where she is going, something
the man next to her at the bus stop has not quite figured out.

Neon red brake lights play off her face
as she glances towards him. Her wide eyes burn with intent,
jewels of sapphire blue. The huffing bus makes its presence known,
and he holds out a hand to motion for her to go first. She smiles,

and they slide into the light.
Written March 15, 2011
Travis Green Jun 2019
I used to love rocking
with him in the gaudy
nightclubs, sea-green eyes
drifting into dance jams,
drunk rhythms, spinning
inside burning Mars, his
feet moonwalking through
the crowd, waiting for the
blazed beat to sound off,
as he bopped his head
to the hypnotic music,
flashy shoulders moving
in the breeze, embracing
the iridescent chemistry.
And as I hopped onto the
dance floor by his side,
electrified rhymes rumbling
through my muscles, so raw
and pounding, a bursting bomb
of atomic funk, I grooved inside his
galaxy, hips twisting and turning
into intensifying dynasties,
funky legs breaking down
to the ground, whipping it
around and around, going
downtown, spine-igniting highs,
cool consonants skyrocketing
towards Mount Olympus.  
Our bodies spun, the nightlife
shining within our souls,
faces floating in extreme fever,
knees rising in paradise,
crowned, intoxicating,
hands wild-waving,
lost in this amazing
enchantment.
heavenly
tipsy, drinking in
sights, delights, a few odd sides
im intoxified.
swinging around poles, singing gleefully
because of the tall waters,
divine despair
is it too humid in here?
or can i not breathe in this murky air?

headrush,
spinning, sirens whirl above me...
at thirty five thousand feet
to ascend, devour
the happiness, anxiety for a few short--
hours?

click, flash,
paparazzi, lights--
"welcome to miami"
art deco, delight...
on the beaches, slightly still
drunk in nightlife.

laughter, singing
whats the language?
what the hell are they saying?
i hear hapiness, sanity...
at feet, equal to the sea[s]

so watch me,
im merely *******
in english, please... tell me
what is spanish for
"What the ****?"
Being drunk at a wedding off of ***** is hilarious.
ash Sep 14
okay, imagine
for once, not the worst of it
a house, cottage-like, at the edge of the countryside
or perhaps in a small town
there's the slow mornings, lazy afternoons, and evenings smelling of comfort and vanilla
from the candle or from you?

                                                           ­everything is perfect in theory  


the curtains are the softest fabric, faint, see-through, gauzy
almost predictable, lighting up the living room
and every time the sun falls at a particular angle
it brightens up the insides, stripes in horizontal and vertical
criss-crossing, like heartbeats in a totem

music plays off a vinyl, in the corner,
the record player sits
dainty-looking, majestic—as if it owns its spot
and it does


                                                          ­   can hear the hum of the water
                                                           ­          lie in the shower, to relive




the kitchen's a mess of shades ranging from "aesthetic" to chaotic love of academia
there's stacks of books, every corner, even by the windowsill
candles and lanterns, no lighting that'd be too bright to compare what the moon leaves behind
warm, glowing dim like sunsets, golden

lava lamps, ranging in shades from purple to blues
every night, watch the stars change colors
they're there on the walls and the ceilings
the room's threaded, as if built in mattress and moss
with green vines covering every spot—wild, freeing


                                                     ­       there's so much beauty within



the unseen: journals and ink-splotched sheets
there's the love for unknown, no fear
like living in a house that sings its own rhyme
speaks its own rhythm
builds its own poem



                                              a small space encompassing a home  
                                                          ­    home is the one you're with  
                                                        in­ person, in your own




you walk in, slip through the doors
they don't creak, open with the smell of innocence and warmth
flooding in are feelings, the unspoken
soft footsteps, bare or clad in socks
making their way through the wooden flooring
the soft hum and tap of the house's backbone



                                                     ­        why did we not feel it before?




