Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Samir Sep 2012
We are absurd
You and I
Fragments
 
We have created a fermentative reality,
Where words are symbols of relation
That you and I falsify
 
And Bingo was his name-o!
 
Ah!
 
Oh holy onomatopoeic jargon
 
What do you mean?
And how shall we bargain?
 
And mora is but a half step to a whole
 
Eek gad!
 
January Febuary March and April
May I introduce you to June and July
August, Sept Oct Nov Dec
 
Randomly systemized organs organized
Abstract or… dissonant?
But who is in charge?
 
12345
12345678
12345
12345678
 
12344
12344556
12344
12­344556
 
“Why so serious?” said The Riddler
Mellow dramatic
Melodrama
Melancholy
 
 
Pantomimes!
Pantomimes EVERYWHERE!
They are able to speak
But alone I mime, “Do you have the time?”
 
Together we fall!
United I stand.
 
Backwards
Upside down
Inside out
And grammar
 
What’s in a name?
Please don’t be lame
Sarcastic and the glamour
 
Synonymous nonsense
Homophones and nyms
Where are the polysemes?
In the antonyms
In the antonyms!
 
Repitition
Exclamation
Annunciation
tions…
 
verbage verbage verbage
syllables and such
meaningless meaning
defining definitions with such
 
True or False?
Hide and Seek
 
Ring around the rosy
We all fall down…
We all fall down.
 
Black hat, white shoes, and I’m red all over.
 
Salt
Sour
And bitter
And dill
And
And
And
And
And
And
Ampersand
 
Institutionalized poetry
But I am for rhythmic prose!
No, not you
Listen to the hue
that the colors protrude
red green blue
red green blue
 
Black is not a color
Chrome is my favorite
I will not believe otherwise
 
You are an alien.
I have divided by zero
Musical dissonance
*(asterisk)
A beautiful disaster
A shadow without its owner
Wild natured wilderness
And naturally a wildcard.
 
**** **** **** **** ****
Etcetera.
addy henderson Oct 2014
Knowing that history repeats itself
and to define a fool is also repitition
Theres madness stacked in minds of many on a shelf
mankinds unordinary fatal condition

Our generation is falling
while temporal worldy attainment rises
Technology renewed us into babies, crawling
to the new updated components that buys us

So blend up the world and fit it in your cup
i hope you choke on the faithless future that fuels you
Dont get out of bed dont wake up
when you dont know how to

The spirit of this race was depleted
when the disease of identities was treated
Devo says,
"We must repeat"
and so it goes
day in and day out
same old, same old
but we know better
actually
because change occurs
moment by moment
and everything
changes,
although it seems
the same.
jennifer Apr 2014
Things that **** me
Only thrill me.
Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust,
Drinking in the hopes that my bones
May begin to rust.
It may be a little crazy,
But I like to see the cuts.
Shoot me shoot me
For the ****,
I know its deadly
To take these pills.
Mirror mirror
Can't you see?
All I am
Is killing me
John Jul 2012
My deepest regrets
And most woeful sorrows
Are drowned away
And swept beneath
The sands of time
The fleet of moving, non-stop moving

To live in the moment
Is to feel to weightlessness
The thoughts moving in and out of your head
Like traffic jams and the ocean waves

Nothing can stop you
No nothing can
If you just keep in mind
That everything goes
Just as it comes
Keeping form is not the way that anything works

Keep it positive
The mental negatives
My prerogitive
Is to stay positive
Oh I'm positive
I'll be positive
Until the negative
Tries to take it away
But it'll never win
No, it'll always lose
Xander B Dec 2012
What is there to do?
Sleep, awakened by alarm.
Go to class.
Pay attention.
Notes.

Now it's time to work!
Clock into your demise.
Eight hours later,
going home.
Tired.

Now I have to study.
Finals are coming up
Worried about grades.
Homework *****.
Done.

