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Timothy Brown Nov 2013
Smoke leaving my lungs
is an excellent simile
expressing what this journey has become.
Benighted by forked tongues;
the whispers of the world mismatch
the ****** expressions I catch.
Trying to ****** a batch of moments
worthy of gloating to my opponents.
Enticing movement in their bowls
as their smiles turn to scowls.
Exhaling the growls of satisfaction
from a triple black hood.
Their actions run afoul of the good
in my soul, truth be told.
My mind is too cold.
My heart is too bold.
My being can't be controlled
by nonfactual statements.
I am standing adjacent to greatness
with no patience for the aimless.
My genius is hungry and their life is the waitress.
So gracious I'm weightless
with words  that are heinous, outrageous and shameless.
Yes, I'm saying it. I said it and I'll say it again.
I am the paper, the ink, the words and the pen.
You can't best this style unless your right within.
I'm alright whether I'm left in
My, your or their skin.
Lurking through dreams as if they were my possessions.
Haunting poetry globally with a potency that leaves
minds convulsing and hearts slain.
Be forewarned; The Ghost has returned again.
Been perfecting my style.
© November 26th, 2013 by Timothy Brown. All rights reserved.
Danny R Lopez Jun 2010
there's usually a sense of "hey this is what i do, this is what has happened to me, because of me, in spite of me", etc.  for most
for me, comfort zone can be a major issue.
So, i'm new here...or sometimes it's, "yes, i am".
struggle can be keeping it together
other times it's getting it out.
most of the time it's making it up as i go along.
other times it's repeating what i've previously made up.
not in a nonfactual or lying sense, necessarily. not in a laying sense, necessarily.
duality divides me though it's more of a choice, i suppose.
sometimes cynic, other times scenic. mostly both.
So, i'm new here...about 2 hrs. or 31 years. or for  an immeasurable blink of thought...i'm new here in the speed of ligh-deas.
there was 9 of us growing, 11 with my parents. now their is 8 of us still growing at the same individual rate and 1, i believe, expanding beyond what i am currently able to connect to. i miss it all, including the possibility of never knowing in the end.
my parents still growing.
the seeds of my own, blooming like rain drops turned snow ***** aimed at the desert floor. crashing with laughter, imposing their spirit and sky-packed piercing frost  to the desolate detail that awaits the on-coming wave of a background made of mushroom clouds.
so, since i'm new here i can be blatant in, yes IN, the surface and a bit more cryptic in the subtext.
it helps to **** out the weeds...at times me being the ****.
like a self-aware filing cabinet, collecting dust, holding on to perceived archaic attractions like faded paper, record players and the sound of giant stones sliding across one another. the option of a lock. the reality of a handle.
is there ever such a thing as "rambling"? who defines compromise? is peace and non-violence the only thing worth dieing for? do we only act when given the promise of reward? blah blah blah. i genuinely ask these ?s but it's hard to stay unpretentious when you're talking about yourself so much...but hey, i'm new here and i'm trying my damndest to not give a ****, however i am writing this to share. perspective.  take it...leave it...put it in to...pull it out of. awaken. sleep. and awaken.
so please and thank you. and welcome.

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