"stashing" poems - Hello Poetry

"stashing" poems

What stories could journals tell? What we forget is that they are not just repositories of words but also of thoughts, feelings, emotions They are places in and of themselves Saving these emotions, stashing them away so they can be discovered at a later time. But the true beauty of these journals lies within discovery itself A droplet of water will fall further down a curved surface taking a pale tan color like its surroundings It will fall off the surface Onto the fibers of the page below Leaving a darkened splotch More droplets will follow More tears will follow As twenty years from now A thirty-five year old woman rediscovers the girl she once was.

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Aug 12, 2014

Aug 12, 2014 at 11:28 PM UTC

phillip-hedayatnia

What stories could journals tell? What we forget is that they are not just repositories of words but also of thoughts, feelings, emotions They are places in and of themselves Saving these emotions, stashing them away so they can be discovered at a later time. But the true beauty of these journals lies within discovery itself A droplet of water will fall further down a curved surface taking a pale tan color like its surroundings It will fall off the surface Onto the fibers of the page below Leaving a darkened splotch More droplets will follow More tears will follow As twenty years from now A thirty-five year old woman rediscovers the girl she once was.

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DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, mind block not really posting a lot these days;-| keeping now foot on gas paining away drowns on piles stashing upon jokes on types watching with characters on hope leaving before fall on love starring because stars on align dancing to listen on piano notes writing for heart on no rhyme ------ravenfeels

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Jun 13, 2021

Jun 13, 2021 at 11:06 AM UTC

You Know Them Knowns Not Me

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, mind block not really posting a lot these days;-| keeping now foot on gas paining away drowns on piles stashing upon jokes on types watching with characters on hope leaving before fall on love starring because stars on align dancing to listen on piano notes writing for heart on no rhyme ------ravenfeels

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The fleeing clouds have cleansed the tawny earthen meadows Migrating sun doth steal away waning light of summer’s glee High atop fir boughs bow in wind whispered homage To the sapience the coloured leaves hath gleaned The sweet scent of auburn brindled pinecone clusters Ooze of glistening pitchy resinous fruit Sticky figured squirrels chatter while they gather, Stashing a survival cache of acorns and spinner seeds, For another moment in sleepy winter tide dreams A swirling eddy of spiraling leaves whirl beneath the tall timber Fluttering gracefully with a gravity only falling leaves embolden Enchanting like the evanescent timbre poignant piano notes decay Writhing silent as summer Jasmine’s fragrant final bloom Dandelion wishes soaring higher to kiss the fleeting winged skies Lazily adrift up and over Cascade Mountain Crest Fuzzy treetop flyers ascending far beyond darting dragonflies below The sliver of golden harvest moon’s blossom aglow ,… While wishing upon a shooting star's paling gleams Serendipity sown about whimsically in the blustery wind For to sow the will of untamed heart’s desires A festive troop of Chickadees clinging like tiny acrobats Foraging on ripened ginger hued fir-cone seeds Wings to the sky wave goodbye to the deciduous cadence Softly wafting with a pungent Lavender potion scented breeze There is a secret place where memories go to hide deeply alive Amongst the wild wood and impending leafless trees, The only place on earth I've ever understood a sense of belonging Where Autumn coloured leaves whisper in the gentle breeze ,… “I would do it all over again” Come September ,..when the leaves come falling down © ... September 15th, 2016

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Sep 28, 2017

Sep 28, 2017 at 10:47 AM UTC

Come September ,..when the leaves come falling down

The fleeing clouds have cleansed the tawny earthen meadows Migrating sun doth steal away waning light of summer’s glee High atop fir boughs bow in wind whispered homage To the sapience the coloured leaves hath gleaned The sweet scent of auburn brindled pinecone clusters Ooze of glistening pitchy resinous fruit Sticky figured squirrels chatter while they gather, Stashing a survival cache of acorns and spinner seeds, For another moment in sleepy winter tide dreams A swirling eddy of spiraling leaves whirl beneath the tall timber Fluttering gracefully with a gravity only falling leaves embolden Enchanting like the evanescent timbre poignant piano notes decay Writhing silent as summer Jasmine’s fragrant final bloom Dandelion wishes soaring higher to kiss the fleeting winged skies Lazily adrift up and over Cascade Mountain Crest Fuzzy treetop flyers ascending far beyond darting dragonflies below The sliver of golden harvest moon’s blossom aglow ,… While wishing upon a shooting star's paling gleams Serendipity sown about whimsically in the blustery wind For to sow the will of untamed heart’s desires A festive troop of Chickadees clinging like tiny acrobats Foraging on ripened ginger hued fir-cone seeds Wings to the sky wave goodbye to the deciduous cadence Softly wafting with a pungent Lavender potion scented breeze There is a secret place where memories go to hide deeply alive Amongst the wild wood and impending leafless trees, The only place on earth I've ever understood a sense of belonging Where Autumn coloured leaves whisper in the gentle breeze ,… “I would do it all over again” Come September ,..when the leaves come falling down © ... September 15th, 2016

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Counting Saving Stashing. How many will work? Or! Maybe I can disassemble my Pencil Sharpener. Or better yet, Knit a long, Skinny, Scarf. Where to hang it though? Perhaps I could take a Too Hot Bath, And sit till it's cold. Maybe... Weigh myself, Until I'm satisfied That'd do it too.

