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Sofia Von Oct 2013
Strangers are my best friends
Even feelings are for even people... Know anyone who matches that description?
I'd like to cuddle away the problems
**** someone while crying
No
I don't think so
I want to be felt and loved. And craved like fluent chocolate gushing
Down the corners of my mouth
Lapped up by your tongue
I wish

Scratched letters over a blank canvas
Make for messages of clarity.
Nails on a chalk board every time you etch, but its the promise of the next word that makes it tolerable.
These pick-up-stick letters are angry and depressed but fit together like bread on butter. creamy song lyrics you scribble but there’s no tune.
An obstacle foreseen and ignored.
The rhythm of voice catches, flame to syncopation, and feebly you grow with your words to become the song

Sung now, in churches
Do they realize from whence their hymns originated? Deep down, long ago, in the valley of hidden emotional pangs
Your envy was too rich for your body
Yet big enough for this... congregational ritual.
Heart tears are beautiful for creation
To existence
They're treacherous

I smile and admire my work
Blow a smoke ring over the wet words not quite solidified on the page
Smudge
Better with a flaw
I don't smoke
Im a social stress smoker
Self diagnosed
Self medicated
So you see I'm an aspiring artist
Although most of my works are ****, I don't really give up.
Its just this part of me I can’t always explain
That happens
They’re my impulse of choice
A painting, a drawing, a poem, a song, dance, all music (save country).
Even little quick thoughts or plans I have are peaceful to record.
It's times like this night where I should really be fast in my REM cycle, dreaming of crazy scenarios to **** up and uncover a truth upon my waking.
But I'm on my notes
Typing away the babble of nonsense thats streaming on demand
Tonight
I'll exit with a line
Or so, I'm not sure
Breathe in the plant, puff out love hits and over expose the motion picture. Each passing present memory is precious to the cycle I don't really want to define.
But I'm in love with its inhabitants I can't get over them
And each day is another episode
But... Is this a sitcom, or a documentary?
These words, are time filled

Cold feet shouldn't be a thing.
Robert Ronnow Aug 2015
You can feel it spinning
                                         fast
the Chinese, Japanese, American and European junk
orbiting at several thousand miles per hour could
                                                           ­                             punch
a hole in your armor, future. Thanksgiving passes, then Christmas.
A nuclear detonation, we absorb that fact. The scientist in us
delays sadness by recording observations. What is is,
sorrow's for tomorrow.

By reducing probabilities to near zero I hope to avoid sorrow.
In yr suburb.
In history when there were many fewer people we still found reason
to cross space, explore, trade and war. Now
                                                             ­                 overpopulation
may not be the problem but food and water shortages
get our attention.
                              I have Korf's fears.
And hear what I want to hear.

Some hear singing, some hear speeches or complaining.
Martin Luther King sang his complaints, dreamed of a brotherly nation
which came to pass, spinning fast, past Thanksgivings, past jailings
into reconnaissance, small wars, drones, renaissance, inventions.
At the border,
                         where the Juaristas fought Maximilian:
Benito Juarez (1806-1872) Zapotec Amerindian who served five terms as president of Mexico. He was the first Mexican leader who did not have a military background and also the first full-blooded indigenous person to lead a country in the western hemisphere in over 300 years. For resisting French occupation, overthrowing the Empire, and restoring the Republic, Juarez is regarded as Mexicoxs greatest and most beloved leader. 

Each soldier chooses what war at what border, or just
                                                            ­                                   shows up
spinning with the planet.
The neighborhood and surrounding nature is orderly.
But always there is implied force, violence holding it together,
                                                       ­                                                       chaos
is contained
kept out of the playground, government buildings, childrenxs games
but lies within
the force maintaining order, a spinning tumor, a gyroscope of
                                                              ­                                                inertia.
The force of the spinning, the speed of the force bring one to one's
      death
seasons, weather, earth.
                                         While the emperor's being beheaded
enduring seeds are discovered and invented, cross-fertilized and bred.
Corn, yams, potatoes, sunflowers, rice.
                                                           ­       Food is life and a good study,
useful discipline
                           daily meditation.
                                                     ­   The fighting man protects the farmer
and the farmer feeds the fighting man.
They elect the governor
                                        who serves the people. Peace out.

Peace and war are transitory manifestations of spinning
electrons, planets.
                               The sun's a nuclear detonation, essential
to spring and planting. Food is life. Seeds endure
if man goes to his daily discipline. If woman is man.
Birth and death
                           together are orderly, the border can be known,
voluntarily. How we live together, by prayer or force,
is our story.

