"sleekest" poems - Hello Poetry

... Mystery; Such that you were to me But nervously I swayed in your direction Curious; I couldn't help but catch my breath as you spoke of this dismal city and your photography So caught in your wishes to escape back to your summer adventures to the hustle and bustle of Tokyo and Seoul; it was then you felt such anonymity So it was then you had felt free. I look to you again, piecing you in these things that you dare share with me; so easily, eagerly. Quiet now, you look to me but I apologize, I didn't know quite where to begin. Mist and fluttering snow Clouding over our concrete city, We walked below the looming Buildings until pausing, to take a picture of me. It seemed, in this hour, it was only us who chose to walk through these deserted snowed-in streets You suggested something then, offering to take me up to the top of the sleekest buildings, to your rooftop sanctuaries I longed to see until it was only in my view- small specks of life below me where I could only see my sodden shoes dangle down to nothingness, to air, weightlessly as I taste the mist upon my shoulders and frozen hair. In awe I would laugh at the beautiful sight before me- to Skyscrapers that cut above clouds in the glint of the sun reflecting back to our eyes, and our cheeks who also felt the bite of winter's winds. Shivering, Soaked in hair and feet and Again I turned to face you but here, with glittering eyes, ... wondered where You would then choose to take me on our second date? P.K.

0

Nov 2, 2014

Nov 2, 2014 at 3:31 PM UTC

i-dont-want-to-give-my-name

Mist

... Mystery; Such that you were to me But nervously I swayed in your direction Curious; I couldn't help but catch my breath as you spoke of this dismal city and your photography So caught in your wishes to escape back to your summer adventures to the hustle and bustle of Tokyo and Seoul; it was then you felt such anonymity So it was then you had felt free. I look to you again, piecing you in these things that you dare share with me; so easily, eagerly. Quiet now, you look to me but I apologize, I didn't know quite where to begin. Mist and fluttering snow Clouding over our concrete city, We walked below the looming Buildings until pausing, to take a picture of me. It seemed, in this hour, it was only us who chose to walk through these deserted snowed-in streets You suggested something then, offering to take me up to the top of the sleekest buildings, to your rooftop sanctuaries I longed to see until it was only in my view- small specks of life below me where I could only see my sodden shoes dangle down to nothingness, to air, weightlessly as I taste the mist upon my shoulders and frozen hair. In awe I would laugh at the beautiful sight before me- to Skyscrapers that cut above clouds in the glint of the sun reflecting back to our eyes, and our cheeks who also felt the bite of winter's winds. Shivering, Soaked in hair and feet and Again I turned to face you but here, with glittering eyes, ... wondered where You would then choose to take me on our second date? P.K.

60

i given nothing i abandoned i adopted i dropout i garage i Apple i NeXT i Pixar i Apple i pilfered i i invented i i produced i i market i i retail i i am i i am i i tech beauty i consumer fetish i whom you love i sleekest widgets i Toy Story i Macintosh i macbook i Lisa iTunes iPod iPhone iPad i more i rebel i genius i visionary i entrepreneur i world changer i exceptionalism i capital market hero i bigger then business i cool capitalism i myth i "the man" i worker i employer i boss i thief i savior i billionaire i venerated i vanity i Buddhist i prophet i redeemed i 1 in 300 million i America i sing the pathos i am the creed i define the ethos i Steve Jobs i amassed riches i accolade crowned i ingratiate world i virtue i success i creativity i favored i Midas i bedeviled i tested i afflicted i retire i human i mortal i succumb i eulogized i leave legacy of i i am an MBA case study i employed workers i peddled intrepid product cycles i subject of amusing anecdotes i am heroic corporate folklore i grew pods full of music i incite kids to thumb phones i captivate consumer imagination i built rock solid balance sheet i erected toxic Chinese factories i enriched investors i am the cool corporate brand i inspired a million unused i apps i hipster capitalism i imposed my will i insisted i am that i am i cannot take it with me i leave blue jeans i leave NB sneakers i leave black collarless shirt i will be asked what i did with the time i was given? i did the best i could i played the hand dealt i parlayed it into a royal flush i filled it up with i i ask why i am no more? i leave the world i am no more Godspeed Beloved Steven Paul "Steve" Jobs (February 24, 1955 – October 5, 2011) jbm Oakland 10/6/11

