Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dondaycee Jul 2018
I once heard of name,
Am I death?
Because I never heard of it twice,
I never played the game,
I left it to the rest,
I don’t think it’s right that even the dead lose their life,
What is a legacy, if summarized,
Where’s the integrity if gun aside,
Hearing the melodies of summer nights,
Hennessey and jealousy mixing; some will die,
Memory was therapy, now it is Cherokee,
Longevity became cellularity, no longer a friend to prosperity because the scars attached reiterated a son cry,
This all started with a name,
If I’m escaping parliament, how is it logical to feel obligated to my last?
I tried to explain this to my class,
But I wasn’t named “teacher”,
Instead; a preacher,
And I Practiced what I expressed so that part of me; in the past,
Pardon me for showing class,
I did it because of past,
They taught me to see trash,
I taught me to see the math,
They measured success with material, to validate time,
I expressed choice, I measured it by what constituted the spiritual to validate mind,
These structures are constituted by thoughts that no longer serves a purpose,
With all this baggage, it’s inevitable to replace our self,
I feel innovative because I express what we forgot, they act like they never heard of this,
All this action and acting… it’s inevitable to mistake ourselves, un-appreciate, and deviate to a state in which we hate our self,
Personally speaking, I don’t take advice from people less successful to me,
Your thoughts aren’t medicinal if the archetypes that are habitual aren’t transmuting from distressful to a state in which you are happy to be,
That advice just isn’t attractive to me,
It’s more like I’m back tracking to find the root cause of what’s blinding your perception so that I can heal your expression by removing the thought of neglection and oppression so that you are able to think free,
And I don’t mind…
In the process, I’m judged and crucified,
I’ll reiterate; my intentions are to love and unify,
We’re stagnant because of choice,
If there’s silence in the voice, I throw a nudge to refine, that’s freedom for define, I’m bringing the awareness of choice so that it’s possible to decide on what we personally do with life,
I was stabbed in the back and forgave that,
I was stabbed again and almost resorted to my decision making tactics from way back,
Then came another stabbing that had me lying on the floor,
I got up, but couldn’t find my way back,
Then came a love, she needed an eye,
She took that and saw her way out, I let her go,
Leaning on a wall, I bumped into another,
I gave her my other because she’s a passenger; hetero,
Love comes in trinities; currently dependent on sound,
It was all I had to give; then debt arose,
The next love that came just wanted to hear her name,
I chanted Satchitanada, and that became a death note,
In trials and tribulations I resorted to love and nurturement,
I call this an understanding,
I created this path, there was no one to follow in this century,
If you can’t comprehend that then there’s no possible way for you to understand me,
I never had a plan B, I was dependent on faith,
Independent from wave, I road the waves,
I had to experience what others had experienced, and had to remember myself along the way if I ever wanted to see some type of change,
I played the game and had to retain the focus of me, when I attained the focus to see, all this weight pilling, I was losing my ability to breathe; I was getting hostile,  frustrated, thinking about choosing to lose my ability to breathe,
And it’s because I solidified the W to attract enough attention to reiterate me, if I died I’d be apart of the past with the others; they’d appreciate me, saying my name, expressing a memory lane that would bring change the moment you speak…my name and that’s change,
My arrogance seeks credit, convincing ourselves that we’re victims is easy to me,  
It was difficult for me to exist in this world,
That’s why I decided to live,
That’s how I kept my lid,
That’s why I continue to give,
If I’m bringing truth and love, then this awareness becomes easy to see,
I don’t care about no dollar *****,
I don’t care about your opinions on Donald Trump and Obama; Mister,
I care about our species and our galaxies picture,
I care about the success in reaching the state of nirvana and the help from seven sister’s ,
The Pleiades,
Believe in me,
I heard of a name once,
Does this make me dead?
If so, then my rebirth was captured in everything you just read…
Notice the name.
ryn Nov 2015
.
•••••••••••
••••••••••••••••
•••••••••••••
•••••••••
ple band•   •••••   •convert-
in a sim-                   •                      ing the
mortality                                                   wishful
silver•im-               ­                                            to   the
on gold or                                                                suppo-
mounted                                                                     sed•we
nd•a rock                                                                      have co-
pilling sa-                                                                     me  full
reats of s-                                                                     circle  •
ing the th-                                                                stars we'-
ther•beat-                                                  ­         ve forged
forth toge-                                              and coun-
journey                                    ted•make
   shall we           reality out
of fable•

.
Read clockwise.

Concrete Poem 14 of 30

Tap on the hashtag "30daysofconcrete" below to view more offerings in the series. :)
.
Maniacal Escape Aug 2021
Pills, pills, pills across the board!
Pills in the eyes
Pills in the throat
Pills pills pills!
Pills in your sleep
Pills with your supper
Pills pills pills!
John F McCullagh Aug 2018
Uncle Sam sat down across from me and placed his satchel on the floor.
It was time to pay the piper; that is God’s immutable law.
I tapped my bony finger, impatient to begin.
“That will be fifty eight thousand, Sam, starting with Tonkin.”

From his satchel, that seemed bottomless, Sam produced the cash.
“Start counting!” I demanded, as I drooled over his stash.
He started pilling Franklins up on the table there between us.
Each “C” note meant one hundred dead Due to McNamara’s genius.

Fathers and sons had fallen; young men by the score.
Just think of the girls they never kissed; the children they never saw.
Uncle Sam doled out the bills until his thumbs were sore
When he finished I took out my Scythe and swept them on the floor.

