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Tommy Johnson Dec 2013
You can hear the voices of our peers being silenced, ignored, shunned and distorted.
Staggering out of their bedroom doorways to the street corner to score a dime bag.
Bright, insightful millennials freezing in search of warmth from something to believe in that will encourage them to look forward to see another day.
Where our economy has made financial prudence clear when talking about education, yet price tags of university tuition's skyrocket.
The refused, the ones with hope but no money or scholarships; tread the streets with the echoes of electro house pulsing in their skulls.
Those who strip themselves down and shred their own morals to scraps just to find themselves and to see their own limitations.
Searching for answers to the unknown, to ascertain what they are, who they are and why.
Timid in high school, pushed along with nothing and no one to put their creative vigor into.
The squeakiest wheels that were never even considered to be given a good greasing.
Faculties giving them lethargic hellos on the first day of school, bestowing celebrated goodbyes to them on graduation day, diplomas in hand.
Now are the ones slumped over in a lackadaisical position contemplating how they can afford an education.
They work eight to ten at seven twenty five an hour Monday to Friday; and weekends staying in as not to blow their earnings.
Those who commute to university and balance a job with it, I applaud you.
The bewilderment of adulthood, the overabundance of pressure and responsibility.
Awakened from nightmares of lost opportunities, missed trains and lost contacts.
To step out of bed and splash water onto a severely distressed face and staring into a mirror with a despairing look.
Then hoping a bus to Garfield to bring back weight for all the embryonic smokers not yet at the point of make or break, just save up enough to pave my own way.
Gazing at the town on a roof top, chugging down the tenth…no…twelfth beer of the night wondering how this all happened.
Wild sensations of kissing an attractive stranger, the rush of touching on things never felt, tasting pleasures only the lucky have known.
The passionate, yet dissolute yearning for that ever eluding ******* adrenaline. Pounding, Pounding, Pounding until the culmination of energy has come.
Flip sided to those dizzying, tear jerking thoughts of suicide, annihilation of ones being, the contradictions of their faith in themselves and the people around them.
Unexplainable waves of anxiety crashing onto the shore of a diminutive island of optimism
Striving to look past the panic, the gloominess and fury that may or may not be present. But to remain composed and press forward to what awaits them.
Coffee keeps them going. Cup after cup, late night cramming every bit they can; into their caffeine driven psyches until the indisputable crash and failure.
Packs and packs of menthol cigarettes to calm their rattling nerves but at the same time killing them slowly. Their lives will seem shorter than the time it took to finish one bogey when death is near.
Marijuana induced ventures to run down burger shacks, laughing hysterical in the car ride, eyes heavy with a most ridiculous elastic grin extending from ear to ear. While inside millions of thoughts and realizations of consciously simple speculations and troubles become clear and unproblematic. So the joy is mirrored outside in.
LSD trips in Petruska dancing and singing in the rain! Making music, making love; playing pretend and creating art. Becoming a family while kicking back under the warmth of an illuminated tree on a cool fall night.
MDMA streaming through the body, everything is as it should be
Beautiful, lovely to touch, wondrous to stroke, marvelous to move.
To contact and connect, converse and converge with the dwelling desire to share what you feel with everyone for it would be selfish and unpleasant to keep it in.
Mushrooms oh the emotional overflow I need not say more but ****.
Then there are over the counter candies, Oxycontin, ******, Adderall and Xanax, painkillers and antidepressants. Ups, downs, side ways and backwards.
Selling addiction and dependency legally to kids. Making heroine, ******* and speed easily obtainable to them. Changing the names and giving out prescriptions so the parents can feel like they're actually helping their children but are subconsciously making it easier on themselves because they cannot handle the way their offsprings actually are. Some parents a feel it is the only way, I wish it wasn't so. Becoming zombies, mindless addicts before they even start to mature into puberty. I've seen it, firsthand front row.
Oh, the monotonous, mundane rituals and agendas of our lives. School, work, sleep eat, the sluggish schedules and repetitions of yesterday's conversations and redundancy of itineraries we had plotted months prior.
Same people, the constant faces of boredom that groan in apathy and hold the fear of complacency.
We talk about how hum drum out lives have become and what we could to put some color in our world but don’t.
We speak of how unfair the system is but ultimately confuse ourselves and everyone else due to lack or organization and dedication so nothing is changed.
We speak of breath taking women we want to share ****** fantasies with but can’t even muster enough courage to send a trivial friend request.
Texting away for hours trying to court those who now occupy our minds and possess our hearts hoping they may allow us to acquire their attention and affection. Calling them only to receive futile dial tones and know we are being evaded.
Weeping on and on for seemingly endless time frames of a dilapidated relationship that was so strained that a miniscule breeze could cause it to collapse but still clinging to every memory as if they were vital hieroglyphics depicting your very essence.
Brilliant theories blurted out in a drunken stupor.
Ingenious hypothesis shrouded in marijuana smoked out room.
Remembrance of friends long gone.
The marines, the navy.
The casualties of drug addiction.
The conquerors or their afflictions.
The scholars.
The insane locked away on the flight deck never to be seen again.
Teenage mothers unsure of themselves, abandoned by their families for they believe that they brought fictional shame upon the family’s name. The fate of the child is unclear but the mother’s everlasting love shines through any obscurities in its way.
Dear mother of the new born winter’s moon may the aura of life protect you and your baby.
The father gone without a trace.
He will never know his daughter.
And it will haunt him forever.
Parents bringing up their kids with values and morals, The Holy Bible, mantras and meditation, the Holy Quran, The Bhagavad Gita, and Upanishads. Islamic anecdotes and Jewish parables.
The names all different
The message the same
The stories unlike
Goals equivalent
Faith
Kabala, Scientology and Wicca
Amish and Mormons
All separate paths that intertwine and runoff each other then pool into the plateau of eternal life.
But do we have faith in our country, our government?
They do not have faith in us. Cameras on every street corner, FBI agents stalking social media, recordings of our personal lives and police brutality. 4th amendment where have you gone?
We say farewell to Oresko the last veteran of the last great war. And revisit the Arab spring, Al-Assad’s soldiers opening fire on innocent protesters, one hundred fifteen thousand lay dead. Bin laden dead, Hussein hanged, Gaddafi receiving every ounce of his comeuppance. War, terrorism, the fear of being attacked or is it an excuse to secure our nation's investments across the sea? Throwing trillions of dollars to keep the ****** machine cranking away, taxes, pensions, credit scores, insurance and annuities all cogs in the convoluted contraptions plight.
My dear friend contemplates this every night laying in bed, fetal position; the anxiety if having to be a part of this.
Falling apart on the inside but on the outside, an Adonis, *******, Casanova wanna be. Who worshiped the almighty dollar, gripping it so tightly until it made change, drank until he had his fill falling face first into the snow. The guy who lead on legions of clueless girls wearing their hearts on their sleeves not knowing he had a girlfriend the entire time. Arranging secret meetings in hidden gardens, streaking into the early morning. Driving to Ewing in his yellow Mustang to woo a sado masochistic girl. The chains and whips do nothing to him he is already numbed by the thrill. Then he comes home, lays in bed until one, with no job and having people pay for his meals.
He knows what he does and who he is wrong. He recites and regurgitates excuses endlessly. He cries because he knows he is weak, he knows he must fix himself. I sit on the edge of myself with my fingers crossed hoping maybe, maybe he will set himself straight.