0

Nov 4, 2011

Nov 4, 2011 at 10:40 PM UTC

james-bradley-mccallum

iBook of Jobs

i given nothing i abandoned i adopted i dropout i garage i Apple i NeXT i Pixar i Apple i pilfered i i invented i i produced i i market i i retail i i am i i am i i tech beauty i consumer fetish i whom you love i sleekest widgets i Toy Story i Macintosh i macbook i Lisa iTunes iPod iPhone iPad i more i rebel i genius i visionary i entrepreneur i world changer i exceptionalism i capital market hero i bigger then business i cool capitalism i myth i "the man" i worker i employer i boss i thief i savior i billionaire i venerated i vanity i Buddhist i prophet i redeemed i 1 in 300 million i America i sing the pathos i am the creed i define the ethos i Steve Jobs i amassed riches i accolade crowned i ingratiate world i virtue i success i creativity i favored i Midas i bedeviled i tested i afflicted i retire i human i mortal i succumb i eulogized i leave legacy of i i am an MBA case study i employed workers i peddled intrepid product cycles i subject of amusing anecdotes i am heroic corporate folklore i grew pods full of music i incite kids to thumb phones i captivate consumer imagination i built rock solid balance sheet i erected toxic Chinese factories i enriched investors i am the cool corporate brand i inspired a million unused i apps i hipster capitalism i imposed my will i insisted i am that i am i cannot take it with me i leave blue jeans i leave NB sneakers i leave black collarless shirt i will be asked what i did with the time i was given? i did the best i could i played the hand dealt i parlayed it into a royal flush i filled it up with i i ask why i am no more? i leave the world i am no more Godspeed Beloved Steven Paul "Steve" Jobs (February 24, 1955 – October 5, 2011) jbm Oakland 10/6/11

113

eating breakfast on a beaten girl's face she ignites when you take it she glows in her faith with gold and blue phalange atop sleekest new marrow she is clear raincoats and black body polish she is siamese cats asleep on a windowsill she is the rusted remains where the ices draw narrow she is reading rimbaud and drowning brian jones the swan's neck upper reach is steady with guilt engraved with your initials a monogrammed friese on white marble quilt

0

Oct 26, 2013

Oct 26, 2013 at 11:19 PM UTC

brian-oblivion

crumbling the antiseptic beauty / goldmine trash

eating breakfast on a beaten girl's face she ignites when you take it she glows in her faith with gold and blue phalange atop sleekest new marrow she is clear raincoats and black body polish she is siamese cats asleep on a windowsill she is the rusted remains where the ices draw narrow she is reading rimbaud and drowning brian jones the swan's neck upper reach is steady with guilt engraved with your initials a monogrammed friese on white marble quilt

14

Many had fallen but few have risen Deep in the hearts of men spears glisten The battle field Where you are only as strong as your will With hate this thick: many had fallen short of reason Could it be for glory or be it for freedom? For as many we were, we all scourged for one diadem Pride blind our eye sight vile in our strife Your blood my knife your fall my rise Admist all this mayhem no one knows if it may end Survival of the fittest? No, triumph for the sleekest Even the meanest got slain leaving no clues for the weak ends Alas! We were three one throne one king None relenting till life flows only through one being With no soul to reign on the crown becomes null All in all we had bled for nothing

0

Dec 2, 2017

Dec 2, 2017 at 6:08 AM UTC

seyi-king

BATTLE FIELD

Many had fallen but few have risen Deep in the hearts of men spears glisten The battle field Where you are only as strong as your will With hate this thick: many had fallen short of reason Could it be for glory or be it for freedom? For as many we were, we all scourged for one diadem Pride blind our eye sight vile in our strife Your blood my knife your fall my rise Admist all this mayhem no one knows if it may end Survival of the fittest? No, triumph for the sleekest Even the meanest got slain leaving no clues for the weak ends Alas! We were three one throne one king None relenting till life flows only through one being With no soul to reign on the crown becomes null All in all we had bled for nothing