Knowledge
from laboratory to starry corridor keeps us very
                                                            ­                         versed.
Did Juaristas consider the rights of animals not to be eaten?
Not during that spinning.
                                              And perform the history that surrounds us.
All that can be done
is written in the spinning:
"The people of the land, the Indian farmers of North America - like their counterparts in Mesoamerica, the Andean region, and the Amazon - have continuously cultivated maize, beans, squash and other crops for more than five thousand years. One of the salient features of their traditional farming systems is the high degree of biodiversity. These traditional farming systems have emerged over centuries of cultural and biological evolution, and they represent the accumulated experience of indigenous farmers interacting with the environment without access to external inputs, capital or scientific knowledge. In Latin America alone, more than 2.5 million hectares under traditional agriculture in the form of raised fields, polycultures, agroforestry systems and the like document indigenous farmers' successful adaptations to difficult environments."
--Wikipedia,  "Benito Juarez"
-- Altieri , Miguel A., Foreword to Enduring Seeds: Native American Agriculture and Wild Plant Conservation, by Gary Paul Nabhan, The University of Arizona Press, 1989

www.ronnowpoetry.com
Knit Personality Jul 2018
He spins around &
keeps on spinning
& spinning & spin-
ning & spinning &
spinning & spin-
ning & spinning &
spinning & spinning
& spinning & spin-
ning & spinning &
then he vomits while
spinning & spinning
& spinning & spin-
ning & spinning &
spinning & spinning
& spinning & spin-
ning & spinning &
then he falls down.

#
matthew listener Nov 2014
My head is spinning
Temptation winning
I've lost what to live for
Instead I'll spin for you

Went to the doctor
He asked "What you broke for?"
Communication
And lack of patience

Spinning for you
Feeling for you
And I cannot take another
There is no other you
This is recorded as a song here:
https://soundcloud.com/thegraffbrothers/spinning
ohellobeautiful Aug 2018
i am not alone you see?
for everything i see is me
the trees, the mountains
and the moss covered trees
without them i would not exist
nothing in this world persists
without you either... just be still
can’t you feel your cells are eager?
knowing just how much you grew
doing all those things you do
at all the perfect moments too
your energy leaves deep imprints
within the grooves of all existence
the fallen leaves can feel your truth
the sky forms colors pink to blues
just as your heart loves to do
the sun seeks darkness
to shine through
all you bloom
the world is
spinning
all for
you
Annatman Mar 20
Submerged in zero gravity, the mind
Free floating, un-anchored, in the space
Surrounding the fixed point, a focus,
Seen from every perspective,
Holding its own emptiness from where
There is no turning away. But how
Captivating the vacuum is, in it
A carousel of imaginary views,
In the shape of anything desired and out of reach. I would spend an eternity in
This holographic void.
Are you in control of your reality?
Alexis Jul 13
the people
the.. bodies
the humans..
the faces,
too many
too many faces.

I thought maybe I would be okay,
that I can do this on my own,
but my mind betrays me once again,
my lungs and heart go faster than I can carry them.

there's no way out,
I'm in too deep
yes I'm drowning

but nothing
can save me .
T Aug 2018
Well my mind is going ninety miles an hour....do I think she needs me yes
There is a few things I must  take care of yes I know....that will be done within the coming days
Can she do it alone ......yes she can
But because I love her and I am her biggest fan.....but will she make it without my help absolutely.....but with my help it will make it easier on her.
Right now the world is spinning round and on its axis...the reason why things are pretty up in the air right now the feeling in the air is different...does she think that I am for real this time ? I hope so.....to do what I must to prove to the only woman that I have ever loved that I will be in her life again and this time forever.....we shall always be together....these things that are stuck in my head....for real if it were not for her I believe I would be dead...so in a sense I owe my life
Never meant to cause any strife
The world is spinning so fast .....I must slow it down just a bit so I can do all I need to.....so when the moon is full and there are stars aplenty in the sky and all my work is done......I will get down on bended knee...and we all know what happens next....to hear those bells .....first I must finish what I started .....before the day we parted...my sweet baby I will give it my best.....if it does work we all know the rest....
#one last try
King Panda Aug 2017
a crocus opens and
closes with the stream of
midnight moon.

the playmate of exhaustion
crosses the room
in his heavy, black boots
to close the curtains.

goodbye, light.
goodbye, pride of lions
and boy transformed
into a werewolf.

a scratch
of larceny,
the cuddle of
maple leaves rotting,
the magnet spinning
in rocket-ship orbit.

all secrets held in
feathers,
in hair compounded
into strings of
black opal,
and limbs stenciling
comets around
five feet of woman.

nothing in the talk
can suffocate—a quick
and easy birth of
ecstasy and the emotional
sidestep into the dark
of slumber,
seemingly feminine but
dreams strong as
barbed wire.

when to sleep?