I saw Sam’s look of horror at my eyeless, nose less face.
He had counted out a treasure that he knew he can't replace.
“It was a Pleasure doing business.” Oh, how I despised that man!
Still I was certain that we’d meet often,even after Vietnam.
58,220 American men and women, my fellow boomers, died during the years of the Vietnam war. Here I imagine Uncle Sam settling the bill with an unusual accountant.
Paul Verkouteren Feb 2013
Fake parental love
Apathetic attitudes all around me
What is love
What is friendship
Those questions keep me dead in my waking dreams
I dream of love and acceptance the pursuit of happiness
So many dead dreams pilling up keep me questioning what the so called god has in store for me
Great ambitions so many goals reaching the sky above
Yet i'm constantly faced with hate and demise  
I lay in dismay at all the phonies and so called accepting Christ loving people who do nothing but stand there and talk in a pretentious yet ****** manner
The hordes of people swarming the halls like packs of wolves swarming for their lunch
student organizations losing their purpose only there to look attractive for the school school the institution that imprisons me like a rat in a cage i wish to be free of such disorder and unrest
After my day is done i walk down from the hell  i have experienced
i try to go away from it
trying to seek shelter in such an unholy environment
i come back to the hell  
another god forsaken place
full of apathetic unpredictable hate random bursts of rage and fits
expectations expectations
draining my heart of emotion
i am but an alien feeling nothing but alienation
i'm just a stranger in a strange land
Tearani C Feb 2012
You’re my slow breath, my fast break.
My earth quake when things need shaken.
When everything’s pilling up and taking
Me with it.
You take it and twist it.
And suddenly I’m dancing with the way you talk,
Keeping pace with the way you walk.
Thinking up lyrics, as I pick out side walk chalk.
And I draw my name , playing play ground games.
Like I’m ten again,
Like the world isn’t heavy because its not.
You hold it up and around me ,
Keep me swimming instead of drowning.
Lithe and light, loud and giggling,
Remind me what makes life worth living.
I see you and my head is spinning.
You’re my sunshine, my playtime.
You’re a silly sentence with a goofy rhyme.
Your that poem I write when I’m smiling to big
And things are to good to find sleep that night.
You’re a hug and a text, the most beautiful mess.
Of all the things you chose to be
you chose’em best.
Honest, your honestly the best thing to
Bring out the very best me everyday,
Every now and then when I’m pinned and I need you,
I just call and there you are.
My slow breath, my fast break.
Im so glad I met you , so glad I’m taken.
Taken by you, right of my feet and into the playground.
Not a day passes , that I don’t want you around.
Not a single day I don’t miss the sun.
Just to keep pace with the way you walk,
Hear the sound of your voice so excited to talk.
Not a day passes I don’t want to be where you are.
Not a sunny day passes I don’t think of the park.
Big Virge Apr 2019
Some Youth Are SO RUDE ... !!!
Their Language Is ... Crude ... !!!
and Most Have A PROBLEM ...

The Problem Is ... YOU ...  !!!

If You Are Like Me ...
and Won't Take Abuse ...
From Kids Who Walk Streets ...
With A ... BAD Attitude ... !!!

My Name AIN'T ... " B.A." ... !!!
and It AIN'T ... " Mr. T " ... !!!

But ...
Test Me With RUDENESS ...
and Then You Will See ...
That I Can Get ... BRUTAL ...
Just Like The ... " A Team " ... !!!!!

BRUTAL With ... "Tactics" ...
WITHOUT Prophylactics ... !!! ...

That's ... Just A Line ...
To Take Your Mind CAPTIVE ... !!!

My Words Are ... PROACTIVE ... !!!
To STOP All This MADNESS ... !!!

Young Kids Doing BADNESS ...
DEFINES The Word ... Sadness ... !!!

Sadness For MANY ...
When Mum's On The TELLY ...
With Tears In Her Eyes ...
cos' Her Child DIDN'T Die ... !!!

Her Child Was A ... " Victim " ...
of Kids On ... A Mission ...
To Rob and Then **** Him ... !!!!

And ...

Leave His Blood ... SPILLING ... !!!!!

That Story's ... Instilling ...
A GOOD Way of Living ... !!!

Young People ...

STOP KILLING ... !!!!!

and Learn To Be WILLING ...
To Do MORE ... FORGIVING ... !!!

and STOP ...
All This ... PILLING ... !!!

and STOP Taking Life ...
cos' Life Is For LIVING ... !!!!!

Rudeness ... IN VIEW ...
Can ..................................................... Isolate ................... "You" ........................................ !!!

Cos' Very Few People ...
Like Youth Who Are RUDE ... !!!

These Words Are The TRUTH ... !!!

cos' Being ... "ALONE" ...
With ... NOWHERE To Move ... !!!

THIS Is Where RUDENESS ...
Is Bound To Get You ...

So ...
What Is The Point ... ?!?
and ... What Do You PROVE ... !?!

Forgive Me ... I SEE ...
Walking In ...
DEAD MENS' Shoes ... !!?!!

Just Watch An OLD Western ...
and See How They Do ...

There's ALWAYS A Gunman ...
FASTER Than ... YOU ... !!!!!

There's ALWAYS ... Somebody ...
Who's ... RUDER Than You ... !!!!!!!!

So .....
What Will You Do ... ?!?
When YOU Are ... "The Victim" ... !!!

........... Facing A Crew ............

Who NOW Are The Ones' ...
Pointing Fingers At YOU ... !!!!!!

That's One FINAL Thought ...  
On Which You Should ... CHEW ...

REMEMBER My Comment ...
About ... DEAD MENS' Shoes ... !!!!!

A Life of GOOD VIBES ...
IS The Way To LIVE LIFE ... !!!!!!

These Words Hold The ... " Clues " ...
To AVOID ............................ Dead Mens' Shoes ... !!!

THUS ...
THIS Is My View ...

Shoes Are For WALKING ... !!!
So That's What I DO ...
Try Doing It ... TOO ... !!! ...

Try Showing Some LOVE ...
To Those Who LOVE YOU ...

and REMEMBER These Words ...

There's ...
NO NEED To Be ....