Now it's late at night,
I need to sleep.
Distractions, texting, games.
Finally asleep.
Relaxed

Wake up and do it all again.
Sara Ackermann Sep 2011
It's beautiful, the red,
dripping down my arm.
Joining and splitting,
like a river with many divides.
It's all I see.
No matter where I look,
it's there.
The beautiful red.
It seeps down through the water,
turning the light blue into a dark, dark pink.
My life's pain and worries slipping away.
Finally it stops.
And I clean it.
Then another dream of nightmares comes into reality.
And everything starts over.
Eryck Jun 2018
The alarm clock rings
and once again
the rooster sings
the morning new.
Slumbering flowers
lift their petals to drink
the drops of dew.
  Reliable Sun
vanquishes the darkness
as he lightens the sky.
  I see an honored guest
is in the garden,
his tiny nametag reads... butterfly.

       But on the other side of town
       someone struggles with
       addiction.

 Habits grab hard,
break will powers  in two.
The will becomes won't
and the power is all through.
Satiated,
temporaneously satisfied.
only till the next time the habit has to be gratified.
The victim moves on trying to reassemble his day
Avoid
a crooked roaded relapse,
along the way.

Oh ghost of the host why must repitition repeat the most
and feel so good in its continuation?
Why must familiarity breed the need
for more familiar feelings?
To the point of killing control, sealing a fate,
dealing defeat,
stifle healing.

     If your out there guardian soul, spirit helper, what's your roll, your goal? 
 Guiding with helping hand or let stand the habitualized
habit man.

Isn't there  a self preservation station within?
A gland or impulse control button to switch from sin to win?

Even Edgar Allan Poe stubbed his toe on a ten step program trying to get in the door.
Ill-begotten and craven, drunken and unshaven cried the raven...never more.

Guiding spirit it ends here!         

No more slave to the crave
or impulse picking from the addiction tree.
The need to repeat and repeat
the pattern becomes a self fulfilling prophesy.

Back to normalacy, complacency,
it's a moderation that one seeks.
To enjoy the ****** of bells, hallalulah wails,
a babies dimpled cheeks.

Can you do that Spirit helper, please.
Let sing the bodies vibration.
 No more internal damnation.
No more self flagellation.
Allow to draw power from these words.
Think of this all as an intervention!
A tribute to Edgar Allan Poe who wrote the greatest of poems,"The Raven" and died young of alcoholism. Listen to Christopher Walken recite "The Raven" on you tube.
Detached Dreamer Apr 2015
I didn't want to be
like my mother's, mother

The one who took the slaps in silence
wore the bruises like tattoos

Swallowed the bitter medicine
of her husbands unfaithful affairs

I didn't want to be
the obedient housewife

the one that carried fear and love in her apron
and often got the two confused  

I didn't want to end up that way
Cutting a smile onto my face

stitching each apology into my skin
to keep count

*I didn't want to end up this way
We fear the things we can't control
Hope May 2021
My skin and bones have seen better days,
but I am not asking for your sympathy.
I block out the noise, still aware of the whispers.
Eyebrows creased like my stretch marks,
I want to forget what it's like to have a body.
Instead, see me for my spine
because although it is bent,
it is not broken.
It's just another thing to mend.
Cracked, twisted, and stepped on.
Justifying my hate with forgiveness,
my mirror is used to the repitition.
Finding solace in substances,
I was beautiful before the world told me different.
If only I would've seen that
before the harm was dealt.
Oh, to be faceless
in a room of familiar faces.
Melody Goodner Jun 2014
the thing about a
bad record on repeat is
after a while you start
to like it.
Klaus Baumgarten Jun 2014
finite rapture
well defined. organized
organelles squirming. spurning
unnecessary imposition. repitition
severing me further.
it's still a bright fixture on the horizon
viewed at the far end of winding tunnel of mirrors.

captured in a jar. admired ideas
appreciated from afar.
trembling extended hand retracted.
strong stiches binding. scabs still crusty.
musty attics, shuffling feet.
melting.
swelltering in the possibility
of a potential interpreted properly.

