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Butch Decatoria Apr 2017
Overcrowded a hollow sound

In the circumference of birdsong

Rising with the Sun

As roosters crow morning

Wake-up calls

There in Cebu / House

Full of family

Pieces of my other me

Feeding many mouths

That overcrowded feeling / not again

A nest that homes

A clutch of poor


Consuming, so many babies

Paradise islands

Third world poverty

Not so far away

White man and money

A supposed land of milk & honey

Beyond the tundra snow

Bleak / must speak English

The beautiful broken

The overgrowth of crowding

it's called city life

Unlike Manila

Although artifice and hollow

Full of the fragrances

Colored by Birdsong

Oh beautiful life / I am drowning

In the thicknesses of pollutant

Mouths speaking


Humanity misbegotten / Understood

We connect with nuttin'

“nothing is the cure

When nothing was wrong

With you”

Birdsong in twilight

Xylophone-stars across the ocean blue

Teeth of night

The cold chime


In the infinite / magic of you

Oh love I let me


Still this loneliness

Feels so very loud...

Then I hear / halcyon Birdsong

The soft feelings of truth

Oh love!

Oh god!

Oh my!

*Goodness you.
Revised still work in progress
s Sep 2017
you said you'd see me on the flip side
(in our dreams, wherever)

you're in my head
(i'm feeling everything and a bit of nothing)

didn't help you promised you'd wait
you're in every sleepless night
and every overcrowded subway
and every glance in the hallway
and ******* you aren't making it any ******* easier

(we told each other we'd get to know each other and all we'd do was end up making out)

(sometimes i start to wonder how easy it was for you to tell me you loved me)

(later you took my hand)
Juhlhaus Jan 15
I hurried out at six fifteen to wait
For a train with a waning moon,
Bright Venus and Jupiter hovering
Above the skyline. The amber horizon
Turned to orange and pink
As scattered stars went dim.

Misread the schedule and arrived
Downtown three quarters of an hour
Before my Electric District connection.
An accidental gift to self. I ascended
And ate two breakfast sandwiches
I got for one dollar with a coupon,
Warm in my hands on a blue picnic table.

The sky grew light
Above the Lake and I wandered
Through Millennium Park. It was empty
Or nearly, which felt the same.
The sun broke the bent horizon
In chrome and ice. I took some pictures,
Then descended to find Track Five.

The day's light revealed
Hollow houses with cartoon stone applied
Like paint, unable to compete
For preeminence with two-car garages.
The newest were bigger and offered
In different colors, but all the same.
Driving conditions were excellent.

At sunset I stood on another platform
Above a busy highway. The last rays came
Through tree branches and melted
Into the pale sky as they left my face.
I had witnessed that sun's birth,
It had warmed me while I waited for my carpool,
Rested with me on a concrete planter after lunch.

I entered the city in darkness
A second time. Changed muddy boots
For clean shoes and hurried to the museum.
It was a free night, overcrowded
With families and children, so difficult
To find a quiet corner for contemplation,
Any sanctuary for my own small soul.

I descended, discovered the typewriters, then
Realized you and I were already there, just
In different colors, using different words,
Spending school vacation to view old paintings
And the Holiday Miniature Rooms.
It dawned and the future was brighter even
As I left the city in darkness.
For a wonderful fellow poet who reminds me that there is no such thing as an ordinary day.
Sitting in an overcrowded classroom,
Heart rate bumps as if it was a machine gun
And EVERYONE in the classroom is taking turns..
I have this Illusion of me speaking properly
With every punction down to the teeth..
Even though my mind can see these words clearly
My mouth speaks differently...

" It's only a book.. "
" I can do this -- " Thought process interrupted by the person next to read..
My eyes then became glued to the people watching over me..

( Insert joke here. )
I wanted to say,
I wanted to say,
I wanted to say,

Words is my worst enemy,
Please don't judge me from the way I speak,
All I want is someone to take time to understand me,
Maybe if I had that one ear to listen
I could of been free
And it wouldn't take this long to speak clearly.

In reality,
The room was filled with laugher.

s Sep 2017
you still linger in the air
every now and then
like an afterthought
(my room still smells like you)

in overcrowded subways
and places i'd never been
you were always there
(dreams i never had)
always next to me until i woke up

i think i saw you across me
on the train, at one point
i didn't know if i was awake
(i watched you disappear and i realized i was)

you are every late night thought
every 'you' that blasted through the car radio
when it was dark and the roads were empty
i still hear you in every song and see you in every star
(and i still hold on to the hope that maybe you're looking up too)
Donall Dempsey Nov 2018

scratching at the silence
the pen's nib spreads the word
the empty page now overcrowded

the clink of an inkwell
the pen drinks its fill
word chases word

the pen drunk with words
blots the page
the poet curses

now the pen stops
to think. . .
before creating the next word

the candle fearlessly
standing up to the darkness
at last the last full stop

his head
rests upon his words
the candle loses its fight

in the morning
his words line up
for his inspection

his words
once only ink
dance in his mouth

he repeats them
to the walls...the furniture
anything that will listen

his thought
once invisible even to himself
now parades across the page

outside the world is
waking up
the dawn yawns

". . .these are my beloved words
in whom I am well pleased. . ."
his face smiles back from the mirror
Billy 13 Oct 2018
So here we go again another night on my own,
Sitting on my bed my room feels overcrowded.
It's too loud yet so silent.
The electrical him of a mini fridge,
Feels like my brain is buzzing.
Desperately needing to be unplugged.
I already feel disconnected,
Anti social when. It comes to social media.
Unaware of social trends,
Not able to follow the why behind people following ,
The only like you know Is dislike.

Then this got a love not a like, thank you Fawn,
It 4 In the morning As I lose the darkness to the dawn.
Left this for someone else to complete,
Lost my rhyme, my rythem , could not longer feel the beat.
The beat goes on and on and on,
While I listen on repeat to American pie, my fravourite song.
Bye, bye , I'm glad you like.
I drove my Chevy to the levy now I had you the Mike.
And good old boys who like poetry and rye.
Sing this will be the day that you multiple.
So you you were adding ( take over).
Can't finish this without lying. Got a message from the most amazing person in the world. Made we want to go out, dance and even sing. So I leave this for someone else to finish. For I already am entranced in a love that's never ending
Nathan Sep 2018
I'm not okay
Overcrowded in my mind
But I finally can say
I know I'm not okay

I debated being a martyr
Believed I wasn't strong
But I'm surviving
I've been fighting
Without realising
I know I'm not okay

There's comfort in the anarchy
Lucy Wooding Jul 2018
What are you living for?

To operate like a minuscule cog in the gargantuan wheel of capitalism?
Like a mindless hamster slaving away 5 days a week.

Or to learn from vacuous minded socialites
That a woman’s empowerment begins with flaunting skin
Accumulating confidence through social media validation.

Are you living for a beige existence?
Where you station yourself in your birth town for the next 50 years
Wedding the first man who shows interest and bearing his children at the age of 21.

Are you tirelessly working to pay for that one bedroom flat
Situated in an overcrowded concrete jungle?
Social fulfilment sapped from your clutches.

Or for that luxury recliner
Which will take 10 years to pay off?

Are you living in ignorance?
Suppressing the knowledge that civil wars and mass genocides are manifesting every second
Yet you choose not to help fellow mortals?

Are you taking orders, or questioning instigators of austerity?
Fulfilling the anarchist rhetoric, demonstrating that you are not a doormat?

But really, what are you living for?

— The End —