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Elizabeth Brown Nov 2018
Here I go again;
putting you to the forefront of my mind.
pushing these words back and back, endlessly
...simply because you opened your eyes.
is beauty more important than art?
I had a whole *** poem, and lost it because my boyfriend woke up. Typical, scatterbrained me.
Mystic Ink Plus Oct 2018
When the mind is restless
Ping the Universe

It will find a way
Genre: Experimental
Theme: Power of Prayer
DivineDao Jun 2016
Kamera-! Action!


- I'll never give you another word!
- This is terrible!


Parlor of sweet Puer Aeternus
Washes his
mouth

Slender figurative speach
Sulking in
a corner

Rumination upon celestial arcs Intersecting
Intermittent
Emitting
PI

Audacious pi and its consequencies ~ do
Conquer
Our

Foible mnemonic techniques                         &

                       Mems ?

- Onomatopoeia!  Khhraaw Khhraaw Raven is long dead!

- Waterraneous!  Whoossh      Whoossh       Whoossh Whoossh        Whoossh       Whoossh  The canoe levitates
     ~    https://youtu.be/fi-S9lrnLZ8~
Cling

   Cling

           Ping
                  Rock
         Ping

            Plump

Darkling dead man plays on a magic alternative guitar.
Stellary Canoe is his home.
Steellary Canoe - swiftly stolen!

- Parenthesis!
- Who are you?
- A parent of a thesis!
- And you? Show me how much you love me!

- Aeol Gods! Tell this woman I'm crazy about her!

Lofty ideas were born
Of the Mount Olympus
Clouded lingerie seams
Were made of dreams
In their own admission

Too exuberant
To exuberant
Anarchy!
Cheers!
Ideals

- Aeol Gods! Tell this woman I'm crazy about her!

Mount
Waikiki Hawai Loveable Artistry Sumptuous Menagerie Canary

Waterraneous Islands Are We
A strangely peculiar
Worlds

Menagerie

Artistry

Loveably
Alive and kicking
                      Records

Drop dead gorgeous
                                 Archives

Alabama whiskey songs
Roses in an old vineyards
Loving lush Detroit lovers

Global nets, dancing on wires
Pyramids in patterns
Bluberries in revival

Jarmush in New york

Leonard with Bacall & Space Ship Remote Controls
Based on the association play of words.<3
Written with my beloved, still young <333
Once when an Angel called me,
Not single right now; sor-ry…
Like a shadow with wings,
I see him around…

Not that it really matters,
His dress is torn and tattered,
A shadow of flap-ping wings,
Lit-tle breezy…here with no sound?

Kiss of a fool and the angels above…
And they’re falling forever, falling in love,
Kiss of a fool and the angels above…
And they’re falling forever, falling in love,

Hey you…angel who called me,
Am -I...really that pretty?
Get out of that tree,
Come down to the ground!

Dancing with wings, moving around,
Twirling…still, there’s no sound?
Dating an angel; falling down!
Dated an angel, fallen down.

Kiss of a fool with the heavens above…
And we’re falling forever, falling in love,
Kiss of a fool and the heavens above…
And we’re falling forever, falling in love,

Okay angel who called me…
It was okay but sor-ry,
Dated an angel, fooling around,
Broken up, sorry, shadowy ground.

Kiss of a fool and the angel above…
And he’s fallen forever, falling in love,
Kiss of a fool and the heavens above…
And they’re falling forever, fallen in love,

I hear Sheryl Crow when I sing this.
Lady Misfortune Apr 2019
Once again I've taken my brilliance and splattered it on a canvas
To depict what I feel for someone so undeserving,

Who doesn't know how much I was hurting,
When they weren't worth my love and energy.

I asked for ice from whom I thought was a stranger,
Until I saw a slight head **** and my heart plummeted into my stomach,

Suddenly empty,
Bearing the worse burden of fearing,
A problem I'd let dissolve with time was just sitting in the pit of a glass.

Lollygagging and putting on a show
When there's this little ping of me knowing,
This earthling will always have my attention.

At least I can choose whether or not I listen.
The puzzling affliction of loving someone but not being in love, anymore.

Thin lines between every emotion, I could so easily cross a boundary, depending on my decisions.

