Sophia Marie Aug 2015
Music, like an everyday-medicine, we take.
The text-- to our hearts-- sometimes tastes,
Bitter it is, still we devour, as if its a cake.
Bitter, how you need peace, it betrays.

To most of you,
Music is about what meaning lies behind.
To most of you,
Music is all about the soothing rythm you find.

But to a too broken person,
Who found voices that express,
An extraordinary love was born,
A love that--once felt--is hard to surpress.

We are the broken people you call immature,
Just for 'obssesing' over something out of your nature.
We are the broken people whom you judge,
But who are we to hold a grudge?

Id like to take this opputunity,
To inform an array that critisize,
We are not in the least guilty,
For dedicating something to those who saved our lives.

But for the record,
We, fans do feel.
Being respected,
Will be very much appreciated.
PrttyBrd May 2010
Tempted to darkness
Bribed in heat, the truth remains
Blind in the moment
Ponderings on 'Accomplice' by Marsha Singh

copyright©PrttyBrd 28/05/2010
There’s no point in pornography, today,
Because I’m not looking for skin...
Today it’s cosmic electricity.
Because I can’t smell the screen's pheromones,
And there’s something to be said for chemistry.
Because I can touch my own breasts,
But familiarity is hard-pressed to impress.
Because the only scraping and biting here
Is far from raunchy; my teeth are restless.
Because people have sexy opinions and nuances,
And today I see caricatures but no people.
Because it’s all poor, uninspired acting,
And the only singular thing I want is truth.
The only singular thing I want.
Is truth.

Nothing against pornography.
Today or ever.
But there are some lonely stretches
When I’m perched on the edge of the world,
Aroused to adventure,
And Life is buzzing past me
And I desperately want to rip into it
And savor and lick and suck out its seed
And reach into its hair and pull hard
As we bruise and break each other
-- LIFE!
Where redtube just won’t cut it.

Well that was more explicit than I sat down to write about.
Sam Temple Jan 2014
debilitating despair
settles in for a timeless slumber
disappointment carries a down-filled pillow
what was a weekend visit turned
and 5 years of marriage cause me to look at the grey
in my beard
and relate it to my soul
splashes of white in a calico blanket
reminds me that I didn’t quit live up
unrealized potential
cascades over broken dreams
pooling into thick, dark,
molasses like, self-loathing
I find myself holding a spoon
and guilt.
mouthful after mouthful I swallow
chocking on the pity
I spent all morning wallowing in.
these are not the visions of my father….
not the soft cooing of my dear sweet mother……
………not even the plans laid out
by a drunken high school guidance counselor
more interested in the short term goals of the cheerleading squad
than the life ambitions of an impoverished child born to strung-out hippies.
feeling refreshed by this wave
a slight smile crosses chapped and bleeding lips
even without hope,
I win by living still
despite the hate
that grows within due to living without.
settling into my nest
I glare at the reflection of my longing youth
no longer driven to succeed
only to accept myself
Angie S May 2015
You stomp on the glass floor
And when it shatters and you fall through
You point at me
Connor C Blake Sep 2014
I’m trying to keep it level
Trying not to slip, or tip, or sink this ship
But the weights on either end don’t quite match up
And I’m starting to question if this game is rigged

I’m no stranger to stacked odds
But even my hands shake when trying to place a bet
And I’m no stranger to a cracked cause
But even my resolve breaks when trying to take a step

Then I can see it

The arbitrary distinctions and hypocritical designs
Forcing our hands to bend so far behind our backs that we can’t see whose tightening our binds
Like a flower that can’t find the sun to bloom
Or the crooked backs of people trying to stand up straight in a crooked room

It seems someone damned the flow of trickle-down economics
And now I'm sitting on dry land catching the liquid-strong wrong fix

Waiting for the tide to bend, sucking down the wrong vitamin, staying civilized for the sake of argument,
Well maybe civil is overrated and it’s time to find that ugly side again

I will not accept your image of me
I will not cast a reflection in the looking glass sea
Cause you're just as scared as me
You just have a better lens to see
But we're gonna get ours clean

