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Ron Gavalik May 2015
In the mid-1990s I worked as a bartender
on the second floor of a local hotdog joint
near the University of Pittsburgh.
I poured beers and mixed simple drinks
for working class drunks.
The felons always had a game or a magic trick
they’d use to milk rubes for a free gin and tonic.
College students mostly stayed away,
but the ones who stumbled in ordered drafts,
paid for by daddy’s allowance
or the petty drug rackets they ran on campus.
In the summer, the best ***** came around,
**** pushed out of their tops,
*** cheeks crept below their skirts.
They knew how to find action
every single night.

Except one overweight girl named Susie
from the all girl’s school down the road.
She’d come to the bar alone,
her lips caked with dark red lipstick.
Like many students, Susie wanted to be older.
She’d order ***** martinis,
drink quietly, and she’d patiently wait
for one of the older drunks to make a move.
It never happened.

Sometimes Susie complained to me
about other girls at her college,
that they were aggressive lesbians.
All of them wanted to eat her ******.
‘Those ******* are as bad as the men,’ she’d say.
But then she’d laugh it off.
‘I really love ****,’ she told me.
‘I think about **** and *** all the time.’

One night Susie owed the bar $27.50.
She always tried to flirt her way past the tab.
I never let her get away with it.
‘Do you like me?’ she said.
I laid down my trademark response,
‘You’re the best.’
‘No, do you really like me?’
I figured she deserved a real compliment.
‘You have the sexiest lips here.’

She climbed off the barstool
and walked to the backdoor, the fire escape.
She then curled her finger at me to join her.
Outside on the small rusted iron landing,
above the roach-filled dumpster,
Susie crouched between my legs.
Both of us worked to unbuckle my belt.
A swarm of hands pulled down my jeans.
I looked up at the few stars between buildings
as those red lips and soft tongue became my drug,
a back alley escape from a ******* life.
When I unloaded, she refused to let go.
She swallowed it all. $27.50 paid in full,
plus tip.

That’s how we went for a while.
I gave Susie small escapes from lesbians.
Susie gave me small escapes from life.
Eventually, she stopped coming around.
I figured she graduated.
Perhaps her classmates finally got their wish.
Either way, I never saw her again.
To be included in my next collection, **** River Sins.
Can we just play *****, you and i?
I mean give me looks across the table, that you are disgusted with me, for taking my ******* off and dropping them in your crotch. I mean like you talk to another girl and glance at me, as if to say '******* *****', knowing you will **** me; Later.
Let's play *****, come on, i will welcome you in to my house, in stockings and leather, and push you against the wall; grab your hand and bend it back whilst i bite your neck. Push my knee between yours, and hold your chest in my hand whilst i make you watch me unbuckle you. Let me drag you on the floor, whilst you try to get up and say 'not here'.
Why can't we play *****?
I don't want no ******* bedroom. I want the doorway, i want the hall, i want the kitchen counter, i want the living room floor and the shower. I want the couch, where i will straddle you and make you watch me as i undress myself for you, slowly, pulling, my, stocking down, so my knee is between your legs and i lean over you, so my ****** points out to your mouth, and i can hear you breathing, and every time you move towards me, i pull away.
Why can't we just play *****?
Why can't you get me mad, and we argue so bad that i want to smash my fist in to your skull til you bleed all over my kitchen floor, brains on the washer...then pick me up, throw me on the bed, slap my face about, slap open my legs and grab my throat and the other hand on my chest as you push deep into me? Hear me gasp, watch my pupils widen, groan at you, watch as you come close to my ear, and say, 'this is what i *******, wanted'.
Why can't we?
Why can't we be deviants?
Why can't we go play in the forest?
Why can't we do like animals do?
Why can't we make two barebacked beasts in the moonlight?
Why can't we play *****?
I touch your leg as you drive, playing the piano up and down your thigh, biting my lip, running my fingers up and down your thigh, nails pushing deeper, up and down, up and down, until you pull the car over, slam the brakes on, pull off your seatbelt and grab me, push the seat back, as  i smile a secret smile as you breathe deeply in my ear as you pull off my wet knickers, and begin to take me on a journey through the stars.
Why can't we play *****?
Shut your eyes. Shut your mouth. Shut everything, the, ****, up. Listen to the beat of my heart, as it quickens and i place your hand over my chest, and i look in your eyes. Stop you talking about me, about what i am like, and who i am, and what it should be, and this and ******* that.
I don't want no tv before bed, i don't want no book, i don't want no midnight stargazing.
**** that ****. ****, me.
I want to play *****, with you.
g clair Oct 2013
Patterns are beautiful, made for the mind
repeating like seeding is safe to be sure
seeking to simplify, symmetry's kind
for rhythm needs weeding and rhyming's manure

what shoots from the seed is what God has put in it
but as for the crop, well it is all in our hands
the gift and the sower are so tied together
for everything planted has natural demands

and naturally we are the gift from The Giver
yet everything in us requiring care
practice and patience brings fruit from our talents
the giftings were planted to have and to share.  

Rhythm will gallop, a horse is a carrier
bringing the message to those who can hear
but some like to think that a rhyme is a barrier
blocking the flow of a message you fear.

I prefer waking to dreaming and napping
I tend to my garden and think as I ****
I work for a living, but energy sapping
I'll nap for a while and tend to my need.

Keeping the rhythm brings sleep to the soul
a sense of reality, comforting true
but once you are in it the pattern seems duller
and sleeping, mentality changes the hue

And isn't it good to be off of the grid
Hey poet! Come on then and let it pour out
where we can be freed from the usual bid
just open the tap and then capture the stout!

Fill up your mug with the amber to brown
out for amusment this cold autumn night
foam at the mouth, an oktoberfest clown
your writer desires a great ghastly fright

Hop on the ' Fear is',  it's not real scary
but simply a ride to a fabulous place
a mystery tour for the ones who are wary
unbuckle your belt and the heart starts to race.

Slowly the Fear Is beginning to lift you
go clockwise and wave to the folks on the ground
you wonder why Fear Is the name which was given
since riding this feels like a merry go round.

Peer through the branches
now bare in the darkness
searching for words
that are hanging like bats
the car starts a rocking
with door swinging open   
you're rambling bout nothin' but jeepers egats!

the floor opens up
now your seat is a kneeler
upon which you pray' for the down to come sooner
but onward and upward the wheel
unforgiving
keeps turning and climbing
with no time for rhyming
and you're just a windbag
along for the ride

closer to Heaven
beneath are the treetops
you're looking down farther
and out into blackness
the howling surrounds you
as wind blows in fiercely
in waves without pattern
just random and fragmented
moments unwritten
unplanned, unrehearsed
you're smitten and silly
both frightened and chilly
and groping for closure
your mind is immersed

below all this drama
you turn up your headset
and manage to drown out the
sound you might hear yet
it's still all around you
so far from the pavement
with nowhere to go and nowhere to hide!