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Aug 22, 2019

Aug 22, 2019 at 12:10 AM UTC

Counting Saving Stashing. How many will work? Or! Maybe I can disassemble my Pencil Sharpener. Or better yet, Knit a long, Skinny, Scarf. Where to hang it though? Perhaps I could take a Too Hot Bath, And sit till it's cold. Maybe... Weigh myself, Until I'm satisfied That'd do it too.

Continue reading...

I only wish to be by your side I wish for it every single night, but you didn’t bring me along for the ride, infact you didn’t take notice until I was out of sight. Bury me alive, don’t leave me at the door. I’ve been stretching this drive down to the corner store. I’ve been chain smoking, and breathing the cold air skies, I’ll tell you that I’m joking, and if you cover my ears, I’ll cover your eyes. I’ve been trying to catch the ocean, but ended up drowning in her eyes. I’m stashing away every emotion, and she accuses my sentiment for lies. I want to go on a joyride, I want to drive away but not to hide. I want to go on a joyride, but I’m feeling alone and you’re not by my side. So I’ll turn up the music, and ignore my pride. Travelling the dark street of that old quiet ghost town, the ferret was very discreet, but warned of us of the bear and to slow down. Losing track of time and missing our exit, with conversations holding a life of their own. I’ll remind you so you won’t forget it, now I’ll drive that highway completely alone. Bury me alive, oh wait, you made the shallow grave. I’ve been stretching this drive, it’s pitch black but I remind you to be brave. I’ve been listening to our favourite song, the lyrics I easily memorize. Eliza Dushku’s turn was wrong, but if you be my ears, I’ll be your eyes. I know your measurements; head to toes, and you’re perfect just the way you are. You know I love how you look in my clothes when you sit beside me in my dark car. And all the streetlights went out as we silently took a joyride, it’s not unusual for me but I have my doubt, that it wasn’t amplified by her by my side.

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May 15, 2019

May 15, 2019 at 4:01 AM UTC

I only wish to be by your side I wish for it every single night, but you didn’t bring me along for the ride, infact you didn’t take notice until I was out of sight. Bury me alive, don’t leave me at the door. I’ve been stretching this drive down to the corner store. I’ve been chain smoking, and breathing the cold air skies, I’ll tell you that I’m joking, and if you cover my ears, I’ll cover your eyes. I’ve been trying to catch the ocean, but ended up drowning in her eyes. I’m stashing away every emotion, and she accuses my sentiment for lies. I want to go on a joyride, I want to drive away but not to hide. I want to go on a joyride, but I’m feeling alone and you’re not by my side. So I’ll turn up the music, and ignore my pride. Travelling the dark street of that old quiet ghost town, the ferret was very discreet, but warned of us of the bear and to slow down. Losing track of time and missing our exit, with conversations holding a life of their own. I’ll remind you so you won’t forget it, now I’ll drive that highway completely alone. Bury me alive, oh wait, you made the shallow grave. I’ve been stretching this drive, it’s pitch black but I remind you to be brave. I’ve been listening to our favourite song, the lyrics I easily memorize. Eliza Dushku’s turn was wrong, but if you be my ears, I’ll be your eyes. I know your measurements; head to toes, and you’re perfect just the way you are. You know I love how you look in my clothes when you sit beside me in my dark car. And all the streetlights went out as we silently took a joyride, it’s not unusual for me but I have my doubt, that it wasn’t amplified by her by my side.

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It had been interrupting us all night That electricity between us that we tried to reach by sitting closer, letting our eyes whisper and our thighs caress longing words to each other, making sure we were always together Our laughter mixed and our hands clasped in our knees I swear, that night we could have caught fire And all those feelings we had craved so greedily finally threatened to explode upon us right where we stood, drunk and inches away from each other, packed on a trash can, trying to reach the sky from the roof and I knew that if I just looked up, we would fall into each other and never come back up So I didn't I didn't allow us to scream all that we had felt during the night Instead, I stared down, hiding from your gaze full of dreams, tucking it all far away in my heart, stashing it so my boyfriend would never find it