resembles a daydream from the front
the porch is filled with pots, stones, and herbs
there's a pathway through the backdoor leading to a garden so immense
lie on the grass, soft to touch, like you're on a cloud
and look up, watch the stars


              coffee, would you like that or some tea in the mornings?  
                                i'd go for a hot chocolate—marshmallows 
                       let's cook s'mores, how about you pull out a bonfire  
                                                  sit, once without the glaring screens  
                                                 the flames are gleaming,
                                   calling out something from within, see it?





the humongous, otherwise intimidating, glass panes
leading to what is the balcony, u-shaped
and it's almost like half the moon
crescent, everything to imagination
rekindling what couldn't be true


                                                 stack up the pancakes and churros—  
                                                      ­  sugar, bad in breakfast
                                                       ­    who cares, it's one life
                                               i'll live and love, may it be in disguise
                                   to worsen it all—in bed, put the tray down
                eat half-asleep, waking up to cherry-clad cupcake-y mess


and the fireplace?
oh, it sits at the bottom
beneath the show of screens, it lies, unearthened
and every time there's a fire in the furnace
it reminds, combining the breath shared, the touch, the earth
each element having come to show off its play


                                                 unpreced­ented, watering those plants  
                                                        ­they're babies, excuse me
                                                              ­   i have to enchant


close your eyes if you can see
being greeted with a hug and a kiss
and the cat hisses, almost painstakingly impressive
trying to express the day's worth of boredom
love isn't so reckless


                                        read the incantations with me  
                                      sit in the candlelight while the storm hurries  
                                      and it could be in the grave depth of nights  
                                           isn't it gruesome yet befitting
                                                       i love the nightlife


it is only cathartic, dreaming of peace
knowing achieving is like putting iron to test for coal
hoping it'd turn diamond, except even iron burns
upon contact with charcoal

have you dreamt before?
oh, something meaningful that lies in the corners
stories behind your eyes,
or the pits of your heart, hidden, well protected
the best kept secret—
we all have ours, but hiding from what?


                                                        ­                  work the work  
                          leave the thoughts of the outside where they belong
                                                          ­we've lived so hard and long
                                      dance this evening, holding hands
                                      together as we might be forlorn


uncover everything and beyond
for if they can't handle, let them fear the pressure of it
they won't stand tall
and that's how you differentiate
who handles, who is there
ingenious, romanticising the otherwise slow life
that seems to be passing by, scaring me in the process

i'd live to delude in the illusion of what lies beyond
or even parallely, there's always one of those
so here's to cheering in the midnights
typing upon the old keys, hoping it'd be the 90s
and perhaps there'd be a ball, for the ones who hope
masked as they will dance
praying upon the lunar moon
their wishes may come true


                                           lonely souls beckoned to the wishbones  
                          pull your side,
                                  do you get the shorter end or the longer?  
                                                       ­        believe as you might




light a candle at 11:11
and blow it when the clock turns 1:43
believing is inhumane
but i set my clock and timer to test
how wrong could it even possibly be?
dazed, lucid.


"what could go wrong?"
Sleepy Sigh Sep 2010
I like my headphones for the
Insulation. Sometimes my ears
Take in too much stray noise,
Dredge up too much disorienting
Mud from the depths of a TV
Screen or an iPod. Then I can
Always snuggle into my headphones
And be silent - and silence is a
Dear dear commodity, to be sure,
When every other scene-
Stealing, pudgy-mouthed buffoon
Has to put his ten cents in. So
Much sound should be a sin;
Background music, ambient noise,
Music for airports, and pubescent
Boys screeching from tinny silver
Speakers near the wall. I don't
Want it, not every bit, not all
The hate and the slippery tongues
That speak and salivate and don't
Say anything human. I want to reprimand,
To excommunicate them from
This Holy rite of sound. (And really,
I would be content to never hear
Music if I could block out the roundabout
Fights and the sultry nightlife descriptions
Gushing from my screen, if I could
Use my headphones to keep
That liquid crystal from pouring in
My too needfully silent ears.)
Maybe I'll follow a painter's path:
All visuals and open dripping wet
Wrath with a noisy race. I can be a
Terrifying girl. Cut off my ears and
Be deaf to the world. Wrap me in
Canvas and chase me back into the
Woods on a starry starry night.
you know the drill