While everyone down there
is bathed in the lamp light
the music is distant,
and riders are laughing
but you sit there babbling
for heights are your weakness
look up and then down and then closing your eyes!

you're nearing the top and the car starts to shudder
as if there's a quake and the pavement is cracking
you grab for the bar and it slips from your hand
you're  can't help but do it, you simply must stand!

the air seems to tempt you
to slide in your seating
toward the edge of your falling
and surely approaching
the top of the world and you laugh to yourself
in this floating dimension
you're drunk and alone and in knots
but it's good
'cause you're way up in Dreamland
rocking the cables
which hold you to safety
when suddenly everything suddenly stops!

Wait for a while
alone in the darkness
wondering what could be hap'ning below
a glitch in the workings, a crack in the coggery
what is the matter, your words aren't flowing

Dark days upon us, and wind chills can hover
you take down the canopy, blow off the cover
leaves scatter running and chased by the wind
but I, off my rocker am talked down again
carefully setting my feet on the ground
never quite getting away from the sound

it's that old beat for beat, that measure for measure
grapes of pure gall and fermenting displeasure
tasted enough to know this can't be real
while mashing my poems in the poetry wheel.
a dream is a ride that we write for ourselves
of our problems and faces we can't just erase

the dream tries to make sense of nothing quite sensibly
riding this dream I'm set free from the pace.
Annie Jan 2014
open your car door,
light up a cigarette
i say there’s something special
about cigarettes, but I don’t know what
unbuckle seatbelt
you tell me it’s the way you
are prolonging a suicide
it’s like the world is watching you
jump off a bridge,
but not do anything about it
because the fall is slow
i laugh and don’t say anything

leaving your house at 3 am
you tell me not to die
because the roads are bad
and I can barely drive
I snap at you and say
don’t tell me not to die
tell me you hope
it’s instant

on top of a parking garage
my feet almost froze
and i looked at you
and thought to myself
that you are the type of person
i would write poems about not
being able to write poems about
and i wanted to go home
but decided to stay

you did not kiss me goodbye
but, neither did I
unbuckle seatbelt
you asked if i wanted another cigarette
i shook my head and left
you pulled out of the driveway
i hope it’s instant
c quirino Jan 2011
We walk to it in silence, passing over earthen layers of leaf and twig, never once touching dirt en transit.

Then it escapes vertically from a jungle less than ninety years old.

The Beautiful Monolith.

At one point when the jungle was young, it was an integral bridge of some great scheme of railroads but is now a cement Taj Mahal only undiluted, uninhibited youth could create.
 
Where alabaster paint found in post cards and archival footage had once been, several layers of outsider art, scratchings, bible verses and amateur-drawn genitalia are the monolith’s primer, base and top coat.
 
We walk past two crosses next to the river, one for a young man who had jumped into the three foot deep river from the monolith’s former train tracks, another carries no name but is nailed to a neighboring tree.

An unnaturally yellow tulip lies beneath this cross.
 
At the Monolith’s feet are vines with sprouts of two-or-three leaves each pointing arbitrarily in directions they can grow.

“And my, how they grow,” she whispers.
 
My Sunday dress, a former ivory table cloth of mother’s imagination is consumed by the jungle.

It is not tarnished, but given life. An existence it would not have known under mother’s elbows rained upon by her cigarette’s ashes. It is ‘colored-in’ life, like these are some vanilla pages of little nephew's coloring book.

I try to tell him, but he does not understand, and says that I shouldn't talk about things being “colored' because it makes me sound like a racist.

I laugh, plucking leaves from the tree bearing the unnamed cross and rub them across the Flat of my torso, leaving green streaks across the former tablecloth.
 
He whispers into my ear about taking me to the top of the Monolith. I nod and attempt to rest my chin on his shoulder, but he starts swiftly up the hill.

He tells me to “lose the prissy mary-jane’s” on my feet saying it would be easier to climb without them.
 
I do this, and my bare feet touch the leaves and twigs. The feeling is *******, but in real life, I don’t even know this word exists. We climb, resting halfway on an embankment in one of the Monolith’s Roman arches. The second half of the climb is slightly more difficult, but we reach the top.
 
The tracks are gone, replaced by a coating of gravel, rocks and beer bottles. And then I see it, the reason why the Monolith is beautiful. Two states converge on this spot where I stand, my tablecloth dress begins to take flight as I spread my wings. His mismatched eyes look at me with something close to amusement as he takes out a bright yellow acetate stencil.
 
The cupola of Animal Mansion pokes out from the jungle like my ***** right ****** in this former table cloth.  
 
A thin veil of red paint meets my waist. He gasps and his eyes widen, allowing me to see every individual real life pixel of his unmatched eyes, the hazel left, and the kelly-green right.
 
He mutters some kind of apology I cannot understand.
 
I respond by slipping off the tablecloth. They bounce slightly. You know which ones I speak of…
 
His eyes remain wide as he comes closer to me, telling me that I have to put my clothes back on. In his hands is the crumpled , grass stained, table cloth dress.
 
I ask if this is what he wants. He manages to say “yes” but apparently…not under these circumstances…or at least not on the Beautiful Monolith. I drop to my knees, and am able to unbuckle his belt before he pulls me up by my forearms.
 
My tears make it hard to see what is happening now…I feel my arms pushing him back from me, and then the sound of rocks tumbling out of place.

He is over the ledge now, flying through the portion of damaged railing where no fence stands. His mismatched eyes, the left hazel and right kelly-green stare warmly into mine.

In his hands is the crumpled, grass stained, tablecloth dress.
This, is see perfectly.
© Constante Quirino
matt Nov 2014
The solo road takes hold. I don't know where it goes, but where it goes I go.
A midnight’s drive under a sky full of clouds, blocking the moonlight.
Only the glimpse of a shimmering star guides my way, but to what I do not know.
A night of indifference, just going where this winding road takes me, but
I can barely see that shining star through clouds of hesitation.
The road is a one lane highway to a destination unknown
the fog is so dense it is like a layer of blankets used to hide the fears of a child in the dark.
At this point I wonder if it can hide my fears as well.
Do I even want to hide from these fears at all or should I stand up to the inevitable?
My engine’s sputtering, stalling, my car’s running out of gas and I feel like I just might crash.
I put my foot to the gas and hope that I wont fly through the glass and end up with my car smashed, because this car is my only way off this **** road in the first place.
I see no headlights coming my way even though I pray that one day I will see a light at the end of this godforsaken road but the day isn't today.
Some days I pray that I will lay on the road face down
with a trail of my essence turning the road red with release
but other days I carry on like it was my job to mindlessly keep both of my hands on the steering wheel and hope that at the end of this road, there’s an exit sign,
and that all I need’s a little more time.
Because night after night, my hands grip the wheel so hard my knuckles turn white as the fog that clouds my vision day after day.
My sighs echo down this ever growing street, every twist and turn feels like another reason
to unbuckle my seatbelt and open the door because
I’m going 85 in a 50 and I can’t even see my own headlights on the road
my vision is blurred and my mind is as foggy as the road I drive on.
Every now and again I wonder what the point is
I can barely remember the day I started driving, it was so long ago
and I pray for the day when I can wash this fog away in rain,
that I’ll find an exit and take it.
Live
inside the execution chamber
a stocky warden
poker-faced and middle-aged
begins
the medieval ritual
with words of cold indifference
addressed towards
Ted's emotionally dead
terrified head.

