Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Chris Chronister Dec 2013
I try to remain calm
Simple conversation fuels curiosity
My focus is acute
I want to be reckless
I attempt to seem distant
I am hiding
Like a predator circling prey
I am waiting
Leaping prematurely could be costly
My hunger justifies risk
I want to be reckless
Outside influences
Compel me to behave appropriately
I am screaming
Secrets disguised with lies
I am hunting myself
I want her exposed
For I am exposed
I am vindictive
I want to pull and rip
S+rip her of shame
I am burning
I want to take her in front of the world
I want to be reckless

© Christopher Chronister. All rights reserved
thomezzz May 2018
You were reckless with your words
And every sound you made
Bloomed and crowded in my heart
A garden rising up from soil
So when you decided it was over
Those pretty words turned to daggers
Sharp ends on stems

You were reckless with your hands
And every touch you made
Electrified and burst in my heart
A storm forecasted but never believed
So when you decided it was over
Those caresses turned to a violent downpour
Caught in the rain: umbrella-less

You were reckless with your actions
And every move you made
Seared and singed on my heart
A fire burning through the forest
So when you decided it was over
Those kisses turned to the hottest ashes
Grey and pouring out of my mouth

You were reckless with my heart
And all of you
Flooded and swept up my body
A ship castaway in a vast ocean
So when you decided to leave
My heart turned to rubble and ruins
You, oh so reckless....
Me, just wrecked
your lips on mine
I lose my mind
lose track of time
it's not a sign
you're not really
mine
but it feels
sublime
so I say it's fine
leave logic behind
hoping to find
truth inside this
reckless bind
for cpl
Mallory Davis Feb 2015
Four walls crush
barely recognizing the reflection that stares
longing for the fat a cushy existence has brought
to burn with the binding responsibilities
another morning brings
Freedom
is hunting with the wolves
no place to call home
open air, open eyes
open life
with only your bones and wit as companions
new faces, new place
no cage around what should be free
will
guilt would linger at first
then a home would be made in the ***** blanket
that is loneliness
fleeting moments with strangers a staple in this life
I will create
like many do when it all becomes too much
and you become reckless abandon
Panoply Aug 5
they want me to be happy
or else i’ll spoil the mood
so I pour the drink right over
tonight i'll be messy and rude
spin a bottle, bruised lips on hers
“come with us,” they murmur
as they beg me to get ink
so after downing a drink i
ride the bus with windows open
letting the poison air in
past watercolour rain
on buildings with bloodstains
the sky looks so numb
and “let us have a little fun”
stumble on the sidewalk
i like the way you talk
tattoos, we’ll regret
“light a cigarette”
you’ll choke
but not to death
we’re living life
always on the edge
this poem is really cringey and ****** but idc
Some people get all dressed up when they go out.
We don't try too hard, that's who we are, but
we have our fun all the same.
Desperation's always in fashion.
For a while there I thought I could
change. That illusion didn't last long.
This town
has its own
gravity.
Robin Lemmen Sep 2018
And you told me
No matter the wreckage
You did not regret
Any part of us
Kissing at the train station
Surprising me on my dark day
Loving under the moonlight
Dancing through the kitchen
Telling me your secrets
No matter the wreckage
You would not forget me
Could never regret us

Did something change?
Nat Lipstadt Jan 2014
a  flawless poem
if such there were,
will always be,
the next one

my poor soul,
my rag tag heart
has no censor,
so careless, reckless,
as if words were but
frivolous treasures,
easy spent, easy get

if only, how I wish I
could harvest my best,
with golden cutlery excise
the single flawless poem,
that I know in my possess

lay down this hand so weary
from cupping tears,
be satisfied at long last,
so much so,
that my casket lowered,
hands in repose companioned,
clutching his best, easing the rest,
a paper record to join his ash,
his flawless poem,
at long last
Written in ten minutes when Frivolous Treasure, Ingrid, and SE Reimer
excised it from with me, a triage performed and a poem delivered, fluid and tear wet,  while Mozart's Serenade No. 13 for Strings harmonized what ever music the man has left.

flawless? Perhaps one slightly less flawed.