I work better as an idea
than a human.
compose the tune and I'll be the words.
transpose your soul, I'll be the vibrations.
speak between the lines.  I will be blinded.
Beyond thought.
we are aware that we're unaware.

Crystalize.  Mezmerize.
It could be so simple.
To notice the cheeks, but not the dimples.
Four perfect points of light  linger in the shadows
two by two
Ideals. a concrete truth.
Glaciers slowly crack foundations.
Pounding. Pouding.
Resounding. Cannot be ignored
before I am the boomerang
that cracks you on the head.
Blood pooling at the base of my skull
control watered down.
Concrete giving into stress
and a flower has room to bloom/
Feeling Real Nov 2015
Father said immortality was a wave upon which I came and crashed
And to embrace the ephemeral like the claws of the cat, a scar on my knee
That vanquished all of my fears of living safely, blood, and who knew
It would outlast the skin, down to the bone, down, past the soul, the cut
I would make many more as the years left me

Father said my willingness to learn was a godsend, that too many folks
Waste their whole lives pretending they have all the answers, and I said,
"And, Daddy? What about you?" And he told me that he knew everything, and
Somehow that didn't grate unexpectedly then, as it does now
He lied to me and I lie to the whole world to right that wrong

Father said that how fickle it was, how time was, how time goes, how he just
He knows, and he let me in on the secret, the magnetics, electricity
The undeniable, insatiable grasp when the whole world is in your hands
We traversed all of the United States in a semi-truck, only breaking to sleep
Only pausing to look out of the windows at an Arizona desert where, maybe
The Totem Poles were the spirits of the dead calling out to us to stay, just once

Father said I was supposed to eat and am entitled to growth, how delightful
Change is, and I embraced that philosophy with enough barbituates poisoning
Me I could finally feel the infinity that he talked about, and how he shied away
From the word God, and still talked about his childhood and his destruction
As if they were tangible things, he said he's forgotten so many details already
jusso you guys know half of this is made up and i would never in my whole life call my father daddy because my daddy kink would really **** me up like tbh i can't even think about calling my father daddy without wanting to **** lol
Broken and wounded, I am a wreck
I am the shadows of dust
the sands of lost worlds
The pauses in rhythms constant
the gaps in words spoken

I believe in change
I see evolution with a revolution
only just with trust invested and not confusion
Poetry is my refuge when facing mind pollution

I slow the chaos and feel constriction
I Spiral in a twirling wave, repitition my addiction
I am mopping the dirt of my own flaws
I am a slave to this dictation

I believe in breaking free, like a tender worn leaf
I whisper to nature and speak to trees
The sweetness conveyed sends me bees
I fly to the ocean skies and wish a cloud bright were mine
I break a hundred times, this then of success a thousand times - a sign

I am a wreck looking to work
I believe in chance and romance
I remember honour before fear and cowardice
some believe in Jesus
some believe in Science, calculations and estimations
some believe in Satan, accepting that he is a victim in this whole situation

some believe that you shouldn't believe, but that is a belief outside of the common belief logical complex
I am a wreck searching for repair
a broken lover looking for a heart none can compare
I swallow the smoke wild in the air
I am a beast of Samson's hair...
The star running on ground when cheerleaders cheer
I am a wreck looking to share, a breath of vitality with those who may dare.
Robyn Kekacs Nov 2011
We are so young yet
Feel so done
Each milestone wraps a bow
Around an old run finalized
Let's take the new one for a spin
A journey untouched is just one to begin

We've waded in the waters of everyday
So boring, so gray
We want alochol!
The ferment of life,
Let me lull in it all
Let me dive in and feel
The bubbles in my nose
The fizzing of my mind
The growing of my carelessness
The numbing of my toes