A warder
grim-faced
stands to one side
arms folded
as two others
begin to buckle
thick leather straps
around Bundy's ankles
wrists and chest
to the chair.

No cold condolences
the electrodes
on top of his head
a black mask
covering his face
until the signal is given
a raised arm
to the executioner
hooded in black
who pushes a lever.

Bundy's body arches
spasmodically convulses
tensely straining
paroxysms
the neck taut
head stretched back
blood oozing
from the nostrils
then slumps
and is pronounced dead.

The warders
remove the crown
and mask
unbuckle the straps
as the chamber empties
and the executioner
doffs the black hood
to reveal
appropriately
a beautiful woman.
Based on a live video of Ted Bundy, who is supposed to have killed 100 young women.
Sam Knaus Nov 2014
The solo road takes hold. I don't know where it goes, but where it goes I go.
A midnight’s drive under a sky full of clouds, blocking the moonlight.
Only the glimpse of a shimmering star guides my way, but to what I do not know.
A night of indifference, just going where this winding road takes me, but
I can barely see that shining star through clouds of hesitation.
The road is a one lane highway to a destination unknown
the fog is so dense it is like a layer of blankets used to hide the fears of a child in the dark.
At this point I wonder if it can hide my fears as well.
Do I even want to hide from these fears at all or should I stand up to the inevitable?
My engine’s sputtering, stalling, my car’s running out of gas and I feel like I just might crash.
I put my foot to the gas and hope that I wont fly through the glass and end up with my car smashed, because this car is my only way off this **** road in the first place.
I see no headlights coming my way even though I pray that one day I will see a light at the end of this godforsaken road but the day isn't today.
Some days I pray that I will lay on the road face down
with a trail of my essence turning the road red with release
but other days I carry on like it was my job to mindlessly keep both of my hands on the steering wheel and hope that at the end of this road, there’s an exit sign,
and that all I need’s a little more time.
Because night after night, my hands grip the wheel so hard my knuckles turn white as the fog that clouds my vision day after day.
My sighs echo down this ever growing street, every twist and turn feels like another reason
to unbuckle my seatbelt and open the door because
I’m going 85 in a 50 and I can’t even see my own headlights on the road
my vision is blurred and my mind is as foggy as the road I drive on.
Every now and again I wonder what the point is
I can barely remember the day I started driving, it was so long ago
and I pray for the day when I can wash this fog away in rain,
that I’ll find an exit and take it.
Samantha Bauman Aug 2013
sitting in a car
two cokes in the cup holder
too busy wondering how I got here
because you're so much cooler and older
we've  stopped the car but the music playing
I'm finding it hard focusing on what you're saying
I'm too busy looking at your lips
we both reach for our drinks,
brushing fingertips
you look at me in a way you haven't before
I don't feel like such a little girl anymore
I hear the sound of your seat belt unbuckle
I can feel our bodies getting at a closer angle
and we kissed in a car heatedly
only stopping for breaths repeatedly
and once we broke we were both breathing heavily
I looked into your brown eyes
they remind me of dark nights
but I didn't feel alone
I kissed you and felt at home.
grace Jun 2015
"what do you think I should do?"
you looked in between your fingers and said to me
don’t be her cigarette
don’t let her light you up when there’s nothing to do and
put you out once she’s bored.
don’t be the aftertaste of chemicals in her mouth.
don’t be the black **** she spits onto the sidewalk.
don’t be convenient.
don’t be one of twenty in a pack of Marlboros.
so I left her.

you always knew what to say.
I never would have guessed that two months later
I would call you crying to say goodbye
hoping you would at least make a half assed attempt to care
with my phone in my left hand
and a handful of pills overflowing in my shaking right,
I never could have guessed you would’ve answered
with a complaint about how I woke you up.

I landed in the E.R.
like a skydiver lands in the ocean—
fumbling to unbuckle yourself from the parachute
sinking heavy in the salt water
being dragged down by the very fabric that was supposed to save me
trying to claw your way back up to the surface
like desperately clawing at the ceiling of your coffin
like lungs about to burst
like vision blurred
I was drowning
the thing that was supposed to save me
sunk me.
I sat under the florescent lights
that first night
wondering if you had called back
knowing you hadn’t
the whole week I picked at the white bracelet on my wrist
“female, 5’6”, 115 pounds, INPATIENT.”
While wondering if you cared
but knowing you don’t
But hoping you did
because it’s hard to hear for months the
“I’m not going anywhere
I love you
I’m right here
Call whenever you need it
at 3 in the morning or at 3 pm
you don’t need a reason to call if you
want to call just to hear my voice call.
we have something special
and I hope we never loose it
you’re my best friend
I was meant to have met you”—
*******.
You were my parachute.

The message I had from you
when I got discharged from the psych ward was:
“I have a lot going on and won’t be able to reply much.”

You always know what to say.

You pulled me under
you, heavy fabric
you, life-saving-invention
you, malfunctioned *******.
you—chain-smoker.
I have been one of twenty in her pack of Marlboros.
And now I’m one of twelve in your pack of Camels.

