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English Jam May 2018
Boredom on a Sunday is inescapable
I try to hide it behind playing my musical instrument
Trumpeting with my trumpet - blowing my own horn -
I'm praying no one interprets that last sentence as an innuendo
Anyway, I'm nodding off, signing out of reality
The world goes hazy in a second
And I'm ****** into the vortex of a dream

Weird how when a dream begins, we immediately understand the situation
For this scene, I'm spewing blood from my spleen like a bottle of sauce squeezed too hard
It stains the leather of my vehicle
My foot is pressing the pedal to the floor, and the speedometer is twinged in half from all the pressure
The monolith of a highway I'm speeding on shakes as though giants stomp upon it
And the wail of a siren drives me into a frenzy as I try to escape the inevitable
Their polychromatic lights dance at the edges of my eyes, spurring rhythm into action
Even though they must be aeons behind, my heart melodramatically pumps in my chest as though the police are in the backseat
Blood bursting through my temple, thoughts wheezing by like someone's let go of hundreds of balloons  
Up ahead, the road twists itself into a knot of nothingness
My hands are wrapped around the steering wheel so tightly, I fear I might never be able to release them
It's a slight movement: right hand goes down, left goes up, but it kicks the vehicle sideways
My body slams into the car with a satisfying crunch and my mind spirals to spaghetti strands
Oddly enough, the world becomes rinsed with blue wash and I'm underwater

My train of thought becomes peaceful, melodic
I float about, running on the inverse of the waves
Here, even a scream is joyous as it sounds all bubbly and childish
Suddenly, a red streak runs across the ocean, chilling me to the bone and erasing all my bubbles
The sea becomes glittered with red and blue streaks, a warning
Bullets stab at my spleen, reminding me of the pain that was, and still is
And my body gears into a full 360, concluding my return to the real world
Or is it the dream world?
Oh well
Either way, I'm back in my car
Carelessly freefalling from nowhere
Weapons, glass, blood droplets, pocket change, pedestrians...all breeze around slowly
Pleading with me to wake up
Then

Everything crumbles, and I smack my **** head against the window, splattering my brains everywhere
My car flew from the sudden turn and I crashed, I think
Now I lay, grasping onto consciousness while pedagogues staple me to the ground
The Lawman towers over me, grinning madly at my defeat
The most barbaric insult, however, comes from the radio, still magically working
"I fought the law and the law won," The Clash idly sing
One of my favourite songs turned into dark irony
The last I remember before blacking out is the scarlet and marine lights clashing forevermore

When I wake up, I'm face-down on the stony and icy floor
The cold burns me enough to wake me from la la land
The iron grip of the handcuffs feels very real
Words are forced into my head, not by my own design, but sort of like they've been placed there
An argument as to whether existence has a meaning is taking place in my head, and I can't stop it
Sort of like how in a dream, you can't control your thoughts or actions
Wait
This is still a dream, right?
Right?
ryn Sep 2014
Elephant in the room*, shoo the **** away!
Don't stick around; I wish you wouldn't stay

Don't mess with my head, inciting all I feel
I don't need you here, I want to heal

Stop blaring in my ears, your noxious lies
I'm sick to the stomach with my pathetic cries

Resist flapping your gigantic ears
They simply just fan the rage in my tears

Quit blocking my view with your sheer enormity
Get out of my thoughts so better I could see

Halt your incessant skin rubbing against my sores
Chafing me raw on top of my existing scores

Pull out your pointy tusks, they poke and jab
I'm bent in many places; I don't need more stabs

Take your infernal rear out of my face!
I'm self-destructing, counting up the days

Cease your retaliation, leave with no protest
Go find and sit yourself in someone else's nest

Drop your intentions to stomp me broken
I'm mangled enough; almost misshapen

End this mindless rampage...please
Let me iron myself straight, in peace...

