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Lazhar Bouazzi May 2018
The rain ticks on the curb
Like a chronometer
Held up to a short race

As a man entering the mall
Feels his pocket for his
A grimace cracks his face.

© LazharBouazzi
Kristaps Nov 2018
Palaces of ****** souls
have green neon text frames
standing sideways like arches;

divine arrows, they guide
the paternal flunks, the tar-soaked offspring,
the lonely and the business bunch.

Here in these palaces, all sin is a freeze, all
lust is a spin.
Fairy lights are often flagged in a net,

to catch mischievous mares flinging
themselves against the glass displays
of overpriced clothing shops.

One finds when wondering the perpetual
lines of restaurants and cafes, the vastness of them
having a motherly touch, for

these palaces, they stretch like the sky and
they spread like the shepherded
fire ants of Gaia herself

And when ones welcome is overbid
they need only to follow  the
evenly laid out,  sorrow yellow street lamps

and bite their cheeks and bare the frost
for soon the polluted lux will lead them to
an overnight joint, a limbo of sorts,

where they can breathe anew.
On those red leather sofas- fast food
or the district kind- when the night seems

to crawl on its final limbs,
they'll lay and slip into sleep.
Some say they never do wake, that they

wither with the moon and then
haunt the attics of the dance halls
where they swirled and laughed and lived

in a previous life.
Left Foot Poet Mar 2017
her morning pleasure occasionally actually exercised,
a substituted delight for gym-going work with Lulu exercised,
no man can, will ever, understand

the nature/nurture debate over,
in my mind resolved, nature, hands up and hands down

RR's^  query, is god dead,
no longer rumbles around in my head cause when he speaks,
I can't get a word in edgewise

what i did in the sixties, lost to time in memoriam,
especially some really bad poetry

but this gender differentiation
a matter that Aristotle dutifully, so wisely, philosophically avoided

there is no Socratic method rationality in what is just crazy insanely meiosis,
there is no comprehension of the essence of  elemental genetic division,
like the NY Mets,
ya just gotta believe, or just accept

but from the other side of the bed
comes a surly, dry rejoinder, a gelled spike

thanks to modern science,
why don't you come over to the
right side, maybe then,
you'll understand the true meaning
of pleasure

transgend your self,
show your willingness per the bible,
to be god's new and improved version of a human being

a pretty little, light A-line,
with a summer floral pattern,
a size 12, (20? ***)
will wear with great
human pride,
come June

another Sixties thing.  but his daughter was my first summer love
Chicken Oct 2018
I nearly bought
those terrible
spacewalker Sep 2017
I have my grocery list in my hand,
a pack of razor blades
a gallon of bleach
a bottle of *****
an egg
I have my grocery list in my hand,
but I am listless.

Sometimes I crack a smile
when my dog wakes me up with his kisses
Sometimes I make eggs
for him, of course,
I would never waste them on myself
With this list, I'm gone
I make my dog eggs and me a bath
For me, bleach, *****, razor
soon to be listless no more
I open the bottle and welcome the burn
at first, I really hated how it had no clear flow but it kind of captures the sense of pointlessness and awkwardness  I was trying to portray
are you not weary of signals
people in their garments and their styling
in their homes and their gardens
embroidery on the corners
of their tableclothes
all waving peacock feathers
here! here! is where I come from
here my finances
my people
my desires

the tip, the trick:
apply layer after layer of
obscure reference
and then hope there is someone
to whom it is entirely transparent
thelemonpolice Jul 2018
What a pretty holiday
I wish that I had gone
But did you know that all they did
was post it on their phones?

What amazing friends they have
I wish that I had more
but actually these people have just met
and are a bore

What a funny club night
I feel left out again
Well maybe its another way
to drown out all the pain

What a lovely boyfriend
He bought her lovely gifts
but do you know that hes repaying
her for all his sins?

Pretty pretty wedding pictures
for everyone to see
did you know he sometimes
"accidentally" makes her bleed

happy shopping family
filling up a cart
did you know the parents
can't grow love in their hearts?

