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Matthew Jan 17
a very small step that goes to the next.
It leaves and stops with fair hesitation.
Waiting and Restless.
Starting and Stopping
The movements going fast.
The feet, stomping.
The running, the saving, the freedom.
The tendency to always precede them.
Blur of speed
Never Stopping
The world asking
for silence
Quick response of
Stomp! Stomp!
The sound of a quickening run
patty m Jun 2014
A nightmare whispers in my ear
sidles down, spreading wasp-like wings
as it hisses between pointy teeth
words of chaos and confusion.

Disturbing revelations
whirr, jitter, and chatter as I flinch.
Its consumptive rattle spraying spittle
emits a putrid scent reminiscent of rodent.

Milky blue and innocent eyed
yet dastardly depraved,
the imp reaches out
shivering with excitement,
ignoring my piteous complaint.

Oppressive gray skinned nightmare
barbed prehensile tail
your vicious stinger
breeds monsters.

Failing light
the fallen rain
congers danger
Between bouts of nausea
I watch him ******* breath from mewling infants,
opening plague tombs, unwinding sheets,
and I cringe with the fear of being buried alive.

Clinging to bones, scant hair on a withered head,
I cry burning tears,
my face seamed with scars.
Not dead yet, but powerless to refute him.

Leagues of the dead march by
rank after rank of their numbers
never staggering to an end,  

I try to rise, wheezing , tongue swelled over teeth
eyeballs bulging, as their footsteps grow louder.

Still I dangle chained to this moment
terrified ,
as nightmare rears its head
but even more frightened of dying.
Tammy M Darby Sep 2016
Staggering explosions of venom-laden light
In a world of darkness constructed by man
Debauched genius and greed tainted sight
In second blinding rays of silver filled the skies

Trillions of once living humans lay dead
Empty warm footprints were life once led
Gray piles of ash on radiation kissed the ground
The species ended
Beating hearts unbound

It was not the first bombed dropped
Nor the cause of their fall
Or the second
That followed
When Azrael began to call
The third
The Destroyer
slowly seeping life
The fourth
Spreading it fiendish tentacles
Created from evil and lies
The fifth
Came in waves of poison rippled sound
The sixth
Was death cold sister come to hover round

But came the seventh
In clap of thunder
None now left to worship
In awe and wonder
The seal had been opened
The convent broken between God and man  
The punishment foretold
Revealed in the blood of the lamb

@Tammy M. Darby September 3, 2016. All poems are stored in author base
JB Sep 2018
you wish you
knew
where you
could walk off to

-to Night:
half-drunk-
staggering cigarettes-
slamming a-
streetlight
shimmering
view of
two-
sidewalks snaking-
who?-



what few
friends you
have are all sleeping
or dead
or in your own head
and all the bars close
too

soon...



(you
stop)


intentionless
on the edge of your
bed
with the final four
cigarettes

and that ******* song still in your head
Amanda Noel Jul 5
I walk alone,
through this ****
called life.

Reject my existence.
Nothing left to give.
Aimlessly, trying to find reason.
Looking for tomorrow,
to get out of this season.

Exhausted
with the amount of work it takes
to keep a straight face.
Knowing
each and every encounter
holds a place in someone's fate.

So, I walk alone,
through the eerie hallway of doors.

Reject my existence.
Nothing left to give.
Staggering through the seasons,
searching for the strength to grow,
But, for what reason?
I  liked comparing life to an eerie hallway of doors. On one side you can look at "this **** called life" as a negative, or, in the way that manure helps things grow. The butterfly's effect can be overwhelming, especially if there's tattered wings.
Nassif Younes Mar 2016
On a beat back street
In a dirt cheap
Glasgow room,
Where the sunlight glow
Fights through an unwilling window
Of stained-glass stained
With *****, beer and the cheapest wine
Like a film to dim the shine
Into a glimmering East-end gloom.

At 2 a.m.
With sweaty hands and soaring head,
It hadn’t happened,

At 6 a.m.
With desert hands and pounding head,
We think it happened,

Sally swears that Harry kissed Mary,
Who had been leading on Larry,
Who was torn between Mary and his girlfriend,
Jane.
Opinions flew in a flurry
And tensions built in a hurry
“It’s such a worry” she said.
“Such a scandal and worry;
You go through life
And life goes through you.
Don’t you think?
No?
What do you think?”

