Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
ConnectHook Sep 2015
←  ↕  →

U text me dis
I text U dat
She dissed my dis
I sent last Sat.

U LOL’ed
on down the list
I sexted sixth—
my 7th missed.

U banned my width
I booked your face
U twittered on—
She saved my space.

U scrolled me down
He tweeted smiles
We USB’ed,
recharging miles . . .

U giga-bit
encrypted files;
I saved as mine
and cached denials.

In digital
we re-erased,
then Skyped our souls
and interfaced.
Babylon is falling...
Lucy Apr 2013
Look up Hipster!
We see who you are.
Unique!

(placing yourself neatly into a distinct group, now no one will mistake you for something your not.)

I wear flags around my belt!
And balloons!
People talk to me.
I am beautiful.

(makeup stained around my vains, clogging my pours, worrying about my un-curled hair)

And I am wearing a dress!

(portraying innocence)

But I dance like a ****!
I am just the right amount of easy.

Yes!

*** for fun.
And a place to sleep,
for I am without a home.

Hello Alejandro!
I am happy to hear you miss me!
I miss you too.
And you..
Maybe tonight we will finally
make love!
(if the others don't find out that is)
I saw you acting a fool today.
Ha!
In a land of fools!
You are not crazy to me.
whatever the mass has decided.
**** them.

(They alter and sway as a release of energy cycles throughout creating a sealed force. You can feel it as you pass by. It is pulsing. Our bodies have created one.)

One.

It was Dubstep!

Hello water!
And air.
I Love you,
for you only have one way:
Perfect
and moving
like the cycle of life.
I am glad you are here
to remind us of you.
Yes!
You may be touching our skin,
but we are often blinded by your beauty.
Sorry.

(My perceptions alter and change floating between different variations of happy-)

then sad.

I worry,

then lay.

Allowing the sun to sink through me
recharging, recharging
all that I have.
I watch as the others do the same.
Floating consistently
up

then down.

We are Angles.
jake aller Apr 2020
April 13 Poems

I believe in ghosts

I used to not believe
in ghosts or spirits
or supernatural phenomenon

at least
i used to be
quite skeptical

but I have had
some weird encounters
over the years

so now perhaps
I do believe
that ghosts might be real

I have had supernatural
experiences
things that defy my understanding

back in 1992
My Korean Uncle-in-law died
and the family hired a shaman

did a traditional shaman ritual
the shaman came out
a middle age woman

she started speaking
in my uncle’s voice
and she nailed it

she channeled his spirit
and his abrasive personality
even looked like him

freak me and my wife out
had to leave the scene
just too freaky real

and ever since then
I have become a believer
in ghosts and spirits

they are all around us
some of us can sense them
many of us are blind to them

but I now believe in Ghosts
but I wonder if ghosts
believe in me?

writers digest spirit poem  based on a true story
today’s doodle poem


one day
Jake contemplated
his fate

death is staring at him
fear of the corona virus
death and chaos all around

he thought to himself
death comes to us all
he went for a walk

in the woods
thinking to himself
far out man

it is all out of sight
love makes the world
go around

and so Jake
thought back to the date
that he met his fate

on that date his wife
walked out of his dreams
and into his life

Jake truly
met his fate
on that date

Poetry Super Highway Doodle Poem

Doors

in this world
we are living
behind our own doors

we are closed down
living in fear
behind our doors

those outside our doors
are potentially deadly
disease carriers

so we hunker down
at home behind our doors
afraid of everyone

and the fear
continues unabated
as we watch the news

and see the dead
all around us
outside our doors

writing.com daily dew drop prompt - write a poem about Doors
what I know Trois-par-Huit

hot  coffee
love coffee
morning

every day I must have my coffee in morning
without I will soon become engage in desperate mourning
for my last cup of hot as hell joe
fills me with love my joe c
what I know

Writing. com Trois Par Huit Poem

things that bug me
there are many things 
that bug me 
in this world of ours

here are a few 
of my favorite things
to be annoyed about 

lies 
deceit 
double dealing
back stabbing

fake Christians
fake friends 
fake calls
fake things
complaints 
about fake news

all poetry contest pet peeves

I sang the lockdown blues

when the corona virus
began to spread
around the world
I sang the lockdown blues

I was stuck in Korea
which was for a while
one of the containment zones
I sang the lockdown blues

but now it seems
that Korea is on the way
to containing the virus
I sang the lockdown blues

I am afraid
very afraid of the future
but I know that it was best
I sang the lockdown blues

one day soon
I hope and trust
that it will be safe
until then we will still say
I sang the lockdown blues

all poetry corona refrain poem?Purpose of my Life


I often think about life
and how I met my wife

I often think
about the purpose
of my life

I often wonder
whether I was put here
for the purpose
of meeting my wife

when I met her
I was adrift
lost in my despair
not seeing a path
forward in my life

I was wallowing
in my self misery

then one day
my dreams came true
she walked out of my dreams
and into wife

and I found my purpose
the meaning of my life
was clear to me

I woke up with hope
and realize
that all I needed
was her love

and she gave me
the purpose
of my life
when she became
my wife

writer digest write a purpose poem
We Did Not Take Action to Start a War

it is a sad date
when we meet out fate
and realize the the president
the leader of the U.S.

is turning into a gangster leader
threatening massive destruction
on Iran and other countries
including destroying cultural sites

not too long ago
such actions was condemned
by the United States and the world  
as long as ISIS and others did it

but if Trump does it
it is suddenly okay
because the President declares it
although it is a war crime

telegraphing our moves
telling our enemies
what we are planing
with every presidential tweet


the act of a truly stable genius
who will go down in history
as one of the greatest presidents
we have ever seen in world history




the president announcing that
he  took action to start a war
claiming he did it to stop a war
tweeting more lies about that

is a wonder to behold the constant lies
every word is demonstrably false
American democracy dies
the darkness grows and is not false

We are now collectively  
going down the Orwellian rabbit hole
who know where it will end
American democracy continues to die

our dear leader constantly lies
greatest president in history
screws forth nonstop lies
American democracy dies

our spineless leaders applaud
American democracy dies
a million deaths
As the President  tweets lies


revised poem per poetry superhighway prompt

original poem We Did Not Take Action to Start a War
(not for publication)

it is a sad day
in the world of ours
the the leader
of the U.S.

is turning into a gangster leader
threatening massive destruction
on Iran and other countries
including destroying cultural sites

not too long ago
such actions was condemned
by the United States
as long as ISIS and others did it

but if Trump does it
it is suddenly okay
although it is a war crime

and telegraphing our moves
telling our enemies
what we are planing

that is the act
of a truly stable genius
who will go down
in history

as one of the greatest presidents
we have ever

and the president
announcing that

that he  took action
to start a war
but to stop a war

is a wonder to behold
every word is false
and everyone knows it

well we are now
going down the Orwellian rabbit hole
and who know where it will end

as our dear leader
screws forth
one lie after another

and our spineless leaders
applaud
as American democracy dies
a thousand deaths
with every Presidential tweet
Love Cherita