give us all your names and I will write someday
what my heart knows exists

Words are hopeless, poor substitutes for what they in vain,and we too, we call the heart's decay but this poem give unto me a deeper satisfaction than most...
sandra wyllie Dec 2018
She’s reckless. A car crash on interstate 495,
in the middle of the night. A head-on collision
that hurls bodies as missiles, twisting them through
shards out of the windshield, until they look like

tails of a comet. Severed arms and legs that fly.  She’s a
single engine piston that took a nose-dive in the bushes
and burnt its victims alive, while they were still strapped to
their seats, beyond recognition

except for their teeth. She’s noxious gas that pours out
of shower heads, in crowded locked up chambers
choking unsuspecting, innocent people until they gasp
and clutch for their last breath, nameless faces. She’s reckless.
Chantal Jul 2018
This is the sign you’ve been looking for.
So live darling. Live reckless and brazen. Don’t you dare hide how you feel & never try to meet the set standards.  Don’t think, just do. Forget how it’s ‘supposed’ to go, and all that could go wrong. Disregard all the illogical cause and effects Society determines. Ignore the 99% likely outcome and go after that 1% with everything you’ve got, kid. ‘Cause if something or someone makes you happy or gives you a sorta feeling you can’t explain, even if it’s just for a little while- ignore all the ‘advice’ & the whole doing the ‘right’ thing, and hold on to it till your lungs give out, regardless of what form you get it in. Here’s the truth darling; life’s too short for norms and logic. Too short to hide your feelings and god knows, way too short to spend even a second unhappy & restrained due to fear and the abstract ideas that things are meant to go a certain way. So if you love someone, scream it at the top of your lungs, and if you feel like crying, collapse and shatter. Live impulsively because there’s nothing purer than the desires of the heart.
-c.j.m
patty m Jul 2018
Beyond the reef
                     in crackling amber
the sun rises above the earth,
                     kissing river beds strewn with lovers

Passed mouth to mouth they whisper innuendo
the possibility of  living *******.
Bobbing bodies mimic boats on waves
and soon delirium penetrates a new country.

Heat and fire flare in bandied breeze
                          igniting insatiable shadow;
Pure and venial, the air incarnate
excites the ocean and ****** sing.

The quivering above ground
slithers silkily spilling watercolor rhapsody,
                         in a gush of white a fertile tsunami
reeks reckless abandon.   Once by moonlight,
they rubbed sleep from eyes, hugging hurt
as they clamored high in ghostly pallor.
Some leading the dance, hungered for knowledge,
others played shadowy roles.
Yet wafting still, comes the foreign fragrance,
fragments of spirituality,  a longing to touch,
as abundance rolls in shorelines green.
                         Offered mercies, fragile as wings,
shades of truth cascading like water, breathless
in sensual splash;
                       how tremulous
                       the image of truth,
                       the threshold of tomorrow.
Hannah May 31
I want to hold you in my arms
Thinking about you feels like ive set an alarm
Are you dangerous?
Or are you precious?
Youre the epitome of both
But it feels like loving you is a fault
The cracks of my love puts me on the horizon
Your precious smile
Put me in danger
Oh i wish i could be with you forever
I miss you.
Puissant piquant and predatory
And observant from afar
He looks down on your slumber
Like a door that's left ajar

Plying with his manly vice
A reckless male visage
A rogue of masculine device
Seeks entrance to your mind

He saunters with a swagger
A macho savvy moxie
To personify virility's incarnate
His dream zone's metier

He sifts your ****** entourage
In search of sprawls recumbence
To tantalize climactic fervor
With lambent photic scenes

Grasping at your revelries
He spies the wanton lust
With swanky strut appealing
Your primal urge to sate

He leaves undone resistance
With innate resilience seized
The lavish wayward implications
Of unrequited livid deeds

Like passion's lurid lecheries
An insatiable torrid sooth
You wrestle with his adamance
Your  carnal ecstasies revealed

You pounce on his exsertion
You splay your agile form
wriggling like a supple nymph
You accept his blatant storm

You writhe in your abandon
In a euphoric supplication
His machismo ****** enveloping
Your wildest latent needs

With no regrets or reticence
you awaken from this dream
To find yourself alone again
Like it had never been
I of we all create our own incubi and succubi and we should pay attention to their parameters.  Nothing like a philanthropic Incubus.
She lived inside of her mind
where she perfected the skills of
witchcraft and creating potions
considering it was much
more extravagant

...Than living in the outside world

Battling the ordinary
feeling no emotion.

Do not judge what you
can not understand
committing sins and
becoming her demons
was not part of
what she had planned.