I think we are all slouching
With both feet in the grave,
Too rotten for the worms.

At 10 a.m.
With empty hands and nothing head,
It happened.

We step through the hole in the door,
Staggering beneath a sickening sun
As it sheds its yellow skin
Over a canvas of modest graffiti
And a bin spilled over
By a beggar from Tahiti.
A man asks his lover where they’re going
And with both hands
On her phone, she said
“You can fill me,
But you’ll never complete me.
One day you will leave me…
Or maybe even delete me.”

Round the corner,
With both windows broken,
The first bar we find is already open.
We raise our glasses -
A drink to start the day
Or continue the one we started
The day before yesterday.

***********
2 a.m.

What hands and what head?
It never happened.
We are one day older
And nothing will ever happen.
What can I say it provoked me.
The smokey black slithered with sultry grace
passed all my carefully placed defenses.

Humor me, it spoke
caressing the ear.

I watched the glow of it's single eye
searching my mind
The black became a tether
knotting, choking.

What can I say I did nothing,
little lamb laid to the slaughter.

I remember it choking, the smokey black.

Like a raven haired lover,
A mistress of shadow wills my curiosity
In that moment, lost to the movement
I would or could never return.

Pinned to obsession
staggering the lines of possession
A rebel's tango begins
the staccato steps to be my end.
about letting your problems win, night anguishes
Axion Prelude Dec 2017
The solitude of when two hands meet garners thoughts of warmth and want for needs unspoken

I miss the days when simplicity was as common as the delicate exhale shared when two lips release from one a other

To gaze through sultry windows of the soul, soft yet weary with fervent witness, beckons notions of wanderlust to a place that shines brighter than any I've ever seen

I watch, bound by valor for not seeking more through presumptuous ineptitude; bewildered by the plight you've been mired by, I wince at the thought of harm coming to you

Your trust exudes a powerful purpose; wrought from the ashes of all that have claimed to impose before, I succumb to the surfeit of such a staggering meaning in that gift

I hold myself in bated breath for the day you would ever need my heart for your own, but stay guided to be here in spirit, ever more

Although my basic wishes be forlorn, in somber muse I find great purpose to be a part of this grand fate bestowed upon me

You are all I've ever sought; and through disbelief, I am remiss of all that's mired me before

If only, one day, perhaps we could be more..
Matt Shaw Sep 2018
Something taken for granted is inevitable,
I gobble up what i'm granted
But I must have missed something
So my flesh-- it is edible.

Sometimes I think
I'd like to give It a snack,
Call it quits
Because I just feel like such an *******.

My tendency for weakness is staggering
My legs are strong
But at the same time, staggering
And I want to let their disapproval punch a hole straight through my life

Sure, they'd say they didn't want me dead
But life is a parasite unto itself
And I'm sure they mean it
But I'm much more certain
They mean everything,

What if that meant I'd take my life?
Shaylie Nov 2018
I cant love you anymore
And I dont think you would
Come back
This time if I stopped you
You still havent recovered
From my staggering wave
Of childish revenge

And I'm so sorry that I loved you so much
It turned me into something viscous
Delicately, extremely delicately, Penelope Bloom wrapped her headscarf into place. The fragrance was staggering to inhale.
The heightening scent of Summer radiated from her countenance.
Beneath the scarf was a blossom of red roses, scarlet tulips, pansies, bluebells, daisies and every other flower a botanist would roll off the tip of their tongues.

Penelope had shaved her head the night before as part of a charity awareness for 'The shelter for broken hearted Skinheads Society'.

In her bedsit was a shared bathroom. The shampoo smelled divine and she had poured an abundance on to her naked scalp to calm it down. This potion was actually an elixir with restorative properties for botanical flora. It was a trial potion left there in error by a scientist two doors down.

Silently she walked out of her bedsit and holding down her panic took a stroll into the Botanical Gardens for guidance.
She could not work up the courage and decided to sit on a park bench and figure things out.