a question finger-written
on my chest.
MacKenzie Warren Oct 2018
my world hasn't stopped spinning since you left
diagnosed with vertigo
a constant whirl of hazel eyes
a monotone voice on replay
a skipping record in my head
unsure of which direction i'm going
one second i'm next to you in bed
wrapped in white sheets
your breath hot against the back of my neck
and the next
i'm surrounded by darkness
i turn for you and
i sink deeper into this empty bed
love becoming a word covered in dust
i am covered in dust
trapped in the memories of yesterday
trapped in my own head
constantly spinning
Falling
Falling
Falling
Spiraling like a top.
The world spins as I walk,
My body.
Desperate for nutrition.
But beautiful.
I still haven't hit rock bottom.
Spinning out of control.
Aaron Combs Dec 2016
My beloved, tonight it is more than perfect, the zephyr winds sing
sweetly your name and the crystal stars shine like your earrings.
As the White Mountains glint gracefully, and the wind speaks
over our fingers, upon our balcony, let’s dance, my beloved.

Now over the thousand streams and star crystals in the air,
You can see our prayers fill up the milky rivers in the sky.
Below the lights of Christmas, before the blue rivers of stars,
let’s dance like the shadows and the circles of the moonlight.

Now dreams rise over like the wind and shine so easily
But time falls quickly, and worries fall away so slowly.
So let the rage of your fears dance around and under your legs.
For the world is falling asleep, calling for the colors of their dreams.

So let the tresses of your hair fall freely,
And the wind of your perfume
Soak up the flames of your heart.
Spinning like the starlight, tasting every feeling,
Let the steel blue sky and its stars fall all around you.

Dance wildly, my beloved, let's dance like the songbird who sings,
let’s dance forever, until we wash into the skyline of our dreams.
A Daily Poem
Shofi Ahmed Oct 2017
I know not how many
million stars there are.
But I know there is
only one earth.

Maybe we have counted
the protons of the atom
as many it has in its nucleus
counted the electrons on the run
orbiting the nucleus.
But the spinning circle is a zero
yet to compute the unifying one!
It's a pattern spans the universe.

I know there are
billions of us human
out there on earth.
But all I want is only one.
Just to count on
a permanent one!  

The big earth
is a bigger zero null.
Standing on barefoot
without the perpetual one.
No glue, no roof nor a sign
only on one pure rigid science!
It’s hard to tell
To trust my mind
Or my heart

I’m tired of falling apart.

So instead i’m spinning in circles
Waiting and waiting
for the change to happen

I have tears in my eyes
And I don’t know why

It’s how i feel inside.
It’s how i go to hide
when i really want to shine.
It’s how i  turn shy
when i want to sing,
because i’m scared of what the others would think..

All i want to do is live
But I’m stuck behind a cage.
And I’ve trapped myself,
Now all I want is out of this personal hell.

I don’t want to fade.

It’s how my mother died,
It’s how my father disappeared
And now he hides

He’s a coward.
But i guess so am I.

Now i’m here, to face life alone
Until our Creator
Calls me at the higher throne.

I hope i at least find love in this lifetime.
Or at least
myself
-k.c.
Morgan Mercury Jun 2014
You lay in a field of flowers counting each bird that passes overhead.
You've erased concern and decided to live for the moment because you always would say, "we might be dead by tomorrow."
Flowers grew from your heart and bloomed across your lungs,
creating a garden that sang the most beautiful hymns,
while my garden was withering.
Each breath you took was never wasted,
but I couldn't help but count mine like they were birds passing overhead.
Every night you would view the stars and moon with pure amazement as if it was your first time seeing them.
You gave all your love to me and each kiss was coined in my pocket.
You fell in love with me every night and I fell for all your hymns.
Soon enough the world would pass us by but I wouldn't blink because I could live off your touch for the rest of my time.
You showed me there is more in life than just one color,
but instead, the world is a whole painting with colors that can't be described.
You showed me just how beautiful the world was.
You taught me how to grow beauty from my eyes but lately, I've been dreaming and falling for stars.
Imagining what it'd be like slow dancing with the planets, getting lost in constellations.
But I'm just not ready to go yet however I do not control time.
You showed me that dying can be beautiful.
That we'll be okay because when we leave we all become one with the earth and one with nature.
So love, love me until time runs out,
until I become one with nature.

And many years later as time starts to fly by and you slowly start to watch your clock tick down, you'll know where to find me, my love.
I'll be up with stars.
Somewhere lost in the cosmos.
I'll be spinning with the planets dreaming about what it would feel like to be able to walk on flowers again.
2014
Racquel Davis Jul 2014
Psychedelic spokes
Spinning out from
An undetermined center

Periwinkle powdered
Spines that invite
Me to feel

Making a point
At my prying fingertips
From smooth to prickly

Quaint you are
When your fragrance
Murmurs a tone of earth  

A lotus of the desert
Silently beaming through
A plump body

An infant
With little
Needs

©Copyright 2014 Written and Edited by Racquel Davis
SassyJ Aug 2018
Sometimes I wish I could be a man
the sun will just make me move
dance like Finley Quaye
gathering rainbows
as the sun rays penetrates
deeply through the layers
of the spinning dreidel

Sometimes I wish I could be a man
may be the girls will stare and think
wink and weakly muse
gathering rainbows
as the winter sacrifices it’s cold spell
over the mast of a mountain peak
past the cold freeze of the snowy frost

......If I were a man, I would lay her reign by the summerly graffiti trail. Then, sing her lullabies made of rubies and red roses........
I did a Facebook app where the perception of my face was turned to a man.Most people thought I look like Finley Quaye. Quite happy with my gender. The yin and yan of a human existence.
Dusting off the rabbity
that squirrely tempo anxiety,
closing in with night.