...... " Rude " ......
Certain themes sadly, keep repeating themselves, or in the case of youth behaviour, worsen !
So, a few cautionary words on, not letting this trait worsen in the generations to come ...........
Ash Saveman Apr 2015
Every time it is the same
Listening to the sound of her answering machine
PLEASE LEAVE YOUR MESSAGE FOR-
And then the moment of bliss-
Kaylie White
Her voice, just two little words
But they are all I get
I long for her day in and day out

Nothing ever changes
Unanswered messages on social media
I see she is active, responding to others, but I am left in the dark
Wondering what the hell went wrong

A sad normality
Unanswered texts
Pilling up on one another

I'm so lonely and lost without her
God grant me the serenity
To stack all the Bitcoin I can,
The courage to create more memes
That expose the thieving fiat system,
And the wisdom to know
That Bitcoin fixes this;

Living one day at a time
Enjoying one moment at a time
Accepting criticism and adversity
As the pathway to orange pilling
All people, trusting that every
Last person will get Bitcoin
At the price they deserve;

Trusting the equations of Satoshi
That my value will increase
Due to truly scarce money
And aligned incentives;
With responsibility
And freedom for all
Amen
You can see this poem on a background here - https://www.bitcoinpoems.pro/delivery080TheBitcoinSerenityPrayer.html
Parody of The Serenity Prayer by Reinhold Niebuhr
Irate Watcher Feb 2017
The old man with no luggage
wears a pilling houndstooth jacket
and suede fedora with a
leather strap and horse-bit buckle.
Stark seams line his trousers.

He has:

Wirey gray hair, calloused wrists,
a popped blood vessel neath his thumbnail,
and deep crevices in his palms.
He folds his boarding pass into a kite,
as he looks into the sun
through the tiny cube of a window.

He sees:

The geometric shadows
cast in early afternoon.
And skyscrapers.
They cut through the sprawling
grid like an artery.
I noticed this man on my way home from SF and I was struck by his character.
Mr Xelle Jan 2015
Messing with a saint
So I'm flying with no wings.
The other likes my gun
So I shoot him with a pic and I blow his brains.
Literally seriously clearly your pilling me like a orange.
I can't take it cause u come just to squeeze me and you know it.

I'm feeling used
I'm feeling new
How do I ***** something without even touching you ?

Why do they talk when they want to
I trust in God never trust in the issues cause I'm walking issue don't trust me I got  issues...
Sting of sloppy light.
Purse, bow, amphetamine.

Brown hair & a pink—
wind current cut through
               one open car window

to the other car window
pilling cigarette smoke cheap

               & steady forward.

He's a beauty, that one.
Wallet, vest & tie, coke.

Cut open her stomach &—
waves of salt water
               bolted to the ground

like tiny rocks & hardened
shells lain beneath the sea,

               a doubtless factotum.

Pull & stitch.
Sting again.
Erez Swickley May 2021
Call me a dreamer because I get caught up in my dreams.
Elevate above reality restoring my self esteem.
In between the hard times and struggle I find my drive.
It's no wonder they say through hard times we thrive.
Stuck inside the belly of the rough.
Deceived by thoughts of what's granted isn't enough.
It's up to me to take control of my mind.
The prior is history no need to rewind.
As I meditate I'm reminded to live every moment like my last,
Instead of getting hung up on moments of the past.
Who knows what the future beholds,
Better act on action rather than have stories told.
Contemplating as my true self awakens,
Expressing gratitude for things that were for granted taken.
Most find distractions to avert the need to deal,
With issues arising from values that make them real.
Safety protocols cease the ability to feel.
Still traumatized from the last time the heart had to heal.
Evolving through the years you come to realize,
The burden only gets bigger while pilling up the lies.
How much longer will you let yourself compromise,
Start digging deep and seek where you must rise.
Growing through external accomplishments is barely effective.
Real growth comes from a place that's rather reflective.
All you you really need is to gain some perspective.
You'll soon find how you perceive something is only subjective.
Finding gratitude in your life can really change the way you look at things.
AngLe Sep 2018
Cri Per sooth a lbay Goyle
way hem- raging letter

(p)Frozen shell, thaw sleeting
Pulsing necks harelm glow-in
after math of the shadowy fight

her's filling glaint, gladly save
entice weary charter banner
pilling sooth sabre

Immerseyourself, freeself lead soul
not that of a barron but soon
something/ ethers awept & taken
back from ground
back from reprose
back from amist
Groomed tooken & Vol = best
my friends & love
i am awept
this isn't poetry
or its very bad poetry

written after checking something
Nikita Jan 2016
The unknown  air to breathe
just so concealed  
rushing down the memory lane a thing caught the mind’s eye
unknown dreams and indentured places
the very delusion of certainty.
with the turmoil pilling up
gratifying or tainted unable to asset.
justification being like the secluded love possessed by the sun for the moon
self created agitation seems immortal
ignorant of  the elucidation present within
** being insightful of the self is the key to ease
Hiraeth Jun 2019
My love for you has started to astrophy
Muscel memory only exist if you can actually remember how to use it
And my heart has been cold for a long time
Frozen in a state of anguish
I do not want it back
Because with it comes pain and heartache
I can not take it anymore
My body has had enough
It's like self flagellation
Only I never see it coming
And it ******* carries a heavy punch

It's easy to walk around and pretend
That Felicity still belongs to me
And a lot harder to live in truth and wear my pain on my sleeve, a place my heart should be
I've never really had to be in the closet before
But with this...
With this I find skeletons pilling up around
Me 
No air left to breath

I feel like I am running
Running out of time
Running out of energy
Running out of hope
And I refuse to bruise my knees
For someone who needs
More than I can give
Tiffany Scicluna Dec 2016
A heart lost,
Battles half won,
Injured souls,
Lifeless bodies
Pilling up...
Blood shed,
Watery eyes,
Till all that's left, is
Sobbig for the dead
Douglas Scheurn Jun 2014
People,
Deceived by those who whisper
Within lines of bliss.
Evil,
My vertebrae does shiver.
Can you hear the hiss?


Hooks,
Pierce you like poisoned thorns.
Chains pilling to a grave dug deep.
Books,
Describe them with Minotaur horns.
In their prison corpses shriek.

Hold,
Your heart like a hand grenade.
You’re not alone.
Mold,
Yourself into a renegade,
Home in a warzone.

Give,
Your last breath to your brothers,
Your sword in the serpent’s abyss.
Live,
Give your life for another,
Cast away the demon’s kiss.