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Nov 21, 2019

Nov 21, 2019 at 6:27 AM UTC

We could had set Barcelona on fire

It had been interrupting us all night That electricity between us that we tried to reach by sitting closer, letting our eyes whisper and our thighs caress longing words to each other, making sure we were always together Our laughter mixed and our hands clasped in our knees I swear, that night we could have caught fire And all those feelings we had craved so greedily finally threatened to explode upon us right where we stood, drunk and inches away from each other, packed on a trash can, trying to reach the sky from the roof and I knew that if I just looked up, we would fall into each other and never come back up So I didn't I didn't allow us to scream all that we had felt during the night Instead, I stared down, hiding from your gaze full of dreams, tucking it all far away in my heart, stashing it so my boyfriend would never find it

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"Escribe con los pies, poeta de la calle" "Write with your feet, poet of the street" days of no inspiration, nights of emptiness irritation, labor strife strives to divide, the desire, the greedy needy, to unburden, touch lips to tablet, unsatisfied, muse departed for foreign lads in foreign lands, where dark eyed ladies sing put the load right right on me where once I saw poetry, now I see lessons of less, trees blowing whipped me frenzied, saw cappuccino foaming, revisited, now, see but tired dancers, de-auditioned, sent home to wonder, poets with paper cuts but no bleeding, so eager so desirous of conceiving, thinking, will I ever......................................again once, every step a poem, every sidewalk crack, a smack down of nuance, eye recorded, mind disordered, run home, to dance each vision into words, gloria, glorious just to walk my city streets once upon a time, a traffic light rainbow, stopped n' go, was a word design, demarcated visions of spun sugar, bodegas sold me magic beans by the pound, masterminded into cups of delight, treasury's bounty overflowed, now, dregs drain, sink stained, as are my writing utensils, my ink stained, us-less, fingers come visit me, unknown stranger, let us exchange fluidity, barbs, a contest of kissing, eye lashing wit ands shared vision stashing, and together, once more, write with our feet, while holding hands, becoming once more poets of the street. Only, come quickly,

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Jul 2, 2013

Jul 2, 2013 at 5:31 PM UTC

Escribe con los pies, poeta de la calle (Write with your feet, poet of the street)

"Escribe con los pies, poeta de la calle" "Write with your feet, poet of the street" days of no inspiration, nights of emptiness irritation, labor strife strives to divide, the desire, the greedy needy, to unburden, touch lips to tablet, unsatisfied, muse departed for foreign lads in foreign lands, where dark eyed ladies sing put the load right right on me where once I saw poetry, now I see lessons of less, trees blowing whipped me frenzied, saw cappuccino foaming, revisited, now, see but tired dancers, de-auditioned, sent home to wonder, poets with paper cuts but no bleeding, so eager so desirous of conceiving, thinking, will I ever......................................again once, every step a poem, every sidewalk crack, a smack down of nuance, eye recorded, mind disordered, run home, to dance each vision into words, gloria, glorious just to walk my city streets once upon a time, a traffic light rainbow, stopped n' go, was a word design, demarcated visions of spun sugar, bodegas sold me magic beans by the pound, masterminded into cups of delight, treasury's bounty overflowed, now, dregs drain, sink stained, as are my writing utensils, my ink stained, us-less, fingers come visit me, unknown stranger, let us exchange fluidity, barbs, a contest of kissing, eye lashing wit ands shared vision stashing, and together, once more, write with our feet, while holding hands, becoming once more poets of the street. Only, come quickly,

Continue reading...

Over the years I've had a few tries But it's not been a great success Enthusiastic but lacking technique Finishing up a bit of a mess Now Brendon's out there, plying his trade He's only twenty three Done it at college, passed his grades So he can do it properly Earning the money, stashing away To buy a place of his own Sure he'll get there, for as they say Where there's a will there will be a way His girl is local, she does people's hair He says in her head there's nothing but air Calls her the missus, she's only eighteen Like an old married couple to some they seem She rides with him in his scruffy old van She'd prefer a comfortable car She wants to leave home as soon as she can So likes to see him work hard As the day ticks away we mardle He knows an old flame of mine I say yes, I know her quite well But not seen her now for some time... The grand design moves forward We've had a laugh and a chat All paid up, thanks for your help In a month or so he'll be back

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Aug 30, 2012

Aug 30, 2012 at 11:27 AM UTC

Over the years I've had a few tries But it's not been a great success Enthusiastic but lacking technique Finishing up a bit of a mess Now Brendon's out there, plying his trade He's only twenty three Done it at college, passed his grades So he can do it properly Earning the money, stashing away To buy a place of his own Sure he'll get there, for as they say Where there's a will there will be a way His girl is local, she does people's hair He says in her head there's nothing but air Calls her the missus, she's only eighteen Like an old married couple to some they seem She rides with him in his scruffy old van She'd prefer a comfortable car She wants to leave home as soon as she can So likes to see him work hard As the day ticks away we mardle He knows an old flame of mine I say yes, I know her quite well But not seen her now for some time... The grand design moves forward We've had a laugh and a chat All paid up, thanks for your help In a month or so he'll be back

Continue reading...