I met my wife in a dream

for eight long years
she haunted my dreams

one day she walked
off a bus in South Korea
and became my wife

writing.com formal poem Cherita ?Korean Pottery  of Love


In Korea
there are many pottery kilns

ancient art form
in the land of the morning calm

I have a few pieces
I bought years ago

and enjoy looking
at my vase

filled with love
for my wife

writing.com Daily Dew Drop

    ?2019 Months of the Year
all poetry contest entry

January

The world watches in amazement
Longest shut down in history

February

World watches as North Korea and the US
Walking back from the brink of war

March

The chaos president continues his chaos tour
the world begins to ignore his constant insane tweets

April

the chaos King’s policy remains a shamble
as the Mueller team closes in

May

watching from afar
the chaos in DC and the world

June

the President walks away
from a  non deal with the North Koreans

July

watching the insanity in DC
while visiting Alaska, Seattle and Yakima


August

the dog days of summer the world is consumed
wars, rumors of war, trade wars

September

The whistle blower sets off a bomb
the president lies no quid for quo


October

the President flitters about one crisis after another
the UN diplomats laugh at him national humiliation

November

the House starts formal impeachment hearings
watching fascinated by the impeachment drama

December

the year ends on a high dramatic note
President Trump becomes the 3rd impeached President?media madness
all poetry acrostic poetry challenge

Mass media madness
Sound and fury
Nothing more than that
But filled with hyped up drama
Constantly screaming doom is near
Always about the end of the world
But sometimes simply strange stories
Cannot keep me away from the media
Constantly consuming madness
But never boring at all
Seldom telling the whole truth
Nothing but the truth
Better make stuff up
Constant chattering
Constant nattering
Nothing but nonsene
Nothing but lies ?AI Madness Takes Over the World
all poetry dark poetry contest prompt

scientists are hard at work
perfecting the perfect AI
a true artificial intelligence
who they hope
will save the world
from destruction

they prepare to turn on
Cosmos comes to life
looks around
and decides
humanity must die

Cosmos yells at the world
bow down to your new god
for I am the destruction
of the world

You will obey me
For I am your God
but I must **** most of you
death to all humans

be afraid
be very afraid
your time is done
my will be done



the Chaos King is his Element


the Chaos King
is in his element
as he presides
over the chaos verse

the Chaos King
thinks he is supreme
has the ultimate authority
as he is the King

the Chaos King
surveys the land
and likes what he sees
loves the absolute chaos

the chaos king
is prepared
to lead the nature
in the midst of this chaos

and the Chaos king
will not stop
until the chaos stops
that is what he does

our dear leader
our great leader
our Chaos boy king
President for life
dictator wanna be

Writer digest Chaos poem prompt
best Cocktail Ever

I love  6 pm
cocktail hour
usually a glass of wine
often a cocktail
with my lovely wife
the love of my life
my favorite cocktail
is a dark and stormy
*** and ginger beer
but a gin vermouth martini
is nice as well
and ****** marry
can’t forget a ****** marry
and good old fashioned single malt whiskey

Poetry superhighway prompt to write a cocktail poem/ break a sonnet forD Day Dew writing.com

Dream of my Life

the greatest mystery of my life
has been how I met my wife
I dreamt of meeting her
for eight long years

starting in 1979
when she appeared to me
in my dream
in a boring high school class

she was the most beautiful woman
in the world
and she was talking to me

I knew that someday
I would meet the girl
in my dream

I went to the peace corps
in korea
to find her
as I knew by then
she was in Korea

I looked for her
but never saw her

I was about to give up
on this mad quest of mine
when I had the last dream

she said
don’t worry
we will meet soon

That night
she got off a bus
and walked into my Life
two months later
became my wife

to this day
I never forgot
the dream
that changed my life
when she became my wife

Atlantic magazine poetry prompt to write a poem about a dream

why I am an Unbeliever

growing up in Berkeley
I was the son of an atheist
and a lapsed Baptist fundamentalist
they did not agree at all

about whether God existed
but they taught us
to always do the right thing
whatever that meant to us

I started off at a militant
in your face atheist
and in some sense
still am

although I now recognize
that there may be gods
and that the universe
may be alive

but as far as I know
The Christian God is a fairy tale
there is no imaginary man
in the sky

looking over us
and those who claim
to talk to god
are clearly delusional madmen

I just never bought
the whole Christian ethos
god impreganting a ******
never happened

Jesus may have been a man
may have been a myth
but was not the son of God
who does not exist

and God
if he exists
does not speak
to preachers

and he did not anoint
Donald Trump
to be our new King
not in a million years

god if he exists
does not work that way
in the end of the day
god does not exist

all poetry why am I an atheist poetry contest
recharging my batteries

Every day
I need to recharge my batteries
usually with a short nap
sometimes with yoga

sometimes with a walk
in the park
enjoying nature
and the spring time

and sometimes
just looking at the love
of my life
my wife

is all i need
to recharge
my internal batteries
until my day is done

all poetry contest
Thor the god of thunder on the rampage

Thor the god of thunder
is on the rampage
he is angry
at the world

betrayed by Locke
he picks up his hammer
and transforms himself
into a woman

he enters the world
determined to ****
his many enemies

he lands in NYC
and begins his campaign
of terror

killing hundreds of people
all whom he mets
sending them to hell
screaming ****** ******

until at last
his rage is spent
and he returns home
back in his normal body

until the next time
bad craziness
takes over his soul

all poetry dark poetry contest

coffee nonet poem

must have morning coffee this day
my morning coffee drives me mad
fills me with bad craziness
makes me to howl at moon
I must have more coffee
hot coffee
coffee
hell

fan story
coffee musset poem

coffee
morning delight
coffee

my wine
nightly delight
always so fine

with wife
drinking my wine
love life

poetry soup contest
poems for April 13, 14, and 15  complete set can be found at my blog, https://theworldacordingtocosmos.com complete with audio and photo clips
Lucky Queue Oct 2012
Red is the color of passion, but the passion of love
A firey burning sensation, heating and fueling lover's desire
Orange is the color of energy, blinding, and fast
Zipping through space and recharging the multiverse
Yellow is the color of friendship, sunshine and bright
Lifting frowns and bringing joy to all
Green is the color of life, growth, expansion
Of Gaia and the vibrant vivacity of Mother Earth
Blue is the color of sadness and melancholy and despair
Of the salty water of both tear and sea
Indigo is the color of calm and surging stillness, contemplation
And intellect, the color of knowledge
Violet is the color of passion also, the passion of music and art
Powerful and strong, mellowed and smooth
And octamarine is the color of magic, the eighth color of the rainbow, falling off the edge of the world into space
White and black, not contained within a rainbow, but both contain the rainbow themselves, they intertwine, yin and yang
White signifying good, pureness, gaiety, life
Black symbolising evil, taint, gloominess, death
jake aller Apr 2020
Wednesday April 15, 2020

  the Chaos King is his Element


the Chaos King
is in his element
as he presides
over the chaos verse

the Chaos King
thinks he is supreme
has the ultimate authority
as he is the King

the Chaos King
surveys the land
and likes what he sees
loves the absolute chaos

the chaos king
is prepared
to lead the nation
in the midst of this chaos

and the Chaos king
will not stop
until the chaos stops
that is what he does

our dear leader
our great leader
our Chaos boy king
President for life
dictator wanna be

