Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Cure for Reality Feb 2014
I am standing in the
middle
of this
buzzing road
surrounded by heavily crowded pools
filled with plenty of other souls.

                               there's so many of them
                               too many of them
                   how can I ever feel alone?
                               but I am
                                                 alone.

they came in pairs,
in triplets,
quadruplets,
and a million more number variations that I am too lazy to mention!
they are going about the day,
basking in the sunlight of their current successes,
bragging.
I wish they would shut up

                               there's so many of them.
                               too many of them.
             how can I ever feel alone?
                               but I am
                                                alone.

I can feel the temperature shift beneath my feet
as I slightly stumble on a
rough patch
they were helping each other ever so kindly
...but not me.
                              there's so many of them around me
                              too many of them
            how can I ever feel alone?
                              but I am still
                                                      alone.

bu­t I don't much care about that lot
there is another lot
and there are worse feelings:

                 like feeling shrivelled up in your own
                           world and left to rot,
                                      lonely
             with the people who are supposed to be
                                  your home.





                              **I am alone.
Oliver Philip Nov 2018
An anonymous limerick
From the 1930’s.

There was a young woman called Starkie  .
Who had an affair with a darky.
The result of her sins.
Was quadruplets not twins.
One black and one white and two khaki .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
With apologies for being derogatory Philip.
Posted November. 25th 2018.
There was a young woman called Starkie
Anais Vionet Apr 2023
slang..
updogged = when you chip in to keep a conversation trend going
fit = gorgeous
buje = unexplainable glamor
football minute = a minute, that with time-outs, lasts a half an hour.
crute = cute but cringy
women's-rights = a really funny joke

In the subscribed course of science - and eventually medicine - night hours seem multiplied by the rough enforcement of study, but this tale is not about that, fair reader.

It’s about a reception, last Friday night. It hardly matters what it was for, there are so many. This one was first class - so please, have some decorum ladies. Our cast is Lisa, Leong, Sunny and I (4 roommates). We stay clumped together, on nights out, like conjoined quadruplets because there’s safety in numbers.

There were about sixty people there, mostly students. Lisa and I had gotten invitations, Leong and Sunny are our plus-ones. After making the rounds, doing our meeting and greeting due diligence, we’d captured one corner of a long table and began enjoying some actual drink-drinks. We’re usually studying, trying to prove ourselves like rats in a maze, so we go a little crazy when they let us out and about.

Is it me, or are free drinks just better than other flavors? There was a long line of ‘Tom Collins-ses,’ on the bar which one could freely walk up and take. I think they’re made with lemon juice, sprite, gin and the tears of fallen angels.

These were quite good, each featuring both a lemon slice AND a cherry. Like I said, first class. We were taking turns getting them, two of us going up, each returning with 2 drinks. That way we didn’t look like 4 hookers hanging on the bar like horses at a trough (decorum).

Socials, receptions, fundraisers - whatever - can be social minefields. Even in how you greet people. Do you shake hands? I’d heard that shakes were out due to COVID, but if so, they’re back now. Some people were even huggers - your professor initiates a hug and you just want to avoid head-butting him. Monday morning though, you better hand in that paper, girlie.

At one point (I was mothering my third Collins), Sunny said, “Meeting people is awkward,”
“Being out in the world is awkward,” I updogged.
“Not for Lisa,” Leong said, and everyone sniggered.
“Why not ME?” Lisa said, looking up from her phone.
“Because you’re fit,” Sunny said, “everywhere you go, it’s like ‘Goodfellas,’” she mimics various, waving people, “Hi Lisa, or Hey Lisa," and “Yo Lisa!” with the point & nod.
We all chuckled again, but Lisa said, “It’s not true.”

Alas, it is true. I’ve come to rely on Lisa’s buje. Places seem livelier, less daunting and more welcoming when she’s there. She draws all the attention - I might as well be her beaded handbag and I’m fine with that. In unfamiliar situations, she’s a shield, handling the initial introductions and handing people off to me, like a track-and-field sprinter passing the baton. Without Lisa, in new situations I’m quiet. Quiet doesn’t mean shy - that’s a false assumption, I’m a natural watcher.

I’m skipping the mingling and speechifying - the boring stuff. Apparently, it’s all about us, we need to make a plan and do more, about everything. Interestingly, of the 8 organizers (the adults) five had literary first names. There was a Jude, a Tess, an Ophelia, a Clarissa and a Cordelia. Granted, they’re all fictional characters, but why name a kid after a protagonist who came to a tragic end - to seem well read?

As Leong and Sunny returned with our fifth round, Sunny pronounced “Tom Collins for President!” and we all raised our glasses. Just then Leong’s phone whooped with a text. It took her football minute to fish the contraption out of her itty-bitty disco-clutch, and then she fumbled it to the floor like an oiled baby.