the most magical experience in life, is being gifted an unexpected epiphany. epiphanies exist in many, non-discriminatory shapes an sizes. and it just so happens that this particular one came to me in a time of new awakening. spring has sprung... and so has my heart, into your lap, that is. just over a week ago, I acquired a thick new layer of skin. a soft, yet durable, and pleasantly portable safe space. it has become my new happy place. I now, cannot imagine myself without this undisclosed, name-brand jacket. and to me, this is, a not-so peculiar notion. because honestly nothing has resonated with me more, than this jacket of denim. I feel like the blue guy in that classic pop song from the early 2000's. my clothes are blue, my hair is [cobalt] blue... where is my **** corvette though? I swear, I need my own **** tv show. however, I think there is something that needs to be said, beyond thank you. I love this jacket more than the distance between the earth and the moon I have never felt so coddled by an article of clothing, than I do right now. in this instance, I have recreated my own new sense of style: adorable queer alters reality via jean jacket and a black floral romper. you can tell that I'm a "90's kid" by the way I sport denim on denim like it went out of style yesterday. lovin' it like you got your arms around me. oh darlin you did not have to hand me your heart. here, let me earn it. let me work for your love. I am gracious for YOU, my beautiful gorgeous human being. for it is you who makes my heart swell. my genderless Romeo, my Sunday morning sweetheart. push me up against the tree in your front yard. I want the whole neighborhood to know that my soul found solace in YOURS and I want to shout if from a ******* mountain. making love with you cleanses my mind. leaving only room for the notion of us riding off into the sunset together after spending an entire day consuming the rays like an all-you-can eat buffet. and stashing them away, like a chubby squirrel during winter solstice. this whole experience has almost felt religious. I pray this is something I wouldn't part with, easily. I want you to take me. you've unlocked my aorta artery, and I want to make sure that you are aware that you are welcome, to make this space your home.

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Mar 21, 2016

Mar 21, 2016 at 5:21 AM UTC

week one: denim is the key to my heart

the most magical experience in life, is being gifted an unexpected epiphany. epiphanies exist in many, non-discriminatory shapes an sizes. and it just so happens that this particular one came to me in a time of new awakening. spring has sprung... and so has my heart, into your lap, that is. just over a week ago, I acquired a thick new layer of skin. a soft, yet durable, and pleasantly portable safe space. it has become my new happy place. I now, cannot imagine myself without this undisclosed, name-brand jacket. and to me, this is, a not-so peculiar notion. because honestly nothing has resonated with me more, than this jacket of denim. I feel like the blue guy in that classic pop song from the early 2000's. my clothes are blue, my hair is [cobalt] blue... where is my **** corvette though? I swear, I need my own **** tv show. however, I think there is something that needs to be said, beyond thank you. I love this jacket more than the distance between the earth and the moon I have never felt so coddled by an article of clothing, than I do right now. in this instance, I have recreated my own new sense of style: adorable queer alters reality via jean jacket and a black floral romper. you can tell that I'm a "90's kid" by the way I sport denim on denim like it went out of style yesterday. lovin' it like you got your arms around me. oh darlin you did not have to hand me your heart. here, let me earn it. let me work for your love. I am gracious for YOU, my beautiful gorgeous human being. for it is you who makes my heart swell. my genderless Romeo, my Sunday morning sweetheart. push me up against the tree in your front yard. I want the whole neighborhood to know that my soul found solace in YOURS and I want to shout if from a ******* mountain. making love with you cleanses my mind. leaving only room for the notion of us riding off into the sunset together after spending an entire day consuming the rays like an all-you-can eat buffet. and stashing them away, like a chubby squirrel during winter solstice. this whole experience has almost felt religious. I pray this is something I wouldn't part with, easily. I want you to take me. you've unlocked my aorta artery, and I want to make sure that you are aware that you are welcome, to make this space your home.

Continue reading...

Some robots sip Coca Cola and Send each other text messages The fog of shadowalking on the daily Hangs a bit heavy but the Diamond filter for stimulation makes Life shine, though it's a hard one Memories have become marauders Stashing treasure in a hidden sand they won't know I celebrate you Secretly Or escape from you; I watch the cloud of the runaway noise pain Clotting into grim ghosts They do not listen to the gouhways Why do they fear life As much as death When they split the faces Of an endless coin(?) In the dark pocket jingling away Metallic music to somewhere

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Sep 27, 2012

Sep 27, 2012 at 5:18 PM UTC

154. Coin 9/27/12

Some robots sip Coca Cola and Send each other text messages The fog of shadowalking on the daily Hangs a bit heavy but the Diamond filter for stimulation makes Life shine, though it's a hard one Memories have become marauders Stashing treasure in a hidden sand they won't know I celebrate you Secretly Or escape from you; I watch the cloud of the runaway noise pain Clotting into grim ghosts They do not listen to the gouhways Why do they fear life As much as death When they split the faces Of an endless coin(?) In the dark pocket jingling away Metallic music to somewhere

Continue reading...