I've since quit smoking.
Kida Price Jun 2014
Us
Ten years shy of our interlude
You watching me punching you.
First impressions were insude.
Who would have thought they would have lasted as long as you?
Hardened shells
Never crack
Passing notes
Hear you laugh.
Searching hallways
Looking back
See your face
Give me that.
A casualty of a hacky sack.
Keeping face and holding back.
Hug me tight
Apology
You won't see a single tear from me.
Turned your back away from me
Never wanting comforting
Especially from the likes of me.
Hugging back
Selflessly
Making you see this isn't me.
Highschool drama
**** those llamas
Keeping rage to a tolerable somber.
Pretending not to see you leave
So far away from my company.
Feeling others pulling me
Away from your integrity
Intentions made so violently
Trying to hate you
Have you forgetting me.
Angry notes are pushing
You farther and farther away from me.
Making us complicating
Something as simple as you and me.
**** this ****
I want this
Complicate me with our trust.
Let me be the one you dance with
When there are others you dismiss.
Passing up what could have been our first kiss.
Day of love
The day I hate
Who needs a valentine?
It could **** my taint.
Down the hall behind your back
A little flower
Now I'm trapped.
Handing it to me
Watching a smile grow widely.
Making my words into hypocrisy
Now they know I'm a girl and see
How you're cracking every bit of me?
Kissing cheeks
Make us blush
Never stopping our blood from the rush.
Holding hands
Intertwined
Finishing sentences
Reading minds.
It almost felt like you were mine
Before life parted us with time.
Far away
Computer screens
Catching up
Living things
Watching you love and letting you be
At least we had the memories.
Fell into some habits
So did you.
What is our lives coming to?
Feeling the shells harden again
Please don't break it
Let me pretend
You don't see me on this end.
You won't be proud of the things I did.
Fall off planets
Wedding bands
Stand at attention
No longer in each other's plans.
Seeing the world is the latest trend.
Asian continent
Back on earth we land
What are the odds
Of you planting your legs where I stand?
Aisle walks
Who's at the end?
Selecting food with a friend.
Stand like a statue
As I ascend
Hardly believing we're breathing the same oxygen.
Did you shake?
When I wrapped my hands
Around your back
Am I an illusion?
Miles from home
And I found my friend.
Bring my songs back to life
Thinking we've change
Together that's a lie.
There's much to do about nothing
To pick up where we left off back then.
The mold I'm squeezing myself in
You trying to keep yourself busy
Any excuse to have a run in meeting.
Find religion
No, but you'll spend time with me.
Watch me do some mormoning.
Maybe come over for some holidays
See the part where I'm cooking things.
Confiding in you that I hate Christmas
And you full heartedly agree.
It's not that bad though on the couch reminiscing.
Pull out year books and point out people
Together hating
What have you been up to since leaving me?
I love long stories
They won't bother me.
Once again fingers entangling.
Almost forgetting to whom I'm belonging.
Don't remind me of what I'm craving.
Here...look at these girls
They're all that you need.
The attention you give me only makes me think.
FHE hide and seek
Sit in my car
Listen to me sink
Oh, you met someone
Isn't that neat?
She makes you laugh
She helps you feel less lonely.
It wasn't until you had us meet
That my inner envy began to creep.
That night before deploying...
Even in front of her
You saying that you loved me.
And I believing it being more than friendly.
6 months out
Desert sands
Losing someone you thought you had
On both of our ends.
Ask advice
The hell if I know
The same thing is happening to me.
I wish it wasn't how it came to be.
A matter of time before you return to me.
Work day
In my registers place
I'm the first you choose to chase
And in response I jump to your embrace.
Relieved you came back in safety.
You came back home
And my home came back to me.
Darken sidewalks
Hand in hand
Tell me how you spent your time in the sand
Your place now
And I confess
There's things I feel
Parts of you I missed.
Expecting you to call me out
It's not fidelity if I say it out loud.
And yet you don't
You mimic me
Telling that you had been missing
Me.
At least we know
We said our peace
No further even though our doors are opening.
Don't swing wide
Don't let me feel your breeze.
Just one toe in
That's all I need.
Game of thrones
Barrack rooms
Wondering what I said to you
Just lay down
Don't go too far
Non make out session
Our hearts pound hard.
I'm on top
My face too close
Touching lips
The story goes
It's you and me
Staring
Can't believing it to be happening.
Just this once and then no more
Kissing as if we never had before.
Trying hard as hell to not want more.
All convictions to the floor
Loving each other like there's a settle to score.
But it doesn't count if you don't say
That you love me in anyway.
Let's keep it casual, I say.
Let's try to stop this all today.
Going out
Drinking scene
I'm trying to look pretty.
And you always look good
In whatever you throw on
Inebriated I try to make you sing a song.
Go out for some air
Let the drinks speak for me
Telling you I love you right then and there
Regardless of whoever could hear.
Moving too fast but I didn't care
If I lost you again at least of have it out there.
Drink me up into your cares
I'd rather be here than where I came
While you tell me you love me all the same.
It's probably wrong for both of us to say
But we've know it too long to be too ashamed.
Let someone else take the blame
Of constantly getting in the way.
Evenings spent in each other's sway
Till he calls or we get too carried away.
Not letting me go home just yet
Don't leave me alone
Don't make me forget
The places I've kissed on your neck.
Crevices discovered
New places of wonder
In and outside of those covers
No control
Let's leave the room
In the zone
Inhale those smoking fumes
Stupid smiles
To one another
They all knew about us and each other
The lust branded us both lovers
Except for that certain act
We broke ourselves not to rein act.
Kissing can be forgiven
But that sure as hell can't
Only when we belong to each other
Would we ever do that.
When and not if
After all of this
We felt too much with every kiss.
Placing each other in each future scenario
Naming kids and watching them grow
In our heads.
Plucking out names as we star gazed
Debating on waiting or straight away
Having our perfect family.
Talking of sharing our lives alone
But we weren't alone.
Knocks on the door
Back home there was met
Someone who found out our little secret.
Confronted
Turns out that I was actually wanted
Could have fool me by his quiet neglect
And we were both being treated like back stabbing suspects.
And that's when the guilt in me crept.
Stronger than I, you stood your ground.
Feeling bad for the conflict but not for being around.
Wanting to protect me from every sound
Of rage and breaking hearted rebound.
And after that it was like a divorcing trial
He'd have me all week and then you on the weekend but only for a little while.
Trying to keep myself going wild
Trying have both of you smile.
Stupid me
Now I see
I'm not the kind of person meant for sharing.
Back and forth and still I'd be
Exposed to 360 degrees of jealousy.
And on top of that you were leaving me.
Not deliberately
Not intentionally
Not wanting
To see me fade away into nothing.
Do our time
Make it count
Get the claw and pull nemo out.
******* there's a gloomy bear?
10 more tokens then we're there.
Photo booth
Print it clear
That we happened. We were here.
Walk a trail and find a tower
Watch the sunset from the water.
Skip those rocks until I get it right
We were always worth the fight
For any of those memories to see the light.
Knowing though right now can't be
Someday you ask to marry me
I've been asked that before
And you see where that got me
You don't blame me for the disbelief
And your ever hopeful eyes still plead
Never thinking back in spite
The things we felt on your last night.
Folding socks
Packing tight
Kissing time away that night.
Interrupted
And I left
Feeling so in completed.
Watch the clock before you take off
I need to make it now or not
Walk right through the terminal doors
And all of your resolve plummeted to the floor.
One last time and then no more.
It's hard enough to say goodbye
I can't do it when you have tears in your eyes
Trying hard to hold back mine
All we wanted was a little more time.
We always joked of how
Hours went by like seconds now
God allowed time to slow
When you're feeling miserable.
In the line
Watch you fly