Sip it, hold the fruit of life
It's heavy and dense but easy to slice
The skin is a facade, a
Surface just longing
To be punctured
Be prodded
Peel away all its wronged

So strange
How the flesh of our lives is repitition unearthed
But from my deirvation,
A new life,
I give birth.
Facade.

hide the face that shows the state
don’t let it humiliate,
everyday put on the hidden facade
and pray to god,
that they don’t shout
and let it get all out,
i never forget the words they said
let my mind erupt until someones dead
i wonder if that’s their goal
to crush every soul
and the victims they seek
seem happy never leak
a cent of depression
warning viewer discretion
is advised
events resized
forget the scripts i read
follow me, i’ll lead
but if you agree to follow
you just drop down below
clear your own path
don’t sit and suffer their wrath
devastation
annililation
inundation
continuation
repitition­
intermission
lost nation
misinterpretation
to conclude; i’m dead inside
from everytime they lied
selfdestruction
internal eruption…

- JacobDexterCoffey--
matt d mattson Feb 2012
The lines begin to blur
Every picture becomes every other picture
The faces all become the same face
Every expression becomes the same expression
The arch of your brows
The twist at the end of your smiles
The dusky dark eyes half lidded and sly
The aqualine line of your nose
And your high cheek bones
And your thick full painted pouty lips
The movement of your thin muscled arms in so many poses
The exact arch and curve of your bare back and toned ***
Your exposed and covered perfect *******
Clutched in your delicate gold ringed hands
Your satin skin flawless and glowing
The way your silk stranded hair cascades across your glistening body

Your are beautiful
But you are not unique
You are a repitition in the system
Ten times ten all over again
Every picture merges with the one before
And becomes part of the one after it
One woman in every frame
One idea that it's all the same
Elliott May 2015
I glimpse life from a moving window.
A longing fulfilled is a tree of life!
But my heart is sick,
I have passed by the world too many times.
And now life does the same,
In this repitition of days.
Mike Adam Aug 2016
Repitition of
Prayer
Is only
Repitition
But repeating words
Is learning

Not to love
No
Not to care
Unsure

But to love
And be part of
Everywhere
To be the unique
Element in every term
And every chromosome

Not to love you,
Dear,
To be you
I am

And how to escape
From that?
jeffrey robin Sep 2010
one day left

one tinly little opening
one possibility

one daring moment
for you to find  grace

im  still gonna try anyway
anyway

still gonna try
still gonna try
anyway

let it come!

----

im sick of the fake love
im tired of the repitition

if you want to

SUFFER!

you will suffer

its suffering's "way"

--

one day left

an opening of the possible

an empty night
and a street

eyes at every window
eyes at every window

looking out

are they looking for you?

can you tell me?
will you tell me?

will you

see the opening
and
dare to try burst free?

if you do

you wont have to tell me

if you do

i will see
Old Soul Oct 2014
Where autumn leaves kiss the ground
That is where you will find me
Staring up into life
Watching this great cycle

The branches are like earth
And the leaves like the people
Who knows when it will end
But at least it is beautiful

The leaves need the branches
To grow up and feed
They overcome the obstacles
That life has to offer

But then it becomes their time
They turn old and brittle
Changing colors along the way
Getting ready for once last dance

And then they let go
Swirling around in the air
Finally settling down
On the cold autumn ground

Then the branches are bare
But spring soon comes
Bringing blooming flowers
And a whole new set of leaves

The repitition is endless
What a beautiful cycle of life
As I sit here and ponder
When will it be my time
Quickly penned this poem down as I watched the autumn trees sway in the breeze. This is my first attempt at a poem that doesn't rhyme. I will be revisiting this poem and editing it in the near future.
Johnnie Rae Oct 2012
You once said I would never change,
and this is what it became.