As she did, Henry Hammer & Tongs McVicar noticed her. He was the founding member of the 'Shelter for Broken hearted Skinheads Society' and he eagerly sat down beside her to thank her profusely for her support and kindness.

He was overwhelmed by the heady scent emanating from Penelopes scarf.

'Good God!'  he cried

'You smell divine! '

In defensive shock Penelope replied 'No Henry, you are smelling the gardens'

'Isn't it beautiful though?'

Just then an old lady walked by.

'Excuse me lovey'

'There are a bouquet of flowers streaming down your shoulders!'

The flowers on Penelopes head could not be contained and burst from the scarf.

Henry Hammer & Tongs looked on in bewilderment as Penelope ran off like a galloping garden of colour.

The old lady gasped in amazement.

Running back to her bedsit Penelope bumped into the scientist.

'Oh my God!' He cried

'Eureka! Eureka!'

Penelope was like a moving forest at this stage.

'You know about this!' She cried

'Well! Answer me!'

David Longfellow just looked though and for a long time stared and stared before he spoke another word.
James Floss Mar 30
Everything living
Requires things dying
Nature is beautiful cruelty

It’s thermodynamics
An energy gradient
A food cascade

Staggering connectedness
Exquisite fragile quilt
Sadly, loose strings pulled
jl Dec 2018
Hope keeps shining from afar.
Her tears gush forth,
Her thoughts eating her alive.
Cut off from the rest,
Brutally knocked flat.
Life pried from her chest;
But she goes on...
   Staggering…    
     Alone…  
To let go - to no longer feel
The ground she steps on everyday -
Sorrows burning her brain.
A million broken thoughts lurking behind her smile,
Dimming the blue luster of her eyes.
Too long a sacrifice
Can make a stone
Of the heart.

~ j.l.
Medusa Apr 12
if I could escape the river, crawl under
hide myself away until I heal enough
for travel

would you come to me
by silver shadow of tree

if your face is open like leaves
as I wander after your sadness
eating every bite of tears a roux
so deserved as to be dissolved

why do we still dance like demons
my shame, where has it gone?
shame came from other places
never from you, only joy

****** mysteries lie on the floor
unapologetically left to the tides
we died quietly, on a weekday

no one saw the corpses, we
forgot to obey, no more photos
now pointless the perps moan

staggering along dragging
limp notebook resentments
relentless as ever

time, the very best trickster
eventually won the game
smile to see with no surprise

love’s flag is still alive
believe in great possibility
Donall Dempsey Aug 2018
"C'EST PRESQU'AU BOUT DU MONDE..."
( IT WAS ALMOST TO THE END OF THE WORLD )

She believed that
deep deep inside her

the flame of a femme fatale
burned brightly.

Could imagine herself stepping out of
some classic Film Noir.

Cultivated herself
to look like Maire Windsor

opposite the dangerously gorgeous
John Garfield.

But her life it seemed had her
stepping into an Edward Hopper.

The isolation and the paint
still wet.

The lonely lady
glimpsed in an hotel window

from a passing train
autumnal rain.

Still she acted always as if
she was in her own movie

walking around  her tiny flat
naked

except for red stilettos
red earrings...red lipstick.

Making up her own snappy lines
to some imaginary leading man.

"Are you decent?"
"Yes""

"But you're....you're naked!"
"You only asked if I was decent!"

The mirror laughed
catching the reflection of who

she could have been
given half the chance.

She never
stood a chance.

She threw a cigarette up in the air
caught it between her lips

her one and only
party trick.

Lit or unlit.
Searching for middle C

on a battered piano
her mind off key

abandoning it
the piano's yellow smile.

She watched the sunlight
carve a block of time

out of the dividing wall.
fading the wallpaper roses.

The bed that was always
empty...always unmade.

She danced to Weil's
Youkali Tango.

Put it on again...again.
Scratching an already scratched record.

The needle gathering fluff.
The porcelain milkmaid...dust.

She disliked the way sweat
gathered under her *******.

They were always a little too large.
Hated men staring so hard.

Ahhhh the faded romance
a sunset heart attack.

Couldn't have wrote
herself a better script.