Now it's only me, myself and I.
Hoping one of us can keep our memories
As my tangible one fade away from me.
Try again to recommitting
To the one I left hanging.
Trying to still be in your mind
But letting go to prove him right.
Then he left me high and dry
Should have saw that coming as soon as you took flight.
Hoping you put me from your sight
Burn my letters and live your life right.
While I deny myself the right and mine
Thinking I deserve it for my crime.
Breaking 3 hearts including mine.
Pass the time
I need to be better
I need to follow his life to the letter
Thinking I don't deserve much better
The one who you had wants out but I won't let her.
Feels like I waited forever.
Reconnected the line to the wrong receiver.
Thought I had done what I thought was best
Hearing your voice say those words and I couldn't contest
With your distance and your suppressed
Empathy for my distress.
It's the undeniable consequences.
Let myself fall of the surface
Breaking ties
Become the enemy
Become the very kind of person
I spent my life loathing.
Prey upon those who'd believe
All the pretty words I'd seethed.
Who knew it could be this easy
To make someone else fall in love with me?
Faceless guys who tripped to see
Any kind of attention from me.
Getting drunk every evening
Just to **** the part of me with feeling.
Touch me want me kiss me taunt me
Think you've made me the one who's wanting?
And then the prodigal boy who bounced me
Came back when he saw what I was flaunting.
You would have rolled your eyes at me
With everything that I was portraying.
Going back to the way I was playing.
In my defense I wasn't thinking.
About him.
About you.
About myself or what I had to do.
Deny the basic human right
To feel some happiness
To feel alive.
Take the bottle and the pills
Waking up the next morning
Disappointment with a side of chills.
At least it was a wake up call
Trying to control it all
If I was going to let myself fall
I didn't want to inconvenience anyone at all.
Play the part
Say the words
Live the lie
Make it work
Made my plans
Aligned with his
Come back home and he leaves again.
Knowing in the back of my head
You were somewhere else
And you lived.
Maybe someone was warming your bed.
Last we spoke, someone did.
Trying to keep my space again
I'd done enough as it is
For you to want to see my face again.
So I had thought
And I did.
You were waiting for my message.
Even if it was just as friends.
Facebook stalking
We both admit
We'd do it weekly until one of us
Started talking.
Passing thoughts
Wait for an update
Profile pictures
Changing
I kept taking more and more
Note on your tagged photos
Wondering who took those.
Did you still have the ones I took?
When you were alone and thinking
Did you have a look?
Did you ever think of me?
Why the hell aren't you messaging?
Then I, with silence breaking
"Hey there stranger...."
Message seen
Then you said you were willing me
To say those words through the screen.
Find out how you were close to me.
How did I feel about visiting?
Driving three hours to my county
And now to you I'm nervously driving.
Pulling up next to you
*******!
When did he get so huge.
Wait a moment for my breathing to ensue.
Unbuckle, get out and walk to you.
Pulled me in
Was the first thing you do
And the the feeling came rushing through.
Like some ****** on a binge
God, it felt so good to be held again.
Trying to avoid holding hands
Check me out
And I'll check you back
Tease each other
Make me crack
Almost kiss
Pull away
**** this ****
Do it anyways.
Walking in public places
Didn't help the pulsing phases
The time apart didn't diminish the traces
Of the physical draw, we just misplaced it
Maybe we should go back to my place
Watching some film while we look away
Baby, let's not get carried away
Close call
You almost made me fall
Crazy how that felt like no time at all
Till we're back on the same spiral.
Catch a glimpse of my swinging face
Smile now frown now back to our places
It's hard to feel so far away
When I stare at your face through this screen everyday
When I fall asleep to your voice at night
When we speak of drawing first blood
How hott it would be to fight.
Making business meetings
Into merging companies
Telling secrets
Making scenes
Silly faces
Fairly lands
Does it bother you?
It never did.
Trying to make my life less complicated
Convincing me
That the ground your standing
Is the one you claimed
Like planting a flag down in the name of your country.
Come to my door
Pull the beasts away from the floor
Then I'm against the wall
Pick me up
Never letting me fall
First impressions are the best
You say hello in a way if can't contest
Trying to keep the shake from your hands
As you fiddle and press all my buttons
Road trip riots
Scream out windows
Call me maybe?
That poor couple.
Amusement parks are just a perk
We're already amused together with the way we work.
Baby, I love you, turn around!
******* A!
The sloth you found!
My jaw almost hit the ground
I went full ****** just now.
Lemonade ice
Wishing wells
Tattooed dad's
Hands are held
Fight the straw
In your mouth
Remind me of my stature
Elbow on my head
Apologize
Kiss my face instead.
See a family struggling
With capturing their own memory
Tell me to ask and see
If their picture could be taken by me
So shy by your own generosity
I lovingly agree
Sleepy now
Wearing out
First time sleeping all personal.
Promise to stay
Regardless of what's happening?
We don't have to go all the way.
Naked now
If you kiss you lose
Did you kiss me
Or did I kiss you?
Alarm clock ******* up the sleep cycle
Waking up to see you smile
Morning breath
Just give me a little while
Get up from bed
Pull me back down
Put on your shirt
Take it back off now.
Taking care of canine kids
Taking a shower while you sit
Ready to go back on the road
Walgreens, gardens, now my favorite abode.
Secret spot that I show
**** rubbing that tree made me giggle.
On the strip
Arts and crafts store
No, I've never been in there before.
We both enjoy what we see so far.
*******.
They're playing Fast Car.
Stares are swapped
Grins are spread
Sharing that secret
Like we did.
Waiting till that song did end
To head to our next destination.
Walk up hill
Serious talk
Sit on grass
Picture swap
Ninja pose
You're built like a rock.
Find some food
But it's too crowded to walk.
Jason's deli has what we want
Only conflict is the drinks that we bought.
You like mine better?
I like yours too
Problems solved
Let the trade ensue.
Ticking clock
Almost time to leave
Rewinding parts of mr nobody
Trying not to let me see
How much you don't want to leave.
Kiss me like you don't want me to,
******* this kid is making me lose it too.
Get in car
Drive away
Call me soon
Drive home safely
FaceTime ******* us off incessantly
If we were in person
We wouldn't need this ******* thing.
Hardly an hour past, and then
You ask when you can see me again.
Make some plans
Rinse repeat
Tabb throw back
Dairy Queen food endeavor
Food lion **** break
Tim minchins radio doppelgänger
Read my brain
You thought it too
Art museum
I'm gunna get you
Riled up
And frustrated with me
It's hard to walk when in my ear
You're whispering
Do you hear a piano playing?
Let's trek back and see
The master of that melody
Hunting down the elderly
That old guy is you
And the old lady is me
Speaking of our future constantly.
Back to the ride
The glove box won't comply
Get some wire to compromise
Take me to get some shakes and fries
Wandering in the mall's walk lights
Going back across the bridge
My paranoia of the road permits
Squeezing your hand every five minutes.
Relax
Scream and step on the gas
You sure know how to make my brain go lax
Check on the kids
And then pursue
The slumber party
Take two
Messing up the room info
King sized bed
Downgraded to two q
I S A A C Aug 2023
Enmesh ourselves in the forest of our bodies
the movie could be written by our calculated cadence
folded arms to euphoric statements
tap your head to drink your thoughts
did not expect it after so long
massage your scars, unbuckle your taming
i can see the movie we are making
the wide eye boy and his capital charm
the small town boy with a fresh fresh start
Anthony Williams Jul 2014
Can you know how much I want you in the parking lot
to be strung out like meter maids in a fiddle
against my cheek and hard shoulder relayed
avoiding no string explanations but easy riding
stretched out beyond once at a Beyoncé concert
just to see your halo tyres screech echoes
aglow in the ccs of my tiny mind
as it wrestles with your personal youi toy issues
like a playful puppy with a soft-fix-rated wish list
to bite a whole lotta wish bits of open road can you
bare to test how serrated tongues kiss in tune