Can a girl not change?
do storm clouds in the darkest of nights not become rain,
are we all not left broken in the end,
left to pick up and begin again,
a little less hopeful than when we came,

I'd scream these questions to the high heavens,
if only I knew that the answer would beckon,
and come back to me with ease,
instead of tormenting my head with constant repitition,
in which inslaves me with dread,
and I realize, these questions, will haunt me until the end,

But really,

Can a girl not change?
she could very well focus on the bright light,
instead of waiting for the rain,
she could very well begin again, and start fresh,
forgetting the questions that torment her head,
realizing that there are things to be done,
things to be said,
and poetry, to be read.
This is what became of my free period in english today. Ohh the joy of finishing stuff early(:
One more
cigarette

One less thought
captured by my notebook

I know
I have two inner-pockets in my peacoat
One with Silver Sherman's
and one with the little notebook of deeper joys that follow

Yet I've spent more time
Lighting Maduro paper
than sparking ideas
onto trees that are utilized for musings
rather than consumption

I inhale carbon monoxide,
(in line following the crowd -- by choice)
Rather than exhaling the same
for the leaf-lungs of trees

I stretch for something
A dichotomy of Pockets

Paper lined for thoughts
or
Tobacco twined for my subduing

One more, One less

One more circus of circumstance,
One less bridge to nowhere
One more apple to pick,
One less bone

I wonder,
"When the sands of time
should be sifted through my hands
and not my mind?"

But my mind continuously filters,
wondering which grains of now-repurposed stone
amounts to more or less

You fool!
Stop staring at the back of the clock
Discontinue your prescription to madness!

Watch instead the gears turning
not in anxious fear,
but in wondrous awe

Everything: a means to its own end;
not an end to its own means

And yet,
blackened by the smoke,
hardened by the repitition,
you take another drag

And all I can say
is that my throat screams for tea
and my mind
for resolution

One more thought,
One less execution.


--


I know
That if I was self-driven enough
I could compose a chart
(or a melody)
that shows the correlation
between the distance of you
from my thoughts
and the intimacy of nicotine
to my mouth
Johnnie Rae Nov 2012
I, I just can't seem to understand,
why the sun sets, just to come up again,
or why people will lie,
and say they're a friend,
only to betray and hate you again,

Why can't we just lie in darkness,
never having to be seen again,
not worrying about who you see,
or what they think,
why not just lay lifes cold ways to rest,
not having to worry about whose best,
just living life, with nothing but bliss,

Because a world with no drama is what I seek,
a world where you can do what you want,
and not hear about it in a week,
or less..
depending on how fast people talk,
spreading word like wild fire,
because gossip is apparently human nature,

Which is why I've lost all faith in humanity,
because nothing gets better,
it only gets spread around and worsened
with useless lies and nonsense,
that don't make nothing better,
just worse,
because nothing gets better,
I hope this repitition is making the message clearer,
cause I swear to you, its true,
nothing gets better,