My chum who can talk his way out of any confrontation and into a woman’s *******. Multitudes of amorous affairs in backrooms, backseats, front rows of movies theaters. Selfish, boastful and ignorant, yet woman fling themselves at him like catapulted boulders over a medieval battle field just to say hello. These girls blind to see what going on, for their eyes were taken by low self esteem. A need to be accepted, to feel wanted even only for fifteen minutes. Poor self image, daddy issues, anorexic razor blade slicing sirens screaming on about counted calories and social status. Their uncontrollable mental breakdowns and emotional collapse. Their uncles who ***** them, their parents who split up and confusing their definition of love and loyalty for the rest of their lives. Broken homes, domestic abuse and raised voices, sending jolts of fright into the young girl’s fragile minds. I send my sorrows to you ladies, to see such beautiful creatures suffer then be used and thrown away with the ****** that was just ****** deep into their *****.
Then I see women and men of marvelous stature, romantic in the streets holding everyone and everything in high regards. Finding beauty in anything and anyone. Enjoying every second as if the rapture was over head eating exotic foods from unheard of countries and cultures. Bouncing to the sound of whimsical , reverb ricochets and sense stimulating music. Huffing inspiration to create something out of thin air. Dancing to retired jazz and swing albums as if no time had past since their conception. Wearing bold colors and patterns, thrifty leather shoes or suede.
Dawning pre-owned blazers because why spend hundreds of dollars on new clothes just to look good but feel uncomfortable with a hole in your pocket. Dressing up but dressing down, so class yet urban I love it, chinos, pea coats and flannels so simple but chic.
At night they go to underground dens, sweaty bodies, loud music and freedom. Expressive manifestations glowing fueled with MDMA and other substances to further their enjoyment of the dark glorious occasion. Kandi kids sporting colorful bracelets, not watches for time is of no concern to them, they have all eternity they know that.
Going to book stores, coffee shops just to have some peace of mind and a moment of silence to themselves so that can weave the tapestry of imaginative innovation. Writing their own versions of the same story, endless doors of perception, reading news papers and taking it with a grain of salt. Watching the news on TV with a hand full of salt. Searching for the real story so they can know if the world they all live in is actually safe.
She who made her own way breaking hearts, rolling blunts and making deals. The flower child of the modern age, left the rainy days in search of radiant sunshine, idealistic. Reality was subjective, purple dyed hair, multicolored sweater with sandals on her feet. A ten inch bowl with bud from California packed in tightly. Coming from Dumont to Bergenfeild then on to Philly to Mount Vernon. Off to Astoria and the Heights. Now to Sweden laying in the grassy plains below the mountains. Good for you my friend whom I have loved, may fortunes of unsullied joy come to you and all you meet.
Since you’ve left I have encountered drunken burly firemen just trying to have a good time. Pounding down Pabst Blue Ribbon as if it were water; as if it were good tasting beer. But heroes none the less.
EMT's, young eighteen years old high school graduates, saving lives reviving people who are a mere inch close to death.
Sport stars getting scholarships thanks to their superior skills and strength.
Striking beauty school students who are into making the people of this world a little bit more beautiful on the outside.
All these people, successful, doing things. Departing to their desired destinations. I see inside them, they carry baggage, loneliness and insecurities. I can feel their guilt slowing them down. All have their loads but it’s the way they carry them that shows who they really are. And to me their all gems.
Not far in Paterson I watch the junkies limping across busy winding street, perusing a severely needed fix. “Diesel!” they shout beneath flickering streetlights, asking for spare change and if bold enough a ride to some shady sketchy place. I give them a dollar and politely decline. They’ll die without it. Vomiting up bile and blood, twitches and shivers are all you feel when it’s not in you. They cannot stop, they need help. Why not help them instead of “assisting” those who are homosexual? Cleansing so they can be granted entry to the kingdom of God. Looking down on people who have found love and understanding and a deep attraction to others who just so happen to share alike genitals.
Narrow minded uproars about the spread of AIDS, nonsense! The puritanical onslaught of those who want nothing more than the rest of us, love. "Gay", "****", "******", "queer", how about "kind", "funny", "genuine human being"? The right to be married and divorced should be an option for everyone to enjoy. The strains and hardships of matrimony are yours if you want them. If you don’t agree don’t hate or harm just allow them to be peacefully. Same goes for anything for that matter, Jehovah's going door to door, Mormons from Burbank. New ideas are never a bad thing, they’re not a waste of time. On average you have about eighty years to mull over your options.
Some people don’t live long enough to do so, cancer is rampant, blood diseases, ****** diseases, natural disasters coming right out of left field and blindsiding the innocent bystanders of both hemispheres. Some go through life handicapped, autism is apparent these days. Schizophrenia, Asperburgers, ADD and ADHD. Some lose their golden memories of their many valuable years walking down Alzheimer's Lane, not being able to remember whatever transpired only a few moments ago but revisiting gold nuggets from from fifty-some-odd years ago with ease. Some go through life delusional or bipolar. Some can't even sleep at night but they still carry on. And if assistance is needed it is our job as a race to help our brothers and sisters, no one deserves to be excluded from the gala of life. Or be denied by society and pumped with brightly colored pills from doctors promising a cure but prescribing a crutch.
Finding solace in sincerity.
The serendipity of it all hasn’t been uncovered and that keeps me going.
“Radiate boundless love towards the entire world above, below and across. Unhindered without ill will without enmity.” Oh Buddha the truth as it ever was.
Who is he who keeps these thoughts from the conscious minds of the population?
Who is it that distracts us from the humbling beauty and overwhelming devastation of this place of existence we’re in?
It’s they who do under the table parlor trick behind our backs.
Those who broadcast mind numbing so called reality TV shows without an underlying value or meaning.
Those who produce music, proclaiming extravagance to be the end all be all gluttonous goal we all should aim to achieve.
And those who turn noble causes into money making scams and defile pure ideas.
And of course those who give false promises of easily obtained  bright futures, those who don’t care, those who steal, ****, curse, bad mouth and lie. But still manage to get elected into positions that more or less decide out fates. Monsters, demons, banshees howling inconsequential worries and leaving us deaf to hear the real issues.
The
Brandon Edwards Jul 2014
As we kiss,
Our hips like waves of flesh crash together.
Into one another they collide like two craters pulled in by gravity.
Our bodies connect like two streets at an intersection,
Lines "X" and "Y".
Your body as if a black hole ***** me in.
I ****** moving deeper with every movement.
You moan,
Such an ear tingling sound.
It slips through clenched teeth, only after climbing up your throat.
A song like no other,
Made only when your body is pushed to its point of bliss.
As we kiss,
Your heart races as if running for Olympic gold.
Your mind becomes clouded by a satisfying fog.
The sensitivity of our bodies skyrocket.
Our body's are overheated by our sensual passion.
Our hands intertwining fully making us one entity.
As we kiss,
Ecstasy in it's most unsullied state is reached.
Megha Balooni May 2015
I saw her
I saw her smile
Focus out through the sparkle
Reflecting from her danglers
And the ones in the atmosphere.
Turquoise sequinned with beige
Crackers, all around her
Our first new year
Where she took me by
My hand, entangling fingers
Lacing, when she thought she'd
Lost me,skipping between
White walls and brown floors
Finding a way out
Through the maze.

