Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
MeanAileen Dec 2017
Oh how I hate
this time of year,
with the stupid songs
and holiday cheer...
Annoying bell ringers
outside the store,
and the tacky wreaths
hanging on the door.
Cardboard calendars
filled with waxy treats,
ice and snow making
death traps of streets.
Frazzled parents
spending more then they should
on ungrateful kids
who are far from good.
Fake smiles & wishes
in the "spirit" of it all,
the blow-out sales-
the crowds at the mall.
The hour long line
to see Santa the phony
who falsely promises
an x-box or a pony.
Having to gather
with family who annoy,
gifting another cheap
Chinese-made toy.
Fire hazards
strung with tinsel and lights,
tensions leading
to fun Christmas fights!
Secret Santas-
holiday parties for work-
ugly sweaters
making you look like a ****.
The stress of having
an enormous list
and a tiny budget
just makes me ******!
No, nothing seems jolly
or merry or bright...
Oh how I can't wait
till post-Christmas night!
My ode to the holidays!!
And no, I'm not a TOTAL Grinch, I just play one in November and December!!
Jordan Rowan Nov 2015
Send my dreams to the paper press
I've got too much to confess
This whole mind is a mess
And it's mine
It's all I could find
As I was spending too much time
Screaming and crying

**** my brothers in the Middle East
Let their souls be released
As the mongrel dogs have a peaceful feast
On our blood
Down in the mud
When it's someone you don't love
You don't even shrug

Break my bones over color pride
Don't you see what I have inside?
For my thoughts, I must die
Or else I'm a joke
Lost within the smoke
If I'm not rich then I must be broke
A dying man unknown

Make the streets a place of peace
Instead of hate and bombing grease
Power only makes us weak
To ourselves
To you and myself
Take a long look at yourself
And you can tell

The morning comes and someone's gone
Sent away to a funeral song
They lost their life being young
And still bright
Now they only see the night
As their mother tries to sleep at night
Without life

I'm dead and gone someday soon
But still I love each sun and moon
As they pass over my room
I kneel down
I start to look around
I start to love everything I've found
And I'm proud
EpiPen Nov 9
Spending time
Don’t mind checking the clock
So I can keep it
It gets away
And I just need it
I wanna hurry up
So I can beat it
An obstacle
I’m up against
How have I spent this time
Upon the fence
On my hands
On my feet
I couldn’t fight the passing time
So caught up in the wheel that’s turning
Spent my early years living and learning
From early spring to late December
All the things I can’t remember
For all the things I couldn’t wait
arrived too early got there toolate
I went too fast then had to hesitate
I couldn’t hold the passing time
Slipped right through
these hands of mine
Trying To grab on to ever second,
Running towards wherever beckoned
I took the time
I had to
I missed the time
It’s passed too
D Awanis Oct 2016
I couldn’t help myself but longing for your existence
It felt strange to have my body wrapped and my back rubbed by someone that is not you
It felt unfamiliar not to hear you talk about the weather and the sky after you question my day
It felt odd to feel the stain of coffee left on his lips—because it ain’t the one you used to sip

I couldn’t help myself but wonder about the probability of us
Tell me that being stucked in traffic jam doesn’t make you wish you were spending it with me
Tell me that your feet don’t dance to Ella Fitzgerald and suddenly missing the tip of my toes on top of them
Tell me that when you look at her face, you don’t search even an ounce of my warmth there

I couldn't help myself but pleading for your mercy
Forgive me that I almost forget the way your laughter sounds or the way you sigh when you feel hopeless;
or the transition in your voice when you get mad but choose not to show it
or how your fingers fit the spaces between mine perfectly—and God, do I miss them
laura Jul 2018
stone cold killa
knockin' fellas off
they feet, ****** on the bay
writing poetry and
pushing bodies in the lake

she's a killa, man
get off on false promises
of commitment
no 5-o's, no weapon clues
no witness

i'm dead broke
i'm her next target
spending money on happiness
a poem like a wandering outlaw
us, causing sinister stares under the sunset
Left Foot Poet Sep 2017
spend /broke

I am here.  I could spend all my days reading your wires.  I could spend all my nights writhing writing responsa psalms.  
perhaps I do, for after all, I am here  
{~for Mara, Denel, Liz B.; Patty~}

I string fences too, bury birds, insects, living sons, tho just out in the back of my ex-mansion brain. want to write simple, effectively, like you guys, and want to live simple ample effectively. cant cursed, cursed canticle Kant cant.  so the day commences   2000 plus emails chirping read me and I've just arrived, but I do not, bury them in a mass grave with an effective 'delete all,'  not even thinking what might be missed, missed

what happens when u run out of fence, land, good silences, and spending becomes broken? spending, breaking, chicken, egg, simple, too many words, to read, to write, so which will come first?