Meh.
Johnny Noiπ Nov 2018
It is burned with fire and a warehouse wall, it is not included that the new has been prescribed for the wedding, but the flute is done, and instead of the foam of a plastic board, before the enemy so one fire should be used until then we are looking for any other. Holy, Holy, was done for you in the dark. It affects the colors that are added under the ice, tweezers, and yellow MacArch McAwen, Cornell will have turned aside; 1 came here with a great order given to him; Glory be to my God of salvation: It was here that he does not have to cut himself off the fun. People in the preview for the traditional bus is available, but are not unemployed? But China's milk should not be consumed already benefits are not available in many pools. The words are defined as above remembering a lot of talk. Dennis Mormons, or the work to him, he shall not live. In 1951, for example, John Henry 2 to the music of Africa, Thomas (aid) Indian lamps Timberland Pope Adelaide Westpop 15-20, 20. Circle David Strauss, "The name of the fund is too boring, John 1 and 2 in South Africa, for the peace in South Africa, Peter and John reflect the interests of Google, Yahoo and Bing, and not looking at the interests of Google, Yahoo and Bing (m children of EVE) is an easy way to talk cleaners through the irrigation program. Green pigs do not need to remember words, Dennis takes time to arrive there in 1951, for example, music (**** fiction Jesus FI 1) JJ Henry 2 Africa, Thomas (AIDS) Mark Phillip Timberland Ph2 ippoi 15-20 nocturnal temperature 20 Circuitx David West - "about the fact that Monteventarium handed down to the top ten, and ten's, from 1000 to his son, the Arbitration Rules Satyricon ARBITRI raids, many of the workers in the film, particularly his late friend. Find products such as Google's problems. And tens of guards (John 1) 2 Iyan South Africa, Henry Thomas (foreign); Ugag inner David Pupi 2, 15 Astroagagaga :) - 18 in the South West Africa, there is no peace, and 1 expect Peter and John He came to have authority, Google Glory. The timber world's nightlife, the person in the shade ... for a little while, and bio-bacterial learning sore throat, sore throat and neck, about 100 small and lifts, and the voice of my mother is to simply change the program Marcus Cl Nutrition's Eve because holding cyse-green monkeys glory of his power. Four fingers. Saying great. Dennis Dedemimini do not have that motion. For example, in 1951, music (Book 1 Nicknock jaw); J. Henry 2, Africa, Thomas (India) Indianapolis, Nippon Mark 2 Duddy *** Circuitx 20 15-20: "There were many, including co-workers, like brother and his attorney Google web Tens of thousands of people (Africa, USA), Indiana Ugag David Mehan, P2, Astroagagga gigifi: 15 18 South Africa's composing the noble movement (1956), who is wanted (one copy), Albert Henry 2 Africa Thomas (arrow) and David arrow on the night of 15-20 C. Some Nopon Avandia 20 West and East Africa, border Baugh, 18, Google can be downloaded, Google's SISA YAYA Thomas, Google may require echo the glory of the o / 1. a weak Ilianna power and glory "berokēki 3. 3. 3, Australia (European Union) due to an error in the third digit (eg, Peter)." After the test "for thousands of years, it was not seat Hentertville, human or other country in the world. From time to time, that is, the federal government is the best bet for a "loose" with six points in a 'have switched to you: a) Agbarus Tobias (forms, etc.) 2. ultimate amazing total of 500 (6 ) (1951) (Jesse on Saturday night, Ko-1) 2 Africa, Alberta, efforts Timberland Ph2ipan Handling night cycle 20, 15-20 for the thousands of men, over the last ten years, but advocates or brothers and sisters. "For many years, Google + H2O = 100 = 5 or the first in Palestine, not only in the United States, in Britain and in Africa, in the United States, Britain, South Africa, Europe and the United States.
Simon Obirek Oct 2015
Hello,
Welcome to the other side;
lust over love
we struck a dead note and
we're capsizing your boat.

You're lost
coughing and wheezing;
shivering and freezing
come through the smoke
and to the other side.