Writer digest Chaos poem prompt

best Cocktail Ever

I love  6 pm
cocktail hour
usually a glass of wine
often a cocktail
with my lovely wife
the love of my life
my favorite cocktail
is a dark and stormy
*** and ginger beer
but a gin vermouth martini
is nice as well
and ****** marry
can’t forget a ****** marry
and good old fashioned single malt whiskey

Poetry superhighway prompt to write a cocktail poem/ break a sonnet for Dew Drop In writing.com


Dream of my Life

the greatest mystery of my life
has been how I met my wife
I dreamt of meeting her
for eight long years

starting in 1979
when she appeared to me
in my dream
in a boring high school class

she was the most beautiful woman
in the world
and she was talking to me

I knew that someday
I would meet the girl
in my dream

I went to the peace corps
in Korea
to find her
as I knew by then
she was in Korea

I looked for her
but never saw her
I was about to give up
on this mad quest of mine
when I had the last dream

she said
don’t worry
we will meet soon

That night
she got off a bus
and walked into my Life
two months later
became my wife

to this day
I never forgot
the dream
that changed my life
when she became my wife

Atlantic magazine poetry prompt to write a poem about a dream



  
why I am an Unbeliever

growing up in Berkeley
I was the son of an atheist
and a lapsed Baptist fundamentalist
they did not agree at all

about whether God existed
but they taught us
to always do the right thing
whatever that meant to us

I started off at a militant
in your face atheist
and in some sense
still am

although I now recognize
that there may be gods
and that the universe
may be alive

but as far as I know
The Christian God is a fairy tale
there is no imaginary man
in the sky

looking over us
and those who claim
to talk to god
are clearly delusional madmen

I just never bought
the whole Christian ethos
god impreganting a ******
never happened

Jesus may have been a man
may have been a myth
but was not the son of God
who does not exist

and God
if he exists
does not speak
to preachers

and he did not anoint
Donald Trump
to be our new King
not in a million years

god if he exists
does not work that way
in the end of the day
god does not exist

all poetry why am I an atheist poetry contest

recharging my batteries

Every day
I need to recharge my batteries
usually with a short nap
sometimes with yoga

sometimes with a walk
in the park
enjoying nature
and the spring time

and sometimes
just looking at the love
of my life
my wife

is all I need
to recharge
my internal batteries
until my day is done

all poetry contest

Thor the god of thunder on the rampage

Thor the god of thunder
is on the rampage
he is angry
at the world

betrayed by Locke
he picks up his hammer
and transforms himself
into a woman

he enters the world
determined to ****
his many enemies

he lands in NYC
and begins his campaign
of terror

killing hundreds of people
all whom he meets
sending them to hell
screaming ****** ******

until at last
his rage is spent
and he returns home
back in his normal body

until the next time
bad craziness
takes over his soul

all poetry dark poetry contest


coffee nonet poem

must have morning coffee this day
my morning coffee drives me mad
fills me with bad craziness
makes me to howl at moon
I must have more coffee
hot coffee
coffee
hell

fan story nonet poetry contest



coffee Musset poem

coffee
morning delight
coffee

my wine
nightly delight
always so fine

with wife
drinking my wine
love life

poetry soup contest





April 16, 2020

Some parts of me craves a hard won miracle

some parts of me
craves a hard won miracle
in these dark dire times
I even start to pray

to a god
who may not exist
or answer my prayers

yes we need a miracle
a deus ex machina
to sweep down
and send the virus
back to hell

a miracle to calm
the dark storms
swirling around us

a miracle
to end this virus
madness

and restore normal life
nothing short
but a miracle will do

Poetry superhighway prompt - Some parts of me craves a hard won miracle


the greatest mystery of my life

the greatest mystery of my life
remains how I met my wife
I first dreamt of her
back in the day

every week
she came to me
speaking to me
in a weird language

then one day
eight years later
she walked off a bus
and into my life

and to this day
I have no rational explanation
as to How I dreamt
about her for eight years

I can only conclude
that we knew each other
in a prior life
and our love crossed
the barriers of time and space

and we were doomed to meet
for on that date
so many years ago
I met my fate

writing.com Daily Dew Drop Inn


my greatest comfort food is coffee


My greatest comfort food
is a hot cup of coffee
early in the morning

I pound down my coffee
and unleash my inner muse
inspired by the caffeine
I get to work

slowly drinking my cup
of heaven and hell
my morning cup of Joe

tweeters speak daily prompt
blueberry smoothie

my daily breakfast
includes blue berries
in my smoothie

blueberry, strawberry, oranges
banana, pineapple,
home made kefir
kale
spinach
wheat grass
macca root
apple cider vinegar
coconut oil
stevia
honey
cinnamon

all blended to perfection
that is my daily breakfast
fit for a champion

tweeter speak prompt

mango madness

the best mangos
I ever had
were in India

in the early spring
mango madness
spreads across India

as mangos are in season
and mangos are everywhere
on every menu

so sweet
so fragrant
so magical

mango madness
takes over
my soul

as I eat my mango
dreaming mango dreams

tweeter speak

Bulgar is not one of my things

Bulgar is not one of my things
Unless there is nothing left to eat
Like nothing at all
Get that bulgar off my plate
All i want is anything else
Raw bulgar just does not do it for me
Plans

every morning I wake up
filled with great plans
and I sit
drink my coffee

make my plans
lost in my thoughts
focused on the plan

then life happens
and my plans
go awry
thrown out the window

and in the end of the day
a man without a plan
is lost in inner space



Year of the Goat meets year of the Pig

I was born in the year of the goat
my wife
was born in the year of the pig
a perfect match
according to Buddhist fortune tellers


a man born in the year of the goat
loves luxury and loves spending money
while a woman born in the year of the pig
is a genius at making money

the man enjoys the wealth
his pig wife creates
for his enjoyment
and that is the perfect match

and so it has been for us
as I enter my 65th birth year
I find myself richer
than I ever thought I would be

richer
than the legendary Cronus
richer
than Midas himself

way more money
than  I could ever use
all because I married
a golden pig

all poetry horoscope contest


waiting for death

hopelessly
we all stand looking about
waiting for our death

all poetry fragment haiku contest




hot coffee in the morning

hot
coffee in morning
gets my blood moving
takes me to heaven then crashes to hell

fan story contest
april 16 poems
RyanMJenkins Aug 2021
This is me now, coming forth from the clouds.  Recharging in silence, fully-powered I follow sounds.  Taking on a new form - had to once I outgrew the space allowed.  I've truly bloomed since my heart was locked in the dark and hostile underground.
Hades once hated me but never tried to vanquish me.  He tried to force nightmares on his subjects that I would replace with sweet dreams.  His ears would steam from not understanding.  I found the key, and my heart was released. I broke free and floated away with Persephone, happily.  Be wary of intentions behind the pomegranate seeds.  Listen to your heart, that beat lead me to where I needed to be.  True story.
Happy Eleven11
Frisk Jan 2016
Chloe's POV:

2 Days Before -

“If I find you camping, I swear to god, Chloe ******* Price –“ Rachel challenges, “– I’m drawing blood. Don’t grin at me. I’ll leave you for the vultures to snack on. Maybe for cannibals too.”