The irresistible pattern
the irrational illogical fight
a battle with one’s discipline,
mirroring our might.

I make it home a fluttering
belly twirled and muttering,
I tell myself tis alright!

The damage done, and everyone,
I’m just like them and millions more
succumbing at the Devil’s door.

And the taste, the burn,
the healing calm,
the shaking and the thinking gone.

Knock one back, slam out another
night is early, rock it brother,
Tying on a swilly swirling
buzzed-out brain and mind a twirling. . .

“Ahhhh…”

I feel better now, exhilarated,
exasperation falls to stout resound;
I pour again and knock it down!

“Ahhhh…”

Spinning now, not to say I’m spun
but choosey choosing several a pun
I see myself an accomplished one!
Yes, that’s it, that is me,
look upon with thoughts of glory
yank open the freezer for glass that’s hoary. . .

How cool am I? certainly not boring
all night I’m here, pouring, pouring. . .

Buzz subsides, thoughts slow too,
lurid leering, slobbering swearing,
stupid actions and nothing new?

I lose the bottle,
I lose my shirt,
***** on myself,
pass out in dirt.

Another night of drunken hero,
time that’s wasted for kingly Nero.
But who am I to judge myself?

I’m hardly worse than anyone else?
sara Aug 2018
There's a bird caught in a cage somewhere
and she sings the sweetest song.
A natural beautiful sound;
the Man tells her she's singing it wrong.

She's singing, it's sinning;
bird, stop. She's singing,
he's spinning, then stop...
and a crack...
his mind snaps in his hands.
Some will never understand
the strength in nature's one (wo)man band.
Brother Jimmy May 2017
Fidget spinner
This year's winner

The latest fad
All schoolchildren had

To have

"We have to have it!", they exclaim,
"Last year's toys just aren't the same!"

A nine dollar trilobular spinning wheel?
Why would you need one? What's the deal?
"It demonstrates conservation, Dad.
Can't we PLEEEEASE get some?"

Conservation?

"Conservation of angular momentum"

So it's educational, eh?
Oh, okay.
#fad
Samantha Nguyen Jul 2018
when we are kissing
          (i’m pressed against your chest
          your arms around me).
i spin. not with confusion but with joy.
like a dancer spinning along with music.
you’re the music that winds me.
can you make me your princess.
          (love me, satisfy me).
i can be a beautiful girl
in a cute dress that you’ll run you hands over.
i could feel your skin,
          (my hands slip under your shirt)
my prince.
we can’t get in trouble
                    (...no worries…)
since we have the power.
          (“excused.”)
it’ll be okay.
princesses don’t get in trouble.
          (it’ll all change once i’m queen
          and you’re king).
i’m only queen so you could be my king.
assuage me/ answer me/ gratify me.
patty m Feb 2015
Silly fools,
touching the planchette
as it invades the haunts of spirits and demons
their dangerous interaction
pointing to blackened letters
or the answers yes or no.

Open gateway something relentless creeps to the surface
unbeknownst to anyone.  
Do they think this is a game, this summoning?

Bluesman, playing his guitar
sings about a shadowy man
on a dark road and the bargains he makes.
Moonless skies and rumbling trains
a strange twisting in guts
as a crows caw spreading shiny wings.

Shadows, the long road is filled with shadow,
filigreed limbs darkening fleeting time and the trains with
their black smoky smudge muffling secrets.

A strange man turns up, like a carney in a traveling show
to show us a frightening future.
Spreading prophesies of horrible events along with the demise of millions, with demons gnawing human flesh.
Then too there was the promise of the dead rising;
exhumed bodies, an army of zombies marching.

Old men smoke their cigarettes, lungs crackling
in phlegmy coughs, rheumy eyes filled with pain
as they watch the children **** in frenzied dance
their heads spinning clockwise. . .  
The train chugs off in the distance
as the last illusion crumbles into a dark and rotting hole.

We no longer see the stranger.
as the song comes to an end,
yet disquieting things skitter on the edge of reason
as they slither through our fear.
Up ahead looms a fiery god staying
trajectories of doom and damnation,
while the Bluesman strums his old guitar
on a ghost train going nowhere.
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