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Zumee Dec 2018
everything is infinite
once you're in the l∞p
Skylar Keith H Jan 2018
20:00 - Dinner
Alone but entertained
I like it that way

21:00 - Skype calls
Not having talked for four days
I've missed her yet the occasional silence is nice

22:00 - Fillers
Scrolling through pictures and sharing thoughts
A pleasant and calm feeling

23:00 - Rethinking
The first hypothetical theories about the day
Laughing at the slip-ups to push them away

00:00 - Reflecting
Doubting choices throughout the week
Faking a small smile

01:00 - Endurance
A familiar feeling spreads
Downcast eyes and a facade of peace

02:00 - Creative
New ideas and thoughts fill up the space
Pick and choosing which ones would hurt the most now

03:00 - Idealistic
Reading stories about happiness, pain and change
Wondering what will become of me

04:00 - Closure
Horrible thoughts tearing down the last walls
Curling up and crying again

05:00 - End
Following a familiar routine before sleep comes
Cradling the broken mind
A familiar Routine
Ayeglasses Mar 2013
I find myself becoming nostalgic about something that hasn't happened.
I remember buying the blue shirt.
Running along the girl with the flowing white skirt.
Memories flood my mind, of a day that didn't exist.
But repeated.
The orange and red.
Mixed beautifully in my head.
On the boulder that wouldn't contain.
Or refrain.
From the need.
To bleed out flowers.
What powers decided to give me a splitting discovery.
A recovery of sorts.
A degree of sports I didn't play anyway.
It's comforting that there is another way.
Another play being played.
Of my hope,
That somebody will care for me.
In a carefree way.

So I can imagine myself running in the blueness of the jacket I never bought.
And I can imagine the orange of the girl who will someday exist.
Although, I worry about the sound.
All of this mental racket.
For somebody I may or may not know.
But I know she's around.

I was perusing one of my favored channels earlier. When I noticed that, this person had created a music video in one of the links. It was very colorful and looked moderately interesting.

It is the splitting image of what I see as a perfect relationship. Literally, I had daydreamed about things incredibly similar to that in the past.

For those who wish to experience a part of my mind.
Timmy Shanti Mar 2018
Some Jamie snugly in me hand,
A cause for celebration,
Today, I found me promised land:
The home of Irish nation.

I dyed me hair shamrock green,
I made me teeth look orange,
(A spliff of Carroll's in between)
A sliver of Dutch courage.

I mingle with the leprechauns
(A shamrock on me chest)
Not in a thousand years gone,
I’m messing with the best.

Atop the jolly rainbow,
In hand – a *** of gold,
Revering, till I find me rest,
The stories I’ve been told.
Happy St. Patrick's!
Ryan Holden Aug 2018
Always wake with choice
Let everyday be as
Perfect as your last.
Obassi Bholai Dec 2018
I tend to do this unforgiving
method of maddness when it comes to writing
I'll start and stop, repeating onto new work
unfinishing the last.

incomplete as each piece may be,
the brain is scattered
lost and afraid, it'll never feel the same way.
connected to what new beginnings
may be.
Nyx Oct 2018
Take my heart
Break it in two
Crumble it to pieces
Its okay I want you too

Tell me pretty lies
Syrup dipped candy
You're words have such sweetness
Keep on drinking that brandy

Beat around the bush
Play you're little games
Run wild and free
Be sure to fasten my chains

Kiss that other girl
Play me like an upright base
Feed me those excuses
Let the tears pour down my face

Allow me to feel the love
Thats as plastic as that grin
False sense of security
Call it my original sin

Take another trophy
Place it upon your shelf
Right next to the rest of them
I'm sure your proud of yourself

Throw me away once at the end
Once you've had your fill
Just like the rest of them
I'll tumble downhill

I'll cry out my heart
Desperately want you back
But just like the rest of them
I was just another past time snack

I'm ****** I know
But hit play
I'm stuck on repeat

Help me.....

