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Robin Carretti Aug 2018
Are we all here
Or elsewhere
Treetops Robin birds
What!! Is it only words?
The sky she wore the
blue velvet cry
Whats still here what
will life bring
Afterlife sing before I die?

       *
Why

Headless horseman goodbye
Breadwinner Sportsman
Your worst enemy
The closer he gets knowing
your drama/ Cowboy-comedy

"Whats Here"

The Emmy meeting
another writer
      "Dude"
The Dude Ranch
Meet the "Ghostwriter"
The computer
early bird
Specially rude

The Medieval time of the
"Fable" sword fight
In a fork road, he was
born *English Sterling
The Silver anniversary
Dude piece boring
    
Whats here setting Ms.Dahla
Sweet Magnolia flowers
He's aiming for Azelia
What dudes grow
in her family
table
I'm here and he said
I'm the Dude

We are here Paul Revere rides
Breaks our glassware
Mr. Bigfoot needs to decide

Those Philly steaks "Heinz Ketchup"
Pittsburg tip of the iceberg here-up
Feeling sorry for the "Dude"

I'm right beside you here
Racers mouth racetrack win
More supernatural forces of sin
Rayban Mr. Sun-Ray glare
This was all I could take
in one day
It's important so let's stay
in one place
Where we can see one another
All dudes what eludes in character's

The false eyelashes her
prediction Alice madly
Tea party detention

Dancing in the
spiritual rain
She is the biggest pain

What cheeks swear
with her pinky
The blow dryer the
Big Lebowski stayer
Russian Roulette
Crystal fighter Swarovski
Homewrecker traveler
The dude investigation
*Risky business Dudes in the mansions

Rome cannot be built in one day
What's here your *Mom
is
baking noodle pudding today
You are laughing and both got
Brooklyn fever
Divine hour telling her how
much you love her
Familiar eyes hot dudes
delivery
The best flight activity
Getting you up
Your NativityI'm the dude cup

Always wondering you drift
Whose coming to dinner
*Mystery is it really here
        The Dude of a gift
Happy tears New Years

Darling
White Polar Bears

Days of daydreams dude stamps
All tolls and Polls
Twitter and Trumps
Or coming closer to
your darkest night
*
Forever wherever you are
It's the dark velvet satin

Night in White Satin
The other side of midnight
Humans animals always
the mating watcher's delight

Paper cuts of a paperweight
Feeling like a deadweight dude
The lightheaded most amazing night sky
The bright future warm you up
passionate guy

Whats here names
Don't use me usernames
Such con names, married names
Where each other's equal
Whats here love the sequel
The proud mother
My Bald Eagle

Hairy fluffy so cute beagle
*
He's the Quarter she backs up his note
The pushover Politician we deserve the vote

Writers believers lovers
and givers
Strangers are friends whats here
all depends
Getting mugged in Central Park
Grainy sugar you spark
Enjoying what I have today

The softer Rainy Lover
Whats here we are all here
Not elsewhere or over there
My Godly switch I'm here
Whats here you or me or who we believe to see let it be let it be
There are so many answers and those questions are here so reach don't start to preach show your love its whats here
Jacqe Booth Feb 2010
survival is cheap

This is how i feel
this onion peel
discarded
shell of wasted empathy//
this is how i taste
this furry filthy *****
waste
of
flavours savoured.
This is how it feels
inside
to die
then lie
in hope of faith
restored.

Sitting
while it rains
outside
my thoughts.
The seasons storm
while thiniking//pausing//stroking
i climb back into the safety
of my mind.
it is mine.
To hibernate
a pleasure
brief but
still so much
grief to grieve.
A cliche,
this damp patch
of regrown
faith.
This testament to
survival.
perhaps not the fittest,
but always
a stayer.
Wen Ao Long Nov 2014
Hello snorer, I hope you didn't sleep any poorer
when I stayed up all night typing this not-poem
I meant you no harm, but I had to stay up
Because I couldn't make music out of your obnoxiously loud cacophony of windpipe crap, er "music".  Time to not-pretend to absolutely hate your snoring under the guise of being perfectly okay with it for the sake of setting the tone a bit nicer to all who must hear it, so they can BEAR to, for otherwise it would be absurd.  Not as absurd as anyone hating to have aural drills applied to all their chakras all night, but still absurd enough to get a chuckle out of me (I hope it didn't wake your fine specimen here). It was never my intent, though it was always my ethical concern (if only everyone could be as reciprocal as you and I).   Oh, my not-pretend hatred is very thinly veiled.  I wasn't totally defeated by your snore-sound armies so that I couldn't type words, but I may have lost some of my desired effect due to the sometimes wincing distraction they caused to my piece of mind at this or that time when I needed it the most (even though I was awake, which is no crime if snoring at night and keeping me that way isn't).