it's a don't miss love once thought I can fixate on
sense passion peach scent parking zone zany catch
pitching selfies of us two so perfecto we're in pinches
clinching made-up rows with post-cuticular itch scratch
u-turn buff out delecto smiley multi-teethy smooches
a no blame game mile after mile lost in the now
distracted in your put me through mobile beeps
full on not coping in the full brunt of my own alone bed
we motel back to hands off places
into back-out but no back-off welcomes

like a newly opened up sink whole from car to sofa
we click an unbuckle so well whenever choice strapped
telling goofed dippy love yous in nuggets kilo unlocked
staking times to care unextractable from distractions
wacky made from all your spills of tickle-tacky flesh
not wondering if its drive away thrills will go to waste
it's great transferring the apricot dream deposit as soon as
we dessert amuse each other after another amazing inference
goodnight speak for can I never come down from this highway

more and more under the covers of darkness accepting
without a hundred replica 'oh... don't' thanks
about who amongst our friends we can invite due to starving
for a combination of something they think we might be cooking
because we hate surprising add-in too except samfaina sauce
the spice of safe healthier for the solar farm morning recovery
your orange sunjuice extras converting tact without put downs
into staying cool out of the fridge and try not wanting to be set
in ways runny over your chin causing poaching without a permit

I know how it looks but I can't face not facing you
that wrinkle in your nose when it twitches to say
I see where you're going with this enroute idea
and pull me into the fast lane for the unbelievable
believed fully in you for a lie moment
needing you flat on your face and up front indecent
with the café latté grounds for chatting late
you gave me such a let's revisit French roast stare
you melted the café glacé I saw inside with a party intuition

the cheer me sense you uptake and bring to any cold space
by star walk in **** roles enough to water any dry as dust pan
slowly across with room for all eyes following
and brush aside arguments
so I can stay here tonight?
OK I'll drop my things in the got it all together
now on a successful detour
hearing your exalted exam declaration arrive "yes" in the mail
a result with female passes so nicely played on a level field

stepping up so mall boutique professionally to a border crossing
you were in a graphic position to stay
in shape in a way not relaxing
but with visa entries for multiple tourism
volumizing my eyes with an apply now unzipped boo-boo
uploaded in youtube to dual carber eater in full HD biker
rolling in hard drive definition a bluray inexhaustible backfire
shining out between leather studs your patch
“I live to ride”
and for the rest of the world's club it stops there
how not frustrating is that heart's topper for me
by Anthony Williams
Chrissy Cosgrove Mar 2015
When I was 8 years old, my second favorite place in the whole world was the Campbell Public Library. I liked to go in by myself because I was treated like a grown-up even though I wasn’t. I would walk into the fiction section, walking up and down each of the aisles and stopping to look at anything that caught my eye. If I couldn’t find a particular book I wanted, I would use the library computer to look it up and if I couldn’t reach something that looked interesting I would get a chair to stand on top of. I would carry a towering stack of books by authors like Judy Blume and Meg Cabot to the checkout counter, feeling very adult as I used my very own library card and successfully held a polite conversation with the librarian and told her yes, I would like a receipt please because I liked how the due date for my books was written on it. I found my mom parked in her Mercedes Benz convertible that cost far less than she wanted people to think and we would drive back to our house with her desperately trying to fill the five minutes with the sort of conversation that is normal for a mother and her daughter, except unlike most normal mothers and daughters, her understanding of me as a human being went as far as my name, age, and that I was full of wasted potential even as a third grader. She liked to say, “The apple don’t fall too far from the tree,” but I could tell she was disappointed. Every time we were about to pull into the driveway, I would unbuckle my seatbelt in eagerness to escape into the half-dozen books on my lap and every time without fail my mother would ask me where the fire was. It was a stupid expression and I resented it a little more every time I heard her say it. My first favorite place in the whole world awaited me in my bedroom, a snug corner on top of my dresser where I always kept some blankets and pillows for the hours I would spend up there post-library visit. It was a tight space, perhaps a little bit precarious, but it was quiet and it was safe and whenever my mom would come in to check on me (every few hours or so), she wouldn’t know where I was. You would think that after spending the majority of my time on this specific spot on top of my dresser, she would one day figure out that if she doesn’t immediately see me that I would be there like I am every other time she entered my room. But like most things, she ignored what she observed and I could not find it in me to be amused at her ditzy incompetence. Directly across from my dresser was a window with a view of an aspen tree, frequently inhabited by birds who would sit on the birdfeeder that I made a point to fill every few days and squirrels who would scurry up and down the trunk, occasionally pausing to look curiously at me. I liked sitting on top of my dresser and watching them because if you stared for long enough, one of the squirrels would do something really funny like stand on its hind legs to eat from the bird feeder. When something like this would happen, I would call for my mom so she could watch with me but she looked at what I was looking at wrong and didn’t understand. Sometimes if I watched for too long, I would start thinking about things that weren’t birds or squirrels or aspen trees or Judy Blume books. Sometimes if I watched for too long, I would get really sad because it was a Saturday that I should be spending with my dad, whose understanding of me as a human being went much farther than my name, age, and the false idea that I was full of wasted potential even as a third grader. If my dad walked into my room, the first place he would look would be on top of my dresser. He wouldn’t ask me what I was reading or if I was hungry or if I would come out and be social; he would watch the birds and the squirrels with me and he would understand.
hello Apr 2013
He's an introvert
Yet an extrovert at its finest times
He's optimistic
And a pessimist
He is the heart of a hurricane
And the floor of the calm ocean
He fixes things
Says he is broken
He contradicts himself
But acts as though he will never
Be wrong
I love how upside down
He is
I love this boy because
Of his backwardness
And his tendency to make up
Words
And places
I love this boy because
He follows the rules
But also breaks them
He is the ultimate roller coaster
I feel daring and unbuckle
My seatbelt
The drops the dips the spins
The curves
My body is thrown off
I bonk my head on the ground of his
Brain
He doesn't make sense
But he does
At the same time
Lappel du vide Dec 2013
Lovely, lets go drive somewhere.
Lets go on a roadtrip to nowhere.
Forget all our worries, and our past, and our future, and disappear in the beckoning call of the stars, and the waning moon.
To old tapes that our parents liked, and our mother cried to one thousand times before our own tears hit the brown leather interior of this big vast van.
Far too big for both of our egos, yet too small for this beauty… Rumbling along with a feisty engine, and the scent shadows of cigarette smoke, love, and a ladies expensive Sauvé perfume encased in the seats. Memoirs of a distant past.
The Rolling Stones. Bob Dylan. Chubby Checker. Motley Crue. Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Nirvana. Smashing Pumpkins, Pearl Jam. The Doors. Frank Sinatra. Aretha Franklin. Simon and Garfunkel. Bobbie Gentry. Too many to name.
They filled the night to the top.
And trailed behind us, weaving its way in the corners of traffic, and windows of hot personalities, sweating their worries in the dark heat of the summer night.
We stop at some roadside diner; one o’clock in the morning drab slumped over all the tables. Questioning the road we take, we order coffee from the wrinkly lady named Susie, and leave it on Johns tab. We don’t even know him, but if we emptied out our pockets here and now, all we would find is lint.
We can roll down the windows, and unbuckle our seat belts on some abandoned road, racing to infinity, and only visible for this moment. We can stick out our pretty little heads, and yell into the night, cursing everything that doomed us, and everyone that doubted the freedom, the spirit that we have. It will just all just disappear in the wind.
Slipping past cornfields, alleys, coffee shops, and tiny towns, where every single one of those people have a life and a story that we could never imagine. Either that, or they have nothing at all…
Then we can stop on the side of the road, overlooking the sea, moonlight reflected upon its crashing face, and we can put something mellow on, in that ancient tape player. A tape which the label has long since warn off. But three words remain.
1967. For Marline.
A mix that was passed on from your old boyfriend, from his father’s grave… Who knows what his name was. Who knows where, or who he is now. He could be a man forgotten of all memories but you, and strives upon the image of that pretty face, but you forgot him already.
Now you can’t remember.
But we can LIVE, here and now, and we can look back upon this moment forever, while we drive back to our lives, and know, without saying anything, that we are all that any of us will ever need, and we didn’t need anybody to tell us anything because of that.
Hawk Flight May 2014
I see the car
driving off the cliff
down
down
down
down
it goes.......