There was something special about this space Like the walls spoke a language The eves telling little secrets of comfort Making this empty space feel more like home Than that cramped apartment Backyard wonderland like a child I felt like butterflies and fairies could Jump and flitter between leaves Or goblins hobbling To dance magic dance The winking of mismatched eyes Charming me out to play Or possibly it was the dusty smell of closets The socks stealing gnomes Creeping around plain sight Stashing keys and pony tails Something made my weirdness welcome My childish heart Bloomed brilliantly As if this space had waited Stuck on some barrier between reality To take me back And make this old soul New

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Jan 22, 2014

Jan 22, 2014 at 8:34 PM UTC

There was something special about this space Like the walls spoke a language The eves telling little secrets of comfort Making this empty space feel more like home Than that cramped apartment Backyard wonderland like a child I felt like butterflies and fairies could Jump and flitter between leaves Or goblins hobbling To dance magic dance The winking of mismatched eyes Charming me out to play Or possibly it was the dusty smell of closets The socks stealing gnomes Creeping around plain sight Stashing keys and pony tails Something made my weirdness welcome My childish heart Bloomed brilliantly As if this space had waited Stuck on some barrier between reality To take me back And make this old soul New

Continue reading...

All this pain everyday It’s driving me insane People come and go but their problems remain Nothing changes Just the looks of new faces Friends disappear But they're easily replaced So much stress Building up in my mind Breaking down on daily basis I’m always crying I ain't lying This **** is driving me crazy The lies are really starting to phase me And lately I’m trying to change and get by But my heart is always broken I’m living a lie No one understands until they step into my shoes I’m fighting a battle with nothing to lose I’m slowly dying Gonna break apart All the pain building up is gonna shatter my heart I can’t go on I’m not gonna make it I used to think I’m small But now I just can’t take it Cause everyday troubles cause long-term struggles And love? All it does is make the pain double I’m tired of pretending Cause I realized That right from the start My life was built on lies Nobody cares No one was ever there always kicked when I’m down People just stop and stare I can’t even breathe I’m talking I won’t win to love My hearts always broken Nobody cares No one was ever there Always kicked when I’m down People just stop and stare The one thing that I learned to live with is hate But the only thing I want to do is escape It ain't easy And hard to believe me I’m almost invisible Nobody sees me So I don’t see why I bother holding on I always think of giving up There’s no point of stashing on Every day I ask the same questions In the end Cause after a long night this **** starts again I’m trying to adjust to these drastic changes Crying for help Just asking to be saved And in reality we all stand alone We’re all just lost without a place called “home” I’m tired of being muted every time I speak I’m tired of having nightmares every time I sleep I just wanna get away to a place Cause every day and every night I wish of better days But it don’t matter cause no one gives a **** So you might as well save your breath And just quit Nobody cares No one was ever there always kicked when I’m down People just stop and stare I can’t even breathe I’m talking I won’t win to love My hearts always broken Nobody cares No one was ever there always kicked when I’m down People just stop and stare The one thing that I learned to live with is hate But all I really want to do is Escape

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Nov 19, 2013

Nov 19, 2013 at 10:40 AM UTC

Just Wanna Escape

All this pain everyday It’s driving me insane People come and go but their problems remain Nothing changes Just the looks of new faces Friends disappear But they're easily replaced So much stress Building up in my mind Breaking down on daily basis I’m always crying I ain't lying This **** is driving me crazy The lies are really starting to phase me And lately I’m trying to change and get by But my heart is always broken I’m living a lie No one understands until they step into my shoes I’m fighting a battle with nothing to lose I’m slowly dying Gonna break apart All the pain building up is gonna shatter my heart I can’t go on I’m not gonna make it I used to think I’m small But now I just can’t take it Cause everyday troubles cause long-term struggles And love? All it does is make the pain double I’m tired of pretending Cause I realized That right from the start My life was built on lies Nobody cares No one was ever there always kicked when I’m down People just stop and stare I can’t even breathe I’m talking I won’t win to love My hearts always broken Nobody cares No one was ever there Always kicked when I’m down People just stop and stare The one thing that I learned to live with is hate But the only thing I want to do is escape It ain't easy And hard to believe me I’m almost invisible Nobody sees me So I don’t see why I bother holding on I always think of giving up There’s no point of stashing on Every day I ask the same questions In the end Cause after a long night this **** starts again I’m trying to adjust to these drastic changes Crying for help Just asking to be saved And in reality we all stand alone We’re all just lost without a place called “home” I’m tired of being muted every time I speak I’m tired of having nightmares every time I sleep I just wanna get away to a place Cause every day and every night I wish of better days But it don’t matter cause no one gives a **** So you might as well save your breath And just quit Nobody cares No one was ever there always kicked when I’m down People just stop and stare I can’t even breathe I’m talking I won’t win to love My hearts always broken Nobody cares No one was ever there always kicked when I’m down People just stop and stare The one thing that I learned to live with is hate But all I really want to do is Escape

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crushing dabs like Brits with **** ragging on the braggarts for being ******** mastering fascism like I’m in a classroom learning to bridegroom and lower the boom eating shrooms faster than a pig truffling feathers ruffling feet shuffling feeling the scruff again as I rub my chin and I begin mashing the rascals and stashing the raffle wins like at Bingo hassling the troll doll queen bout to bring this to a ring and sing to all ya’ll songs of wax and things…..