16

I surf through a crowd, click, click, click, am I slick? Am I sick? The faces cascade, each one like a molecule in a waterfall of desire and liars and fire. Do we sit here to burn or to yearn. Do we ever learn or feel concern. It seems I will never tire to conspire against my own soul on this wire. I'm wired. The screen crackles a strange glow. The bits and bytes tell me there's hope. Ones and zeroes like so much knotted rope. I hang on her every word, oh, my shame is ethereal. I want to stop seeing her, but my hunger is serial. She whisper's, "But wait... ... ... ... ... there's more..." and I die to be born her prisoner. In lust we trust, the internet anthem, the trumpet of the millennia our senses abandoned. The cascading fire, behind the screen, the ache inside: my mind? my spleen? I must be rotten, how could I not be, their alluring words and forms, imprison me. Can I break free? Qui-qui? Hehe! It's a total lie, there is no greener grass. So I hunger for more of the poison that made me; I seek to drown myself, like a manly baby, "Gimme more! A little more!" They stand in shock, then retreat to their bottles, ignoring the ticking clock. Back to her and her and her, the ones who will never love me, who've ensnared me to drain me, me and me and me. There are different kinds of blindness, many we will never be ****** enough to see but when the blinds are open, can we really change what we see? Do we come awake to a ruin, a festering, aching, screaming lump of chaos that we are but fingers to... this abomination. I surf the crowd and when she comes again, I'll just change the channel, and a new face materializes, her beauty renders me thirsty I smile my sleekest smile, I recite the uncanny words, "Mirror mirror on the wall."

0

Mar 8, 2017

Mar 8, 2017 at 11:41 PM UTC

DEW

Just Change the Channel...

I surf through a crowd, click, click, click, am I slick? Am I sick? The faces cascade, each one like a molecule in a waterfall of desire and liars and fire. Do we sit here to burn or to yearn. Do we ever learn or feel concern. It seems I will never tire to conspire against my own soul on this wire. I'm wired. The screen crackles a strange glow. The bits and bytes tell me there's hope. Ones and zeroes like so much knotted rope. I hang on her every word, oh, my shame is ethereal. I want to stop seeing her, but my hunger is serial. She whisper's, "But wait... ... ... ... ... there's more..." and I die to be born her prisoner. In lust we trust, the internet anthem, the trumpet of the millennia our senses abandoned. The cascading fire, behind the screen, the ache inside: my mind? my spleen? I must be rotten, how could I not be, their alluring words and forms, imprison me. Can I break free? Qui-qui? Hehe! It's a total lie, there is no greener grass. So I hunger for more of the poison that made me; I seek to drown myself, like a manly baby, "Gimme more! A little more!" They stand in shock, then retreat to their bottles, ignoring the ticking clock. Back to her and her and her, the ones who will never love me, who've ensnared me to drain me, me and me and me. There are different kinds of blindness, many we will never be ****** enough to see but when the blinds are open, can we really change what we see? Do we come awake to a ruin, a festering, aching, screaming lump of chaos that we are but fingers to... this abomination. I surf the crowd and when she comes again, I'll just change the channel, and a new face materializes, her beauty renders me thirsty I smile my sleekest smile, I recite the uncanny words, "Mirror mirror on the wall."

61

This here feels different Time has withdrawn my feelings deeper within than ever before A swim through my lust could show you who I once was And your fractional connection always brings suspense about Though it's overwhelming once ours is replenished This here isn't physical But maybe us with silence could revoke something of a new horizon Just a peak into your nature Exploring your soul through its sleekest valley And taking a few breaths inside of your vaporous fumes Fondness couldn't hide from itself But if you hold your breath long enough, you'll find the new me Oh so tenuous, too dangerous to ever speak of My love used to be the feeling of inhaling glass With a little ammonia to clean up any residue That was until I began to love myself more than I should have So now I hold my breath To visualize love at a different level with more emotions Ones that coincide to being happy with another person But my vision can't seem to apprehend So I'll allow my imagination to prosper on anyway Back into you sleekest valley, the glass and ammonia returns This here feels different There is no feeling of pain anymore And you are still holding your breath Something new inside is emerging but can't remember it's feeling Now my body will prosper this new feeling along New love is born and the physicality awakens a new horizon inside you