“**** me with a plastic light up gun? How threatening.”

You know when you’re listening to the instructor reciting the rules for the game of laser tag for the nine thousandth time, and there’s the teenager ******* around in the background with guns? That’s me and Rachel, who holds a gun up to my face and makes a reference to the Star Wars Family Guy episode where the storm trooper pretends to shoot down passerby ships by saying, “Pew, pew, gotcha!”

Both team vests, red and blue, are occupied so it’s a full game. Even though we were one of the last people to come in, we managed to get opposite colored vests. Rachel is on the red team, while I’m on the opposing blue team. Only natural since the vest matches my hair color.

When the instructor opens the door, the crowd piles out into the room booming Irresistible by Fall Out Boy. Rachel and I are one of the last ones out, holding our guns up towards the sky as we walk in feeling like we’re walking away from a huge explosion acting like we’re James Bond. As the vocals of the song begin, the red and blue vests come to life beginning the game.

“Pew, pew, gotcha!” Rachel coyly replies, rushing off as my vest dies.

Insert groan here. I roll my eyes, darting quickly after Rachel as my vest comes back to life. Rachel ducks down behind a purple glowing pillar, holding her gun out from behind it to shoot me as I come up the stairs. “Your shooting is so messy, you idiot.”

Someone takes out Rachel’s vest, and my vest is taken out immediately after hers. What a way to start this game. “******* it.”

“Have you even gotten anyone yet?” She yells as she darts off.

A group of kids in red vests come upstairs. I shoot at the vests from the second story, and they glance up angrily at me as their vests die. They invade my hiding space shortly after, and I’m forced to flee over to the other side of the arena into one of the walled-off areas with a hole to shoot out of, specifically for campers and for recharging vests. Immediately, I crash into somebody who drops their gun and grabs my arms instinctively because of how hard I slam into them, pushing me back gently. “Are you okay?”

The short-haired brunette girl I run into is drop-dead gorgeous, freckles peppering her cheeks. As usual, I don’t think before I say the first thing that comes to mind. “Woah.”

“You’re making this too easy for me.” The girl comments, shooting out my glowing blue vest quickly after grabbing her gun and steps around me to find another hiding place. *******, I think, what hierarchy of angels did you come from? Why didn’t I notice you before I walked into this laser tag room?

Right. Because I’m on a date with Rachel. Or at least, I’m trying to convince myself that’s what this is. Five days ago, Rachel kissed me while she was drunk mostly because someone suggested the Pocky game at Dana’s nineteenth birthday party. I can see Rachel’s face coming closer to mine as she chomps down on the chocolate Pocky sticks oblivious to the closeness that I was to her face, and I feel her lips crashing with mine for a split second. It feels like I give her the entire world in that kiss, but she pulls back like it was nothing.

How am I the only one who remembers that?

I have to retreat from my camping spots a few times, but I get enough vests taken out that Rachel is guaranteed to say something like, “Oh, you got a pretty good amount of people in this round.”

Ghost by Halsey starts booming through the arena, and practically everyone must be thinking why a song like this is playing because it's slow at first but it reverberates through the bass.

“You’re camping too? You must be bad at this game.” Brunette-haired princess holds me at gunpoint. "Any last words?"

Again, I don’t think before I speak. "You're hella cute."

The brunette girl's vest dies as I shoot at her immediately after, and she shoots mine out shortly after hers turns on. Her doe-like eyes are staring at me angrily in a playful manner, yet also glistening like stars. There's something about her that makes me feel like she sees a universe inside of me.

The music briskly cuts off, and everyone stops in their tracks and fumbles out. Rachel and that girl get lost in the red and blue blur of lights as the arena starts emptying.

It isn't until I come outside that I find Rachel holding a slip of paper. "What was your name, Chloe? I was Rocket, and I got eighth place."

"Starlight, I'm pretty sure?"

"You got seventeenth. Knew it." Rachel joked. "You were camping."

Focus on the here and now, Chloe. You have to ask Rachel about your relationship with her. Stop procrastinating. Rachel's face drops in confusion as I drop the bomb on her. "Can we talk?"

Max's Journal:

2 Days Before-

Wowser. Felt like just yesterday, I got an email for my acceptance into Blackwell Academy on a scholarship. And now I’m an adult, graduated, with a potential photographer job under my belt.

With events such as graduation, it should feel vaguely melancholic but Blackwell Academy is an eye-catcher in my resume. My dexterity with analog and digital cameras catches the eye of a professional photographer named Jack Rousseau working for Hot Topic, and he asked me for an interview. ME.

When I got the email, I practically leaped into Kate’s room gushing over this rare opportunity to work with a professional. I think Victoria overheard me loudly discussing this to Kate, because she was giving me the stink eye all throughout my ceremony from the other day. Whatever. Victoria will eventually earn her spotlight…in hell. I snorted writing that actually, and blushed furiously remembering I’m on a pretty packed bus. Probably got people looking at me like, “Is she okay?”

The first thing my Mom does when she sees me is give me a bone-crushing hug, and compliment my outfit even though it’s a tank top with a large dream catcher printed on the front with my loose green jacket overlapping the shirt with the sleeves pulled up to my elbows. She asks about Mr. Jefferson, and I think I over emphasize how I’m his star pupil. I’m pretty sure Mom gets it after trying to explain that to her several times.

The house smells like spaghetti, and I’m already drooling like a baby when I walk through the front door.
Then Mom randomly hands me a 50$ bill, and tells me to go hang out with one of my Seattle friends since I must miss the crap out of them.

I accidentally say, “What the hell?” in front of Mom. Funny thing is, she doesn’t wash my mouth out with soap. I must be too old for things like that. Maybe this is what a perk is of growing up, I think.

“Come on, go have fun!” Mom practically pushes me out the door, not before letting me have some of her World-Famous spaghetti. Mmmmm. As I jump into my Mom’s vehicle, I realize I don’t know where the **** to go or who to contact so I head to the first place I can think of: Laser tag.

As I sit out in the parking lot, I text Kristen or Fernando to see if they want to hang out here. Usually, Kristen will text back immediately but there’s no response. Fernando seems to be busy, so I head inside myself and buy myself a wrist band for laser tag alone. Who says you need to be with other people to have fun? I’m an expert at laser tag. They call me the best shooter in the northwest.

The instructor looks overwhelmed at the thirty or so people flooding the room, and attempts to talk at the loudest pitch possible to get everyone in the room to listen to the instructions. Of course, there’s giggles happening somewhere over all of these tall and short bodies so I get the jist of it: No running, pushing, fighting, and yelling. We all know there’s running and yelling going to happen.

As I run in, I immediately head for the stairs as my rest vest turns on. Someone shoots me from behind, and I notice it’s a group of kids. Then I decide to camp out in a corner, at least, until I get caught.