Happy, smiling faces
I wonder what they've seen
and why they have to force a smile
on pictures on this screen

Lovely posing woman
why do you hold your breath?
How many pictures did it take
to make you look your best?

Is it worth it? Is it needed?
to get approval from your 'friends'?
Are we worthy? Are we needed?
does it matter end?
Wow thank you so much for all the attention of this poem. It really means a lot. If you liked this, check out my YouTube channel too ❤️
Noemi Ortiz Jun 2018
My addiction to online shopping stems from the very simple idea that I have something I’m waiting for so I can’t **** my self yet. So I rather be broke than dead, but throughout the wait I beat myself ******. Count the hairs on my head. Wishing for some kind of release. Receiving my package just to do it all over again.
Carter Ginter Sep 2017
Although this seems so new
I’ve known you for years
And while you’ve grown up a lot
Since our days of kissing on concrete
Your soul emits the same beautiful waves
That I fell in love with 5 years ago.

So as we walk around the pet store today
My heart is screaming
I love you
And the anxiety squeezes my organs into nothingness
Pouring acid through my insides
And burning until I build up the courage
To translate my internal dialogue
Into something real
Because it’s not real if I don’t say it

*I’m ready to say it
King Panda Oct 2015
everything is on sale
and I eat and eat
and yell at the couple
arguing in the ATM line
and smirk at the pharmacist
as I toss my meds in the
can behind the counter
king soopers
my realm
of crushed potpourri
honeycrisp apples
black cocktail dresses
shut with
peanut butter

I love grocery
Bobby Copeland Oct 2018
She checks me out, with smoker's stains
On crooked teeth and looks about
Ten years less old than me, which makes
Her forty-nine.  I thought that old,
When I was seventeen, just been
With two sweet girls, about my age,
Insanely jazzed to learn that thing
Which makes us so ridiculous.

A fool can keep his wits about.
An old one learning not to fret,
Has lost enough to be sincere,
Steps often where he needs to be,
With less reluctant feet. My need
For naked words remains obscene.
Carlo C Gomez Oct 2019
Like my father once said,
"Use ‘em and leave ‘em,
but never, ever bring ‘em
home with yuh, son."
Donall Dempsey Aug 2018

after the funeral
your fingerprint lives on
in a jar of Pond's Cold Cream

a shopping list
dug out of a drawer
now a precious artifact

I an emotional archaeologist
unearthing a smile
buried in the past

all our I wills
become the past

the touch of your skin
still so real to me
a teardrop trickles into my ear

unreals you then
makes you more real

I call your mobile
just to hear you say
you are not there
Just Maria Dec 2018
It's Christmas time in the golden state
For a sign of snow you'll wait and wait
And the only snowman that you'll ever make
Are the inflatable ones that are really fake

Christmas shopping is the best
Going from store to store with no time to rest
Make sure you get everyone on you're list
If someone's forgotten they will be ******

The mailing of Christmas cards, it never ends
Who would have thought you had so many friends
Putting up the decorations is suppose to be fun
But when it comes to doing the job you're the only one

Try to wrap up the presents nice and neat
But you know before the night is done you'll admit your defeat
So drink some eggnog and stay in good cheer
And remember Christmas only comes once a year
Evelyn Smith Sep 2018
Sleep deprived hallucinations,
the walls are expanding and closing.
There's flashing lights bursting in the air.
There's spiders crawling over my skin.

4am teleshopping trying to desperately sell me a good night's sleep.
Maybe I should spend 199.99 just to fix my insomnia,
the commercial man said it would.

I hate being awake, it gives me too much time to think.
About all the mistakes I make for myself and all the people I miss.
Sit dry eyed until the sun rises and rejuvenate them with my tears.

Buy two 80p pencil sharpeners and a litre of *****.
Hide it under your bed so you can attempt to make things better.

Wait it out,
Take a breath,
They're only there for if you really need it.
But god you really do need it.
I just desperately want to feel something.

I've pushed everyone away from me,
And hate them for not trying to come back.
I'm alone and it's all my fault.
But I'll try blame everyone else so I don't have to address that.