Low hung ceiling lamps.

Dragging me back through my memory doors
Remains the same
White walls and brown floors
While I wait outside.

Inside you're having your chemo.

Crackers
Inside my heart
Slithering through my mouth
I see her in between
Those flinging and swinging

Prayer flags, I recollect
Hanging them in the backyard
Of our home, you
Bargained them out
A flea market, before
That year's Diwali
You had inside of you
A life that would bless us
In three months.

A tangerine Georgette Saree
And rhyming with it,
Rani colored bangles
Sneaking up on the roof.

Crackers
White walls, wooden floors
You lie quiet, unmoved.

A skyrocket ups in a distance
As I light you up in flames.

Crackers
You'd always come back
Focusing, defocusing
My memories' pitaara
Sparkling, dangling
Skipping and lacing
Through all those crackers
Lighting me up
Jonny Angel Jul 2014
Constantly she
visits me
in this
after midnight hour.
Her great power
speaks volumes
as she
consumes me
& together we
end up,
way up high,
riding furiously
on the skyrocket
of love,
sighing.
Robin Carretti Aug 2018
Those shortcakes tallest skyrocket
His pocket, a poem mountain
top setting words whip cream
Him and her fountain sunset love
Above all "Strawberry pie" dream
The oven overloved to trust
Or underbaked the pie crust

One bite the skywriting
Told her I love you
My strawberry eye patch
Powdery her lips "Smuckers" rich
Her strawberry sky velvet sigh
Strawberry field forever lake
Her cheeks like a piece of cake
The Prom with Tom what a Sawyer
The true love strawberry buyer
This is one of my shorter poem Strawberry shortcake cream on top how many times I sang this song I hope you will come to my Strawberry showing it's my strawberry love fountain of youth
BrittneyForever May 2016
Our love is like the stock market
I never know when we’ll go up or down
I can’t tell if we're about to skyrocket or hit rock bottom.
Should we just give up and take our bows,
Do we have the patience to say our vows?
But we're living in the now, and we're too busy to figure out the hows.  
We invested so much time
we both have almost lost our minds,
One of us is either falling behind.
We can never get on the same page,
Who are you fronting for,
Our loves not displayed on a stage.
Where do you keep spending all your time?
Forgetting me should be a crime.
I’m starting to wonder what you’re always thinking about
I guess you leave me no choice, so baby I'll tap out*--
Tommy Johnson Apr 2014
I'm a human of the contemporary times
A millennial, part of Generation Y
A digital native in shrink wrap
An open minded, wide eyed, big mouthed wind tunnel

A genetic, mathematical, anatomic error
I'm souped up and decked out
I'm high maintenance with low standards
My humor is low brow, my expectations are nonexistent
I see the negatives as positive
I see the positives as negative
I think in subjective and objectives
I'm on the web
But off the grid

My pockets full
But my wallets empty

I'm over educated
But underemployed
I'm overworked
But under paid

I'm a bisexual, bipolar by product of society
I'm a hardworking, dedicated procrastinator
I'm an inarticulate fat head who isn't afraid to speak his mind
I'm a cold hearted hothead
I can hear, some times I don't listen
I'm clean and polished to get my hands *****
I work my fingers to the bone
Then cross them in hope of better tomorrow
And knock on wood until my knuckles bleed

You can check my Facebook profile
Read my Tweets
Scroll through my Instagram
Send me a Snapchat
And you can kiss my ***
I'm non-toxic
I'm irreplaceable
I'm a rarity
I'm an oddity
I'm offbeat
Off centered
Off color
Off kilter
Out of tune
Out of my mind
Hypersensitive
Indifferent
Rude
Crude
And universally unacceptable

I'm wasting time
And taking up space
But I'm living it up
I won't die down
I'm two steps ahead
I'm left behind
Coasting on thin ice
Walking the edge
Pushing the limit
And taking a nap
I'm greedy
I'm *****
I'm lazy
I'm angry
I'm cocky
I'm envious
And I'm
Not sorry