Well, I did ask you if you'd mind if I typed,
I did tell you that you could tell me if its quiet purr of clicks would bother your precious sleep
But I never felt a need to be concerned, because whenever I
was typing, I heard you snore, and whenever I was in the heights of
some new discovery or epiphany, your sharp sudden thunderstroke of near death
corrugated metal vibrating in the torrent of some sudden gale force gust of wind.

These were signs to me of your restful sleep.  So I simply didn't worry about your sleep.  I was certain that my electronic beeps were every now and then music to your ears, just as they were to mine.  This is because in the midst of these I heard you snore, and when you snored, I took you to be asleep.

Ah but then again, then again, these are fanciful constructions which simply say that what is wonderful for me should be just fine and dandy with you, at a bare minimum, and on those grounds of very unsymmetrical attitude about right and wrong I would have to begin my music tirade of words as well.  But I don't view justice and propriety along such selfish lines as these.

What I see is that duplicity is your thesis.  I have anecdotal accounts which are marvelous to behold first hand, but the details of the absurdities cannot be done justice in the language of men, for the intensity of such insanity can only be borne lightly by the frailest frayed ends of my sanity for having lived through your acoustically maddening inanity.

You didn't ever admit to me that my noises were not music to YOUR ears.  Indeed  you claimed never to be bothered by them because you never voiced up against them.  I suppose you might as well voice up against them in the street as well if it turns out not all of you snorers-go-a-viking types like to hear my mouse clicking away like a tapping noises on a metal plate in your skull.  Sorry if it is another non-snorer-who-must-stay-up-late-and-so-be-occupied person whose nocturnal joys were misinterpreted as direct assaults on the dignity, spirit, or just basic mental viability of your wounded snoremonster troop of anti-late-stayer-uppers, because in fact, we used to be sleep-at-night-entities like you, but that was before you showed up, thoracic marching band in tow.  Marching bands are musical also, to some people.  And for some all hours of the night are perfect for a marching band.  Who am I to tell them otherwise.  

Well let me know the next time a marching band is given special permit to come through your neighborhood at night, and I'll be glad to point out to you the first Snorer'sville, because only they should be expected, in all justice to live with the macroscopic manifestation of their personal narcissistic paradises.

Let you all go to your own place and form your own nation, and see if you can consistently demand everyone else find music in your ****** and accursed racket!  But until then I expect some of you will have to take the damage returned by the growing number of people who are very much tired of living under the horrors of your infliction upon us, your demonic and evil tyranny of mind-crushing hate that is your ****** noise.  We will do yoga and breathe, and stretch, and some light calesthenics to relax and seek some focus and composure, whenever our spirits require, and this will be unchallenged by you so long as you are asleep, and it will be unchallenged by you so long as you are awake too.  For in the latter case you are already awake (and so still are we, usually) while in the former case it is far quieter than your snoring, both in its valleys and peaks.  And moreover it has not kept you up, but in fact I have noted that you wake yourself up with your own music when it reaches a certain crescendo.  

Unless you want to say that those crescendos are some sort of involuntary complaint about MY crescendos of spirit, when I start typing about 20% faster than normal, with perfect focus and accuracy while reaching an aesthetic pleasure approaching ****** as I realize that it is almost unerringly in the midst of such an experience that I hear your crescendo resound. And since it was no more intended to be a distraction for me, then surely my music must have also gone undetected by your ears, as well as your spirit. Or is it fairer to say it was the very cause of your crescendo, or at least its inspiration?

Therefore I needn't worry that it is I that is keeping you up, even if for only brief stints at a time, especially by comparison to my all-night vigils.  Not so, but it is you who are so enraptured by my occasional laughs or giggles as I edify my weary, sleep-deprived mind on some bit of morale boosting entertainment.  With headphones on of course.  It's also courteously plugged into the computer to prevent my favorite bit of Judas Priest from hurting your ear drums, or else overstimulating your music appreciation centers, which are verily attached to your ear-drums by a nerve bundle (and what nerve you all have there).  This means I've spared you too much distraction from any already-abundant music of the spheres effect you may be savoring which might have emanated from my bumbling around in the dark (to keep the lights out of course, after all people are sleeping).