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Mar 23, 2016

Mar 23, 2016 at 7:27 PM UTC

What's up, Johnny Paper?

crushing dabs like Brits with **** ragging on the braggarts for being ******** mastering fascism like I’m in a classroom learning to bridegroom and lower the boom eating shrooms faster than a pig truffling feathers ruffling feet shuffling feeling the scruff again as I rub my chin and I begin mashing the rascals and stashing the raffle wins like at Bingo hassling the troll doll queen bout to bring this to a ring and sing to all ya’ll songs of wax and things…..

Continue reading...

Easy will I give blood to thee My love of anger simmering. Tough mutts and breezy gates shut up while I'm walking up the paved path to heaven. My shadows carve depictions of their home across it's border, until the time that obliteration comes preceding daylight. Presently, the senses tell stories of alleyways, bending, screaming, dark, and hollow niches where cells holding cretins feeding on easy cons, closely eyeing the greasy pawns that wobble across rotting paper, voodoo art a secret guarded closely hidden in the hole a beating heart long ago vacated. Robbing rich snobbish ****** their childrens life of ignorance concerning newfound addictions. You know the type. You know that I know you too, and how you prefer to shape the ghastly forms these predators take, turn them into your thralls discarded soon after rehearsing the parts of your play, writtin precisely to incite your own addiction to probability gamble gaming intuition. trashing skits naturally reactive to exhibited patterns laughing mad at the victms thrashing quiver, stashing films of the accidents in your pack to gift the sadistic mastiffs attack and ravage and tear and Sadness. The fictitious movies play out onto the skyscape of this mind we share, and attempt to accept the last thing you truly fear.

0

Nov 6, 2020

Nov 6, 2020 at 10:40 AM UTC

Now where were we?

Easy will I give blood to thee My love of anger simmering. Tough mutts and breezy gates shut up while I'm walking up the paved path to heaven. My shadows carve depictions of their home across it's border, until the time that obliteration comes preceding daylight. Presently, the senses tell stories of alleyways, bending, screaming, dark, and hollow niches where cells holding cretins feeding on easy cons, closely eyeing the greasy pawns that wobble across rotting paper, voodoo art a secret guarded closely hidden in the hole a beating heart long ago vacated. Robbing rich snobbish ****** their childrens life of ignorance concerning newfound addictions. You know the type. You know that I know you too, and how you prefer to shape the ghastly forms these predators take, turn them into your thralls discarded soon after rehearsing the parts of your play, writtin precisely to incite your own addiction to probability gamble gaming intuition. trashing skits naturally reactive to exhibited patterns laughing mad at the victms thrashing quiver, stashing films of the accidents in your pack to gift the sadistic mastiffs attack and ravage and tear and Sadness. The fictitious movies play out onto the skyscape of this mind we share, and attempt to accept the last thing you truly fear.

Continue reading...

What’s in a man? This engine of a heart, Works in machine like rhythm, Monochrome innards, Stashing my colors far too deep, Someday I wish to see them, Let their tones creep into place, What’s in a man? The longing for someone, Silence worn as an outfit, Attempts at concrete and structure, At times we will shift, Loosing sight of the times, Apologies there after, What’s in a man? A title I am still trying to fit into.

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Jan 15, 2015

Jan 15, 2015 at 10:59 PM UTC

What’s in a man? This engine of a heart, Works in machine like rhythm, Monochrome innards, Stashing my colors far too deep, Someday I wish to see them, Let their tones creep into place, What’s in a man? The longing for someone, Silence worn as an outfit, Attempts at concrete and structure, At times we will shift, Loosing sight of the times, Apologies there after, What’s in a man? A title I am still trying to fit into.