Carpe Diem.
I best chill out, take another ****
recalibrate,
remember my heart's broke
talking about girls will always make me choke
how'd you feel about pretty women?
well pretty women are sick of me
and yet I slay '*** it's time I'm killing
it's a void that I'm filling
whenever I'm drinking and pilling
popping my life away
my head's higher than the ceiling
maybe I'll never feel the same
trying to find somewhere to place the blame
the hardest part is that
I know it's just growing pains
Ghost Writer 3 Jan 2017
Again this compassed
Done with this feeling
Last with this bargain
Away with the dealing

Belated and lagging
Broken records play
Same old song, away
Screeching are sound
When you stay around
I am afflicted anew
Withdraw, my savior
Long past due

The bills are pilling
My thrills are dying
Dispassion growing
Heartbeat sinks
Inside the pit, the fire
Let the burning flow
Heaven sinistral
Purgatory sleeps
Only wakes on earth
I refuse to affirm
Which no one will know
I refuse to hold on
I will only let go
MJ Scholtz Jan 2017
Reality
       Becomes it
Sooner
In a rush of sudden in a    heart-skip-inhalation
It lacks the grace you've graced me so gracefully with.
I'll say graciously.
It comes thundering in
Slamming doors
                                       Shut
Slamming hearts
Thundering in, and then it forgets why it came in the first place
              Why the **** did it come in the first place
Just to rush on home
            Where time lies naked   enfolded
In my aching

I can't bear it
       The thought of it
I can't bear it
The suddeness, the sadness
Your strength refuses to man the lighthouse
I can't bear it
Your face.
It's everything.
You.
You're everything.            Everything.
Everything.

And I'll whisper this
Quieter than all the silences between us
            That I regret
I'd cry to you a million cloudbreaks
If it flooded out those
            Don't let me be
Pleading, not now, when I lie
         Claim I want it most
I want nothing more than
Everything
To hear these sad songs form the
Background
Of something else
Something small like
       My heart
My heart in your hands
Hold on for dear life
Forever
No, now. Now more than ever.

Happiness is a strange tale
It paints itself in blue
Bluer than your eyes in the half-light and my heart when you whisper,
Wait I'm lying,
Bluer than my heart in your tears
    or my mind when you say
Nothing
Something

And it heaps up inside me
Piles of piles in piles on piles
Pilling up
The dread I so
Time again
Feverishly denied

I'm ******* afraid
            Of this
And 54 days from now
Then two days from one year
I can't see myself able to
             Cope
I'm madly in love
I'm ******* afraid

I need you more than this
I love you more than
This
Always wait 'till it's gone
Always blind even when taught
Always deaf even when sought

Only looking back at what was
Only pilling bricks on my walls
Only gulping bile in my rue

Coulda had, coulda got
Coulda grabbed, coulda talked
Coulda laughed, coulda loved

Emptied comforts, emptied joys
Emptied rooms, emptied possibilities
Emptied mind, numb false serenity

Only broke up by
Intense flashes of
Sanity.
Disgust.
Astor Dec 2015
my painted fingers feel like armor
when i rub them together i feel them pilling
i like pills
specifically oxy
it makes me nauseous
so does bourbon
but i dont mind that
it also makes me floaty
and black out
i dont like to black out i love drunk memories  
they make me feel free
even though im really stuck in a bird cage
it was my moms birthday
she smiles when i told her i love her
what have you done tonight
what do you mean
I wanna try coke
ive been thinking about that a lot lately
***** makes me feel best I dont get hungover with it
so I drank that too
I wanna stab my self
not for pain or anything (I mean i want that too)
but because I love blood i wanna see it
taste it
im done now
**** elliot man
detective is hot at ****
T R S Feb 2018
So often, love softens hard hearts.
Pilling ***** on sweatered chests
Choosing light, lift off of our own air
Prove over and over, in an even way.
Oddly adding is a scary day in my planner
Running into any additional action is the antidote to my brooding and to my bad manners.
Beth Decisions Sep 2015
Take me back to the old days.
The days of eight people squeezing into one booth.
The days of random free food.
The days of pilling people into a car and blaring music.
Having silently parties while my parents were asleep.
Random night walks.
Random night drives.
Unplanned trips to the mall.
Spending hours just sitting in a room.
All of us pilled in to one apartment.
Getting the text from mom telling us she's making dinner and everyone comes running.
Take me back to the old days.
I miss it.
Simbarashe1 May 2017
Once,  tomorrow met yesterday,
And the two discussed,
Of the individual failures,
And errors of humanity
Tomorrow was told of all the sorrows,
Grievances, tortures and sufferings,
That occured in the struggles of freedom,
Of Political arenas and religious catastrophes;
The world wars,  black deaths and holocausts;
As the visions of all these events floated in his mind;
Tomorrow realized how bad mankind lived yesterday
His heart was stabbed,  tears flooded his yet to be born face

Tomorrow then met today;
The story of Today was not very different,
Only a transformation has occurred, but no solution
Seemingly more devastating wars were hanging in the atmosphere
Cyber attacks, terrorism and human trafficking haunted the Today vocabulary,
Closely alienated to a host of diseases without cures;
All official meetings being based on global warming worries
Morals and customs has long fled from all youngsters;
Conspiracy theories pilling on each other and religious segregation rising like noone's business!

Tomorrow knew from his deepest instincts;
He was the last hope for mankind; the last line of faith;
All these sufferings has to wait with today,  
What is only needed is a choice;
A good choice from all humanity;
A choice to be good from all inhabitants of the earth;
Being good to everyone and everything is all mankind is left with,
Inorder to help tomorrow deliver a better life
Painfully golden sun
Runs over the dark brown pasture
Of tranquil summer.
Enlarged double sevens on its waist
And brimming black waves
Striding ahead of me.
What follows after is,
Deadly disfigured disgusting dust.
Grains as sharp as broken glass
Shatter and splash,
Ripping and untangling every little vein
As they revolve inside my two eyes.
For once I-
I wanted to run on the same line.
But being one's mere wish it is,
The scar from yesterday
Edges its piercing blade against my mane,
Pilling every inch of my skin,
Delivering its pain
Across the entire system.
Audience screams as he reaches the white belt.
He was just- just born like that-
Effortless and fortunate.
Yet he snorts as if he owns the world.
Behind him,
My frayed crimson hooves howl in the shadow.
Once again-
I'm on the starting line,
Spurting towards the unseen finishing point
Of a never-ending race.
Hello, I am new here!
This is the first poem I ever wrote, hope you guys enjoy!
Raven Feb 2016
The liquor fills the hole
Taking the pain away
Hiding it for a while
But
The pound begins as the sun creeps in

Eyes squinting at the burning, innocent light
Rolling over with a mumble and a groan
Staring at the pure clean ceiling
So opposite from my dark dark life.