But my day didnt start out like that

I woke up
to my mothers sing songing voice
Victor wake up hunny we're going on a trip!

Olivia comes squeeling in
jumping on my bed
Trip! Trip! Trip!
her three year words tumbling out

Getting ready we all hop in the car
Mother
father
son
daughter
in that big old Caravan

where are we going

A cross country trip

Summer time is here
lets make the most of it

We got across a few states
sightseeing as we went
camara flashing
marking our journey

Grab a motel room
spend the night

next day get up
eat breakfast
on the road again

Then it happened.
A moose in the middle of the road
Dont ask me the state
my brain has blacked that out

But it never bothered to block out the accident

Dad tried to aviod it
but it was to big
He hit the back end
and went spinning over the cliff
tumbling down
and down

glass shattering
twigs getting in

the car settles at the bottom
upside and smashed

I try to get my bearing
my six year old self freaking out

SOMETHING attacks my face
To this day I dont know what it is
But now my left eye is dead
my vision destroyed
claw marks rake that side of my face

with blood in my eye
I try to find my parents
They are still not moving

Dads neck is bent funny
so is moms

I hear my sister calling out to me
hanging upside down
reaching out to me

Something is wrong with her chest
She wasnt wearing a red shirt
she was wearing Yellow

dont worry Livy
Everythings gunna be ok

with my promise on my lips
I unbuckle my seatbelt
surprised it still worked

I crawled out of my seat
and to my father
trying not to look at his
dead eyes.
I love you daddy, Goodbye

reach into his pocket
grab his cell phone
whats that number again?
Oh right
911

call it
cry scream
tell the people
HELP ME, HELP OLIVIA
Mommy and daddy went to heaven already

Olivia, shes fading
***** hold on they're coming
Her whimpers stop
and her body goes limp

NOOOOOOOOOO
I shout and scream
shrieking into the night

The flashback fades away
I wake up
in my own room
18 years later

I survived
My whole family didn't

Whoever is out there
God? Alleh, Goddess, Whomever
Why didnt you take me with them?

Why did you have to leave me here?
why did you have to break me?
My first tim ever writing or talking about the accident that killed my whole family when I was only 6. I am the only survivor. the doctors still can't figure out what attacked my face, They suggest that somehow a bird got into the car and clawed my face trying to get out.
pagethatwritesme Mar 2013
an open book on your lap,
hair a black jumble as you cross your legs.
i can hear the skin sliding over skin and the pursing of your lips,
like the sea chumming it up with the salt or some ships.

and of your tongue like a red oval sun
fighting against mine in the dark,

i lilt and drown in the dime of flesh above the ankle strap of your left shoe.
you uncross your legs and look at me, then dip your head toward the ground,
draw your hair out with your fingers, past your face, and let it fall

between your thighs.
skin brown as sand and as hot inside the living room,
beneath seventy watt bulb and lampshade.
you sit up, one mile into my mouth,

and cross your legs again, begin,
“do you like the way that sounds, joshua?"
when my thighs brush against one another?”

the moon gets caught
somewhere in a net as birds shut up
and cats uncurl.
unbuckle an ankle strap,

slip one foot barely out of your shoe. “listen to that,
joshua, you can hear my foot
arching, my legs smearing into one another.”
sand glistens
with sweat

and trembles. uncross legs and gather your hair behind your neck,
slip off your other shoe and claim that you are “naked”.
i believe you
and blame my imagination on the book covered in the folds
of your dress.


*for my shortie
Tommy N Oct 2010
When you make a mess
and both laugh.
When her hair gets caught in the dial of your watch.
When your glasses scratch her clavicle.
When hands are too cold
and goosebumps ripple up thighs.
When bodies knock
into furniture, and you have to stop.
When you spill water on the nightstand.
When you wobble the lamp
and shadows lean across the bed.
When her flesh dials a coworkers’ numbers on your cell
or the phone just rings.
When your “Harry Potter” audiobook plays on shuffle.
When church is in seven hours.
When the shower is too hot
and you jump back out onto the duck-shaped mat,
she laughs at you, calls you a wimp.
When the bath is too cold and the upper drain
gurgles like a drowning obese man,
there are never enough bubbles.
When she tastes like soap.
When you talk about your days and thoughts
wander to tangential curves and your mutual
acquaintance Steve, you forget what is happening.
When clothing gets stuck on heads, twist of feet,
elbow crooks, and in the wheels of an office chair.
When it is still on your floor, and your grandma visits
at lunch she smiles saying you found a nice girl.
When you try something new.
When you miss.
When straps and buckles never
unstrap or unbuckle.
When your fingers panic,
they are charged like blades.
When the moon.
When you’re late.
When you don’t want to put your bra back on.
When you hair is off kilter like a bonsai tree.
When it was almost like dancing.
When someone sneezes.
When you hiccup.
When she breathes.
When drool.
When scratches.
When bitten.
When church is in four hours.
When the laundry tumbled on.
When the oven started to smoke.
When you forgot.
When tickled.
When kicking.
When hurting.
When doors unlocked.
When his belt buckle shocks your navel.
When arms ache and legs cramp.
When curled the next morning in each other.
When it’s cold across the room, and
your clothes are so far.
When you miss church.
When eyelashes rub each other.
When the sun.
When you try to talk.
When moaning.
When sighing.
When screaming.
When getting back.
When breaking apart.
When getting back.
When your lips smash together like trains.
When you fold the cloths after.
Written 2010 during the English program at Augustana College
Matthew Aug 2014
We're cruising along in your old off-beige '93 Ford Fiesta
The one with the great sound system
And I am miserable enough to drive us off a cliff