Dear elephant, have you gone?
Thank you for the blight of my time, you've spawned
Sofia Von Sep 2012
You’re lost
I can’t find you anywhere
I listen for the sound of your foot steps
Your breath

Silence
Silence

Its getting late
I'm perspiring
I'm hoping you’ll be strong

Strong like how I am
Or maybe how I want to be

But you’re not
You know you’re not
You probably wouldn’t stand a chance

I run

Hiding in the bushes as the bright lights shine

I’m a crminal, I’m a criminal, I’m a criminal

I hear a rustle
Flinch
I hear a squeel
Frozen muscles
Is it you?
.
.
.
Im sprinting now
Home, home were you’ll be I know it
It has to be
I’m not worried everything’s fine

I don’t care who sees me now

I'll **** them up

I'm on a mission
I've gotta save her
I've gotta prove I'm fretting over nothing
Which is worse than fretting over something

Stomp stomp creek
Warm air
Familiar smell
No sound

I walk to the bathroom
It's nothing

To her
Slap
Genious, that Borrowed Word I will Subscribe
From the Land of Prayer, thanks be to you
With this Device my Social Tracker bide
To stomp Hypocrisy for Friends so True
Yet in Earnings for my Dimed Attitude
This Child did more than just create
Is to be True myself; And pursue the Good
Past Stunning Hassles our Frustrations relate
Must I consider to promote to Prime
If only Assets my Wallet can fill
At least I return the Favour in Kind
And try to maintain my Loyalty still.
Now with that done, our Voices carry on
My Heart uplift; Though Feelings weigh a Ton.
#nischalshetty
<music>
<en-nan nin nin en-nan et dan>
It's the Bra-Hi STOMP,
             COME ON, COME ON, COME ON!
<music>
It's the Bra-Hi STOMP,
<music>
...a pen, a floor, A CAGE,
             It's the Bra-Hi STOMP,
<music>
ON THE FLOOR, down you go-oo,
            It's the Bra-Hi STOMP,

It's the Bra-Hi STOMP,

Caught in, caught in, caught-up again,
            It's the Bra-Hi STOMP,

It's the Bra-Hi STOMP!

COME ON, COME, COME ON!
           It's the Bra-Hi STOMP,

ON THE FLOOR, down you go-oo,
            It's the Bra-Hi STOMP,
<musical break>
.
.
It's the Bra-Hi STOMP,
             COME ON, COME ON, COME ON!

It's the Bra-Hi STOMP!

<fade out>
A slow lead-in to a longer heavy metal jam. 'Bra' southern slang for brother so, "Brother I Stomp."
soft spoken intro

The tree,
With its lights,
***** and tinsel,
Garland, excitement,
Of these nights,
The mistletoe and a star…
Ornaments,
See the candy canes,
Icicles,
And a door wreath,
On a cold,
Snowy Christmas Eve!  

Toys of Elvin-creation gleam, faces of the children they smile and beam, pitter-patter sounds of feet stomp -ing; it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!

A night of magic you won’t believe; it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!

Santa Claus and Christmas-time, sing a-long with our cheery rhyme, nothing ever feels so fine; it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!

A night of magic you won’t believe; it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!

Spicy scent of pumpkin pies, hear the reindeer when his sleigh arrives, toting presents that jolly guy; it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!

A night of magic you won’t believe; it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!

Santa, St. Nick, Sinterklaas, around the whole world in one night -no pause, and a childhood feeling that’ll never be lost; it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!

A night of magic you won’t believe; it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!
Tally-**! Jolly-fun! The night ain’t over till Santa’s done; a night of magic you won’t believe, it’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!

It’s a cold snowy Christmas Eve!

A cold snowy Christmas Eve!
CautiousRain Mar 2016
Dance with me and pay the price,
it's no big deal, the music's nice,
a twirl, a tap, why won't you glide?
I promise not to hurt your pride.

My heels click and stomp about,
your feet intact, without a doubt,
but something cracks, between us both,
a shattered, silent, bond-broken oath.