If you had
paid a
visit
to the dark
side
of her
moon
you would have
met the
men
who ****** away
her soul
performing satanic
rituals
It is no wonder why
she sat
in her
room
fighting with
illusionary
visuals.

She understood the
ways in which
she had broken
trust
& why you might
had given up
understanding
each layer of
her
  s c a t t e r e d
stardust.

She was selfish
and impulsive
for her own
desire to
explore
she was sick
for dancing
at the expense
of others
feelings

Always wanting more.
Marcus Lane Mar 2011
Sunshine,
Birdsong
And children drunk on
Lemonade
And laughter.

That Welsh picnic
Has lasted forty years
And will last forty more
In daydream

And nightmare.

The stream babbled
Over pebbles,
Fern fronds
Brushed our sun-browned shins

Till the dead sheep
Slugged us in the guts.

Bloated and bulbous,
The body dammed the stream,
Its lifeless eyes
Crawling with life.

Those pearly marbles were
A child’s looking glass into death.

The rocks we hurled at it
In reckless revulsion
Were the screams
Of violated youth,

And those empty dead sheep thuds
The dawning of our mortality.
© Marcus Lane 2010
L B Aug 2016
It was the time of my Auntie Bee summers
   I was small then
   She had a parakeet that landed on my head
   and a bathtub too
   with water so deep!
   and legs and claws!
   **** thing nearly chased me down the stairs!

She lived in slumbery Windsor Locks
   where bugs hung-out in the haze
   of teenage August
   I played in the tall weeds
   with a shoeless Italian boy
   who ate tomatoes like apples
   and cucumbers right off the vine!
   He was ***** free and foreign!
   We played— reckless, abandoned
   behind the gas pump, under the tractor, in the barn   
   and through the endless fields
   I didn’t know....
   His name was Tony
   I ate pizza with him—the first time

At Auntie Bee’s I had to go to bed at eight
   but I could watch night flowers
   bloom on wallpaper
   She came in to say good night
   slippered, shadowy, night dress slightly open
   and I peeped her *******!
   like Tony’s cucumbers!
   I had never seen my mother’s wonders....

Night spread its wings from the old fan—
   a bird of tireless exhaustion
   whipped, whipped, whipped to death in its cage
   tireless exhaustion
   tic-tocking in time to a wind-up clock
   stretched out on the whine
   of the overland trucks
   Route Five through the night of an open window

In the grape arbor below—
tremulous incessant
   crickets    crickets    crickets
tremulous incessant—insides of a child
   a summer child
   not yet ready for the fall of answers

Auntie Bee had a daughter—Maureen
   I followed her everywhere I could
   I was small then--    
   do anything for a stick of Juicy Fruit
I followed Maureen through my dreams
   of being sixteen
   and woke to Peggy’s “Fever”
   while she tied her sneakers
   against the mattress by my head

I followed Maureen (in my mind)
   tanned and bandanned
   to work in the fields of shade tobacco
   with all those Puerto Rican boys!
   She knew where she was going!

I was small then
...do anything for a stick of  gum

“Mauney! Mauney! Mauney!”
   ...through the goldenrod of roadside
   through the smell of oil that damped the dust    
I followed Maureen’s white shorts
   and chestnut hair...to the corner store
I followed the way the boys smiled
   the way the screen door slammed
   on her bright behind
   the way her lips taunted and took
   the coke-bottle’s green
I followed Maureen

I swear, I tried for hours to get that right!

Must have been Peggy Lee’s “Fever”

Maureen ties her sneakers in my face
Flaunts her years above my head
She has that look—
“We kids don’t know nothin”
(Little turds” that we be)

…followin’ Maureen
through the goldenrod of roadside
tic-tockin’, beboppin’

“Fever— in the morning
Fever all through the night….”
Peggy Lee's Fever:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b4hXyALR9vI
I was seven years old and did I ever get this!
Peggy Lee's stripped down performance is the epitome of ***.

Windsor Locks is in Connecticut.
laura Nov 2017
bad boy, i got a weakness
i like the taste of blood licked from my
own hands from being reckless
tearing hearts out their intended
cavities and im afraid my mouth
is cold from being exposed

i guess i keep the charade
of getting mad at you
for not buying me cigarettes
or not telling me to quit them depending
if im interested in you

i go to the gym to heal
all of my mistakes instead of church
and its cuffing season
want you to tie me to your mast

and leave me there all season
then afterwards we'll never text each
other again because you're a bad boy
and you are no good for me
Next page