We crash backwards into the water,
Unbuckle each other's seatbelts,
Open our respective doors,
Grab each other,
And drown down there
Because we won't let go.
Sometimes I can't go a day without thinking about
Doing what my Dad did, and taking the easy way out
I imagine a gun up to my head or a noose on my neck
Unbuckle my seatbelt, and pray to God for a car wreck
I feel like such a fool, such a loser, such a mess
And yet, compared to others I am so very blessed
But sometimes I just feel as if I've never had a home
'cause even in a house full of people, I still feel all alone
I feel like the prodigal's son with no father to return to
Can't seem to find the answers, no matter who I turn to
If you stand too close to fire, eventually it's gonna burn you
I learned that the hard way, 'cause no one would ever come through
and save me from myself, as I was calling out for help
and I knew no one could hear me, but I still let out a yelp
All that pain and self destruction, it was weighing on my health
It was the deepest, darkest sorrow that I had ever, ever felt
Michael DeVoe Feb 2012
I'm sorry that my spectacular patience sometimes goes wandering through the grape vines
Leaving me here frustrated at the fact that you can't tie your shoes without getting your pants *****
And sand in your underwear 150 miles away from the nearest beach
And I know on a few occasions the only way to get my patience back from the grapes
Is to drink a bottle of wine and take someone else's
But I'm working hard for you

On the days I forget clean socks
I know it's hard to believe that I'm the best choice
But I promise the judge had a good reason
I know you've been doing this alive thing for like three and a half years now
So you've had time to adjust
But I've been doing this father thing for like six months now
But you have to know I'm working hard for you

When you look at an S and call it an R
Can't figure to unbuckle your car seat and wont eat a green bean to get a cookie
I wish the guy who wrote
"What to expect when you're expecting"
Had written
"What to do when you weren't expecting"
Or at the very least
"How not to **** it up"
Your aunt says if you do the footwork the results will come
I am walking the path I will get there

You were born at 7am
I wasn't told until 11pm
I was late
But I held you
You squeezed my finger
I smiled
You're turning four soon
I'm late
But I love you
Hold my hand son
I will smile
We will walk this path
We will get there
A collection of poems by me is available on Amazon
Where She Left Me - Michael DeVoe
http://goo.gl/5x3Tae
smallhands Aug 2014
the air is so cold i could bite into it
teeth chatter, a teenage nervousness bestowed itself
we were so safe there, together, alone
nothing to be afraid of, really
so why is the fear attracting so many?
isn't it better to sit there, let him
unbuckle your seatbelt for you,
and divulge secrets of hidden away distortions?

-cj
Moonbeam Aug 2016
Days feel hollow
Months get swallowed
Time is moving fast
I don't know how much time has passed
24 has turned into sixteen
I hardly have time to fix me
One day turns to 8
I try to be on time but I'm always late
Time slips right by
No matter how hard I try
The grip is not as tight
We're turning into light
Vibrating at a higher speed
Our physical bodies we'll no longer need
The shift is coming faster and stronger
I just wish my days felt a few hours longer..
Yet it is a sign of the changing times
Let's unbuckle our seatbelts and enjoy the ride
As the shift continues, time is speeding up. 24 hour days now feel like 16. If you feel like you're losing time it is due to this phenomenon.
lib Nov 2017
he takes one more gulp
finishing the bottle
whiskey dripping from his lips
he looks at you
you are frozen
as he drunkenly stands up
he sharply wipes his upper lip
and then licks them
your eyes look left
and then right
searching for your younger sister
thankfully
she is nowhere to be seen
as the home you shared
was now unsafe
you don’t move
as he takes a step toward you
paralyzed under his watch
you start to sweat
he swears under his breath
and you are beyond nervous now
you hear his belt unbuckle
before you see it drop to the floor
your mind tells you to run
but your feet do not move
his eyes squint at you
as he says, “don’t you think it’s past your bedtime?”
and you silently sit still
praying to God that he will turn around
he does not
in fact, he starts moving in your direction
faster now
and you squirm in your seat
afraid of what comes next
you look into his black, soulless eyes
hoping he will see your innocence
he does not
his zipper is now undone
and his grimy fingers
roughly jerking at your skirt
you are afraid
but the numbness sets in
and your eyes become heavy
i’m not sure how i’m going to end this
it feels more like a chapter book than a poem
is that allowed?? haha
Christian Mar 2011
fading mist desperate hands can no longer cling to the rising sun
dew settles as dew does
small deer find tasteful treats between the trees
a rabbit stirs
rays of light hit the lingering souls of water wondering where to go
so they throw a party and invite seven colors to join them.
I unbuckle my pants to **** and just barely miss a flower.
Kenēn Apr 2016
I still wish for you.
My heart don't exactly leap
When I see you
But other times
I drown
With necessity and hesitation
I unbuckle my heart
And steady my knees
This life indeed is a waning moon.
The nurses are always brisk and purposeful.

"*** in this'
she said,
writing my name on the small plastic container

"I'll be back soon"
and out she went
leaving me alone to ponder on my ability
to fulfill this function.

"Now what"
I say to myself
"Unbuckle or unzip or both?"
How best to relax.
do what I gotta do
standing or sitting?

Will there be enough?
and what if it spills?
Could I get it off the floor?
and if not,
where could I get more?

Carefully, carefully, the job done
I put the precious liquid aside
and carefully, carefully
I pick up and ***** on the lid.

Zip.
Buckle.
Preen.

What tales will this ichor tell?
Two new back operations coming up. Can't be too  glum.
duck Dec 2019
wet green moss and winter calves,
sly smiles and limoncello laughs;
carbonara grins and giggly eyes,
tiny cigarettes and wide open skies;
mournful ruins and teasing remarks,
sneezes in naples but bright roman sparks;
sleepy bus journeys and the back of your head,
etruscan bronze and paintings of bread;
late night laundry thinking of you,
heart rate climbing as you came into view;
you hear my bad puns and i love your low chuckle,
you grin at me and my walls unbuckle;
my stammering voice and your comforting gaze,
i will remember this time until the end of our days.
KAT COLE Feb 2015
I fought the good fight one too many times.
The constant running, hiding, yelling.
When will it end.
I can feel my hands getting weak and my knees beginning to unbuckle.
When will it end?
Let this battle yield if only for a moment.
Let these tired eyes mend
Let my broken body rest tonight.
If only just for the night.
Julie Butler May 2015
I feel you in my face
when my teeth meet
my cheeks greet the
slight wink in my squint
my light [she]
t h e s e
nights without you
dimmed and
I squint again
to read the letters on this
film you've written
on the bridge of my limbs
with that pen you quill
finger-built
emptiness
my brim you filled
going dry
bones and head
head and neck
direct me under
refining wetness
derived from time
& time into knuckles

unbuckle me yet
I needn't bets, broken breaths
no more in-debt with regret

forgive me

— The End —