Andrew Apr 2018
They keep ratcheting up the pressure
They keep hatcheting for good measure
They keep laughing at their leisure
They keep blasting guns for pleasure
Creating a series of tubes
Where every which way I lose

There's an existential
From my potential
That's unintentional
For I want to be better
Than the scarlet letter
That's my resume header
And my pain embedder

But there's a series of events
That keep happening
That leaves everyone incensed
They start attacking me
Until I take my mask off
They uncomfortably back off
Get in their rocket and blast off
Until it's humanity I'm the last of

There's a pattern
That gives me purpose
So I climb a ladder
Of fruitless searches
For a freedom purchase
From a shame merchant
Who offers the joy of fantasy
At the price of a crushing reality
So I can hear Satan answering
As a doctor trying to cure my malady

I feel shame
Then humiliation
This repetitive game
Provides inspiration
To avoid every friendship
Because my love will end it
And bring a torture endless
So either way I'll be friendless
After I reluctantly ask
And they say no
Am I still expected to bask
In their beautiful glow?

I see a range of emotions
From pathetic pity to anger
Always leaving the notion
I live in a city of strangers
And walls of concrete
That can't be beat
One must take a seat
And accept defeat
Then repeat
Tommy Randell Nov 2014
Up steep streets
I repeat
In a dream
Words seen in windows
To myself

Turning right
And Northward
Left and Westwood
Checking number plates
For initial surprises
Numbers for primes

The number of years
By the number of days
Adding the leaps
The few left over

To arrive in the viewfinder
To stand on the edge
To look at the scene
To breathe with the light
To know finally that I am
The lens
Odious Wench Nov 2018
I don't slam well on love
It slams on me
A drumming thrumming arrhythmia
Ba-bump ba-bump ba--- bump-ba-bump
A little loss here is a little gain there
Only, it doesn't work that way
My stopwatch heart hiccups then echoes
Like odd flats and sharps
Seemingly out of place among the expected
A beat that needs to be acquired over several listenings
Like a new food that needs to be tasted up to 12 times
Before you can truly decide if you like it.
It take more than 3 licks and a bite to get to my center
One, two three, you're not for me
Four, five, six, a few more licks
Seven, eight, nine, out to dine
Ten, eleven, twelve, you can delve
And yet... Here it sits in my chest with its arrhythmia
Patiently waiting for that defibrillating current
That shock that will set it right
Or perhaps it's never meant to be that way
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps
It's perfect in it's imperfection

My heart's a stereo,
and we can dance if you want to,
because the rhythm is gonna get you,
on re-pe-pe-pe-pe-peat.
SJG Feb 12
The sun, it rose.
The sea, it bled.
It was a pillar of truth.
It was a crater of dread.
It was a kid on the road.
It was a truck that sped.

When in doubt,
Blame the smoking gun.
Keep some spirit in your heart.
Don't have any fun.

I met you on an old day.
Your laughter birthed the street.
You took me by surprise.
You took me home again.

I sat by your window.
I stared at the tide.
You put an old soul record on.
You left it on repeat.

Now when I hear that sound,
I feel too new, too outgrown.
A house lost among the weeds
Of a garden gone to seed.

Not a care in the world,
Or not a world in which to care.
I forget what and why,
Always, up is down;
Always, anywhere.
Poetic T Apr 6
life's ****** up
          before you have

a red bull and co-codamol

then everything has wings..

              and nothings a pain
                               its just numb,

till reality

          hits 5 minutes before bed,

Then who gives a **** till tomorrow.

                      Rise and then repeat....
Pat Broadbent Apr 2018
Caulk like chalk lines
Drawn on a brick wall
draws blocks together
like ionized particles;
and so the dust whips
up from the pavement,
onto the flat mast
of a tricolored flag
which rests in public space–
but not without movement,
but not without tension–
would fall without knots.

And so our good people,
held by conviction
prescribed by no doctor
swallow a large dose.
Fellow faces they crumple, yet
it’s poor taste to mention that,
and so the tongue is tied;
we speak not.