The bottles are pilling up
Each one emptier then the last,
The demons drip back through as
The sweet sweet liquor wears off.
The aching begins as the moonlight ends

Forcing myself to get up and go
Is so much harder then before
Reaching for my bedside draw
Scooping up the pure white pills
just to take away some of the pain
Is now a daily thing


The liquor is running out
Bottles laying on the floor
Each one emptier than the last
The memories rush back as the sunlight begins

Hands rubbing temples
Trying to erase some pain
Craving another drop
Just to fill me inside
Even just for a small time

The Liquors all gone
The aching got worse
How can I go on without my
sweet sweet pain taker?

Eyes so raw
So sore
As clear drops fall,
Cheeks red with small watery tracks
dashing down

It's too late to try and stop...
Devin Feb 2017
Seven dollar wine
Two grams, even
Your grandmother’s aged Pendleton blanket
Pilling with the buds of time and circumstance

Four hundred and twenty eight miles
From everything you bid farewell
Anything that evokes a similarity
Because this is where it has led

Back seat, silver sedan.
We paint our stories in the morn dew
Like modern cavemen
Our phones are the fire

Tangled and tired
Too invested now
We wove our words into conversation
And basked in the intrigue of discourse

A hush impedes
As the sun burst the seams of the pacific
To cherry a falling sky
Like your hand-rolled cigarette
InsertPenName Nov 2018
Dark humour is like a a pair of working legs
Not everyone gets it
So don't get restless if we seem a little off handed
The ofendments are pilling up
Time we set free the fragile figure, fatigued and fractured being
The sweet aroma is intoxicating and before we puts the soul free
We'll see that the rage is take care of
Take the edge off the edge lord we need to talk about something happening
something sensitive
Put an end to it
The ego sandwiched between sadness and rage
Checking the sand for that one page
that missing piece from the formation of mind
The landmines explode,
the battlefield is not to be explored, enough corpses pile up already
If it's that bad why not go to a doctor
Or maybe a medic who can mend the mind by words
But stigma is the monster that feeds on affection
The gory infection glorified
You can't be gone, you got everything
Look at the reflection see the demon staring back
Can't take meds, the pain would be over
Our first fresh breath might just be our last
How do we betray the one that kept up from creating one last time
Stopped us from singing one last time
Now as we switch sides, the insides are growing
It was first time we looked over a glowing bridge at night
First time without calculating the lethal height
The moon was full, and dragons sored hight, bears and brothers waiting across
We took a pause
It was beautiful
Don't feed the inner stigma, help is out there. Not everything work for everyone. That's another reason to keep searching
Go on even if you have to go, one breath at a time. Peace
ChrisYellow Feb 2021
She raised her glass
to a space of fragrance
gifts of perfumers and chefs
bees for our banquet.

"Tonight we dance."

Her glass rose
and so did theirs.

"Outside this stained window
lose specs forced to shake
water flushed from the sky
as if migration made it light.

Zeus and Thor collude
against our dinner feast
abhorred by its stature
green isn't color that fits.

Nevertheless,
tonight we dance."

And her glass rose again
with them cheering it.

"Youth flee their lessons
burdened with pesky
and serious concerns
long past their tender.

For what of their guardian,
exhausted will she manage?
the pilling of warnings?
of crossroad endings?

Regardless,
tonight We dance."

And her glass rose again,
they're lost at her turn.

"Broken close their eyes
to their fate and its price
they planned for luck solely
but got struck instead.

Their doctors prescribed
but held was their fund
for useless is the mallet
to the insurance wallet.

Anyway,
tonight WE dance."

And her glass rose again
but gone was their wit.

"Looking-in hands implore,
forsaken howl at our spoils
like wolfs without a den
or a pack to take them in.

They'll surrender to the rain
and recoil to any found dent
of this majestic construction
to remind'em where they stand.

All the more reason,
TONIGHT WE DANCE!
Because we can!"
And she gulps the wine.

Slowly the stunned room,
in its palpable gloom,
was silently emptied.
The extravagants gone.

"Good, only I remain,
let it linger just the same
in their spoiled brains.
For we alone hold the chains."
Absent Moniker Jul 2016
Cast and torn pieces of red and black
White wings marred by ash of wood
Vivid image breaking line of abstract
A fragile figure in the darkness stood

I reached for you seeing you broken
To attempt to save you from the depths
But I realized in that hurtful moment
That I cannot save you from yourself

Ghostly shadows dance around you
Your painful tears become the beacon
Stench marking their hunger true
Abandoned lover bathing in crimson

The falling ash and the pilling snow
The written portrait of black and white
In scribbled words I have left my hope
That another save you from the night
Akira Chinen Nov 2020
she handed me back my heart
without making eye contact
there was still a tenderness
in her fingertips
an unspoken apology
for letting go
a slight quiver in her voice
carried the words
that pierced through
the hollow of my chest

the tale of our forever
abruptly ended
the chapter cut off mid-sentence
the remaining pages left
longing for the echo of words
waiting to bounce back
from eternities edge
for any words to break
the uncomfortable silence

I cracked and I crumbled
until there was nothing left
but rubble and smoke and ash
and a pain as heavy
as it was empty
a pain that stretched
from the weak tremble of my heart
past the unknown year
of my inevitable death

I don’t remember much
of the pain in detail
or how sleepless the nights were
how bad the dreams got
I remember it hurting in a place
I believed it would never hurt again
hurting in a way
I never thought would go away
a hurt I never thought
I would be able to live with

time passed slowly burning
what would never be again
her ghost was on every corner
in every line
in every car at ever stop light
my body kept going
through the motions of life
but I was...