I will begin at the finish, that is also the start, where all my coping and art to get through the dark, mean nothing.

The torture of your screws will be of no use,
Because,
I threw it all away when I greeted you with laughter and smiles,

Knowing good and well for me your just another hell I've longed to avoid.
Shoved into denial, I try to bury the dial making all the noise.

Ping. Ping. Ping.

How can I still have love for you after it all?
How can you claim to care about me when you weren't there to carry me?
Skaidrum Jun 2015
.
A story is brothers with a poem.
That's all this is, family.

~~~
Your soul couldn't get any bigger,
twilight crept over your toes, and
before you knew it---
it was gliding along your throat.

Cliffs aren't made of bones,
they rock and gleam like armor gnashing
twin dragon scales.  The earth growls and lashes, dominance is its domain.

Bellow my legs I view the darkness pleading~
I've never witnessed a starving sea,
it begged to swallow every inch of
my crippled heart of wine.

I'm hanging by the wires we call gallows,
tendrils thinning like my silver lining.
Soon I'll feel the tides swallowing at my spine.
When I fall,
I'll do so
bliss-
ful-
y

This cliff has lockjaw,
the stones morphing into fangs of a Greek legend.
You're staring at me,
Saturn now makes its home in your auburn depths.
How I'll miss the misty mountains,
because you named them
after me.

A whisper louder than thunder,
lonesome ashes staining venom on my tongue.  
Coughing up my regrets as if
I had lung cancer.

I'm a hanging nightmare.
That's ready to drown.

No wonder they call you daughter of old man winter, you're practically frozen in place.
I've seen the universe, but I think I'll swing by hell for a change.

"Ahkira....Ahkira look at me."
Why must your voice be so drippy?  I thought you were a frost flower.
Since when did you melt when it sleeted?

"Yes?"

"Don't let go....Don't let go please...I'm coming."

"It's no use.  I'm going to die,
Cinder."
Oh but darling,
you should've stayed glued to glass.

"Don't say that!  I-"
With a lurch the mottled sky pinned you down,
senselessly, you crashed to the floor, 6 feet away from my hourglass body.

"Give me your hand!"
You reached, but I couldn't hold the wire.
Slip-
ping
ne-
ver
felt
so
****
wick-
ed,

But I was wrong.
Your soul multiplied.
It expanded.

But before I fell into the hug of oblivion, I tugged at your heartstrings my very last time.
I brushed the surface of your being and my words stung perfectly in your ear.
"Close your eyes."
.
You never did.




This is about two girls, on a cliffside.  One is hanging from the cliffs edge, while the other is paralyzed from fear.  The girl is hanging is the one leading the poem.
As there is a massive storm around them making the area dangerous.
The girl who is trying to save the other finally runs forth, but wind knocks her off her feet.  Out of breath, she reaches for the other while crying and screaming.  But the other is slipping.
Then she falls.

"Close your eyes."
You don't want to see me struggle.

For Lycan.
© Copywrited
CAM Feb 2018
It's been a while.
Since I wrote a poem.
But not since I wrote about you.

I write about you all the time.
Every once in a while,
I forget why.

Then I remember why.
I remember you,
Or I see a picture.

I see your blond hair.
Your blue eyes.
You're the reason I have a type.

I think of your adventure,
And your shyness,
And your varying range of emotion.

I think of all these
Random memories,
Floating around in my head.

Like ping pong.
And capture the flag.
Like long flaring lights and computer bags.

Like fire escapes,
And hiding under tables,
Like missing you in winter with eyelashes like a fable.

Like long walks in the dark,
And hidden dark handkerchiefs with white polka dots.
Like plaid checkered jackets, even when it's hot.

Like cargo shorts and a white fedora.
Gathering under the arch like it's an agora.
Hiding that handkerchief between the flora.

God, I miss you more and more.
Months til I see you,
I'm down to only a few before.

I almost can't wait,
It makes me feel sad.
The fact that I'd leave,
Just like that.

Just so I could see you again.

It's Valentine's Day
And I'm here without you.
And I wish more than anything,
For that to not be true.
Argh. Oh. Now I'm a pirate.
So update: I recommended this site to the person this is about and now I'm terrified of him reading it.
Amanda Jan 2018
VERSE 1

Another year has come and gone,
I realize now that I was wrong,