Yes but that is a minority of you perhaps, who would lie about that and in fact who ought to say that our nocturnal emissions are not what you'd call restfully mind-relaxing crickets in the dead of night with an occasional hoot in the distance...  But they are a minority, the rest of you are so definitely in good faith.

But then why do I always run into those of your tribe who have strange and unethical habits, such as destroying others' lives by ruining their one perhaps most preciously personal and inalienable need second only to air and water, and that is sleep.  It is, in terms of acute necessity, in many ways more needed than food, though in the long term food catches up.  But food catches up only because not eating food is a  lot like not getting sleep, but just a lot more intense on the body when it drops to some critical point because we know from experience it is on raw nerves that we can go for a while in search of food, but if the food can't be found (perhaps because of our lack of sleep ruining our cognition in some way), then we will not eat, nor sleep, because we'll be dead.  

But either way, we'll be dead, for lack of sleep kills, both directly and indirectly, if suffered over a short time and/or in a diluted form over a long time.  That would be poetically commensurate to the sadistic similitude of the types of snoring sounds with the types of ways to die from being deprived of sleep according to two modes (acute and chronic), over many keys of incident, accident, lost opportunity and ill-stared fate, all of which can be mapped in some way back to that auditory persecution of our very souls of which your kind are in some swelling numbers quite proud.  Just think of all the car accidents, work accidents, altercations, fits of rage, inability to concentrate well or sometimes at all, and other life-damaging conditions of the mind, and also of the body, which accrue from lack of proper and healthy sleep at night!

Good thing for most of you though, right?  Because surely our music is also sweet, and I really hope I've inspired many to face this need for equality, and be on their guard against any unjust whining or groaning from those who seem in point of fact to value their sleep just a good deal more than they value anyone else's.  Not only because they really really love to get those zzz's but because they think that in the natural order of things, before people suddenly went mad and evil, people went to bed and slept well even partly BECAUSE of this brachio-esophageal orchestral lullaby.

But we'll be on our guard against those complaints, because we know you have plotted to take to the streets against us to defend your noisiness-all-night-every-night rights.  So we'll be on guard to defend ours, TO THE LAST FIBER OF OUR BEING.

Because you insufferable ******* are cruel, and cruelty no one should abide.  No one in my world, in my society of people, will be allowed to inflict cruelty on another person, nor be callously prejudicial in their own favor when injuries do occur because of their actions merely on the grounds that the damage it causes coincides with the fulfillment of a need on their own part, even while that fulfillment is of a need which is obstructed from satisfaction in the other part, and by THAT VERY SAME REASON, so that your sleep depends on keeping others awake.  UNLESS you can somehow con or coerce them into developing some form of Stockholm Syndrome and confuse the torment you inflict upon them with a sign of your love and wonderfulness to be around.

Yes, I know you hear me typing now, through your well-behaved proxy.  I feel it. If not he per se, then in a parallel universe not too far off, there's a version of him who does.  Perhaps not the one I know now, on day one of having moved into this room, but perhaps one represented in this universe by someone who has found himself in some sort of circumstances found later on during his stay, this mixed with the fact that familiarity breeds contempt... He'll start making some righteous demands of some kind, and I might not be in a such a good mood about that due to lack of proper sleep, and this will coincide with said contumacy against my own rights (such as to breathe, type, surf the net, or do other nocturnal things other than snoring which might keep others up).

As to that last point in parentheses, snoring is an activity which you perform in conjunction with your getting sleep, and it therefore means not well for your notion of fairness to say things as they are, and simply say the truth, which is that your getting sleep deprives others of theirs, but it can be logically deduced.

It can also be logically deduced that the don't give flying **** if you don't like the fact that we don't like your ear-**** night after night, which is a good name as any, but should perhaps at times be amended to body-demolishing soul-****** of a mortally sinful nature, and with an ethical incongruity to good character of a person to maintain it, all the more to sings its praises to us and call it "good poetry".
My tirade is intended to be expressive of a sincerely felt Truth, manifested in this which is only one of many forms, where things are never neutral, but divided neatly and perfectly into either Good or evil, so that no thought, word, or deed can be trivialized as mundane, neither in its innate import nor in its exported impact for others.  This is of the essence of ethics and has many metaphysical groundings which can be rationally demonstrated, but only to rational people.
Creepstar Mar 2016
Weaving little droplets of darkness into sub dermal layer
Pressing close but not too hard,assure each line's a stayer
Coulded claret brought forth from beneath
A work of art,to you I bequeath
down south you forget the ripening leaves
and chilly mornings of bright october
no matter for redly a dying time grieves

sunlight on water fair smiling deceives
at dawn the frost shone ******* grass and clover
down south you forget the ripening leaves

yet clock there remains the swiftest of thieves
treating the same way both stayer and rover
no matter for redly a dying time grieves

telling each young one that what he believes
is false never true and patience is over
down south you forget the ripening leaves

slowly to slaughter we marched off the beeves
a suitable task for the youthful drover
no matter how redly a dying time grieves

the adult must measure how much he achieves
in calm acquiescence knowingly sober
down south you forget the ripening leaves
no matter how redly a dying time grieves
Alexis J Meighan Oct 2012
Lingering