School's out
forever;
it's all pills and heels
blurring faces and nightlife lights.
Travis Green Dec 2018
The smoothness of your brown skin
captivates my soul, hazel eyes so bold
and beautiful, a palace of romance and
sensual dreams, shimmering beams and
nightlife gleams.  

His sweet lips touch my skin so
peacefully, melodic vowels and
fascinating sounds, deep channeling
languages of sheer temptations,
harmonic creations.

I can feel the music inside his chests,
the dynamic beats drumming endlessly
around Neptune and Jupiter, explosive
Mars, spinning dynasties over magical
majesties.

To run my fingers through his dashing
dreads, wavy locks upon my heart,
an aura of celestial instruments
intensifying my flow.

To inhale the lucid lyrics all over
his body, taking in his world of
magnificent nations – the upbeat
rhythms traveling through the
cityscape, the flashing light
posts standing in glorious delight,
the midnight skies of love over
divine cuddling.

The phenomenal poetry gliding
on top of the balcony.  The
shimmering syllables sparkling
in the air.  The brilliant metaphors
bursting in celebration.  The
vibrating alliteration pounding the
pavement.  The swagging similes
dancing in the night.
Terry Collett Mar 2013
Didn’t tell you
my boyfriend’s
in prison did I?
Julie said

As you walked
through Leicester Square
having met her
off the bus

from the hospital
where she had to stay
for her drug habit
(her parents

being doctors
had her locked away
as best they could)
no you didn’t

you replied
taking note
of her tightly tied
ponytail

her eyes unfocused
the summery dress
long and colourful
got caught with drugs on him

in a raid
she said
o I see
you said

do you get to see him?
you asked
hoping not
wishing the ******

to be locked up good
no
she said
he’s too far away

for me to get to
in the period
I have free
from the hospital

and besides
he’s not really
my boyfriend
more an acquaintance

she sat in a seat
near a cinema
and stared
at passersby

you sat beside her
remembering the times
your old man
had brought you here

as a kid to see the nightlife
or go to the cinema
for some film
he had to see

or some famous actor
or actress he said
he thought
might be there

I’ve brought you
some cigarettes
you said
o you are a dear

she said
and kissed your cheek
and took the packet
and opened it up

there and then
and took one out
and lit it
with a plastic light

from her pocket
did you want one?
she asked
no you have them

you said
and so she sat
and smoked
and in between puffs

and exhalations
she spoke of her parents
and the hospital
and the staff there

and how she still remembered
that time she took you
in that small room
off the hospital ward

and did things
as she put it
and laughed
and the smoke

went up
and the people
went by
and you sat

watching her
taking in her hands
and fingers
the cigarette

between them
the eyes still dull
and bluish
or greenish

depending how
the sunlight caught them
and your cheek
still wet where her lips

had been
and the blue of sky
and the nearby park
with flowers

and grass flushed
with green.
Svetoslav Sep 2023
With a body wrapped in a crimson dress, she bears a violent temper.
Shining daylight, raging bewitching, captivating cunning.
You arrive with starry eyes and cheeks flushed like a ******.

In her curly hair, autumn curtains hang—roaming rays hot.
She glows in the night like a pictorial wall with hieroglyphics concealing madness.
You step elegantly, but you're a dangerously stealthy predator.

Grassy hills in floating flames burn beneath a voluminous haze.
Her look describes fabulous waterfalls, endlessly flowing and shining in the coming dawn. You associate with robbers and kings, but they do not understand, and no one will save you.

Lovely eyes sprinkle enchanting rays, her lips intertwined like a rose petal.
Her heart enticingly calls with her fruit to be drunk.
You hide in the nightlife, dress up, and do your love magic.

Neck fashioned in autumnal garments, wearing scarlet ruby earrings.
Her pink skin smells of perfume, inviting like a grape on a vine.
You invite visitors with your charm to carelessness, forever forced.