My smiles full of blind deceit,
your trust denied in fast defeat,
I've grown tired of this masquerade,
now you wish you hadn't stayed?

I can't believe you thought you'd be my match,
that we'd make it out without a scratch,
but jokes on you, and me too,
this was our final dance, so enjoy the view.
You thought you could dance with me, but we weren't even dancing to the same song. No wonder you walked all over me, we could never be in rhythm. We were never dancing the same steps.
Short-Termed Maiden of one's Friendship's expect
Then blast my Will to incapacitate
For sharing those Clouds; Though rained your affect
Were twisted to Pure Actions constipate
Just weakened I am to even advise
Why such Hallowed Plug pulled this New Sparkle
If Profile be cased and just inconcise
Ask the Author first if you be Humble
Though such Clues do bear, un-needed to Probe
If my Key was too Foreign for your Door
I suppose, like his Age, you chose that Road
Where Blokes just party and stomp on the floor.
The Korean was right; His Dance we can learn
Though never again your Trust I can earn.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
Harsh Dec 2014
When every other thing in your life has shattered
and you are a shell of a person and all you do
is call me at an ungodly hour to be alone,
you don’t have to say hello. You don’t have to say
anything. Let your sadness speak its lengths
through the silence that permeates through our phones.
I’ll stay on until you fall asleep, or I’ll come to your place
and hold you until you find your breath again.
I’ll wipe away the tears for you, but I won’t tell you
not to cry. Sometimes crying is the only thing we can do.

When you’re tired, just look at me and
give me one of those exhausted smiles we share;
I’ll carry you home and undress you.
I’ll fold your clothes to the side, tuck you into the covers,
and read to you while caressing your hair.
Don’t worry about snoring or moving about
while you sleep; just get your rest.

When you’re furious and all the world has done is
disappoint you, I’ll hang from a doorway and be
your punching bag. Don’t be gentle with me.
Yell until your voice splinters and you punch your knuckles raw
and stomp until your knees give out from under you.
I’ll lay you down and ice your hands and give you tea
for your throat. I’ll hold you as the rage turns into
anguish and frustration and all you can do is tremble.

And even when my actions are futile and
all my words do is come crashing about your ears,
I promise that I will at least try for you.

All your wounds heal both inside and out.
I will always be here to soothe the burns.
I will always listen to your rants and ramblings.
I will always have a hand for you to hold.
I will always love you; everything that I have
and everything that I am, all that that I ever will be,
is yours.

Always.
My rendition of this piece: http://lntroductions.tumblr.com/post/75665068982/and-if-you-call-me-at-4-am-too-sad-to-even-say
lucy winters Aug 2015
I do not do well
with a soft goodbye
when you leave I beg you
leave hard
You are breaking something
After all
So do not be gente or kind
And I do not want your pity
Give me a piece of your mind
I do not heal otherwise
scream loudly mean things
stomp your feet all over
what is still left lying around
break things if you must
to get your point across
make sure I understand
you mean what you say
when you say
you no longer intend to stay
kick me around some
Make sure the bruises show
leave me shaking on my knees
mascara streaked tears
staining the floor
when you close the door
because I do not do well
with soft goodbyes
where hope lies
the moment I lay my eyes on you,
it was like putting another stone on stomp,
I buried your soul from the first heavy stair
like I'm extracting your innocence,
this is how I became a fisher of men.
Using words to finish what lord made.

All we do is Catch fish.
The mall, Campus even the street are the only occean we live in.

Next.
I decided to use a first person narrative, hoping it will be more intimate.
Epi Arias Aug 2017
The calamity of heavily contrasting signs and symbols,
the reversed heaving,
the trot,
the stomp,
the waving,
the white spit vitriol,
the desperate amnesia
that seems to say:
“we are the ‘only’, you are the ‘not’”,
while compulsively edging
an 0rgasm of void and persistently closed chapters-
all these things and more, we witness with glassy eyes
as we listen, incredulously,
to the sound of an impossible static
being emitted from the central radio:
a sunken diatribe
that clings to clothing
and shocks the keys out of hands.
Home is further and further away, we note.
And it’s true.
(I confess that I am locked out.)