0

Mar 26, 2015

Mar 26, 2015 at 3:44 AM UTC

brandon-davis5b

Differences

This here feels different Time has withdrawn my feelings deeper within than ever before A swim through my lust could show you who I once was And your fractional connection always brings suspense about Though it's overwhelming once ours is replenished This here isn't physical But maybe us with silence could revoke something of a new horizon Just a peak into your nature Exploring your soul through its sleekest valley And taking a few breaths inside of your vaporous fumes Fondness couldn't hide from itself But if you hold your breath long enough, you'll find the new me Oh so tenuous, too dangerous to ever speak of My love used to be the feeling of inhaling glass With a little ammonia to clean up any residue That was until I began to love myself more than I should have So now I hold my breath To visualize love at a different level with more emotions Ones that coincide to being happy with another person But my vision can't seem to apprehend So I'll allow my imagination to prosper on anyway Back into you sleekest valley, the glass and ammonia returns This here feels different There is no feeling of pain anymore And you are still holding your breath Something new inside is emerging but can't remember it's feeling Now my body will prosper this new feeling along New love is born and the physicality awakens a new horizon inside you

28

Darkest of the dark Sleekest of the sleek Loveliest of the lovely Deepest of the deep Spin to win Rest assured Mocking bird Mocking bird Built it's nest It flew, it soared Wasn't easy More a chore Confident?, sure Why, what for? What's expected Still unsure Rising sun Sinking moon Hour late Still too soon Draw your gun At high noon Single living Gloom and doom Life and death What's the score? In the spotlight Still ignored Rotten apple To the core War! And nothing more And nothing more.

0

Dec 6, 2015

Dec 6, 2015 at 3:06 AM UTC

jason-paul-klenetsky

To The Core

Darkest of the dark Sleekest of the sleek Loveliest of the lovely Deepest of the deep Spin to win Rest assured Mocking bird Mocking bird Built it's nest It flew, it soared Wasn't easy More a chore Confident?, sure Why, what for? What's expected Still unsure Rising sun Sinking moon Hour late Still too soon Draw your gun At high noon Single living Gloom and doom Life and death What's the score? In the spotlight Still ignored Rotten apple To the core War! And nothing more And nothing more.

33

I’ve seen your work before; fearless, freshly framed for those colored ******* slowly visible in moist and languid ways, splitting sleekest hairs in scorched sheets, cinematic, grotesque grunts humming the atmosphere. This is your love at it’s latter, punching dusty walls dim, holy **** firecrackers pressed against bellies, new equations filling the exterior in jittery squirms. The plot is peeling smokeless holes, unfiltered, breathless, old solos fading in filth across the canvas as dark eyes spark slurpy tangent twists, their keys tight against the lock, slowly pushing the door open to jagged letters. You can’t blame me for following your footsteps. It’s my duty to leave those strike-through images against the blackboard, single-spaced adjectives lining the detail, similar to how you fed those ******* of your time with florescent glitter. We’re very much alike, you and I, stiff steel of goodness, tight-strapped, monstered, baptized with crafted portraits, old yet so close to home, breathing inside our interior.

0

Aug 21, 2019

Aug 21, 2019 at 10:44 AM UTC

travis-green

Old Habits Never Die

I’ve seen your work before; fearless, freshly framed for those colored ******* slowly visible in moist and languid ways, splitting sleekest hairs in scorched sheets, cinematic, grotesque grunts humming the atmosphere. This is your love at it’s latter, punching dusty walls dim, holy **** firecrackers pressed against bellies, new equations filling the exterior in jittery squirms. The plot is peeling smokeless holes, unfiltered, breathless, old solos fading in filth across the canvas as dark eyes spark slurpy tangent twists, their keys tight against the lock, slowly pushing the door open to jagged letters. You can’t blame me for following your footsteps. It’s my duty to leave those strike-through images against the blackboard, single-spaced adjectives lining the detail, similar to how you fed those ******* of your time with florescent glitter. We’re very much alike, you and I, stiff steel of goodness, tight-strapped, monstered, baptized with crafted portraits, old yet so close to home, breathing inside our interior.

19