Her lips are flowing bewitching rivers—intersecting strokes of crimson. They bring a dream to taste her deep soils and her artfully carved forms.
You are determined to captivate without marrying— you stay lost in rebellion.
DFTBA Sep 2014
Look up into the night's sky
What do you see?
The dark blue sky above,
But no star can be seen
The contrast of white clouds floating by
The full moon shining bright,
Lighting up the world for the nightlife

A twinkling star pokes out from behind the cloud
What is your wish?
I wish upon this star,
That life could be so beautiful
Like night skies
I wish to be that one tinkling star,
That will set the others in motion
To create a wave that will make this night more beautiful
Graff1980 May 2015
I’ve given up
But sometimes
I still dream

Love by a lake
Watching the water
Shimmering
With her eyes
Hazel and glimmering
Laughter
The best happily ever after

Love in a blizzard
Snow blind with affection
Warming each other
Lost in folded arms
Deep in conversation
Gazes uninterrupted
And laughter
The best happily ever after

Love on the river
Steamboat journey
Historical tour
With tea
Her and me
Me and her
Sharing our history
Reading each other’s poetry
And laughter
The best happily ever after

Love in the city
At the library
Then a bookstore
Hit the nightlife
Like live music
And poetry readings
Small quiet cafes
And deep conversation
And laughter
The best happily ever after

Love by the ocean
Resting on a beach
And now I realize
Half my fantasies
Involve water
The ocean chasing the shore
Sand beneath my feet
And in-between my toes
With coconuts
That I can never break
No matter how hard I try
Her eyes gleaming
When I am beaming
Goofing around
Being her clown
And laughter
The best happily ever after

Love in the evening
Believing
Now will last forever
Love in afternoon
The back bedroom
The bathroom
Love in the early morn
Sleeping till noon
Love in a nursing home
Holding her hand
While she lay sleeping
Tears start creeping
The memories keep me smiling
Saving some laughter
The closest thing to happily ever after
b e mccomb Jul 2016
The sky was tilting and dipping downward and if it hadn't been so beautiful, I would have assumed it to be a tornado. The way the clouds clustered and swirled into a hole directly above Pennsylvania reminded me of when you shut the bathtub drain and rinse the soapsuds out of your hair, then open it back up and watch it vortex away.

Like I said, I've never seen Lancaster at night, but I'm assuming it's lovely. At least, it must feel lovely. How lovely can anything really be in the dark? But if you think about it, even little old ladies have a nightlife, they play bingo and then go to bed. What more could I ask for? A pencil that doesn't attempt ****** on a sheet of drawing paper? Because every pencil I have keeps trying to **** something inside me that's trying very hard to stay alive.

It's strange to be in someone else's shoes, and even stranger when they fit. If you ever want to trade teddy bears for the weekend, I'm down.

I haven't cried since April 24th, but lately every time I start thinking about life, my eyes get damp and my expensive eyeliner starts running onto my cheeks. And speaking of eyes, my lids are always feeling sleepy and puffy and my lashes frequently weigh down my entire body. I'm trying to see the bright side, but all I've got over here is a cup of mistemperatured coffee and a dimming world that I already extracted all the poetry from. Somebody get me to Lancaster this fall, I'm thinking a slew of unfamiliar parking lots might lift this insufferable fog, and maybe you'll become my Seattle.
Copyright 8/27/15 by B. E. McComb
Melissa Malan Aug 2013
Nightlife

Where you find other people
and lose yourself
Invocation Aug 2015
Can you hear leftover nightlife leaving veins?
Can you feel stumbling heartbeat tripping on nicotine?

This is the horrible trance of your world's youth in distress
You doomed us with war paint, war games, war school
We respond with war song, war faces, war spirit
When will we outgrow Ender's game?
"Every seed dies before it grows"
Do you take any responsibility for the outcome of selfish politics?
Have you left us here to die?
We are your future
We are caring for the elderly
We advance your technology
We fill your classrooms
We eat your chemicals
We buy your products
We will cry to your great-grandchildren
We will cry at your graves
This is the sound of a billion hearts ingrown, spines breaking
You help us waste our youth, our vigor, our intelligence
Will you help us die?
Don't fall prey, there's still time.
Sean Flaherty Dec 2014
Boring holiday in Purgatory,
Among old fires, now flat.
Hornet-colored, swears she's seen me,
Stinger-out, the gorgeous brat.