Staggering in her dance
gasping that all too unsubstantial

air as if trying to
catch time

the presentpastfuture
falling out of her hand.

The wooden acorn
of the tattered blind

tapping against
the ***** window pane.

Neon going green.
Then red.

Now blue.
And then green again.
Staggering through the ancient doors,
of unknown warriors' repent;
Bravely abiding signals ahead,
despite the shroud of deep descent.

Wondering now what's truly at stake,
when crisscross patterns reject;
The straight and narrow walk ahead,
in the shields' protective ascent.

Crowds which curry fearsome thought,
will soon shrivel up and die;
As slings and arrows pierce the night,
of corrupting phantoms' lies.

A ghost lives on beneath the earth,
its wisdom rules the force;
Which cuddles up to man or beast,
in competition for discourse.

Let others call the crisscross game,
the worst its ever known;
But legal eagles crack the code,
reflected in steel and stone.

And everyone should rue the day,
when miracles have succumbed;
To raging wars that still survive,
in a world that's lost and numb.
Adam Kinsley Feb 19
'I left my dreams in the sand...
On a beach, named Weirs
With a plights of distaste...
...and, one more demon for each freckle on Her face'

The smoke cleared between my eyes
I wrestled with each plagued notion of solace
My indifference indentured every passing second--
Here, I am the only fool

There is no place to flee from this silence
The past is all that speaks
Reflection is Epimethius' lover:
I am staggering to relieve all which haunts me

This callous heart of stone defeats me
I deceive my own endeavors
These two eyes have seen far too much
As they fall back into their defense...
Makumi Jul 13
Mistress,
Your's a charm you never shroud
But one you proudly flaunt
You've got my heart drunken
Staggering,
Beating for you
Sober me up.
beenseen May 17
We sit in these walls
With a million doors pressing closed

They close until you stand up
and pry with your ****** fingers
at least one door open

Even a crack can let in the light.

Im sick of prying with ****** fingers - I want this door flung open now!

Ive felt a few feelings in my life
None that didn't do me help
None that didnt lead me to this exact thought.

**** this im ******* done!

Ive discovered who and what
Its the where and how thats staggering
In circles in front of me
Running like the headless chicken

That i assume is me
But its not
Im in full spectrum

At least i honestly feel like i am

Ive been tricked into a destiny that has no piece in my puzzle

And i have to be brave enough to be all my own parts

That's what they all fear the most

Let be those
Who judge you

Pretending is the hardest game
And im not its number one player

I know thats ok

Its ok

Ive done my mending and changing - as i grow towards my light

How do i do all this ****?
Its confusing
Its bothering

How do you try sow new seeds
Or even mend to the old ones
when someone took a great fat stinking **** in your garden?

I suppose
You have to shovle the **** out
Repurpose it into a sort of fertilizer

Yet i still need to source the mud
& some how you got to keep those seeds safe
& the few buds you have,
some how they need to stay alive

And its wrenching my heart
& i want to pull it out of my chest
& lay it down in some tool box

Perhaps for hands that know how to do with it better.
Thoughts on growing thicker skin
RAO Jul 4
These days they couldnt live up to my ink stains.
drippin sweat upon a page with a heat wave, I been meaning to ask
what happens if you beat Isis in freezetag? ..But the Free stags backwards; - "'gats" pointed right at ya'.
Steps ahead of the game throwin spiral staircases.
If they got fourarms we eight em,  Put so much metal in yo mouth you'd think you got braces..
Aslan to simba, smoke afghan and channeling it through my pencil, quick flicks of the wrist swift like kimbo.
**** an intro, seen a red range rover and limbod, couldnt even see through his windows.
They wondering whos the target, Beam these drunks up but not like a martian.
Breaking every single law like i'm free balling through parlament. take a ****** out with an arbalest.
Lord of the Jungle, so many horns on my head - 'Staggering' the best, batterin defences
Tom Sawyers calling his henchmen, Bobby boy you're not all that impressive.
serpentine a flow rattling beats in-cog-nito, invading cellular structure, punching amoebas.
While these hoes get more D then "Carlos Mencia".. in the space craft with amelia, higher then helium.
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