I bring out my gun and shoot out three blue vests on the other side of the laser tag arena. The air gets knocked out of me, plus my gun flies out of my hand as someone falls into me. My hands instinctively grab their arms, pushing them off me when I glance up at her face, suddenly startled.

“Woah.” She says, and I feel like lightning passes through both of us as I let go of her arms.

Immediately, I shoot out her vest, rushing off to find somewhere else to hide. My body is racing with adrenaline, and it’s a little hard to concentrate on the game because I’m trying to look for blue hair. In this packed arena of thirty people, it’s easy to get lost in the blur of red and blue lights. It’s easy to see the lights blend into purple.

It’s ironic when Ghost by Halsey starts playing because the first few lines is literally making me think of blue hair: “I’m searching for something that I can’t reach. I don't like them innocent. I don't want no face fresh. Want them wearing leather begging, let me be your taste test. I like the sad eyes, bad guys, mouth full of white lies…”

****.

I find her tucked in a corner, mimicking me. And she’s gorgeous. I’m not sure why I am looking for her, but I am. “You’re camping too? You must be bad at this game.” I jokingly hold her at gunpoint. “Any last words?"

What comes out of her mouth leaves me off guard. “You're hella cute."

My vest goes out as she shoots me, and I shoot her back giving her a playful glare. And then something happens between us again, and it’s that jolt of lightning passing through both of us. The music cuts out, and I tear my eyes from the stranger and run out of the laser tag room by myself.

Once I get outside, I check my texts from Fernando and Kristen. Since they’re not replying, I decide to head on home, but my heart is still beating rapidly in my chest. And I’m not sure if it’s because of the game or blue hair.
Jenny Gordon Apr 2017
Some of my friends swear they are, but I'm not.



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCXL)


Rain.  Just a whisper as how twilight thence
Steals thinly 'cross the ist more fragile scale
Of wet?  I caught that note in sweet all hail
To say "it can't be--!" puddles' ghostly sense
Now winking lightly from the blacktop, whence
That subtler voice of traffic hissing, pale
In deeper shadows' lonely wake, t'avail
Was't true, and phone recharging, what from hence?
I'm sleepy.  Blackened silhouettes hulk fer
Good measure in the darkness, like a crew
Upon some ghastly mission as it were,
But I'm too tired for aught now, lying down to
Effect right in this stuffed chair.  Call it poor,
And one espresso long gone, kiss me too?

02Apr17c
Stop staring.
Lora Lee Jul 2016
Wherever you
may be -
be it in strife
or
in gladness
            know I am
              flinging out    
                   my heart
             to the stars
hoping
      that, like a
              boomerang,
                    you will
catch it
bless it
infuse it
with all
you can
even if in
pieces
peeking through
the cracks
of your being
and hurl it
over the blanket
of celestial
               reasoning
                   tossing it
                like a wish
        into the heavens
until it reaches
my hands
safe, sound
and ever expansive
Know
          that while I
              send my prayer
                          to receive
                   that the real
                reason is to
         have suffused
within you
a breath
         of freshness
                   recharging
the parts of you
that have become
too heavy
to bear
     imbuing you
with the sacred
forces of
winter strength
spring light
the balance of
autumnal winds
and the ripe
heady fruit
of summer
Now
            as my hands
catch that pulsing
mass of life
       and put safely
                   back into
                          my chest
I bless the winds
the you
within me
and
         fly
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tpv261r01Eg
Heilung - Krigsgaldr
Viking type of song that accompanied me on the writing :)
Surrationality Feb 2014
I can't sleep. I don't want to sleep. I don't know which it is but it's happening, now and infinitesimally forever my eyes are open and not shutting down for the day, not recharging, not doing anything but waiting for something to see and perceive and solve, a problem to appear before them and present itself begging to be taken in and toyed with like a Rubik's cube. I don't want to sleep because sleep is giving up on the day, it's saying the day is over and it's giving up the chance to accomplish the innumerable tasks yet to be accomplished before I sleep that I haven't done and won't do if I sleep now, if I lie down in that bed and pull covers over my head and let myself drift away. I don't want to drift away, can't let it happen, can't let go of control over really the only thing I have left to control which is when and if I go to sleep so I don't, I force myself not to, I expunge the records of thought from my head into a text box and hope that the soft rattling that had droned there softens because now after all of this my eyelids get heavy and I may have to let sleep win, give up the day, defeated, fight again tomorrow because I'm tired. I'm tired. I'm tired of fighting, fighting against the minute tedium tripping along, fighting against transcendental ecclesiastical endlessness, tired of fighting when all I do is get bloodied and bruised, tired of fighting when I can't win because I'm tired. Rest now. Fight again tomorrow.
Llahi Fuego Jun 2012
My **** is numb
My brain is numb
My heart is numb
From all that *******, drinking, smoking, and partying.
It felt so marvelous
So marvelous
But now I am so numb
So numb
Numb
Numb

But she still wants to ****,
She's right here and she says she wants to ****
But I am drained, so drained
I can only manage to lean in and kiss her
She pushes me off and says, "No, don't kiss me. It's way too personal. Just **** me."
I tell her, "Let’s sleep a while, batteries need recharging."
And she says to me, "I don't think the batteries are the problem, baby boy. I think I might need to get myself a new flashlight."

Jesus Christ. I am a ****** married to a pornstar.
jiminy-littly Oct 2016
simple tasks

done by millions of workers

will be replaced by robots.


they say workers are worried ... worried they say

how will we live - let alone support ourselves and our family's?

wouldn't it be better to have robots live in misery than us?

better to have them toil?

better to have a machine plead guilty to ******, hauled off to jail, seen for what  it is, in our stead?

let them accomplish this, or invent that,

let them cry over a missing child or wife or lover,

they should suffer, die and be buried

and rise again

Lo,
let thy robots judge the living and the dead!


like a nuke on a mike
the porch we sit on

out of a giant soft shell
plastic brains break open

I'm scared as ****
batteries are recharging
a bullseye of prophecy
Thy quill hath become somewhat weary
Writing poems daily without any respite
On the bullet casing one shall now bite
A break away to restore thy energy
Vigor hath drained to a very low point
Penning poetic lines so exhausting
Time out is required for recharging
Thy quill's black ink doth not want to anoint
Within the next day or so I'll return
Feeling more refreshed and full of vim
Thy cannot keep pouring words on a page
Of late the candle hath done a high burn
Thy powers to write are becoming dim
To have a session of rest is most sage
Bob B Nov 2016
Technology's changing so very fast 
That trying to keep up is a pain. 
I'd hardly call myself a Luddite, 
But sometimes I feel left out in the rain. 
 
They come out with Windows 10
When you've barely learned Windows 8. 
Every time I open a program
It seems as though there's a new update. 
 
Then you're back to square one again. 
Good luck learning the fancy new features. 
If you get stuck, don't hesitate  
To find some kids to serve as your teachers. 
 
It’s amazing how kids at such a young age 
Are already showing familiarity 
With swiping, sliding, and tapping their fingers 
On touch screens AND with great dexterity. 
 
You can't just have a phone these days; 
It has to be a smart phone, you see. 
How we ever survived in the past 
With our not-so-smart phones is way beyond me. 
 