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This is the light of the mind Mystery Behind a ****** veil The beauty of the moon Where her face walks in its own right Breathe in the enormity of the clouds Gliding like pure cotton, The gray sky becomes one with the soul The bride is waiting for words to come calling The stillness of thin air Unlocked images beyond the breakwater Remembering the unsolved labyrinth As the cliff whistle to the stool pigeons Bringing good news to the earthen womb, Fighting the courage of shutting up Forcing myself to unload my senses Unselfish thoughts of a blue grievance Between the sun and the clouds, The outrage of the pierce Violet, A cold glass of water glances at a beautiful pearl Stashing the glamour of an oceanic mirage A love affair chasing you through twilight An enormous trill for the unknown Driving you closer to a hole beneath A disturbance of mirrors Finally straight from the heart I felt a silent outcry Waiting for a shatterproof soul Against the natural odor of true love Rony Joseph all rights reserved 2010

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Jul 26, 2010

Jul 26, 2010 at 4:38 PM UTC

This is the light of the mind Mystery Behind a ****** veil The beauty of the moon Where her face walks in its own right Breathe in the enormity of the clouds Gliding like pure cotton, The gray sky becomes one with the soul The bride is waiting for words to come calling The stillness of thin air Unlocked images beyond the breakwater Remembering the unsolved labyrinth As the cliff whistle to the stool pigeons Bringing good news to the earthen womb, Fighting the courage of shutting up Forcing myself to unload my senses Unselfish thoughts of a blue grievance Between the sun and the clouds, The outrage of the pierce Violet, A cold glass of water glances at a beautiful pearl Stashing the glamour of an oceanic mirage A love affair chasing you through twilight An enormous trill for the unknown Driving you closer to a hole beneath A disturbance of mirrors Finally straight from the heart I felt a silent outcry Waiting for a shatterproof soul Against the natural odor of true love Rony Joseph all rights reserved 2010

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*Stashing them everywhere I store such coins to pay away the could've beens To keep my bones and alabaster skin covered until the rainy day need not appear At which time I can and will, take you by the hand And show you either the former Winding Way, or create anew By pulling coins out of the thin air, like a magic man For this is how I make my way into the world of words*

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Jun 21, 2017

Jun 21, 2017 at 11:28 AM UTC

*Stashing them everywhere I store such coins to pay away the could've beens To keep my bones and alabaster skin covered until the rainy day need not appear At which time I can and will, take you by the hand And show you either the former Winding Way, or create anew By pulling coins out of the thin air, like a magic man For this is how I make my way into the world of words*

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It's moving so fast now it's nearly gone That wildfire sun waking me up at dawn Gathering all the memories stashing them away To hold them close & warm on that pending wintry day

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Aug 17, 2015

Aug 17, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC

It's moving so fast now it's nearly gone That wildfire sun waking me up at dawn Gathering all the memories stashing them away To hold them close & warm on that pending wintry day

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When I was smooth polished stone When I was unbreakable, indefatigable I wasted the wealth of my youth Spilling gold coins from my open purse into the street, stashing emerald bills in gutter cracks and the window sills of strangers, enemies, and friends I never saved a dime And it is time which has grown a face, laughing in fine lines traced by tragedies, one two three In coffee black mornings and the long stretch between when the air is thick with hands grasping at the next order, the next order, the next order... What am I to do with my empty hands They say the devils work is idle.

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Jan 28, 2015

Jan 28, 2015 at 6:42 PM UTC

When I was smooth polished stone When I was unbreakable, indefatigable I wasted the wealth of my youth Spilling gold coins from my open purse into the street, stashing emerald bills in gutter cracks and the window sills of strangers, enemies, and friends I never saved a dime And it is time which has grown a face, laughing in fine lines traced by tragedies, one two three In coffee black mornings and the long stretch between when the air is thick with hands grasping at the next order, the next order, the next order... What am I to do with my empty hands They say the devils work is idle.

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You know what I love about taking a road trip to LA? Looking out of the window Watching as the miles and miles of hills overlap one another Seeing the neat rows Hundreds of them Each field a new shape Each a new fruit I love rolling down the window The breeze whipping my hair around Too lazy and too care free to tie it up Letting that earthy smell fill up the car Realizing I need a new playlist Stashing my favorite candy in the back, yumm But what I love the most about it all? Knowing that after those 6 hours have stretched 5 hours too long... (you always said I had the patience of a 5 year old) I can at least comfortably have a spot on your bed

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Jun 25, 2013

Jun 25, 2013 at 9:42 PM UTC

You know what I love about taking a road trip to LA? Looking out of the window Watching as the miles and miles of hills overlap one another Seeing the neat rows Hundreds of them Each field a new shape Each a new fruit I love rolling down the window The breeze whipping my hair around Too lazy and too care free to tie it up Letting that earthy smell fill up the car Realizing I need a new playlist Stashing my favorite candy in the back, yumm But what I love the most about it all? Knowing that after those 6 hours have stretched 5 hours too long... (you always said I had the patience of a 5 year old) I can at least comfortably have a spot on your bed

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why is it that in capitalism i get to say: i can buy anything i want, given i earn enough money to actually buy it... but i wouldn't share a napkin hour of fork and knife fencing to eat a meal with the majority of people? i can buy whatever i want, but i wouldn't spend a second with we are the 99% of people? i can see the sea of desperation 20 miles away... it looks like a giant buffoon torpedo of farts, god almighty, the sulphuric stench is truly almighty, can chop down a cow dead in its tracks within a non-statistical timing methods... that quick. but i do get to say the line: i get enough dough to buy enough blah, and end up not wanting the sort of company where the blah translates into bling... most of the people i know i wouldn't eat a **** with: so... BIG UP ***** RRRRESPECT: 2Pac sheer a kebab - what?! white boy gotta rhapsody. n'ah, i'd never eat food with you, i'd rat-out with you at the dumpster - when M & S was forgetting Oxford Ox-famine and just stashing the profit for the filthy mouths of garbage grub.