For ******* at you way too long,
Blaming you for us not getting along,
Arguing with you until dawn,
We go back and forth just like ping-pong,
About all of the crazy conclusions I've drawn,
Now it's eggshells we are walking upon,
I hate that you are distant and withdrawn,
I'm trying but it's so hard to be strong,
I know that with you is where my heart belongs,
I'm reminded each time I hear our song,
This feeling is one I wish I could prolong,
Your love is a drug, I love to be on.

HOOK

It's hard for me to say, but I'm addicted to loving you,
Always chasing my next fix, you are what I pursue,
I need to feel your high, I need to have you close,
I just want to fill up on your love, so I can overdose.

VERSE 2

Baby you know you are my everything, my high when I am low,
You pick me up when i am down, I can't let you go,
You really are the best thing, that I have ever found,
When I'm with you i feel like I'm ten feet off the ground,
Nothing can compare to you, babe you are the best,
But when I'm too far away from you, I turn into a mess.
To the point I will do anything to feel your caress,
And rub my hands across your bare chest,
I don't know why I do this, a different side of me emerges,
When you get me alone and I give into my urges,
Since I had a taste I'm craving you and no one else,
It's obvious I'm strung out, all my friends say I need help.

(HOOK)

VERSE 3

We've been staying up too late,
This addiction I'm growing to hate,
My mind is fuzzy I can't think straight,
I've even started to lose weight,
When you penetrate me we levitate,
I'm elevated, my pupils dilate.
I try to slow down, gradually wean,
Myself off of the magic inside of your jeans,
But hard as I try I can't break the routine,
I'm beginning to think I'll never stay clean.

(HOOK)

BRIDGE

I'm addicted to your love, though it's tough to admit,
This habit is one I'm not sure I can quit.
This is my first attempt at writing rap but I think it came out great. Any feedback would be soooo appreciated!
Yacov Mitchenko Apr 2019
Sophia descends the cotton-white corridor
That icy Reason shall be more than celebrated;
Descends to remind that all is nothingness,
That a thing of beauty is not a joy forever,
Nor an evil as evil as it appears,
Flowing dried leaves into balletic swirls,
Forming peaceful choirs of phantom snow,
And lays her Robe of Grace upon the human soil,
And smiles her return to the stars.

The people, saddened by her silken flight,
Strangely droop in awe, unable to perceive
The merciful white of Her Light and Robe.
"Why has She abandoned us? Where is our globe?
Why are we frenzied, and waltz with unease
As the wind whispers its snowy requiem to the trees?
We are captive in a crowded room, all alone,
In a hysterical white of cubic monotone.
Oh Sophia, airy Wisdom, where and why have You flown?
We forever try and forever fail, ever bent to beg,
Like frustrated clowns playing Ping-Pong with an egg."

The bubbling of orange words shakes their sky:
"What of eternal Chaos that dances out its infant star?
Knowing the dance, how then can you and eternity be very far?
Why make false beliefs the extensions of your simple eyes
When simple physics tells you to rationalize?
To be divinely free and never alone,
You must see the dancing love in a slate of stone.
The star, the human, the insect - all are children of wonderment
Disguised in differing degrees of order or arrangement.
A whiter soul cannot be nor come about;
It unveils itself slowly, slowly sheds its doubt.
Since it has no corners, why imagine a room?
Why allow illusion to nurture your gloom?
Yet trapped by the senses and desires, your minds blindly spin and spin,
Hearing nothing save the tremulous sad persistence of a violin..."

The scattered Night darts their room;
Blades of blue skate on the walls, assuming the karmic Womb.
"What are we but puppets, animated dross?
What else but white-eyed gory dogs having seizures on the cross?
Let us be children playing with their Eden smiles,
Bouncing their dreams against the walls,
Melting away imagined corners with their inner Eye
To follow the long-evasive Butterfly.
Let us glide through the Light that laughs on the shimmering green,
Till dissolved into the Boundless of blue serene.

For we long have dreamt and dreamt
of drowning stars in the fathomless water
As its mirroring azure surface slept,
And felt as though each breath of space overhead
Had leapt.
We have dreamt of luminous globes in the nightly sky -
Each a receding echo of the Word,