Liz B.Fledgling

Traci Brimhall
I scare away rabbits stripping the strawberries
in the garden, ripened ovaries reddening
their mouths. You take down the hanging basket
and show it to our son—a nest, secret as a heart,
throbbing between flowers. Look, but don’t touch,
you instruct our son who has already begun
to reach for the black globes of a new bird’s eyes,
wanting to touch the world. To know it.
Disappointed, you say: Common house finch,
as if even banal miracles aren’t still pink
and blind and heaving with life. When the cat
your ex-wife gave you died, I was grateful.
I’d never seen a man grieve like that
for an animal. I held you like a victory,
embarrassed and relieved that this was how
you loved. To the bone of you. To the meat.
And we want the stricken pleasure of intimacy,
so we risk it. We do. Every day we take down
the basket and prove it to our son. Just look
at its rawness, its tenderness, it’s almost flying.
Logan Robertson Aug 2018
Stuffed seals.
Sits shelf,
soaking sunshine,
standing sentry,
soliciting smiles.
Shoppers smitten,
strike smiles,
spending silver.
Storied seals,
send shoppers shrilling.
stitch supplementary shipments,
shaking store,
sustaining sales.
Sales staff splendidly stock shelf.
Such salvation, seals seeks.
Successfully, seashells.

Logan Robertson

Create friendship
No reason starting tug war
When there is no reason
For whom

Are you promoting villains?

The villain always chased other people’s wealth
I saw the souls walking but with one characteristic
Englishman showed me
I interpreted right

I'm not writing.

I had seen the patient in the looting crime
The Doctor in his room had no idea

The victim said
Do things for me
You are spending time on the villains
Forgetting that it is the rise of the sun that matters

The victim paid the price
Despite doing the right thing

One day I saw the pigeon flying free in the sky
But he is very old now
Cannot fly much

Dr Baljit Singh
Sunday 18 February 2018
lX0st Nov 2014
I'm drowning in your moans
Every word that melts from your lips
Floods the room about us
Suffocating me into believing
That I would be satisfied
Spending my last moments
Staring into your eyes
laura Oct 2018
jewelry, shining on her neck
in the glow of the night
goes through my mind all day
want some, but it’s too girly
maybe it’s the status
but then again, i’m broke and spending
all my money on clothing anyways
Joe Workman Jul 2017
I could write you more, you know.
And I would, but it feels wrong to.
I could call you, too, but again...
Look, I love you, okay, and
there's no way around that,
no hiding from it.
I know that in this life
we can't be a thing.
That really makes me want the next life,
but I'm also scared there won't be one.
It's a ******* mess, really.
I'm a ******* mess.
I don't let you see it, though;
I pretend I'm good at being friends.
Have I fooled you?
No, of course not.
I am thankful, though, that you
don't rub it in.
You are kind.
You are a rarity.
And so I pine, don't I?
Spending so much time wishing while
spending so much time afraid of that wish coming true.
Reality is the biggest letdown and
I know that I am a close second to it.
And if you ever read this, isn't it attractive to see such a ****** man, complaining about things he could change but won't?
I hate this more than a lot of things:
my unwillingness to do what's best for me at the expense of others.
This isn't pretty or poetry,
but it's honest, and I wish you knew I write here.
julianna May 2018
What would you do if you saw a girl spending pennies and pearls on food?
She gobbles it up and then she barfs, which she thinks makes her feel good.
Later that night, with her conscious she'll fight as the guilt eats her for lunch
But she'll never tell of the story where of she went to after brunch.
Molly Nicole Sep 2017
Taking off my socks
Is my favorite part
Of taking a shower
Or having *** with someone else
We always used to wear ours when we felt vulnerable
But the memories of you scattered throughout my room
Make me feel vulnerable all the time
I wear my heart on my sleeve
Or more accurately my ankle
I procrastinate spending time with you
Like I procrastinate all of the good things
That may eventually cause me pain
I'm afraid to be happy
To the point of appreciating the loss of the cause
When I'm with you
It's like the city of Ember
And someone turned on all the lights
It's not quite beautiful
But at least we can see
My first major heartbreak.
Michael Marchese Jul 2018
If I could simply overcome
Possessive nouns and vowel sounds
I would not need to study ******
Heavy lies’ beheaded crowns
But you make martyrs with your charter
School exclusive service sector
To systemically condemn me
To the destitution nectar
Of the corner story *****’s
Potential Cinderella caged in
The statistics of the mathematic
Overdose equation
Comatose’n like a Holy Ghost
Of tranquil ranking party skanks
Whose tanks plan out the projects
For the boys still shootin’ blanks
And then the slavers liberate
Some nation-state of god forsaken
Oil barons salivate
To taste the poison Apple’s stake in
Stock in stuffer markets takin’
All the products people makin’
Privatizing profit-docket lawless
Mother Nature rapin’
For some scarcity disparities
In wealth I can’t attain
You keep me feeding on the bottom
From the top, you make it rain
So as the brains continue drainin’
In amenity dependency
I tinker with the inner-machinations
Now the enemy
You’ve made me out to be you see
My generation’s future’s bleaker
Than the past in full HD
Kered Jun 2017
I'm hungry and tired but
i won't go home,
Got too many sisters,
Mom and dad's getting old,

How can i make it
on my own?

Or else drift in madness
where the world never turns,
And the fields make these noises
all night long—

I'd rather come up,
Find some honey to bone,
Take her around then
get another one,

Any challenge ours to meet,
Every treasure won;
Spending all my riches
on the eye of the sun—

Or else sell myself short to
bask in the mud.
laura Jul 2018
three chord-ed pop song
like still afloat
i'm high and i'm free
spending all of my money
on gucci and designer
look like i'm rich to feel better
millennial cry for help
american dreams are easier
to chase if i stay asleep
Next page