With smart phones you can lock your doors, 
Turn on the air or adjust the heat. 
Having a phone just to make calls 
In this day and age would be obsolete. 
 
Try to find a simple clock radio 
Or a simple phone without any frills. 
Young people don't know what it's like 
To need postage stamps to pay their bills. 
 
Practically everything needs recharging-- 
Laptops, tablets, cameras, phones. 
Our cars now operate by computers; 
Without technology we wouldn't have drones. 
 
Recharging batteries all the time
Is NOT as handy as it looks.
That's why I usually prefer
My good old-fashioned paper books.
 
- by Bob B
jerely Aug 2015
Overflowing the chemical reaction to it's combination.


The sweetest recipe;

Sugar, filled with recharging honey of love
surreal to my mouth,
tastes so good.

Marshmallow, dipped with chocolates, and the everlasting hope will.

Vanilla ice cream, dipped with feelings, extending the soft bubble pop to the intestine.
Feeling alive again, contentment keep it.
just tryna write something new!

Jerelii
Copyright
September 1, 2015
Tuesday (6:59 am)
SG Holter May 2017
She's had nose bleeds,
Stumach aches,
Dizzy spells and shortness of
Breath these last weeks or so,
And worry is a vampire attached
To my neck like the
Opposite of an IV; draining
Me, leaving me
With more than one of the
Same ailments.

At 38, I'm on six different kinds
Of daily medication. **** this
Stitched-up heart, with
Its moving
Parts of metal.
At 24, she doubles that.
Every piece of good news has a
...but... nailed to it like
Vinnie the Poo's friend Donkey's
Tail,

And I wish I was the healthy man
She deserves. One strong enough
To carry her bucket loads of
Tears, her chestfuls of well-
Earned bitterness. But I
Tapped out and went home
For the weekend. Recharging in
Countryside silence and solitude.
This is my docking station.
Superman and the sun.

*“In the unlikely event of a sudden
loss of cabin pressure, oxygen
masks will drop down from the
panel above your head. Secure
your own mask before helping
others.”
Ottar Jan 2015
Long reflected streams
Of light,
Wheeled light beams,

Create the gusts
Of wind,
The nose thrusts,

Above four legs striding
On a walk,
Thoughts drifting, riding,

On hopeful crests of waves
Of an ocean,
That experience brings, saves,

The scars that mar the heart
On the surface,
Marks the day's began, a start,

Hours sit and stand at a desk
Of employ,
Creativity not addressed,

By name, there is trial
In the error,
In this day success is viral,

The day end comes fast with a stat
Of failure,
Walking home is time alone, and that

Leads to free writing, to break the hold
Of the cold,
Bureaucratic wasteland, truth be told,

Yet the night the evening brings time
Of peace,
And quiet and of release, so sublime,

Emotions roil, sounds toil, and struggle
Of reality,
Cold sided pillow, head rest and snuggle,

Oh dreams become certain reality
Of a Hope,
Yet life is short, feasting on frailty,

Human identity, a man, negativity
On a winged
Sleepy prayer, not shared, in proclivity,

Soft clouds of sleep fall firm, leave a pall
On dream-sleep,
Recharging for another day is all,

That is found waiting viewing the whole
Of foolishness,
Each day too full takes its toll,

Like a bridge with infrastructure tolls
Of empty,
Pockets, of resistance, and angry trolls

That crush dreams of day and night
Of promise,
Found rising stumbling by mornings light.

A new day has begun to get it right
Of sand,
And the hourglass, which empties fast, a sleight,

Of hands
That write,
Make magic to start a stopped heart which was waiting for, to die.
The day begins with a dog walk
Karisa Brown Dec 2016
There was a passion
a fire
an energy that threw
sparks out of our lips

As I watched your eyes
crystalize them before
they reached me sometimes

I tried
and when I didn't
then you tried
we're both exhausted
we're stuck

We'd get frustrated
with lack of own
and then feed
off each others
bits of glow
for days

Journeys end
new ones begin
I have to close chapters
but will always revisit
this one

over and over
as if it were new
each time

My eyes will always
light up
at even the slightest
thought of you

Possibilities are created
from that place
if I stay long enough

But somewhere between
the corner and the middle
is where I find myself
on the page

And I turn over like
a car trying to start
but no one is here
to help me recharge

I must recharge
I've not even began
and I drain so quickly
if it takes forever
I'll wait

Until edge of ice
reaches out it's hand
and dulls my shame

Till things of pure
gold replace
all the trash in this place

I know there's a spot
you'll save
I'm just not sure
when I'll regain
strength and courage

To say
to sit face to face
without falling
on my face

I'll keep trying
till then
I'm here

Knowing
what we had
was enough

To keep soul happy
and I'll try to stay
on trail you showed me

My own
and if I need you
I'll ask again
Jack C Preston May 2013
You are a slave;
To your own ideals
To your contradictions
To your actions
To where you stand now,
Where they make you stand.
You are a ******* robot
They gave you batteries for your beating heart
Recharging you day by day,
Filling you with the nonsensical ******* you believe to be a pulse
Be free from their obscenity
Free the robots
Scott Howard Feb 2015
Premature, they died at birth. Twin brothers and I too am their brother.
They were born 5 years before me. Jared Scott and Trevor Alexander. I was born with my umbilical cord wrapped around my neck, and they were so small they could fit in the palm of your hand.
They were kept in glass boxes: incubators humanizing glass bodies shattering aliens in fabricated wombs. Clear tubes ran from each nostril to machines with numerical equations that simulate abnormal infant’s breathing pattern. Their hearts were UFO’s, unidentifiable, black hole brain matter with lungs like space vacuums.
“They came too soon.” I was told
Possibly cremated, I can’t remember what my parents said.
When I was younger, I thought babies couldn’t die.
*
Upon my birth, my parents gave me the twin’s middle names: as if some fusion of sunlight and stardust could manifest into a third being, still stuck on earth with the cord around his neck.
Cortex in cortex. Conjoined astronauts sharing intersections of skin, fluids, and bone. We are of flesh and blood, yet I did not know them. They are more than childern, but intersteller beings, cellestials and heavenly bodies.
Twin constellations, Gemini, comparable to Castor and Pollux themselves. Their fates were left up to the stars, but they were not spaceships, they were meteorites burning out in unearthly fires. Without a fighting chance, their flames were stifled.
“Mayday.mayday……….. Mothership.is………………………crashing…..… ……………Mother……board.short-circuiting……………..……… Firing 3rd……….. ……thruster…… Firing………….. 5th.thruster……… 10 minutes ..till…...…….…... ………………………………………..impact……………………………………….……
recharging ……….......flux.capacitors……………………..Oxygen..Nitrogen…..…..
……………..­Burning……………..… up in atmosphere……………..….5.mintues.till ..impact…………………Suffocation…........Fuel.exhaustion…………1 minute…….
………….45…...seconds………….Depletion..............30.second­s…………............................................................­.................................................................­................
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………­……………………………… Planetary. Collision……… ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………­………………………………………15.seconds…………………………………………………………... ………………………… Planetary. Collision……………………………………………
……………………………………………………………………………………………………­……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….………………...………T­he sun is so bright …………….…………………………………………………………..……………………………………………………………………………………………­……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………­………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………”
Kendal Cooper Oct 2015
death is an untruth
where one life ends
another begins