They fled,
They ran and those who stayed
Eventually were led away

Some gripped
Tight squeeze in belief
Faith a drink to be sipped

Some sank
Pulled under breathless
Trance like, as they drowned in relief

Pure for some
The sleep of the traitor
Logic betraying lust

While the runners run
The stayer's welcome the confusion
Perched on your shoulders--- knocking

Hoping u answer to say "hello, I miss you"

-Alexis J Meighan-
Daan May 2014
Passing puddle after puddle,
chasing girls I'd love to cuddle.
But nothing is my option as
I walk past the growing grass.

The sun is blocked, the clouds feel
mighty as the supporting pillar
mightlessly tries, aborting his fighting squeal.
The stranger, the stayer, the stronger and stiller.

I worry a lot, for unpassed moments,
pages unreached. She says it's my fault.
In our stars it was written.
Now I feel cold, I guess I am smitten.

It started raining, feelings, cropped,
come out all at once, it finally stopped.
I am mortified by the choice I made.
It was wrong and I have to change.
Sometimes it's like I'm being hijacked by the voice
That leaves me no choice
But to do,so I do
And you'd better believe
When I say the voice doesn't leave
It's a stayer.
A crazy game player
And I am the puck
Do I give a ****?
Hell no.
This madness will come,it will go
and how do I know?
The voice told me so,
I don't care.

When the voice isn't there I'm alone
On my own it's not nice
The mice start to gnaw at my bones and they're sore
So
I love my voice
A choice or not?
My voice is a friend
The only one I've got.

Have you got a voice?
Does it give you any choice?
Or like me are you stuck?
Do you give a ****?
I don't.
katrinawillrich Jan 2015
Starcatcher burn
Scorch passer learn
Rule stayer follow
Big eaters wallow
Whilst we sat down
Whilst we had fun with
Frowns
Happy cause luck
Runners grew
Buck churners chew
Impolite explanations
Plot mega smooth
Whilst we dap down
Whilst we dap down
Daan Mar 2014
Imaginary affection, illusionary connection.
I am lost in the worst of more than one section,
my cloud is separated from my ozon layer
and the longer I wait the farther and stayer.

Explanations are immortal to those who stare,
entranced and smoothly picked from the bunch.
What would your answer be if I asked you out for lunch?
I'd like to know before I ask for real, seems fair?

Comparing to analogous past situations, habits
and negations, what did I do wrong? I read,
people, all around me, examining to grab it's
full potential. Sometimes it hurts, once it led

to girls who fled, feelings of regret, hardship bled by
the dead, spread, on the deficient bed of newly wed
sensations.
without hesitations.

I shed my tears for those who never love far more
than for people like me, I love love, even though I am not
good at it.
They're trying to off me,
attempting to stop
my clock,
**** 'em.

One thing I can say
is,
that
I'm a stayer
I know how to play the game
and
beat the odds,

Ironic really
that a washed up
has been
******
is the longest serving member
of the team

they deem me impossible
and it is quite possible
they are right,
but
they'll always be on
the other side
taking a ride on
the backs of
the workers.
**** 'em.
Beverly Bolea Mar 2021
I was a stayer for my whole life
and never tried to left someone behind

how to lose my patience?
if leaving you is the only thing
that would be the most nonsense

I used to brood over my waiting
I'm thinking of what we were heading

as I know
waiting is a conundrum
it is hopeless until it becomes your doldrums

your tears presumes that I was its pillow
that makes comfy
my smiles used to make you happy

as my long term's crony

but... what if...
what if the person who's waiting for you,
now prefers to what you used to?
Dolores Aug 2021
If you cut my ears
I won't still be no horse
I can only adapt,
But can't change for roles,

And while I just can't keep no hopes,
Failing to catch what Life may throw
My way to figure out,
I'm not a stayer, just a 'passer by'.

— The End —