Each space between the center breathing undisturbed -
And we cried, 'At last, no questions left to crucify!',
But woke to the dead surprise of the material dream,
Resuming our doubt and asking of many a useless theme.

Could we shun the beauty of a material thing?
Or shun the temptation to cling,
Knowing things come and things pass away
Under the bliss of God's eternal play?
Seeing these shadows undress
To reveal tranquillity and a little less?
Could we do our duties and not digress,
Waiting dumb and numb for God to bless?
No! Let's not wait for answers from the sky,
Nor attempt to squeeze Coca-Cola from a cow,
But rest content within the Self, gazing beyond the Fly
That diverts our Eye from the Now.
Let's fix our minds on the moment and be free,
Acting unattached in pristine clarity.
Clear... calm,
We shall become but music of the Halo's breath,
Unheard to those who only hear the bird."
This poem is included in my book "I Have Been Moved", which is available on Amazon for as little as 14 dollars (paperback). It was written in 1995, when I was 21.
JB Claywell Sep 2018
Those final summer days,
insistent on making their
appearance at the
beginning of Fall;
the September tug-of-war
weather.

(Unrelenting)

Cold enough to turn
the heater on in the
morning,
letting the A/C run its shift
in the late afternoon
heat.

Letting the dog out,
she snorts, sniffs, and
bristles at the last of
the spring rabbits
grown to adults as
August recedes,
September steps to
the forefront.

We step back
into the shadowed
coolness of the darkened den.

The windows, with blinds drawn,
lights out,
no television flashing blue light,
dim into the recesses of our thoughts.

We, the dog and I,
ponder the final verses
of songs the cicada sing,
mullberry bushes,
picked clean;
the jam made in sun-dappled kitchens,
waiting for the lids of the jars
to ping,
the last of the refrigerator pickles,
the decision to switch
from beer to bourbon
as the air crisps;
and, the rabbits we
don’t see.

*
-JBClaywell
© P&ZPublications 2018
Donall Dempsey Apr 2019
ALWAYS THE SAME DREAM

"PING!" goes the microwave.
"PING!" goes the yet-again-Internet.

The Lady of Shallot
deletes Lancelot

from her facebook
friends.

She pokes Tennyson but Tennyson
doesn't like to be poked.

The world and its shadows
stream through her BT provider.

A post informs her that
"Popty Ping!" is Welsh

for microwave.
She clicks Like.

Doesn't remember when she
last interfaced with the real

world
the big bad world

that huffs and puffs
outside the frosted glass.

She posts a new status:
"Agoraphobics are people too!"

What was Tennyson thinking of?
She didn't ask to be created!

A woman made from "words
words...words. . .words!"

"The curse has come upon me!"
She has run out of Lil-Lets.

"Chop shallots & simmer
lightly in butter, then. . ."

the Youtube video
instructs her.

She finishes yet another
bottle of cheap plonk.

It's so hard to be
a fictional character

in a modern world
that's gone digital.

She thinks of Googling herself
but then thinks twice of it.

She falls asleep on the couch.

The cat perches on top of her head.

In her dream she is
forever floating...floating

"On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky"

It's always the same dream.
Not only giving a fictional character a modern life but having had her have to deal with all things modern and yes....cruel as it may seem autocorrected.

And yes I guess she at least knew who she was or where she stood as a fictional character but by being autocorrected by a whim into a real life world and all its attendant miseries she probably thought it had been better when she had been purely a creature of words. I hate autocorrect as I wish to be the one saying what I am going to be saying and not a machine second guessing me....I could never turn it off on my phone and had to endure it.
smc Apr 2019
White-knuckled workhorse
twelve hours
of withdrawal
from his warmth

Twenty-five minutes
and fifty-five dollars
his favorites
boxed and bagged
courtesy of
her credit card

Stagnant
lemmings
for miles
liquid bullets
ping plop
squeak swipe

Alabaster autobahn
gravel mud
sling scrape
screech lock
puddle jump
buoyant beam

vacuum sealed denim
scrapes concrete
footprint freedom

sop flap
door squeak

whiplash
icy flames lick leap
north south east west

acrid burnt air
HCl has defied gravity

emetophobe
descent to hell

two styrofoam boxes
single slice
shrink wrapped
surprise
to share

gut churns

salt droplets
trickle fire
scalp to soles

rodent gnaws