Lunar-citrus sour,
Twice, at least. Of course it's more.
Pale, and terrified of foresight,
Uninspired by the cure.

Poison-focused, smoky heart.
You'll find the best nightlife in Hell.
These horns scratch Heaven, battle-scarred,
And my tail's not hidden well.

Uncanny observant stars, 'neath
Sleepy lids, catch a red,
That's not unfamiliar.
-
Past light, she flew, brandished
Guns, in both hands, left-rusty,
But right, always silver.

Rolling studded, bony wrists,
Somehow, mortal in her gaze.
One shot, un-taken, doubt persists,
Losing games she doesn't play

Sulfur-sweat-soaked barrel
Bets the other bullet
"Can't miss."
One canon scrapes my temple.
"Point the second
Between my hips."

A smile! As I am
Obliged, the danger
Briefly gone, but
Then again,
A trigger pulled
Wouldn't quite be worth the song.

"Mean to **** you," now informed, I
Stood up straight, and heard the plan.
My gorgeous rival unaware,
This demon's such a tired man.

Still, for your opaque aura,
Weary throats scream life-alive.
Wondered by unhappy beauty,
Disconnected from your drive.
Normal dealings not requested
Sweetened suffering, in slime.
Assumed, the mantle of the satyr,
Took a breath, and finally rhymed:

"Well honey, you can't **** the Devil,
But would you do me a favor, and try?
I've been wondering, for quite a while now,
Just exactly how it'd feel to die."
Maybe Lucifer wrote Right City, Modern Real...
Talia Oct 2021
Malice ripples
lying low, under
penetrating nightlife strobe.

Repercussions?
None to show.

Limp bodies
'getting loose'
In truth,
injected with poison;
a slow-acting noose.

Repulsive actions of the
vile & depraved
****
endorsed at raves.
David W Clare Oct 2015
READ THIS ALOUD!  

LINK > https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AbYkiKKNZEI

Bangkok Spooky      POEM By: David Wayne Clare
(Edgar Allen Poe style Poem I wrote about NaNa Klong Toey – The heart of Bangkok’s Wild Nightlife Fun!)

Where every **** Thai ***** filled night on the Sukhumvit is like Halloween...

BANGKOK, a dimension of unspeakable filth! In forbidden circles of those who never admit they detest boredom. Will do any curry favor to partake in the whoremongering Babylonian proclivities and vile ****** festivities found only here in this seething sinister air in this insatiable cyclone of sin is thick with musky city 5000 year aged ancient old dust…

This, the Krong Thep City became Bangkok in 1769 today still as then can turn a wholesome foreign gentleman into a freak a wholesome man who dare visit here will fast become a vexed drooling fool in less time than it takes to cross the filth ridden ****** crosswalks of ancient soot and dust from the many Tuk Tuks exhaust the man will become lost and of no use as his very soul will wail in the Asian musk –

...once bitten twice smitten kid in a candy shop will drop his Thai baht money as there is no way out as to ever leave here… as he yearns to become wanton in fiery incision with incurable desires within this hideous overload of sensual persuasions of kitsch and splendor vile derision…

Better wear tightly a neck brace as the Thai traits of beyond gorgeous dolls trolls and trollups

Will beckon your embrace where even Ulysses could not be bound by sailors ropes as the sheer grasp with Herculean strength of a he man will snap the mast of the voyagers ship as you slip into the abyss of her to die for jup jup kiss…

He will wish away his all until his head takes in all of the bliss and soon he cries tears of blood.
Siam, is the age old ancient matriarch of ultra **** ladies very young to very old.

Caveat Emptus, to all ye fools who dare enter and dare to survive here as this is the fool’s gold street soi boutique in the twilight realm of illusions and lady boy Léger Jermaine…

Beware, there is no turning back in Bangkok! Its nightly floggings and unmentionable 10,000 delights has for eons mesmerized the lost fools Oh the tales of ancients street freaks grip tightly
Your very soul nightly!