I was...

I really don’t recall
what or who I was
some fraction of who I use to be
and nothing of who
I thought I would become

eventually I flew out
to visit my parents for four days
to try and regroup and recollect
and rebuild and distract myself
those four days turned
into a week and then a month
and the idea of going back...
back to where both she
and her ghost lived...
well...
the month turned to years
and those years are still pilling up

I tried drinking
no....
I drank
I drank a lot
the days became blurs
and it stopped hurting
on the nights I couldn’t recall
or remember
but the pain was still there
still empty
still heavy
when my blood
was absent of *****
and my head full of longing
for the things that would never be

and time crawled

I fell in love with a new face
a new heart
and it was wild and turbulent
and short lived
and another hand reached
into my wreckage
and pulled out my heart
and held it for a moment
and it felt like love
and we played pretend
until one day my heart
was handed back again

and I remembered
the tender touch
of an unspoken apology

and life went on
and it hurt
but the hurt wasn’t the same
the pain was different
not quite as heavy
not unnecessarily empty
it bloomed in
the shape of lilies and orchids
and the air smelled
of a lost love
that wasn’t lost
and I breathed in
and exhaled

I opened a book
I once thought had ended
and I started to read the next chapter
that picked up mid-sentence
and love was still there on the page
though different
somehow farther away
and yet still deeply rooted
in the pulse and rhythm
of the blood living and flowing
in the chambers of my heart
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2023
if etymology is a history - but not a history: in that it is
more a historiology - which, well: history is the study
of time: but time as exclusively begot by man,
a temporal study of man: by man...
history is, after all: not the history of geology:
since stones have no memory:
only friction and pressure and a time-space exclusivity...

what am i talking about?
probably a quote from the pre-Socratics,
the inquisitive genuis: genius of the Greek
spirit - without citations of Homer:
because i won't: will not cite anything Greek
beside the romantic curving of lower-case
a as α

     perhaps it's just a dreary winter mid afternoon
and i'm feeling all "sentimental":
but sentiments are for women
while emotions are a masculine "thing"...
yes... i see the divergence of the sexes -
my words will not become pop fictive in any retrospect:
handed or mishandled...
etymology and history...

i wonder why i still have the capacity to utilise
the word:     ALBIET
albeit....            to substitute it for ALTHOUGH...
albeit = although...
           old Germanic sing-sing-along...
i would rather use albeit rather than although...
or... rather: that's alðough
raðer ðan                   ðorn:
a halo and a crown?

  i ask again:
         a'h geislabaugur og a'h kórónu?

now i will not ask:
why a'h? otherwise the English tongue would not
hollow out the vowel to a simple a-plha
lymph ah... but a as ~aye... a as a yes...
no...
       ah: dental care: say ah with your mouth open
and a dentist's hands shoved in your mouth...
that sort of ah... but a'h... not ah...
as in no: ah! of relief... an a'h of dental inspection
"constipation"...

hmm... i just had one sharpshooter whiskey
drool of a moment and i'm all ***** Wonka and
the Chocolate Factory in my head...
my eternal demise will be not exploring
the imagination of Roald Dahl as a child...
didn't have time to be a child...
learned how old-English conservatism worked
circa the 1990s in terms of illegality of
migration...
i remember punching the walls when my father
was arrested with my mother: handcuffed...
day short of gaining legal status
since arrival circa 1990...

                    my revenge: banana-boat migration...
now the floodgates have opened for
the miracle of the roaming stars...
but England is a ******* besides:
it's the weather that's a drag...
you must have a melancholic-Scandi disposition
to digest the morose and the melancholic...
by now England is so multicultural that
i begin to wonder whether the English even
noted that: waging war against **** Germany
on principle of defending Poland was
ever a good idea...

       given that Polish soldiers joined the RAF
and fought on English soil all the while no English
soldier stood foot-by-foot on Polish soil...
is Ukraine any, ******* different?
master posing ridiculous affairs of double standard
ethics.. ha...            

ah... another word... constenation...
i forgot what it means: but i remember the word...
"á propos" / pardon pardon:
consternation... not constellation...
akin to the rubric of the word: not grievance...
hmm... not belegarence...
belligerence...

           funny tongue this English and French:
hide letters, show letters: eat letters... regurgitate letters:
dyslexia must be a phenomenon in
the anti-orthography of the English tongue:
'leash... my leash:
my poly-schizoid Shakespearean:
if an apple fell on Newton's head...
a pear for a quill to break the mind
and let explode-in-exploring the phantoms of
abortions...

me? no, i don't have the luxury of choice...
i could (perhaps) choose a naive 20 year old woman
as (a) "compliment":
but then again i find naive women discouraging
for my taste... i don't appreciate the dynamic of
fathers grooming sons or daughters into becoming
the same: football team supporters...
i'm privy to this subtle hyper-paedophilia...
it is... a hyper-paedophilia since the hyper- prefix
denotes: it is collectively: collusively(?)
no, not collusively... openly done...
football team fan grooming...
it is: hyper-paedophilia... a variation of brainwashing
without adherence to ****** acts:
instead... *** ARMY... per example being
a child with a father who's a Tottenham Hotspur
supported...

having digested Ezra Pound's Cantos...
currently digesting Charles Olson's Maximus poems:
i'm not assured anything by postmodernism,
clearly the 20th century was a bridging-gap
in how evolution was to play out
societally...
                  industrially...
already i'm sitting on the throne of bypassing
the old function of journalism:
i have come to question journalistic integrity
with due diligence and find it:
bankrupt: bankrupt like the priesthood:
that journalism was the priesthood of the secular
world i see me: heretic: obnoxious stamina orc...
i'm yet to die... and till then i will:
conjure a hammer and a scythe for every moment
i endeavour to feel a canary of a heart
in my ribcage...

as i was thinking:
of the difference between men and women:
of women and the cycle: birth and rebirth...
the beginning and the end...
while with men there is no cycle:
there's only a way through, a dead end and...
from nothing -
i have no luxury of the riddle of the chicken and egg
i only have the ego and the O of oscillation
i oscillate and do not idea-morph a re-:
recycling, rejuvenation, reincarnation...
i'm a crow's beak device of honing in...
by eclipses of the suns and the gods
and all that is sheen and mirror-smiles...
i am a fetishist of death...
as much as: well... only when life becomes
intolerable do i become: a death-fetishist...
which raises my libido and poo...