punctures this time
she swats it away
defending denial

Eggshells crack
sticky eyelids
unhinge
dilated gaping chasm

Feet bash linoleum.
Blurred limbs hurl

dissociation
subconscious sanctuary

whir
thud
barn dust
ruby splotches
percolate
porcelain décolletage

burning numb
grasp lift stuff
shuffle sprint  
wince

stagger
wobble
curses slur
face plant

pocket purges
orange cylinder
ping bounce roll
Halt.
hollow
label-side up
opioids. and that was all.
Jubail Aquino Oct 2018
Tuesday years ago,
32 minutes before 5:00,
the time where the
adopted son of Calliope
caught Yuman's attention.

The moon quickly
jump off between
the beats of a human heart,
it's vast and bright,
unusual and odd
but perfect and majestic.

Right in the core of the town,
lamps fired by
itself  in blue flames
whilst snoozing seeds
begin to grow day by day
until a new paradise was created.

The new town was strange
- but heavenly beautiful.
Eros' formicas starts
falling in line and
waiting for the splash of the candy
in every ping-pong ticks.
Donna Sep 2018
There was a knock on
the door , the dogs started to
bark , I thought who is

it , as I open
the door a delivery
man stood there holding
a big brown parcel

My name was on it!
I thought to myself I ain't
ordered anything

Well I already
got my new boots the other
day an awesome wedge

I got a knife to
ping open plastic ribbon
I slowly open

the cardboard box to
find another box colour
of magnolia

wrapped in black ribbon
I thought it must be a late
wedding present , who

is it from! I smiled
then I open the box and
there lied a book dressed

in a silver dress
Like a beautuful cloudy
day filled with twinkles

of splashy rain , it
was me and my Deans wedding
book , I open first

page and happy tears
rolled down my face , pictures so
beautiful shined like

a summers day filled
with joyful butterflies and
memories to keep

For it was one of
the best days of my life to
finally marry

my lovely dean , and
together we shared with
all our family

I shall tuck the book
away for another day
So I can smile and

feel my heart grow big
and to comfort me when the
sun takes a short nap
Was such a lovely surprise today xxxx
Take care ***
Donall Dempsey Apr 2019
ALWAYS THE SAME DREAM

"PING!" goes the microwave.
"PING!" goes the yet-again-Internet.

The Lady of Shallot
deletes Lancelot

from her facebook
friends.

She pokes Tennyson but Tennyson
doesn't like to be poked.

The world and its shadows
stream through her BT provider.

A post informs her that
"Popty Ping!" is Welsh

for microwave.
She clicks Like.

Doesn't remember when she
last interfaced with the real

world
the big bad world

that huffs and puffs
outside the frosted glass.

She posts a new status:
"Agoraphobics are people too!"

What was Tennyson thinking of?
She didn't ask to be created!

A woman made from "words
words...words. . .words!"

"The curse has come upon me!"
She has run out of Lil-Lets.

"Chop shallots & simmer
lightly in butter, then. . ."

the Youtube video
instructs her.

She finishes yet another
bottle of cheap plonk.

It's so hard to be
a fictional character

in a modern world
that's gone digital.

She thinks of Googling herself
but then thinks twice of it.

She falls asleep on the couch.

The cat perches on top of her head.

In her dream she is
forever floating...floating

"On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky"

It's always the same dream.
Try Aug 2018
How is it that something unknown to us such as happiness so easily comes and goes, just like life has its ups and downs to where it sounds profound when it hits the ground as its passed around and all you receive is a bright yellow smile on a ping pong ball.

But the real question is will it trigger your rise or your fall?

©Try
Blood leaks to the ground
dropplets of red stains
the complexion of my words
For a heart was worn out
on sleeves for those it loves

To some it was like a scrub rag
used to wipe up pain as a rebound
To others it was a game of ping pong
played with out of sheer boredom
A few kept it close to there reach
just in case they run out of options

So excuse these eyes for analysing,
they haven't seen genuine intentions  
towards this fragile heartstrings
that keep on playing a heartbeat
of senerades for those whom it has feelings
This is a poem that in reality describes how my heart actually is and how I been treated.  Yet still no matter how bad I am hurt I keep on wanting others to be happy.
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