Well, it’s almost September,
so Fall will soon be here.
We can feel the leaves molting
into a dark crimson beneath our skins,
the sound of rustling foliage
coming from our hands
as we squeeze them into fists.

We can intimate a rolling pressure
behind our eyes
as the barometer trembles
uncertainty
into the unlit future
(know that it may be cold there).

We can be privy to visions of greater circumstance
without opening our chests to the beats of others and, often, do.
(A drum, after all, is a hum, spoken.)

The thing is that the end is here with us
and we are coddling its resolve
since taking a leap towards an oncoming fist
would taste too much like copper.
So we recline our chairs
into open spaces
to profess the rights of monsters,
helping to file the very teeth that bite us
because we feel too intelligent to be unfair,
too frail to finger the contours of a rabid insecurity.
(Remember, the keys are on the floor now.)

Meanwhile, it’s almost Fall
and the sky is blue
and some streams of dark crimson trickle into the gutter, quietly,
or is it loudly?
(Some of we can’t recline into space without falling like comets.)

You see, there are greater angels to what we live.
And though we may not hear their flight
through those trajectories carved by arrows in the sky,
they are right above us
weaving tapestries of blood
so that we may create smoke clouds
when burning rightly,
or is it brightly?
(A drum is a sigil, unheard.)
Jen Feb 4
There is always sun
In the sadness
Splash in the madness
Jump jump jump stomp!
It poured down
Looked up soaked
Saturated with love
Skies absorbed
Oceans like sponges
Floods flowed
They sang
A sad song
That’s when
It’s time to
Let it rain
Pick up
Move on
Sing your own
Verse
Let the sun shine
In the sadness
James M Vines Sep 2018
I stomp my bare feet upon the  shards of a mirror that was broken a few moments ago. I run the burning cold pieces through my skin as they mix with the warm blood oozing from my wounds. I dance as pain resonates through each nerve. I seek a truth that I cannot find in sanity. I looked at that dam mirror a thousand times and not once did I like what I saw. So I shattered it with my fist and released my power. I now stand in a Crimson and Silver pool as light shimmers beneath my feet like flecks of Diamonds. I realize that I am hurting but my soul does not care. While my body screams for reason, my spirit is elated to feel freedom, even if pain is the only way that it can obtain it.
Suki Feb 2018
As you stab your knife into my aching heart repeatedly
I loved you
I didn’t
I weren’t brave enough to tell me
You weren’t honest
You brought my hopes up for nothing
You told me you liked me
Making me fall for you
You picked me up when I fell
But now I fall into another arms
And you stomp on my face
Every word you said left a bad remark
Every action you did for me
Telling me little white lies
Its like looking through a looking glass
I was too dumb to see the truth
We had our thing
Video Chats and calls
Always talking,
Till you became distant
Weren’t responding
Ignoring me completely
Making me feel worthless
Till I asked you one day if you still liked me
You told me you didn’t feel the same way anymore
Bringing me down into my endless plunder
Your soothing voice became satan to me
I was acting okay,
But inside,
I was falling apart
I saw it coming
Thinking I was ready
But I was
I didn’t sleep
I didn’t eat
Making me feel like a mistake
Even though you said I wasn’t
But one thing you never understand is
I HAVE FALLEN FOR YOU AND IT WASN”T WORTH ANYTHING
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
Quest Aug 2018
Birds in an open cage
I’m outraged they aren’t outraged
They’re happy to be enslaved
They have the minds of slaves
Chirp, chirp, on demand
when the master commands!
They holler and stomp their feet joyfully.
Insane, like they have pea-sized brains.

They clip off their own wings
They don’t want to be free!
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