         (cut off... not necessarily implying i *******
while taking a ****, but given that
cats can't **** and **** at the same time,
it feels rather natural to ******* while
on the throne of thrones)....

what came first? the ego or the cogito?
that's simpler... can i think without "i"?
clearly i can abstract, which is like: the wording
of division (÷) with words and not numbers:
then again pronouns are like integers...
but given the current climate of "politically correct"
pronoun fetishes of they zee zoo
we have people who have no concept of
pronoun-integer compactness -
fraction-peoples ***-unit abuse victims:
by any decent scrutiny of a glance...
           somewhat casual-schizoid and not:
the classical schizoid-bilingualism...
more schizoid-bisexuality... brains in the sheets
and in the hemorrhaging genitals...

one could add: there appeared a rainbow at
the spectacle of Golgotha...
sickly sweet genius of the Greco-Hebrew conspiracy
against the ailing military genius of Rome...

i am going to write an apologetic letter to
Fulham F.C. for granting me work...
till the end of the year Fulham shifts are clashing with
Tottenham and West Ham shifts and i just won't
be able to fulfill the demand:
and given that both the Tottenham stadium
and London stadium have a summer prospect
of entertaining artists for concerts...
well: working at Fulham is a sort of regress...
although the rate of pay is circa £20 while the other
stadiums pay less... it's still less pay given
that Fulham is only a football stadium
and cannot be utilised as a concert venue

a much needed letter of apology:
given that until the end of the season Fulham shifts
clash with Tottenham shifts...
and that given recent developments at
Tottenham invoke me in a supervisory role:
outside, hands-on... directing the crowd
like a Moses... obviously the escalated "burden"
of accountability is a promising aspect of
any role: given the mantra of:
the easiest job in the world is not appealing...
alias of: but i'm not heart-surgeon either...
tongue and language this spare plaything of mine
i will notoriously retreat into grammatical-gymnastics...

just to reiterate: chicken or the egg?
that's wording it in old Latin,
avoiding shrapnel wordings...
i.e. what came first, the chicken or the egg(?)
similarly:
(what came first) the ego or the cogito?
primo ego vel primo ego cogito?
clearly the construction of consciousness
"consciousness" begins with "scenting" the optics:
"scenting" the optics?
oh... coordinating the senses...
coordinating = harmonizing...
even though thought leaves so much room for
error and does not actually invoke any
active participation in the senses...
the ego: doesn't either...

no amount of thinking equates to the participation
in identity, thinking doesn't
stubborn ego is all about the id in the capacity
of the ideologue of identity...
a quasi-magnetism of adhering to
fixations... a unit a baron of the integer
never too sure whether or not capable
to disintegrate into a schizoid fractionable pronoun:
semi-noun politics:
wording at play...

    of course i'm drinking: to get through Olson
you need to drink...
to get through Pound you have to...
****'s sake... go and see an opera...
to get through Ginsberg you have to listen to jazz
and for the rest of the *******:
i like to listen to anti-feminist lyrics
of Sheryl Crow while reading Bukowski...
something about a "home" being a place
where men lie...
not lie as in: take a rest...
but rather deceive...
       i don't like deception: i already have a shadow
so the night is deceiving me
dragging behind me...

men and women: unlike an INXS (in excess) song...
men think disparagingly:
women think disproportionately:
women have really **** spatial coordination...
i almost punched a woman in the face
while giving directions at Fulham...
apparently my open hand seemed like
a pucker kiss in her mind:
"learning disabilities"(?)               maybe...
the world O so cruel:
but not                            Ω    (i.e. ooh not oh)
so cruel: like there's some juice to be squeezed
from a frigid lemon: frigid?

who can i complain to...
a girlfriend in her 50s and me nearing my 40s
at least i don't have a reproductive incentive...
woke up to fun fun fun
went to bed with fun fun fun...
calls it creamy-pie when the junk juice of
alligator drools oozes from her ****...
because i really couldn't stomach
a woman in her 30s with a Cpt. Hook syndrome
of wanting children...

tick-tock-o-ah-clock-tick-tock-o-ah-clock
(have a double helix on that, mate?)

i'm too fail-safe for that sort of jargon...
if i didn't replicate my genes by now
i want the "fun" to continue...
surrogate fatherhood sounds most appealing...
in line with my sentiments for ancient Roman
history...

but let's face it (face it i, not you or we):
men's thinking distinguishes them from others (other men)
while they return to a generic man...
prototypes galore...
we all want different things...
either riches or festering in a semi-digested state
of existential prowess with mothers and fathers
and hobbies...
some want to scale the heights and have eleven children
by 6 different mothers... rich enough to do so...
as men we want different things...
regardless: even being homeless is a Bob Dylan
phantasmagorical allure for a freedom
deeply associated with: of Sinope (Diogenes)...

the modern world has taught me to be more of a cat...
i imitate a cat:
i like a roof over my head...
i'll cook i'll clean i'll keep conversation...
Matthew the cat...
i like the cold but i also like the warmth...
woman is a universal creature:
all women want the same thing...
although their allure changes from woman to woman
each woman is different, individually:
as a person...
but in terms of a woman being a thinking creature:
all women are the same...

men? men are the same: thoroughly throughout...
every instance... it wasn't a man that caused
the Trojan war...
Trojan war and the accountability of being inquisitive
from the metaphor of Eden?
men are generic in person...
although different in thought: since we want
a variety we come to represent...
by our ***-outliers...
criminality is: rest assured: a search for freedom...