I like laying low
I love being high
I don't want to be a stick in the mud so I get ******
I'm a street smart *******
I'm book smart dumb ****
I'm an eloquent gutter mouth
I speak in
****** vernacular
Passionate profanity
Cynical sarcasm
And choleric curses
I have criminal ties
And it suites me
I'm a ball hogging, showboating team player
I'm a devoted alcoholic
I'm a thrifty shopaholic
I'm in school
But out to lunch

I've got friends
I've got enemies
I've got my family
And I've got problems
I hear voices in my head
I see things that aren't there
I over look
Over analyze
And over think
I under cook
Under appreciate
And underestimate

I use my WiFi to listen to LoFi
I watch low quality television in Hi Def
I'm a bombastic contentious objector
Taken aback but forwardly thinking
In your face
Out of stock
Unisex
I get down
And get it up
I'm a low key middle man
Undeniable
Unlikable
But lovable
A grounded skyrocket
Detachable
Seasonal
Unflappable
An everlasting
Know nothing
Know it all
I'm a egg-headed basket case
I'm a real heel
A loafer
I got the boot
Because he couldn't afford to live in a shoe
Or the box it came in
I'm broke
I'm busted
Discussed
Disgusted
But I loved
I care
I help
I laugh
I try
I cry

I'm on the short bus for the long haul
I have no money but I always got my two cents
I'm good with secrets
I'm bad with numbers
And good with money
I'm bad with people
But yet they love me
I'm unbiased
Tolerant
And impatient
I'm abstract
I'm avant garde
I like violent ***
With volatile love
I like pornographic snapshots
******* ******* motion pictures
Live action lust
But nothing beats my meat like the real thing

I shop at second rate super markets
First rate second hand stores
I'm on cruise control in the fast lane
I'm double parked
I've been traumatized
Dramatized
Hospitalized
Ostracized
Demoralized
Desens­itized
Exorcised
And I've had my toes stepped on

I was a premeditated mistake
A failed abhorrent abortion
Vaccinated
Alienated
Regulated
And always medicated
I have a an attention span an inch wide
But, I'm real
I'm honest
I'm kind
I go hard
But  take it easy
I'm always slick
But never ******

Wheeling and dealing
Clipping and stealing
Lending and giving
Living and breathing

I think this one's a keeper
You've all dug me a little deeper
Hope you enjoyed my veracity
Because this poem is completely me
Crush
Crushed your soul
Your old wise soul
Made you hopeful
Cheerful
Hopeful

Made you dream
And wonder
And fanticise all you could be
All you could share

Forget imperfections
Forget ******* past mistakes
All we'd have was a future to look forward to
A future that could've been so **** good
If only you'd tried

I gave you all I new how to give
Made myself vulnerable
Feel smaller than I already do

And you, you giant
Made my insecurities skyrocket
Intimidation beyond comprehension
All for the boy I never really thought I had a chance with

The boy who was too good for me

The (imperfect) perfect boy
Jacob Peters Aug 2013
I'm not quite sure how addiction grabbed me
I picked it up slow but it grew so vastly
Started with *****
which turned to puffs, powder and pills
both downs and ups
  I'd have one in my hand
two more in my pocket
effects don't matter
just want to skyrocket
Please, take me away
to the places of unknown
help me escape
sober feelings, I've outgrown
No happy soul
been broken to pieces
the puzzle repairs
each time the **** hits
Hiding away
from both friends and family
deny every time
so please stop asking
A boy, once joyous
now fell from grace
peace of mind only comes
from numbing his face
No pride, sheer shame
pure feelings of failure
thoughts run wild'
Will it all end here?'
Partners in crime
now long deceased a harsh realization
of succumbing to the beast
Praying for help and
pleading for power
rise and prevail
stop trying to cower
There's a want and a need
plus strong will to succeed
to turn life around
since devoured by disease
Now I stand here humbled
with apologetic eyes
for my selfish acts
under a life self prescribed.
alex furlin Jul 2012
Little pockets of sound that skyrocket around
Words: verbs, adjectives, nouns

Words can get me steaming or lucid dreaming
And it leaves me silently screaming to see people consider words a weapon
Like they mean to cause harm
Well let me remind you I have the right to bear arms

Just because what’s on that page is mine
Doesn’t means it aligns with the ideals in my mind
Writing is expression, not confession
So when I write about a character who is confused and depressed
Buys a used gun and a bulletproof vest
And shoots up his classmates in the middle of a test
Because everyone ignored the signs of his anger
Doesn’t mean there’s a trench coat on my hanger

But nevertheless, they labeled me me a threat
Better yet, they focused on me instead of the 15 year old addicted to cigarettes
and took my words out of context
Because they are con-text
Well I’m pro-text and I protest that they suggest that I’m hopeless
and I know this coldness only hones my focus on my magnum opus

But where would we be without controversy?
The indirect side effect to freedom of speech
A beacon for speakin’ your mind without your rights being breached

It’s all in the name
When you write, you’re right
But when you advocate censorship, then you’re ****
My two cents are worth a million bucks
So who cares if they contain a million *****?
F-words might be wayward but in a way they aren’t F-words, they’re A-words

Because all words are equal on surface
Well, until one strikes a nerve with a conservative
Who, without even meeting me, determined me to be
The next **** Germany

I didn’t write a story about a school shooter
I wrote it about how one impressionable kid became a slave to the page
And lost himself in the rage as an unfortunate consequence

And it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense
That the school would let themselves fall victim to a nonexistent threat
Brought on by a few paragraphs on a pair of half ripped papers stapled and
Paper-clipped to the rest of my script

You can place the blame but you became that same shameful shell
Hell, you can expel me, but you can’t compel me
To stop yelling again with this paper and pen
Or a stage and a mic
Going without words is like an endless hunger strike