It was a crute moment that, at first, struck us like women's-rights - but it had a sobering effect too. We agreed, in the silence of exchanged glances, that perhaps we were having too much fun, and we soon made our usual quiet and dignified exit.
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Contraption “a device or gadget.”
brandon nagley May 2015
Restriction of the Bay's yeehaw,
Politely in the inner steel,
Cold bars to the planet Mars,
Dealers are encased as they want a deal!!!!

Currency friendly banker's bank upon thy smallest of wages,
Where buttered blades slice through T. C control!!!

Quadruplets of chain-gang walk in's all talking is sprayed like Russian magazines,
Some grown to addiction,
Dreamer's stay phene!!!!

Profane novelists attend the wickered chairs,
Wherein only ones a pair in solitaried room,
Twenty months to thou makes a year,
While a year settles for two....

Draft windows,
Plasticated pillows are showcases for what's to come!!!
Sit down,
Thou fool in blue the shows here, or the show has just begun!!!!!

Bribery is doubled,
A hand here at this polo lagoon!
Wherein monsoon's turn to drop outs,
Where knockout's are proprietary  locked into place wittled  with screws!!!!

Strenuous pulsation's beat to the enflamed core,
Pose thyself,
Thy critic of nature and god, you've settled your betted scores!!!!!

Narcotic,
I see you promising greater hopes with pre-maturities scope,
I've missed the hanging strike!!!
gothicc Oct 2016
This poetry is a work in progress.
This relationship is  a work in progress.
Our love for each other
Has not completed process.
But at least we know it's there
And that this isn't totally worthless.
"You won't be together."
"He'll find someone who's heart is in better shape than yours
And who's soul is dauntless."
"He'll move on without you
While you're here haunted."
But I'm the kind of person who doesn't give a **** if
He's married in another state
With those things they call quadruplets,
Because my heart will still belong to him,
For it's forever bonded
To him who is my first real love,
Even if it's obnoxious.
tyler
ConnectHook May 2020
But sure the antique Greeks were far more mild,
      Else of our ***, why feigned they those nine
      And poesy made Calliope’s own child
?                                                Anne Bradstreet

Huntress, fill my pleading glass !
Let this marksman’s blood be merry.
Whether we shoot hind or ***,
Hail our wet preliminary.

   Having brought to birth such brave quadruplets,
   Let us toast the midwife with our couplets.

Sweet Diana pours her rounds:
Tawny Port and Shooting Sherry.
Hares now flee the baying hounds
For their country sanctuary.

   Thine the night, oh bright and savage huntress;
   Lead us to the quarry, chaste Artemis.

Conejito, hide yourself
From the charging adversary
Who would change your pelt for pelf;
(All close shaves are cautionary).

   Forgive our clanging gong and sounding brass;
   They serve to drive the quarry from the grass.

Healing balm: such sporting frolic,
Dares us to stay sedentary;
Banishing our melancholic
State, her bright apothecary!

   Wild huntress, let us know you as the Greeks
   And quiver as our heart your arrow seeks.

Toast we now the careless hunt;
Spoonerists wax luminary.
Visions of the hairless ****
Make my lay discretionary.
Allegory of DIANA, Goddess of the Hunt
https://tinyurl.com/y99k4hlg
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2017
i could almost swear i was loosing
sorry... losing my mind
   over this, well, phenomenon -
  and it only exists in english -
                   the remnants of latin -
and the lack of germanic "barbarism",
    i thought i turning dyslexic
   for a while...
        but as it turns out,
                cemetary - isn't akin to cemetery -
teerful, tarry - tomato in english
         and ta-may-tah in american english...
   the **** is australian english?
            to-mah-toh in english -
   **** me, american linguistic encoding
  is so much simpler...
                          and faster done -
but now i know why i transliterate
               certain letters in certain words...
     transliterate, right? i'm being spot on
with regards to a proper descriptive noun?
    latin?
    oh sure, i blame the existence of
   graphemes (siamese diacritical
    quadruplets), æ & œ -
let call the former pair adam & eve,
   and the latter oedipus & epicaste,
   we ******* need the german ß at some point,
i'm not saying all the time...
      but come on, poetizing?  looks ugly
even if you don't have the zing,
  but the sing in the spelling...
       poetißing... ah, that's better (not really);
but at least i know
                 why i sometimes make spelling
mistakes... the remnant of the latin art
                        of writing graphemes,
a bit like uv (not ultra-violet)
           as in:    when asking to chisel a word
into stone, where v actually implied u...
             so why did the "lazy" ******* not
bother trimming the other curves in other
letters?
                you'd probably see runes...
     e.g. when R became ᚱ,
                               and B became ᛒ...
                           and S became ᛋ...
that's what i'm saying, they were "lazy"...
   and a shitload of cow... ****...
       poured over poor U.

— The End —