coming to the conclusion that...
well... there was German idealism there was Platonism
there was scholasticism there was there was...
but... what? first wave second wave third wave...
it's still feminism...
            no original thinking no...
it's still stoic feminism...
it's still going to be cynic feminism...
a **** contraceptive pilling of... cartesian feminism...
prefixing femme fatale to anything
a man thought of first to cope with
living without children...

but i do have a surrogate girl i'm very much fond
of so much fond of that i was willing
to stay up almost all night to bake her a birthday cake
so good so that during the pool party
every single attendee SHUT THE **** UP
and gobbled down the carbohydrate plush-hush...
****'s sake...

stoic "feminism"...
one movement to rule them all... Sauron hypochondriacs
of owning *****... as if the role of mother
was a burden...
and not a negligence of "self-discovery"...
oh sure... those desperate brats are brimming on
a necessary spanking but seeing them being
spoiled and not affected by a cane
is also, sort of, disorientating for them...
the joke being: you give them "too much" freedom
and... guess what!(?) they won't be able
to decipher freedom, denote it,
filter out what they might end up wanting!

stoic feminism my ***...
my *** greasing up a donkey's hind with a warm ****...
2000 years of men thinking:
reduced to 50 years of women playing
the crab-bucket game of cocktail miasmas...
it's infuriating given the innate persuasiveness
of women to: get the Trojan horse on the move
by men... gaslighting 21st century advent...
mind you i've been with enough
prostitutes to know the difference between
staged: receiving pleasure and
staged: faking pleasure as non-received...
up to a point where she's calling you up constantly
and you keep reminding her:
listen... i've found my little Robinson Crusoe
isle of happiness and i really don't
mind not proving my manhood anymore...
i've tried a ******* and i can vouch that
it's not an ego boost but a hindering experience
of not seeing a lover's face during *******...

because it is like the execution of the prophet
Isaiah: being cut in half at the bowels...
it's disorientating: ******* two women at once...
of sure... it looks great for a ******...
but in practice?            no....       n'ah ah...
unless... you reduce it to one jerking you off
into the mouth of the other... or something like that...
then again all the ****** tension in the workplace...
by the time you arrive at ****** intimacy
with someone... it will probably be...
something akin to: 2 years
                                              and 7,186 miles away...

or at least...
there i was thinking: what also came first,
letters or names?
nouns...
i'm pretty sure we said words long before
we used letters...
we only came back to conjuring letters after already
conjured up vector-meanings
as words...
the ancient Greeks confuse me with their
anticipation of atoms...
but there was surely a construct of meaning
concerning water before w-a-t-e-r
                    and certainly before H₂O...

so yes... words came before letters...
it's only later that we designated the cutting up of meaning(s)
into... more so...
a - a letter but also an indefinite article...
i - a letter but also a pronoun, personal?    sure... "i" too...
in ******
you have w - which translates to 'in'
and z - which translates to 'with'               yes...

there is a distinction between "air"         and 'earth' quotes...

we must have grunted shovelled, breathed in breathed out
and then! the genesis of the first word...
i wonder what the first word was, ever was...
it sure as **** wasn't god...
given that god was probably the last word...
sun and moon and water and
first to speak of giving names to things
to coordinate... much later time and space:
concepts per se...
curiosity by noun
yet confirmation of a shared experience
by the inequality of verbs:
like banking is not plumbing
and the disparaging rewards of:
say, borderline automation fancy of markets when
investing money and not,
    and when not providing enough poems
or: charitable carpenter with...
hoarding musical chairs no one will sit on?
lopsided supply-and-demand nature of money...
compared to actual goods...

plastic-money... there's too much of it in the world...
apparently money doesn't grow on trees
anymore... since these days banknotes are made
of plastic... and there is too much plastic in the world...
paper-money: simple thinking...
let's go back to basics...
point being: i enjoy books and music...
i buy whiskey and once upon a time i used
to transfer my earnings to prostitutes...

money isn't paper anymore...
nor is journalism a secular priesthood...
the true advent of democracy via the internet
and all the while the current politicians are clowns...
beside who the true politicians are:
the soloists akin to the demagogues and dictators...
because that's who you "suddenly" end up trusting:
solo-actors...
          well at least they are immune to conspiracies
of "in-groups" that languish any accountability...
at least i know who is accountable for what...
because Tony Blair and...          are...    will       be?!

by writing this and posting it...
i can bypass all that editorial scrutiny of what will
sell or not sell...
i earn enough to not worry about money...
that's the whole idea...
money per se being something akin to a "philosopher's stone":
i can turn a piece of "paper" into a plumber...
i can turn a piece of "paper" into a train driver...
i can turn a piece of "paper" into...

money is the "philosopher's stone"...
oddly enough... water imitation...
let's keep out of each other's way...
    best that way...
but there is too much wealth in this world...
wealth that is not appreciated: but squandered...
squandered by being floundered...

hell... i'm quite frankly content to cycle through
London, use the public transport than
have to "compensate" with "contritions"
of being mechanically - (&) viable
          for the workforce without a horse but a car...
esp in this oorban gungle... j j jade...
Seazy Inkwell Aug 2017
Black                                              |             ­                                           Blue
it is the start of new things
as I walk down the debris
of firecrackers and snow
expectant like color black           |
                                                               ­                I shop around with ashes
                                                        |                   pilling inside me the sky a
                                                               ­              hyacinth blue and the lake
                                                                ­           a stale grey that hibernates.
Then I smiled.                               |
                                                               ­     I sobbed within the color blue.  
I feel rich with the presence
of you like starlit boulevard that
stretches beyond my neon nails.
                                                         |­    I am famished with your absence,
                                                                ­    as stars shatter away I began to
                                                                ­                      live in the past when
                                                            ­             I have not known anything.
You will always be there              |
clothed solemn black
before the coming of spring.

                                                         |     ­             You were buried in white,
                                                            before the winter begins to settle in.
What a wonderful time it is--
as I wait for tomorrow
                                                         |        What a horrifying moment it is
                                                              ­         as I search for my yesterdays.
Thank you for reading!

— The End —