Being voiceless ain’t a choice for this
When I protest, I prefer to be heard
A whole lot can happen with a few simple words
epedeped Feb 2010
my head is
a vacant lot
loaded with automatic cars
idling in a polluted environment
full of bidding corporations
run by empty businessman
who take advantage
of a selfish inward populace
that raise  violent  children
who  turn off their minds to the madness,  cruelty 
and cultural void at the local nightclub
called "Numb" or " E-tarded" 
and slobbering over drinks and beats 
like the sounds of horns
from a traffic jam
driven by impatient animals
 in a sheepfold bawing
their way to the nearest vaccination center
for thier imaginary  twinrix dose of 
swine ***** and orange juice
that skyrocket diabetes rates above google hits 
and fat conservative voter polls
broadcasted daily by popular media botox injections
that styme creativity
with  the same ****** music
played over and over and over
like the broken recorded rhetoric
that tell us to  destructively reach out 
to foreign countries
while  selling ourselves out for better cars
but increase profits and taxes
at the same rate of the rising  prison population
and shrinking contributions
to  health care , edU-caTion ,  community and environment
all the while you can hear the sheep bleat and beep and bleat and beep

I am tired,  and just now laying down
in my bed.. I can't believe I can finally
get some rest.

What a day, sweetie.
You were on my mind  all day
and I could  feel the tender-hearted
sadness and vulnerability welling up in you..
So very interesting that it has gone
this route.. and the gates open back up,
but with a well-oiled  swing this time...
And you are wondering if there is
really enough love available to  truly
save a person..  And you gasp out loud
as I pull you  close to me,
as if you did not know that was something
that could even be done in this world--
my hand to the small of your back
as my mouth presses  softly
to the side of your face..

and I whisper words of warm,  loving support,
           deeply into you--
  tears..  streaming down your beautiful face
    as your whole body trembles.

"This kind of world is so unfamiliar to me,
I don't even know how to be right now..  
And just as much..
   I have no idea how or what to feel.  
I've been crying a lot--  over all the
things I've had to face..
along with all of these changes.
And when I told you that I missed
you.. I really meant it.  

    ..But then you hurt me bad.. real bad"


You are angry and still hurt.
but you can't stop pulling at my shirt--
clenched in your hand, at my chest..
so much  that you are about to tear
my buttons.

"Why do you do that to me
when I need you so much..  
why.. when I open up and trust  

    and need you the most,  
            why do you do that?"


You are shaking me with both fists  now
but there is still the look  of deep
love in your eyes..  and as they look
directly into mine, your tears of anger
and hurt  give way to the overwhelming
desire to press  up against me..
and have me kiss you   deeply.

    Looming overhead
    is my cloud-incased,  need
    to  not  cast a vote  on the
    current status-quo..

     ..To  not  call today--
      'everything we've worked toward
      until today,  is enough'


"You will  end up
in my bed, beautiful girl..
and we'll be together--
pushing forward,  pushing  in to..
   everything that you have taken in,
   so far..
..But I am scared shitless  of the
ever-limiting nature  the
threat of mundaneness  brings about
by complacency within the inner-self..

..And so with you, my beautiful..
I light a skyrocket under  that
gorgeous, sweet *** of yours..
    And throughout  the cosmos
    And into the Realms  you shoot..

.. But am I not  always  the one
who catches you before you fully fall--
scary as the unfair launch into the sky is..
I have always, always  caught you."



"You have, Paul.
I'm going to fall in love  with you
harder than I ever have in my life
because of who you have
been to me throughout the years..

..But one day.. I'm gonna stand up
and punch you--  right in the nose..
   ..then leave..

   because of  h o w  you  have 
   been to me throughout the years."



"Damm right you will, Babe.
Now get the ****  over here       
      and give me a kiss..
      ..And you
      have to pretend like you like it, too.."


"I'm still mad at you Paul..
and you're such a pervert.  But I
know how much you love these,  
so I want to show them to you"


--As you gently  pull on your  cute,
flowery black dress's belt.. it slowly
unwraps  and falls down, onto the grass..

My eyes are staring at your beautiful body..
     that absolutely perfect skin..
those lusciously-gorgeous  *******..
the curve of those hips,  the shape of
your thighs..

    "Do you like what you see?"


"Ah, Babe..
    more than I have words for."





(but you see.. there's still this thing I do..)


xoxoxo

I am a lineman for the county
And I drive the main road

Searchin' in the Sun for another overload

I hear you singing in the wire..
I can hear you through the whine

And the Wichita lineman
Is still on the line

I know I need a small vacation
But it don't look like rain
And if it snows that stretch down South
Won't ever stand the strain

And I need you more than want you
And I want you for all time

And the Wichita lineman
Is still on the line
https://youtu.be/pqv0sHnD2cw


I really  was
trained as a mercenary, not as a cook.
Paige Miller Apr 2013
It’s a free country, whose prices are skyrocketing,
skyrocketing with the number of secrets.
Pick up pamphlets proclaiming promises,
but look how the fine print demands your liberty.
Everything is written in the same language,
the exchange rate for a few dollars.

Pieces of paper riddled with numbers, dollars
burn through pockets, leaving scars with pain skyrocketing.
The poor and huddled masses all speak the language,
exchanging on the black market fragments of skeleton secrets.
Torch in one hand, book in the other, let’s ask Lady Liberty
why the cobblestone was pressed with broken promises.

Collect the torn shreds of scattered paper promises,
recycle, dye, reprint, now you have dollars.
Hear the cracks ring through the bell of liberty,
sending a sound shockwave skyrocketing,
blowing the dust off old, forgotten boxes stuffed with secrets,
lies that became incorporated. We all cry in the same language.

A father speaks to his daughter in the language
of soccer games and zoo trips. Shattered promises,
fill the gaps between their hearts, fueled by secrets.
Problems he tries to fix by handing her a few dollars.
His excuses keep coming and her frustration is skyrocketing.
She desires greener pastures, to run away with liberty.

In Korean it’s jayu. In Russian it’s svoboda. Liberty
translates to the same message in every language.
Liberté, the distance between oceans is skyrocketing
as worn hands struggle holding glass promises.
La libertad! Paper sons are born spending hard earned dollars,
confusing pesos with dollars, their lies with their secrets.

The walls are willing to whisper your secrets,
silence can be exchanged for handfuls of liberty.
A binding contract, you’ll get paid with dollars.
The ultimate truth: it’s the universal language.
Homes are built on a foundation of hollow promises,
with no door to escape, and the scaffolding is skyrocketing.