Don't believe me?
just look around,
*look in yourself.
noo idea. enjoy.
Ashlyn Yoshida Feb 2020
get them out get them out get them out get them out get them out get them out get them out get them out get them out get them out get them out get them out get them out get them out get them out get them out get them out get them out get them out  out get them out get them out get them out get them out get them out get them out get them out get them out get them out get them  out get them out get them out get them out get them out get them out get them  out get them out get them out get them out get them out get them out get them out
I don't belong here.
get them out
Amrita Dutta Jan 2015
With each step I take
in an attempt to move forth,
I find myself the recipient of
a new objection to my worth.
With each hostile accusation
that I take in my stride
are scores more of insults
hurled at my pride.
I promise of my innocence,
I plead to be heard.
But who would vouch for my say,
who'd consider my measly word?
Every breath I take is
considered to be tainted.
They tell me I deserve it,
it's a world that I have painted.
With this burden on my head
that I can take no more,
I finally pull the trigger
to unfurl the hurt in my core.
With the last of my breaths,
painful, slow,
I ensure that the note
in my pocket does show.
The unwanted repitition of
the words of my soul
is perhaps the last thing
to make my worthless life a whole.
An apology, a cry
to my lovely wife of late,
"I'm sorry, my dear,
that I lost our battle with fate."
Jay Nov 2013
I know the poets like you know your favorite rap artists
I can recite their poetry in the same way you sing your favorite song
You find peace within the intricate design of instruments playing together
Strings, drums, piano pieces sending electric, warming sensations underneath your skin
Your very bones quiver against the sound of the base dropping into your soul
I know the poets like you know your favorite movies
I can recite their poetry in the same way you quote Mean Girls every word
I find solace in words
I find remedy in the relaying of pain onto paper
There is no peace within the confines of the mind, but inside the soul there is kindness quite like it
Sometimes when the music is too loud
When the beat of the drums stops moving my soul
Poetry picks up the pieces that your base dropped
When the words become nothing but repitition
I find my release
Spike Harper Oct 2016
Always.
Forever.
Incessant.
Words that are taught to never use.
Its never ending.
Seaminglyendlesscircles.
Dark and heavy.
Weighing down logic.
For what is seen.
Is not what is heard.
One must count.
Down.
Raging cryptic cycles.
Even if they aren't uniform.
Any rant will do.
Copy.
Paste.
Repeat.
Regurgitate.
Maybe then.
A meaning can be uncovered.
But for now.
Repitition.
Seems to be the only course allotted.
Civilisation turned us into barbarians,
Legislation turned fugitives into librarians,
Socialisation turned humanity into amphibians, cold hearted creatures looking for warmth and desire through a virtual reality,
Masked by calm, luring identities covering the cold-blooded repitilian behind it!
Religion promoted mass deception. Dividing humanity into seperate factions that blurred the internal and external vision,
I can no longer deny that this may have been a rogue mission!
To create a system,
When traced bears no roots but a stem
Layered with thick fabric, attempts to cut it down failed since time immemorial it still stands firm.
Those that tried where either incarcerated or completely obliterated.
They posed a threat, preached a word that resonated so deeply within the people's hearts the words they spoke and anyone who dared to lend an ear became enemies of the state their sentencing was extermination,
To avoid repitition other's weere reprogrammed, instituionalised through examination,
Examination that came through the form of education with the hopes or creating a new foundation with a new set of people born and bred through assimilation- a narcisstic repressing humanitarian tactic that stole true tradition by creating an ideal specimen contingent on colonisation.
If i search within me what my heart desires, what i yearn for and find out that this world cannot offer it, the only logical explanation is i was made for another world.
I still anticipate the day utopia will unfold
I will listen to the stories that have been untold
Enjoy my youth and inspire when i am old
Raise my sons to be Kings wise and bold
Continue the legacy that my ancestors foretold.
Connor Feb 2018
I

February

Einbahnstraße in a
night of black arrowheads/jazz, obliteration perfume/
the twinkle of your
eyes which are engulfed
by youthful nymphs

Fur-lined sable coat
& I
in a jean jacket, hair styled back/
the perspiring windows of Paul Gustavus
open to reveal alizarin (death of day)
velvet curtains
(an appetite for moonlight &
mirrors) the reverberation
echochamber settles over us infused
with alcohol and tea leaves

Basement seclusion,
Deutsch in every direction

Woodstove heat/harsh truths exist in
a Blue Rose of cackling ash, left
disentangled ... duskdancer and copperhue-rooftop Saharas
 billowing madly

conversation as a
room full of isolation, lip -
eye, breath -
hairline/drifting to attic enticement,
bedsheets ruffling like
a winged dove

(insertion/devotion)

I am a North American phantom speaking through written paragraphs

& on my second drink a voice
persuasively licks my thigh/come up from the uneven ground

"feed the moon

relinquish fear

-blindness & burden, parish your
      anticipation for fire"


II

In my restlessness later on, I realize
all I can do is keep my head
high, mimic hope, mimic strength knowing we are
but one brief collision of beautiful
time purposed to split off again
towards a chaos larger than
ourselves.