Repeat last years mistakes because at least you knew how to feel.
Sit alone when the party's over and think of the year you put to waste

Burn every positive emotion with the lighter from your back pocket,
Watch all your hard work turn to ash.
Let it disappear like it was never real.

I keep telling people I'm temporary but they don't like to listen.
And when I run away without an explanation they act like they weren't ready?

I'm not real, how many times can I say that.
It's not that i fear commitment its that I fear ever becoming human.
And too much personal contact slowly brings me back to reality.
I don't want that, I pride my unhealthy coping mechanisms too much.
I'll trade ever having a stable relationship so I can dissociate for months.

It's all I've ever know and It's all I'll ever be.
And though like anyone I do crave affection.
I'd rather hide and leave it be.
I'm a burden and a drain on everyone's life.
Now I'm older and self aware I no longer have to think twice,
I'm no good at forming human connections,
I'm incapable to speak how I really feel.

So I'll stay awake until 4am like I always have and probably always will.
I'm sorry if you ever got the chance to meet me and I ran away before you could see how you really feel.

People say I haunt them, I'm always their 'could have been'.

But the importance in that sentence is I am no ones 'should have been'
a complimentary memory foam pillow doesn't sound half bad
Donall Dempsey Aug 2019

after the funeral
your fingerprint lives on
in a jar of Pond's Cold Cream

a shopping list
dug out of a drawer
now a precious artifact

I an emotional archaeologist
unearthing a smile
buried in the past

all our I wills
become the past

the touch of your skin
still so real to me
a teardrop trickles into my ear

unreals you then
makes you more real

I call your mobile
just to hear you say
you are not there
Brandon Walus Nov 2018
I met a girl today
Well, I was busy doing some stuff and my phone…told me…I met a girl today.
It said “Ring, ring you have a match. Say hey!”
****, I remember swiping right on her last Tuesday.
How you been?
You see, I live my life window shopping women 5 pictures at a time
Jenny is 7 miles away
Mary wants no strings
Sarah’s sick of *** boys

And Tinder says were all a perfect match!
And now that we’re messaging
And I committed your profile to memory
I remember my reasons for not wanting to be here in the first place

But still I cast out some witty one-liners
Acting as an angler angling for your affection
by employing instruments of artful articulation aimed at ever increasing your awareness of the me
I’m projecting to be.

Because in my head I’m a jack of all trades.
I can change my oil, I can change a diaper
I can make a 3 pointer, I can make a cake
I can build a house, I can build a family
I can make you forget about your last man, I can make you forget about the tears you cried when you were 12.
I can make you feel ****, I can make you wet.
I can make you feel loved and I don’t even love you yet.

Because I haven’t actually met you
I’ve asked you about your favorite book but haven’t had the honor of being told your daddy issues actually come from a guy friend freshman year and that’s why you won’t wear another man’s sweater.
You know my favorite ice cream. But haven’t born witness when I whisper my history of five formidable years of foster care and how that made me the man that I am, and the boy I am not.
You see, Tinder put us in touch but keeps us apart.
With every hour between messages we have ample opportunities to build each other up in each others mind.
But I don’t really know if the me I gave you is the me I see with my own eye or the I I hope you see when we first meet.
And I don’t know if the you I’m getting is the you you’re selling when I buy our first dinner or the you you see when you take your make-up off at night.
That’s the us tinder never brings to light.

So maybe I prefer to have met you in person.
When your personality cannot possibly be poisoned by the internet’s preferred first impressions.
Because in person I can count every freckle on your forehead and kiss every mole down your back.
Because in person I can see firsthand how your nose creases crinkle when you snort instead of laugh.
Because in person I can do so many things that I just cant do with 5 ******* photographs.

So maybe I want a love that wasn’t born from my phone.
Maybe I want to cross paths in real life
Maybe I want to get that feeling you get
Where I look at you, you look at me and cupid starts stirring our chemistry set
My heart begins bubbling beyond the boiling point
Because I saw out of the corner of my eye
Your eyelids flutter.
One of which is worth more than all of the swipes and all of the matches

Maybe I just want to be old fashioned, like an archaic kind of light
Maybe I want to meet you someday and never have to swipe right.
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