Freiheit! Voices skyrocket into one language,
tearing holes in liberty where promises lied,
it all costs something. Dollars buy secrets. Dollars hide secrets.
Michael Marchese Feb 2019
I take from the rich
And I give
To the richer
Grow money trees
And then watch the world wither
I've slithered
In gardens of green
Dripping red
With a purity hood
Draping over my head
I have poisoned the fountain
Of youth
To retain
My control of this endless
Monopoly game
As my capital gains
A skyscraper a day
To the skyrocket
Stock market
Locke's do I pray
Upon all to be blessed
With lavish excess
But succession of kings
My investment ******
To breed wealthier nations
Uncommon in man
Through unhealthier rations'
Invisible Hand
Do I muppet the mouths
And harp on the heartstrings
As I tug on the chains
Of the slaves
Freedom rings
And that fat lady sings
All she wants
I will cling
To this power
With eagle-lied,
Vulturous talons
Devour
The will
And then **** the bills,
Billing blood that I spill
With impunity
Robbery,
Poverty
Property
I am the law
There is no order stopping me
No cherry topping me
No global powers’
High towers
Are topping me
No master forces endorsed
Are out-shopping me
Spending spree
On the lost souls
Now to bending knee
Fall
And enthrall in the terror
Of my urban sprawl
Making maggots of masses'
Automaton dreams
Into my gilded ages'
New pyramid schemes
You can call me a liar
Truth is
No concern
To the one who reigns fire
With oil to burn
Down upon the deniers
Until they all learn
I'll recruit body bags
To preach life to the choir
And when the screen lags
Train these dogs to play dead,
Lay their own on a wire
In so doing shred
The carnage they desire
So I can play God
And with demons conspire
A masterful plan
To command the economy
Zombie hive mind
Get in line
For lobotomy
My progeny
Multiply to consume
And consume
And consume
'Til the ******* last fume
Dissipates into space
The good fortunes of Earth
All amounting to waste
With the mother who nurtured you
***** and disgraced
The four steeds
Of Apocalypse
Nothing but paste
For I win every time
I with you
Humans race
Pixievic May 2016
Your hands stole the starlight
To paint my body  
In vivid hues of heaven
Unrestrained rapture
Soars like a firework
Exploding out into darkness
Bombarding colours
Fragmenting sensation
Cool night air  
Delicately wanders
Fanning my flaming skin
Stroking my fascination
The heady scent of desire
Infusing earthly compulsion
Thrusting towards celestial pleasures
In an effort to enter nirvana
Soft folds seek firm flesh
Ripening under your touch
Ready to burst with sweet ambrosia
Flowing through your fingers
Demanding in quest
Your skyrocket
Burns through my atmosphere
Leaving trails of stardust that
Quiver along my body
As you cradle me in hushed epilogue
And I descend .....
Back to a garden
Bathed in moonlight

(C) Pixievic
Amazing what an evening in the garden can do ....!!
Robyn Mar 2014
One of these days
There's going to be a snapback
That says
"Be different"
It will become the most popular snapback ever
In the history of *******
Snapback sales will skyrocket
And every single boy
In Marysville, Washington
Worth his spit
Will be wearing a snapback that says
"Be different"
And no one will think twice
But the one boy
Who doesn't wear snapbacks
Or Nike
Or Adidas
Or Obey
But who dresses
Different
Than anyone else
Will get beaten
And teased and shunned
By boys wearing snapbacks that say
"Be different"
Clutching lies in their ****** fists
Monika Nov 2015
they tell her to let her imagination fly
but they don't know how much her hands shake
when she thinks of his smile.
the sun always sets
but the sound of his laughter
ringing inside her mind won't.
she wants to make a home in the stars
that twinkle in the galaxy of his irises,
but she knows better than to find comfort
in someone else's body,
especially a body that she has never
had the chance to hold.
they tell her to let her imagination fly
so she keeps thinking that she will someday
make a bed inside his collarbones
and that she will spend her mornings
watching him trace the outlines of her hips
with his fingertips like she used to do
with the strings of the violin
she used to play as a child,
but no one ever told her
that you can't make homes out of human beings.
she tries to imagine a world
where the distance between them is shortened,
where she doesn't have to look at the moon
and pretend that he is looking at the same one
even though he's probably asleep
and dreaming about someone else's eyes.
they tell her to let her imagination fly
and she wants to let it skyrocket
past the ozone and land next to where he is,
on the other side of the solar system.
they tell her to let her imagination fly
and she does, but not because she wants to.
she has to make up all the words herself,
the way he smells and the way he tastes
and the way he sounds in the air.
she knows that everyone needs a place
and that it shouldn't be inside of someone else,
but imagining a world with him
is better than imagining a world where there is no love
and where everything goes wrong.
which is to say, imagining a world with him
is better than imagining a world without him.
Andrea Dec 2013
It’s December and
I tried to explain to my body
That I need to stay at a constant 98.6 degrees
And that it’s not normal
For those 98.6 degrees to skyrocket
Whenever your bare skin meets mine.
Apparently,
I’d taken a liking
To being consumed by fire
In the middle of a blizzard,
In December.
I’ll never quite manage to grasp
How you make my thighs shake
And my eyes go wide
Each time you’re merely in the same room as I.
Or when you smile.
When you smile,
it looks like all the biblical miracles
Placed into one crooked curve
And you gave me memories
Risque, raw memories that will keep my cheeks blushing and my head spinning
For ever so long.
Although,
I had hoped that by this time in winter,
Something more would’ve sparked.
But you only seem to know of
Pale spring mornings
And sticky summer nights.
I feel like I don’t even know you.
I touched you, I held your hand, I kissed your lips.
You poked and prodded the deepest parts of my tar black soul
That were so beyond your comprehension.
Yet, you don’t seem real, this doesn’t seem real, we don’t seem real.
Am I even real?
It’s December and you’re more of the boy I made out to be in my head
Based on those few blissful moments
Than the boy
Who would warm me up,
To much more than
A constant 98.6 degrees.