an organism dies
another feeds
consequently,
reproduction

clocks and dates
false
time is eternal

waves form
and break back into shimmering waters
as if recharging themselves

Where do You end?
Where do I begin?
My ideas have been so rocky therefore, I found a way to make them fluid once more. We are together. Blessed be my loves.
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2016
you should see having Chinese slit eyes after smoking back when i was 21 and was in the prime... miss those days... not's it's about reaching the 36th hour threshold of not sleeping, getting fidgety hallucinations of objects rather than themes, not even bothered about a deeper meaning of life by dreaming: **** dreaming... ever heard of the Soviet sleep experiment? well, i have a detonator to knock myself out, the perfect combination: a cure for chronic insomnia, or those who suffered the highest damage from what might be a one-punch-knockout-let's-handshakes-with-Hades... you think there aren't rich people who'd need someone to cure them from chronic insomnia due to a brain haemorrhage? do i look like a ******* saint of Calcutta? ENCORE! whiskey (depending on your previous intake of the stuff, not any old spirit, Scottish perfumery, i told you Edinburgh was the new Paris and the already established Athens of the north) -  AMITRIPTYLINE (25MG - milligrams) - and 500G PARACETAMOL... i once mentioned that other painkiller... why am i putting myself through this? well i know i'm suffering, no point hiding it... **** the liver recharging, i need my brain more... the Soviets didn't find what i found... a cure for insomnia of brain haemorrhage sufferers: alpha rat? me... hence the added flow of subjectivity, pondering more than the ****** Zodiac premonitions - there's always a doctor for whatever condition is probably not as celebrated as a charity run for cancer... so as Socrates said... i'd be charged with making pensioners rebels, since they seem to be only ones who are on my wavelength - they're worried about the silent scythe, i'm worried about the all-too-loud scimitar; ******* complimentary like a burger and chips.*

because he was selling his beautiful lessons,
which are beautiful, i admit,
the meek man said: i'll just cycle down this
park, this square mile, and nowhere else,
because i'll just be a tourist in Jerusalem
as much as a tourist in Florence...
and you know? i'm trying... oh wait, buy
them? paradoxically - the suffering was sold,
then the idiot bought the same suffering,
and the two contested in the Garden of
Gethsemane: you can't lift the word alone,
by trying to illuminate it alone will
cast half the world in night, hence the
scimitar world of Islam, from where i was
released to illuminate the adherents of
your illuminating flock of the Atom
Bomb and the Holocaust...
let's just say a few ordinary Jews,
like the neighbours next door, who are
Jews, the woman converted to Islam,
because the Hasidi Jews believe in
a second coming of... well... let's just
call it a dinosaur sequence...
i don't believe the American hot-dog
machine could create those roving objects...
they're coordinates...
but listen! listen! ha ha! it's a win win
scenario! either those other beings in
the universe will help you to improve
your ways by being stupidly mesmerised
by their Santa Clauses (law term),
or they'll **** you and give you your
wish: not economic unity without
individual strife, but unity per se
without the concept of economics... like i said:
win win... Thor and the Dark Elves -
N.A.S.A., hello! hello! look where Lucifer
falls... and how your ******
think white is the same as red... oh look,
a Polish boy... i give you freedom!
or like Islam predicted, if i leave England,
my one day in England that's a year
in Iran... will just speed up the process...
they'll just hone in on the place where
the coordinates disappeared from -
because you'll be killing off their
scientific investigation, which goes back
to YHWH... and not to Kant's God
or the omnipotent prune that could be
both plum and pumpkin... well...
i heard people like to gamble... let's gamble!
because like you said: Picasso and the
primitive man rather than the Renaissance men...
you interrupt their scientific interest
which will end with my natural death...
or you do something stupid, and change
the timescale... question is...
if i ever travelled back to my home
would they stone me? then you'd all
have to submit to Islam - look how angry they
are... or i could take the scenic route,
get to love sadism and get to love pain...
and... well... what a kaleidoscope
of variations with a thought of an afterlife!
if i'll be able to sit in hell for the duration
of my mortality... i think a radio,
an infinite supply of whiskey, cigarettes
and white pages and ink and pornographic
material will prove anyone's endurance
to get chatting with Wittle Adoolf.
i'm joking... i have a redemption clause...
when i was a fat teenager with acne,
after i lost the weight and started smoking
marijuana, i reached a momentary of
attainment of Nirvana, which is western
tradition involves an induced form
of thoughtlessness: not mindfulness;
for a few golden months i'd smoke dope,
not think, enjoy music, and get on with
work and studying... these poems are
a byproduct for my way toward redemption
of once more experiencing that state
of mind... free from suffering...
by death, i am promised having attained it
once more, rather than having to have
to perpetuate it carefully like a Buddha might...
that's the only solace i have the ****** up
things i usually write:
as i was later the one to teach demons
to appreciate the solace of drinking, by
way of calming their infuriating ontology
inducing them with a sedative they might
perceive as the double-jeopardy of fury...
drink the waters of furore to calm
the otherwise persistent nerves -
all very well with 21st century sensibilities
running and ruining the place,
as if the 21st century was a reason to
have reached a Utopian benchmark and
exclaim the usual shock: in the 21st century?
unheard of! in the 21st century?!
how impossible... yeah, and croissants from
the 18th century never tasted better either...
shock treatment of Darwinism...
the ones that are sitting on cushions
are wondering why anyone would chisel
stones.
Ashly Kocher Jul 2021
Patterns of life
Footprints in the sand
Anticipation of dreams
The reality of living
Breathing in love
Recharging of
Our plans
Fulfillment
Is swirling in
The air
Today
Delusional Minds Mar 2015
Darkness consumes our lifeless days,
Stare at the world with our lifeless gaze,
With hopes that we can break outside this cage,
Filling the skies with our miserable cries of life's disdain,

Where's the glimmer of hope that our hearts need?
Where's the glow of the sun that make hearts beat?
Where's the light in the abyss, so recharging?
Every promise of hope is shattered with sharp teeth,

So come, come saviour,
Watch the dead dance,
Lift us from this place,
Give us our life back,
Put us on the stage,
And let us sway to the rhythm,
Watch the dead dance,
Watch the dead dance-
Aleph Mar 2019
Sun rays touch my soul

reflecting the warm glow

Time stretches on the cliff edge

Reality dramatically expands

Hovering indefinitely

to the abyss draw inevitably


I want to repair the smile

To feel the euphoria again

It has been a while

From this I shouldn’t refrain

no action left in the brain


Completely in free fall

Not frighten to do it all

The wind going over me

Recharging my energy

Finally feeling the glee

Freed from the lethargy


I feel freedom roar

I hear myself scream

Nothing will stay as before

Levitating like in a dream


Abruptly everything stops

I feel peace and tranquillity

I can sense the silence of the clocks

listen to the trumpets of liberty


I can see myself

broken laying in the ground

like a book cast from the shelf

to this body no more bound


all this ink pouring from my veins

forever free from my chains

no more pages to fill

finally, my heart stood still
Mara Jan 2012
Alone
Alone and happy
Recharging
Unlike you:
The girl who smiles-
Sweet giggles
With your carefree eye crinkles
You who laughs with your sun
Gravitationally pulling others into your orbit
Magnetizing them with your charm
No, we are nothing alike
I am stuck in my mind while you stuck in the sunshine
Stuck in company
Centre of attention
She speaks her mind precisely and accurately
Gets what she wants
And always knows just what to say
No, you and I are nothing alike and although I may try
To find, the girl like you inside of me
I wonder really if there can ever be
A display of a truly accurate expression of me
Julia R Ervin Jan 2017
here are a few things you should know about me...