Remembering The Woman in The Dunes..

"There was a drooling wolf...there was the sun. And, somewhere, he knew not where...there must also be a storm center and lines of discontinuity"

our own repitition of love & labor, warding off the deathhand which always comes back around

... How far do we have to go for lasting tenderness?

III

March


Australian sand/I erase my flesh
in Summer fruit/the air is thick,
I have stopped wearing leather

With iron humility
I task myself to
tillling a steeple into
a breaking cloudbeam
Definit Within Sep 2014
I want you to teach me what love is…
I want you to puzzle pieces of this broken heart building trust with every shattered sentiment of this abandoned purity.
I want to listen to your heart beat describe my inner beauty
Within shadows of your intrinsic sweet ballads.

Sweat tears of joy while you are masquerading an earthly angel with every inch of my presage albatross.

I want someone who will give me a prayer, when they's nothing else to offer.
Someone who will give me a smile when they's little less to give.

Remind me how deeply I'm adored over and over again - because every repise divulges pleasure when the chorus hits a break-point of repitition.

Spill unforseen rays of silver moons to glitter my dark sides with blessings of golden pots. My blood to reach a boiling point orchestrated by conductors of your inferno touches, as you gently whipe the dust of this holy flash.

Living is not by choice, Christ; I want someone I would die for.
Meditate under spells of her beauty hypnosis.
My vision to deminish with the sunset of your perfection. With crystal streams of black strings, as the waterfall of your hair lands peacefully at the river banks of your luxuriant shoulders.

I want us to fight till we can't stand each other...
I want us fight till we can't look at each other...
Yet remain together like a kappa logo; a depiction of true love in a series of fury.

I want you to teach me not to forget you, till leaves become broken hearts and shade conquers the village once again. Do things to me that will leave a distasteful essence of any lingering woman before my sight in a cloud of shameful auras.

I want you to love this child as if he's your own, and teach him the first step of being a real man. Shower him with hugs and kisses that ought to polish his shining armour, so you can notice your sheep amongst the million.

I want you to teach me what love is, so I can reflect the given image of this heart in a bundle of loving mirrors.
Ellie May Nov 2014
One was old battering scars and fear and intense fiery need to love
One was profanity and repitition and gentleness
One was protective and hatred and country music
One was quiet and sweet and hugged back
And she fell for them all
Including herself
With help from the other three
Sighhhhhhhhhhhh
Welcome to the routine
Gathering together again
Stake out observing the emptiness
But what is company without a friend?

Not everyone here is content

Perception is reality
There is nothing special
About the way we think
Set yourself apart
This repitition our hearts do sink.

Not everyone here is original

So these glowing embers
Remind us of a feeling long lost
That youthful excitement
Soon their paths cease to cross

Not everyone here is prepared

Blues swim as a cascading bar light
And reds mix into a state of restlessness
It may say OPEN but their hearts were closed
One less night to waste away they suppose

Not everyone here is lost
L Aug 2014
words words words i am so tired of words words words words words words (i fly with repitition) words but i thrive on them they keep me going but (but but but but) i don’t want words (bring it all together) they don’t convey what needs to be conveyed they don’t show what i need to show
Danielle Jul 2018
Her
Your eyes like summer,
full of regret.
Drink the night away,
the day too.
Back then I wanted it to just be me and you.
But it would end,
as every party does.
Leave in separate cars,
with new numbers on our palms.
Easily hidden,
kiss the lies away,
I told myself each time,
leave the pain for another day.
Ink wears off,
my skin and hands,
so I find myself reaching for the bottle of repitition again.
Cliche girl,
drown your sorrows in another him.
Who knows when you might,
remember this again.

— The End —