*-andrea
T Mike Jun 2013
I guess I'm not quite sure
how addiction grabbed me
I picked it up slow
but it grew so vastly

It started with *****
which turned to puffs
and then powders and pills
both downs and ups

I'd have one in my hand
and two more in my pocket
effects don't matter
I just want to skyrocket

Saying, "Please, take me away
to the places of unknown
Lord, help me escape
these sober feelings I've outgrown"

Cause there's no happy soul
it's been broken to pieces
but the puzzle repairs
each time the **** hits

Now I'm hiding away
from both friends and family
I'll deny it every time
so please stop asking

A boy, once joyous
now fell from grace
peace of mind only comes
from numbing his face

No pride, sheer shame
pure feelings of failure
the thoughts run wild
'Oh, will it all end here?'

Partners in crime
are now long deceased
it's a harsh realization
of succumbing to the beast

See, we're pleading for help and
praying for power
got to rise and prevail
stop trying to cower

Cause there's a want and need
plus strong will to succeed
to turn life around
since devoured by disease

Now I stand here humbled
with apologetic eyes
for my selfish acts
under life self prescribed.
mark john junor Aug 2014
a cold ribbon of thought
its blackheart birth on the lips
of a madman whos eyes follow the truth
with skyrocket perfection
tell me about this dark thought you keep dreamin
together we can set this sinking ship aright
together we can unsink the dreams we had as children
the cold ribbon looks like a medal pinned
looks like a politicians smile
looks like a madman's eyeball
see the crazy light it gives off
feel the winter's breath in its gaze
entertain me with its song

here it comes again
looks so friendly
but look at the trail of empty lives it leaves
no matter what happens don't let me end like them
promise you take care of it
don't let em leave me an empty shell
gasping for air at some roadside death carnival
tapping my foot to some horrible song
put a bullet to my head so i don't end up like them
here it comes again look out
like some worm of the wasteland
like a smile lie in the darkness
looks like a lover but its a feeder

a cold ribbon of thought
calculating its next move with carefree abandon
look there see that girl
watch as the light in her eyes dies
watch as they **** the life out of her
the dreams cherished make a tasty meal
the hope so carefully crafted just in one bite
come on we can beat this thing
tell me this dark dream so we can unsink this ship
we can get away
slip away in the heartbeat of night
with the grace of the sullen eye
shallow *****
Jae Elle Mar 2012
calmly stationed on
a pale blue sheet
I had laid out on the lawn
he paws
& tears at the grass
with his chubby fingers, though
they're thinning out into
crafty toddler hands
& he won't leave the blanket

at fourteen months, I'm beginning to
consider that he may already be
playing make-believe
our bedspread is our boat
& the wild unkempt grass is
the raging sea

I don't mind it
my allergies are going to
skyrocket when they finally mow it
I'd rather bask in its
lush glory
freshly grown in from
a very mild winter
thick with scent and color
Davy is growing accustomed to
it as well
heels digging into the soft soil
throwing tiny flowers every which way
& laughing


that boy's gonna need a bath
You can hear the voices of our peers
Being silenced, ignored, shunned and distorted.
Staggering out of their bedroom doorways
To the street corner to score a dime bag.

Bright, insightful kandi kids freezing
In search of warmth from something to believe in
Hopin’ those will encourage them
To look forward to see another day.

Where our economy has made financial prudence clear
The price tag of university tuition’s skyrocket
The refused, the ones with hope
But no money or scholarships;
Tread the streets
With the echoes of electro-house
Pulsing in their skulls.

Those who strip themselves down
And shred their own morals
To scraps just to find themselves
And to see their own limitations.
Searching for answers to the unknown,
To ascertain what they are,
Who they are and why.

The bewilderment of adulthood,
The abundance of pressure and responsibility.
Awakened from nightmares of lost opportunities,
Missed trains and lost contacts.

Everything went astray
But hope crash in
They wear the armour
Facing the giants of their lives
They conquered
Became champions of this new generation!

(3/13/14 @xirlleelang)
Natasha Jun 2013
I think I've found your secret
The key to my locked up pleasure
The way to make my body writhe
To make that pulsing, riveting, shock; skyrocket from inside

Embodiment of ecstasy
Tip my head back, and close my eyes
Allow every sound that finds its way to my mouth
To slip out like a rolling tide

To ease my hands down in a way
That both tortures and teases me
But the one thing that is truly inspiring
Is simply the way he *watches me
JAATC Oct 2018
gravity
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
only exists
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
to withhold
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
us from
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
hurling
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
into space
Anthony Carrasco Mar 2016
Swiftly swiping through frozen memories, & I stumbled upon something astounding.

A spectacle that didn't seem to surprise, just another example of the standard sensitized society that we have been settled into for far too long.

It was an image of a couple that I steadily "stalked", per se, but more of supported from a secluded distance. Spread across the picture were the same two sapiens so surely in love; yet I could see the sadness in both their sockets as clear as a sunset on a cloudless day.

Smiles stretched from side to side on both their faces, but if you stared sharply you could spot the sorrow submerged in their souls.

The inseparable twosome were ironically split from each other, standing on opposite sides of a sidekick whose sole purpose was to serve as a distraction to the shadowed love which never dare show its existence to spectators.

Secrets sorted into the minds of offspring, scared to say the truth because of suspicion that they might surrender the love they once secured.

You see, being straight is the sustainable selection for the future of our race, the single method of sharing in the responsibility of our species' survival.
 
A decision of sexuality spoken during sermon that is made for us by a creator... long before conception.

As sinful as this may sound, I refuse to concede to a forsaken life sanctioned by a story scripted 3500 years ago.

It sickens me to witness a universal sensation of emotion between two spirits be the reason for such substantial suffering.

A person need not be scorned due to their desired source of seduction or for having that undescribable sense of freedom we never discerned was enslaved to begin with.

We don't get to choose what sparks our minds to skyrocket, our knees to shiver,  and certainly not our hearts to break.

We are deserving of safety in our own sanity, a sanctuary where stress couldn't search even if it had a warrant.

There ought to be a set of statutes that don't segregate humans for seeking associations with members of the same ***.

The laws we have now are schemes designed to set aside our natural tendency to scour for bliss. Let me tell you precisely why I broke those rules and was sentenced to serve an eternity in prison.