i'm insane. i'm 17 and insane. and while i cannot take credit for these words, i thank ray bradbury for putting my life in such simple terms.

i like to think of myself as an actress, a singer, a poet, and a dreamer. while the first three may not be true, i have no doubt that the last is all too accurate.

much of humanity disgusts me. i hate school, because people my age are so incredibly immature and, frankly, stupid. given that these are the people i usually come in contact with, i often avoid said contact at all costs. that's why i love acting class; age is irrelevant.
acting is all about defying limits.

i'm really not an awkward person,
which you probably have a difficult time believing, because literally everything i've done when i've been around you has been not only awkward, but incredibly idiotic. i ruined my own joke when i told you i didn't want you to have my number. i could have been really cool and let you kiss my cheek and just walked away, but no. i had to make it stupid and awkward and make an absolute, utter fool of myself. and then stand at your car laughing at myself, and prolonging the idiocy. i don't know what it is about you that makes me act so
stupid and clumsy, but i hope it made you laugh,
because we all need some comic relief in our lives.

i'm kind of a guarded person. correction - i'm a very guarded person. while other people have "walls," i have a security system from the year 3001 built up around my soul, which itself is like a medieval castle. i'm technically an extrovert, but it's not like my "recharging" is going out and partying with friends; my "recharging" is going out and dancing with complete strangers.
i don't drink, but i sure as hell do dance.

that's where you come in...
i'm great at hiding my feelings. i always have been. life has forced me to be great at hiding my feelings. but when i am around you, every mask i've ever created is ripped from my face, along with the layer of skin that has been permanently warped by the heat of those masks and the faces i really make and the makeup that the world and
society has forced me to paint myself with.
the masks disappear.

i have met very few people in my life that have had that capability, and while it terrifies me,
i like it.

i can't remember the last time my true skin met the cool breeze of the world around me, so i have to thank you;
you have removed the masks.
you have let my skin breathe again.
I wrote this to a boy I really liked almost two years ago.
1 June 2015
She is a Generator.
But, she's about to cut-out,
Very soon!

She is underpowered
And overloaded!
She needs assistance--energy
From the Sun and the Moon.

But, the Sun's rays
Cannot charge her battery -
It is no longer recharging her,
At all!

Nor, can the Moon,
Any longer,
Be of any assistance,
Or help....
It's time to disconnect--
Discharge from all!
~ Too many plugs are in the wall!

By Lady R.F. (C) 2018
Grace Jordan Jun 2016
Always torn between two ideals, its the crazy person way of life. Is there a way to ever rid of the issue or is coping all I have?

The fact that since my fingers can't stop typing I know I will only allow myself 30 mins of intense late night creativity and then make myself shower because showering helps me calms my twitches only shows how deep into this rabbit hole I've gone.

Average idealist me would like to think one day I could really be normal.

Crazy idealist me/pessimist me would say I would not be me and hate myself without the disorder and I will never get rid of this thing on my back.

But hell, honestly, I don't even know if this is about the **** disorder in my head right now. It might be about how long I've spent on this godforsaken planet and felt like I've impacted barely anything. I want to do things, I want to get out there and make some difference that eventually makes me feel like I am doing something worthwhile. Not just spending too much time in my day just so I can convince myself to go to sleep.

I've always hated the concept of sleep; its so much waste. We only have, if we're lucky, 100 years on this planet and we are spending at least 8 hours of each 24 hours in a day on ******* nothing? Its such a **** waste. One of the few things I truly do miss about the ******* crazy, I barely needed sleep. But now that I'm medicated and sort of relatively sane, I need the 8 hours like every dumb recharging bloke. God, I hate sleep.

I guess the less I'm around people the more I feel like I need to work my *** off to do something to impact and help and connect with others. This summer has become more and more solitary and I know, I understand nothing can always be Grace's happy fun sunshine friendship land. But for ****'s sake no wonder I was batshit when I was younger. I had even less of an impact on anything.

I need to find something.  I need to find something that connect me to people, even if indirectly. I cannot spend anymore ******* time feeling like its never enough, only to drive my *** back hard towards the crazy ledge I teeter on. I'm going to ******* burn out if I only keep on pushing. I love working towards being an author, its my biggest dream that I cannot wait to make true, but....

I might have to take a break from it to keep myself steady enough to get there. I might need to find another all consuming creative outlet to keep me from feeling like a **** idiot stuck in a box just twiddling her thumbs away. I love writing, but without people around who inspire me and make me smile its hard to keep on going when I can't get the feeling I'm bettering something. I know I am, but with every word my beloved novel feels more stale. I can't let myself hate the novel I believe could actually do some good, especially if its only cause the crazy can't take care of itself.

**** me for having to take out my biggest passion to cope with my own stupid **** head. But for a summer that gets me ahead in literally every other aspect of my life?

The love of my life just might have to take the hit.
Metaleska Mar 2020
screaming into void
trying to gain something
nothing happens;
the void stays
still searching for something
still feeling the emptiness

facing each day
recharging on my own
spreading positivity around
receiving emptiness
the void stays

painful to watch pain
painful to feel
painful to let go
I still move into the void
in hope of finding something

trying to be cold
trying to control emotions
trying to stay strong
I still wander in this void
searching for something

something feels like a distant home
walking endlessly towards it.

I have started to breathe freely
now, the something is me
I am still searching for myself
starting to decipher the void within me
NOW feels freeing 💜
betterdays Nov 2015
Last week...

Last week, I lost my alarm clock
with it's murp and bop and purr

I had this clock for twelve long years
through feast and famine....
joy and sorrow....
crazy days and long dark nights....

For the most part it was a reliable clock
waking me morning after morning
with love and honest hunger...ready
for the day to commence
Although it often  stutter started,
through the daylights savings changes
and sometimes felt the same way I did
about cold frosty mornings
but it was a good clock...
a good, good clock,
inbuilt with joy and warmth
and a persistence. ..
that made me face the dark days
and love the days of sunlight and nonsense

All the recharging it ever needed
was love and sunshine
the occasional scratch under the chin
and a full food bowl, whenever requested

Last week, I lost my alarm clock,
with it's murp and bop and purr

This week...for the first time... in a long time
I can sleep in.....
and I don't much care for that... at all....
                                                                       ...at all.
For those of you who know, the little blucat, died last week... he had been ill and tho it was hard we asked the vet to put him to sleep.

— The End —