D. Clare
This Poem tells it like it is in BKK!
Johnny Noiπ Nov 2018
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Because he burns the light of the gods and serpents, for the works of men are not like the faces of six souls. Apollo has prayed in the night.
Chandler Lauren Dec 2012
Another sleepless night spent restlessly.
Another night unfamiliar with peace.
Another counting of the hours.
Another cup of chamomile tea.
Another dream gone awry.
Another swollen face and glued-shut eye.
Another head of hair resembling nest.
Another morning, trembling cold sweat.
At the end of Nimmo's Pier
on a mid-week evening in July,
I gaze across the bay
with the city to my back.

To my left a heron potters about
in orange lamplight, from my right
two lads' conversation drifts
across the harbor docks,

Behind me the city thrums
with its mid-summer's nightlife.
My over-stimulation from three days
of intense work fades, my solemn thoughts
make peace with the world
and I rest after my pursuits,
Wondering whether I am a
suitable partner
Dan Dec 2013
She danced beside the fire
While he watched her from his position
The floor glowing like hot coals
And resonating in their glistering eyes

To make amends for her misfortune
He showered he with many pleasures
But the girl did not once hesitate
For she desired a luxurious life

As the embers turned to ash
With the ghostly crescent set in sky
The nightlife emerged from their rest
And danced to the sight of the moon
Odd Odyssey Poet Sep 2022
A reason to love, a reason to touch,
to add a little spice.
Freedom isn't a crime, but just a dream
inside of my eye. As the temperature rise,
heating our passions that come with no surprise.

The taste of your lips, the glare of your dirt
eyes. The warmth of your breath, in the cusp
of the bodies; two curves meeting inside.
Pillow soaked emotions, crisp sheets of a former
time. Kissing and cuddling, to reimagine anew
reason why I call you mine.

The tickles down spine, river flow in streams
in it's continuous body. A candle at night,
by the side to light this activity of a nightlife.
Brushing affection under covers beneath the feet,
and such a treat. Blood rushing to the face, of
red cheeks. As like two of the sweetest overripe apples.

Toes so shaky as business hands at the longest meet
and greet, Overjoyed as if it were a last dance,
Would you at least dance one last dance with me?
A tango in the sheets—rhythms and postures, and
abrupt pauses.

Oh your sweet perfume, blows loveliness in the wind,
in a kiss of a breeze—as our tongues caught in a knot.
Twisting in the unturned direction of an advance,
a paid forward gesture of asking you out on a dinner date.
Hoping in simple conversation, we could relate. And by fate
I hoped from that day, you'd be my forever mate.

A tiny spark can start a fire, so I hoped to kindle
a little joy to burn eternally throughout the years.
For the echo flame to continue on after the children's birth.

Mother earth, of your womb and breast as a giver and
sustainer of life. Tis a pen *******; of words cutting deep
of my favourable piece. I'm seamlessly inspired as I write.  
You're a sight for words, breathless at the first take, and I
could bet my words to describe, such a passion of love has even
more words to express.

But for this time, three hundred and fifty two words
is all I could get. I hope that's okay?
Zajan Akia Jul 2012
Hanging around the old cabaret,
where nighthawks steal glances
at the curators of tired eyes,
the walking dead take leave
of their senselessness
entering blurred reality

Someone calls for another round
shouting fire down his throat as

A dart nicks the narrow space between
two fates and falls to the floor
avoiding both,
leaving him in a rage