White cloth like chalk lines,
Red strips like bricks fall
Three-fourths down a half mast;
good people feel sad.
Hands over mouths breathe
through cracks in the radio feed,
like freckles on a sunburn bleed
when cancer starts to spread.
Good people see the bad
and so white faces turn red,
the tragic intrudes on public space
and yields nothing said;

With chalk drawn in broad lines
Knots in arteries tie,
And so I share in death
with all passers-by.

Chalk traces human shapes
—hollow forms on the street—

a dream in waking,
immutable quaking,
beneath a a flag where all colors meet.
Kmary Oct 2018
Today I woke with a familiar dread
a storm of my own;
a whirlwind of insecurities

It's an intrusive self-created enemy,
that disguises my fears as truths

There have been nights too
where I sleep with my demon
and once again awake to yesterday's past

What's there left to say?
Rest the head on knee.
Finger weaving hair,
our eyes on T V.

What's there left to burn?
Cool the heart from heat.
Inhale deep dismay,
then exhale slowly.

Twilight, half lit dark.
Bare to share the beat.
Taste, taking turns,
highest high,
lowest low   ly.

Freckle you with light
brown skin fingertips.
Depart the anxious
rush to ***,
savor sole   ly

to put lip to skin,
to prolong the sin,
to enjoy to no end,
calm, and then
rising action,

****** and
the unwinding.
Wolf Dec 2018
When will I finally give up?
But something that is broken
Cannot break again
And yet it is repeated
Like a swirling storm in my head
So I'll keep my eyes up
To see the distant promises
Glittering in the night sky
For Beauty's Maiden Name he can Compose
And hope that your Legacy will ever Live
This Shimmering Petal which he dares Un-Fold
Will by Clock's End endear with your Harmony.
Why in the Fifth Summer Month we Praise the ****
Responsible for the Songs we hear Today
Whilst the Toll's Hand turns from Cradle to Tomb
Your Best Song can chant the Goblins away
And perhaps if I try to Improve my Lot
Then avoid the ****** Record of Defeat
He is your Story; This I almost Forgot
And the Name once-spoken will again Repeat.
With this I Commit, Beauty's Maiden Name
Your Feathers un-changing; Your Spirit Remain.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
Jessica Stull Dec 2018
Poetry is like my diary
I can tell her anything and everything
I can scream from my soul
In aching longing
Intense rage
Or sadness beyond measure
Perhaps it’s TMI
But I tell her my secrets
I tell her how you taste in my mouth
How you took the time to figure me out
How I love the feel of our own rhythm of life
Indeed no one else understands but who cares
My poetry, my diary, my life
It’s messy as ****
At work my thoughts a-running, actually I just miss my man right now
KM Hanslik Jul 2018
Keep your eyes soft and your dreams
up on the highest shelf so you won't take them down too early;
keep everything that you spill in the dark locked
behind your teeth during the day, don't bring it out before dusk;
like secrets we drip over sidewalk cracks
from cotton-candy sticky fingers and leave our names
dissolved under each other's tongues, the warmth of you is keeping me company
as I try to crawl out of my blood again, they told you to leave
a bread-crumb trail in case your heart becomes too watered down by just visiting
to even remember the vacation at all; you carry
kisses on the knuckles of amputated arms,
driving through parking lots with your seatbelts on,
collections of constellations growing
in the bruises on the insides of your thighs, reminders
of salt & the whites of your eyes;

I'll always carry you around
like scuffed knees and the last time I told you "I'm okay",
I wanna press my fingers into you until your skin is melded
with fire and scraps of things that I could never be,
I hope steel rods grow out of your bones and I hope you gather
bruises before you gather dust,
we are all a little lost and lonely but that never stopped
the accumulation of well-spent nights
coughing up new ways to spell my name
(it sounded foreign before you)
leave this on repeat,
we're going in again.
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