Then the only difference between you and we,
Is that we’ll still be willing to get our hands dirty
Kiana Lynn Jun 2015
It’s never straight forward.
It’s always redirected,
people trying to save face, but that’s expected.
I’ve gotten so tired of the games,
trustworthy- the definition just isn’t the same.
I just wonder when it changed,
when words became so perfectly arranged.
I just want the real.
Don’t comfort me with a lie, because from the truth I’ll heal.
I’m ranting now,
but people have gotten so lost somehow.
People are known to beat around the bush,
maybe they just need a little push.
Get to it,
I’m not talking about shooting the shit.
I want the truth,
not the attitude of the petulant youth.
Get the point across,
so the truth can’t be lost.
If tires of trees I seek again mankind,
  Well I know where to hie me—in the dawn,
  To a slope where the cattle keep the lawn.
There amid loggin juniper reclined,
Myself unseen, I see in white defined
  Far off the homes of men, and farther still,
  The graves of men on an opposing hill,
Living or dead, whichever are to mind.

And if by noon I have too much of these,
  I have but to turn on my arm, and lo,
  The sun-burned hillside sets my face aglow,
My breathing shakes the bluet like a breeze,
  I smell the earth, I smell the bruisèd plant,
  I look into the crater of the ant.
Dan Kastner Nov 2012
lemme see your heart.
i will make it better.
i cant be the douchebag that you subconsciously want
but i will be there for you when you need me.
i would love to love you
because that is what will give me meaning in this fucked up life.
brooke Apr 2013
we sighed only memories
for this state on the way
home because we are
both scared of what
lies ahead, but I
promise you
will fall in
love chris
I promise
you will
fall in

(c) Brooke Otto

we will all fall in love again, don't worry.
Imagine nothingness.
That nothingness which is nothing of the nothingness we are all familiar with:
Not that nothingness which is nothing but empty space and time
Like when you open an empty room.
That nothingness where nothing truly exists:
Not space,
Not even time.

A singular point.
Imagine a singular point.
The ultimate singular point that contains all possible points
In the development of the universe
Come out and expand
From the birthing of time, the instance of The Big Bang,
(Which by the way is not a large explosion, as the words imply, but a silent rapid expansion)
Pushing the envelope
Where nothingness begins.

Imagine chance.
The random occurrence of events:
Of fundamental particles colliding and uniting
Or annihilating each other,
Giving rise to protons, neutrons and electrons;
Giving rise to the periodic table,
To compounds, both organic and inorganic,
To macromolecules.

Billions of years.
Imagine billions of years
Gone by,
And billions of galaxies filling the sky:
Stars and quasars and pulsars
Planets and comets and meteors
Willy nilly hurtling through
Dark matter and ever expanding space,
Yet inanimate still
A single cell.
Imagine a single cell
Form inexplicably so,
In a staggeringly highly improbable way
As carbon molecules combine,
Start to throb and pulsate:
Chance bringing forth life
In a barren and otherwise
Lifeless universe.

Imagine consciousness
Purposive, willful, deliberate

Imagine feelings
Love, compassion, hatred

Imagine all in a universe that came out of itself from nothingness.

It is hard, of course,
For after all, we are creatures of somethingness!

But at this point
You must have seen the Point
Of all the ramblings and turns in the trajectory of my thought
Tracing the evolutionary course of the universe
From nothingness and that singular point
That without God
All things are
After all
And so,
Let us not deplore, as a great poet once did,
That this world “so various, so beautiful, so new
Hath no joy, nor love, nor light
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain…”
For what else should we expect
Of a cold, unfeeling universe?

Give us some Novocain?
At this point, i find my mind still probing the boundaries of nothingness.
WhyamIaSpoon Dec 2013
Kiss me harder
Fuck me faster
Love me now
And hold me
I'm desperate
For you and
I won't wait
Another day
To see you
In my arms
I'll text you
Now and not
Wait for later
I'll speed to
Your house
Because there
May be
No Tomorrow
This might be
Our last kiss
Our last fuck

I'll be straight
With you
Live life
With an
Exclamation Point
Thoughtful Aug 2014
The point on the end of an arrow could slice a heart open.
I wonder if that’s how Cupid works.
Would he catapult the arrow into our chests,
and as we are heartbroken,
he tears the arrow from our beating hearts?
I marvel at how someone who makes you feel loved,
can be so cruel.
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