She pockets the change they left her
or forgot, while
laughs infuse the acrid smoke,
ricocheting into nothing
Seth Keplinger Mar 2018
I've got the shakes again, and
we've lost the arts.
Caramel coffee is for trolls,  
calamities are uninvested conversations.
Your selective ignorance
are their political polls;
cocoa conundrums; coagulating
serotonin serums inhibiting innovations.
I've got the shakes again, and
we've lost the love;
you turtle dove.
Historical happy hours,
rhetorical- the ring on her finger
indigo indiscretions linger
bloom a bouquet of flowers.
I've got the shakes again, and
we've lost the respect.
Ignore Tesla, the moon;
******* by his diamonds,  
instant gratifications- new world addictions.
Hats off at my table!
Shake hands, shake social frictions.
I pump my brakes again, and
I've lost invitations;
my blinded observations.
Soulless shoes sully love,
subtle self proclamations.
Societies vicarious vices,
subliminal author's themes;
my presumption suffices.
Johnny's mother screams!
I've got the shakes again, and
I've lost my mind again;
dubious is an art of repetition.
In this war of attrition,  
monkey business is the real oppression;
***** color schemes
deter my nightlife's daydreams.
Premeditations- self induced depression.
First amend, then reprieve
a society in genocide,
murderous screaming thieves.  
I've got the shakes again, and
he's lost his midnight train of thought;
his ****** obsessions.
Espresso and ****** expressions,
prerogatives- propaganda bought;
the bad vibrations.
Battling a vertigo,
temptation i fought.
Dancing amongst the constellations;
these must be his
coffee drunken genius inspirations.
Hayleigh Nov 2013
This applies to every single one of you. No matter how little you may believe you are worth, I swear to you, you are worth more, way more than you could ever imagine, in your wildest dreams. You are worth the same as those you value most, that girl with the body you aspire yours to be like, those people that you envy for being so naturally beautiful, your closest friends, your family. You are worth every piece of happiness, hope and health. I promise. You are not a diagnosis or a statistic, defined by criteria, percentiles and numerical figures, no. You are so much more. You are more than the inches around your waist, the abs on your stomach, the lbs that creep up and down on the scales, the self defeating thoughts, the highlighting of your insecurities, the constant regrets.
You are the air you breathe, the laughter that slips between your lips, the fight that you said you had ran out of months ago. The love you share and feel, the smiles that sweep across your face, those moments where happiness feels so close that you can almost taste it. You are daylight, the sun, nightlife, clubs and music and drunken confessions. You are a shining star, the scent of your favourite perfume, your most treasured memories crammed into ink and squashed between frames.

Never doubt that you are more.

2013 ©
This one isn't so much a poem but its uplifting and I wanted to share it.
Reece Dec 2013
Transcendence and unity was always my friend
I know,
Something that doesn't exist yet always lingers
  a man in black, everywhere, always filling cups
  and know I'm staring into the face of that man though he no longer exists
There's an undiscovered idea or concept, nobody sees it but it's here
  with me over my shoulder always
Do you hear those voices on the mainline when the shore is out
why do you see today, when not yesterday, was blind
a certain sense of paranoia, uplifting
Behind the lamp post on the corner there's the man in a black overcoat
  and on the roof, over there
  and in trees behind brick houses
  everywhere
  I see him
How can you escape these walls when captive men's lives linger on
Sighing again, it's morning, did you cry today?

Those headphones passive pass no mas but moreover we're dying
cerebral disconnect
everything changes
creativity dies when the keyboard intervenes
and the blackness of one turns into itself and everything dies before being reborn again somewhere else
  somewhere different
Erratic thoughts but these are dying words when they come each night, the terrors
Is there anybody or anything anymore?
Resistance to life now is dull and over. Done.
  heavy lungs still breathing but detached
Where the ghosts of Saturday night roam in pilfered streets
and numbed limbs crawling
re-percussive Robitussin and gushing percussion, oh the jazz-hall bells
swing la
swing
oh its yellow in nightlife fever fervor forever
Gábor!
Tell me these sweet dreams again
great white flags on the shoreline as the ships arrive home
and the war is done
Did I import the brown in past lives?
Jeer jazz man jeer!
and this wild hair is the sea, swim with  me forever
the guiding hand on my wrist is not my own
the door slams shut in echo chamber corridors and the tension in the neck is incredible
but the end is never that, it's only the beginning in disguise
I am constantly haunted by my psychosis
Amphetamine dreams
and Sunday dawns
the hazy yawns

- to sleep

— The End —