I stole binoculars from the store so I could see a sight too distant for my eyes; I searched a century ahead of our time and spied on a social world not similar to ours, one seasoned enough to where I don't need to sugar coat my findings. Simply put, we surged away from stereotypes and settled into a state of serenity.
Inspired by a photo I saw of a couple I follow on social media. They are beyond in love with each other, yet one is scared to show any affection in their pictures.
Thomas W Case Jul 2022
I'm fermenting in
isolation.
Covid 19 for the third
time this year.
After a skyrocket of a
writing streak,
I've had a two month
dry spell.
I'm sure the dope and
***** didn't help.

Hell smells like
loneliness and
white paper.
It tastes like
sulfur and burnt toast.
I see ghosts around
every corner, and they
sound like bats,
screeching at the
black night.

I'm in treatment,
and I will spend five
days in my room.
They will bring my
meds and meals.
They also gave me
a tablet and said,
I can watch all the
Net Flix that I want.

****!
To write or to watch
the idiot box.
That is the dilemma.
I sure hope that
this
febrile state that I am
in produces some
good writing material.
Pun intended
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VDs9dUjQz58
Here is a link to my you tube channel where I read my poetry.
Natasha Jan 2014
Please fix this
Hurt me, hit me, **** me
I don't care if I die or live
Stick a knife in my side and see if I give
Kiss the tears from my eyes and watch my heart skyrocket
Take it down from the stars, put it next to your lungs & lock it
I bet you've never seen someone like me
Who'd literally die to have their heart
Under your lock and key
Too bad my love was brutally hated
My life askew and over-rated
Did you honestly hate it?
**** responsibility to change it.
But there's only so long I can make it
Before
I
Break
To
****
written when I was 13
George Krokos Nov 2010
The cost of living is the price we pay
for all those things we need each day
and when calculated over a period of time
works out to a figure that’s likely to climb.
And if our wants go far beyond our needs
we have to get paid well then for our deeds.
But if what we earn can’t match that pace
we’ll have to slow down and not lose face.
Or perhaps consider some additional means
to support what we take on as our routines.

When our lifestyle doesn’t make a hole in our pocket
and the cost of living where we are doesn’t skyrocket
then the rate of inflation there is said to be low
so we can afford to buy those things we know.
Private Collection - written in 2002
woolgather May 2016
To the people that made me who I was,
To  the people who loved me dearly,
Yet hurt me harder.
To the people who made me broken,
This is for you.

I know you are not aware of what I try to say,
I would know because, I'd never want you to.
But waking up 9 o'clock past breakfast,
Waking up to the sight of emptiness,
Made me feel about to burst.

I know you have inspired me to be better.
I know you have inspired me to skyrocket my way.
Yet I also know what you did;
I knew of your words,
I knew of your actions.

I first thought you saw me as a star;
Bright, and soaring,
Now, flashing back the things that happened before,
I felt you saw me as luggage:
Nothing but something to spend hundreds on.

I know I let you down,
But it isn't my fault my lungs can't breathe the same air,
I know I give you burden,
That I annoy you a hundredfold rather than make you feel loved,
Rather than make you feel proud of me.

I'm sorry I fell down on my absolute lows,
I'm sorry if I have always kept what truth I have,
I'm sorry I let the opportunities slip by my fingers,
I don't know what to do,
I don't know what to do.

I want to go back where my world wasn't shrouded,
I want to go back where I gave you smiles and not pain,
I want to find myself again,
But I just can't, you can't understand;
But I just can't, you can't understand.
It's so hard to feel what's right when the ones who keep holding you down are the ones who made you better before
Amelia Jo Anne Sep 2013
our love was uncomfortable
made her reel
skyrocket
lose control
lift from the ground
with not enough momentum.
what might have aided
forced her forward,
conspired against her
& pulled her down
contact & corrode.
made my skin itch
tormenting, restless fingers
rub away the best parts
& reveal the scabs beneath.
At least she's propelled,
going somewhere. I'm stuck
sitting with how unhappy I am with myself,
& she's tumbling, tossed away from how unhappy I make her too.
Jonny Angel Feb 2014
Some say
cyanide’s a nasty poison,
comes in a small bottle,
that it doesn’t
take much of a dose
to change
your ******-functions.

I’ve been told
it’ll make your eyes
roll up inside your head,
body-twitch all over,
get weak in the knees,
make your respiration skyrocket,
& your heart flutter madly!

Personally, that really
doesn’t sound too bad,
I’m just wondering
if you can get that stuff
by the case.
If it does all that sweet stuff,
I’m going to need
a lifetime supply of it.
Madison Lee Dec 2018
If you would've stayed, imagine the world that could've been in the palm of our hands...
Clear, pristine, blue water with millions of particles that resemble sand; the greenest grasses on never-ending acres of land.
The prettiest, most jaw dropping sunrises; not even God could create firsthand.
Mountains--that skyrocket to the promise land,
And vast miles of swampy wetlands.
Hummingbirds that majestically keep darting by,
While mingling below the clouds with the butterflies;
All the while, the fields are growing wild rye.
What on earth could ever make you turn your back and say good-bye,
Knowing this is how we envisioned our world and how the rest of our days would unwind...
Amy Grindhouse Mar 2014
I've been looking over
my portfolio and considering
diversifying my assets
to feed this junk punk habit of mine.
Ono-Sendai is looking strong
after that Hosaka team up
But I've been told to stay away from
those weirdos at Tessier-Ashpool
and their vatgrown monstrosities -
They're all scary like dead TV grey skies.
Cyberdyne stock is rumored
to skyrocket after some microchip breakthrough
but I've just never trusted their promises -
No fate but what we make and I don't
know if I like what they're making.
Tyrell Corp is down after that
messy Nexus-6 affair -
Tears in rain and their CEO dead
Guess they should leave the synth
business to Hyperdyne instead.
(Hey...are they just a division of Cyberdyne?
I should investigate that one)
but then I've heard Hyperdyne has
some twitchy artificials of their own running
rampant through Weyland-Yutani.
Weyland-Yutani seems like a solid bet
after their merger
but I've heard they'll treat you like
an expendable crew -
Absent mother computers and derelict signals
abound.

**** it.
I'm going with Walmart.

— The End —