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Sep 3, 2016

Sep 3, 2016 at 6:41 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

autistic capitalism

why is it that in capitalism i get to say: i can buy anything i want, given i earn enough money to actually buy it... but i wouldn't share a napkin hour of fork and knife fencing to eat a meal with the majority of people? i can buy whatever i want, but i wouldn't spend a second with we are the 99% of people? i can see the sea of desperation 20 miles away... it looks like a giant buffoon torpedo of farts, god almighty, the sulphuric stench is truly almighty, can chop down a cow dead in its tracks within a non-statistical timing methods... that quick. but i do get to say the line: i get enough dough to buy enough blah, and end up not wanting the sort of company where the blah translates into bling... most of the people i know i wouldn't eat a **** with: so... BIG UP ***** RRRRESPECT: 2Pac sheer a kebab - what?! white boy gotta rhapsody. n'ah, i'd never eat food with you, i'd rat-out with you at the dumpster - when M & S was forgetting Oxford Ox-famine and just stashing the profit for the filthy mouths of garbage grub.

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Gin soaked parchment paper, robbed of words wrung red from split fingernails guiding, sliding back and fro to the irrhythm of distended lobes misfiring a useless tome, of uninteresting characters and the sun that burns them crisp, their lips tiring cigarettes in the candy dish the southerners, wrenching wrists about their red clay alleys, the tinted beer glass stashing tobacco juice their words playing loose with the sanctimony of animals, raccoon paws and muskodine snaps and the rusting 1953 Crosley metal lawn chair rocking away the synapse.

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Jul 28, 2016

Jul 28, 2016 at 3:38 PM UTC

Gin soaked parchment paper, robbed of words wrung red from split fingernails guiding, sliding back and fro to the irrhythm of distended lobes misfiring a useless tome, of uninteresting characters and the sun that burns them crisp, their lips tiring cigarettes in the candy dish the southerners, wrenching wrists about their red clay alleys, the tinted beer glass stashing tobacco juice their words playing loose with the sanctimony of animals, raccoon paws and muskodine snaps and the rusting 1953 Crosley metal lawn chair rocking away the synapse.

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"Do you do drugs?” is a rhetorical question to me. I snorted a line to connect the answer to my eyes, so, the drip could tell my throat to dilate their minds and swallow the idea that everyone is ******* blind. And maybe they are, **** i sure as hell don’t feel around with a walking stick. But i do tap my glasses against hard surfaces, keeping a sharp grasp on the shards of glass i’ve been smashing’ in hopes the reflection will stop masking the reason i keep overreacting and stashing pills in my abdomen. They will understand when i vanish completely why it’s called fasting. My religion isn’t of the church, but of the body and the mind. That's constantly runs off the time i spend draining out the plugged up emotions and sunken down guts I’ve puked up because i fear of dying unknown. i haven’t lived out my 20′s, **** I guess i’m a clone for devoting time towards the public, who see me as another subject who’s cocky as **** and hates themselves whenever alone. Even my parents surpass the overlapping content filled with clues hidden in the context, I guess my words aren’t imperative enough for a toxic thrown. I’m hazardous waste, overdose prone.

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Jan 29, 2016

Jan 29, 2016 at 12:55 PM UTC

keirsten-suszko

"Do you do drugs?” is a rhetorical question to me. I snorted a line to connect the answer to my eyes, so, the drip could tell my throat to dilate their minds and swallow the idea that everyone is ******* blind. And maybe they are, **** i sure as hell don’t feel around with a walking stick. But i do tap my glasses against hard surfaces, keeping a sharp grasp on the shards of glass i’ve been smashing’ in hopes the reflection will stop masking the reason i keep overreacting and stashing pills in my abdomen. They will understand when i vanish completely why it’s called fasting. My religion isn’t of the church, but of the body and the mind. That's constantly runs off the time i spend draining out the plugged up emotions and sunken down guts I’ve puked up because i fear of dying unknown. i haven’t lived out my 20′s, **** I guess i’m a clone for devoting time towards the public, who see me as another subject who’s cocky as **** and hates themselves whenever alone. Even my parents surpass the overlapping content filled with clues hidden in the context, I guess my words aren’t imperative enough for a toxic thrown. I’m hazardous waste, overdose prone.

Continue reading...