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Ellen Joyce Apr 2014
This poem casts a line from insomnia to morning
On the wind of a prayer that whatever bites, holds on.

See I have counted eleven score and ten,
with rainbow like curves of my neck -
contemptuous beasts leaping in formation
each bleating out a preach of vague platitudes;
A narrative for the night sky.

My hands clamour at keys for escape
until I tumble headfirst into a web so vast
it has ensnared the whole world wide -
millennials are living in-ter-net over in-the-world;
a new ultraviolence against humanity.

I beat my words into the screen until it breaks;
shattering scarlet emoticons like confetti
pouring over language as if it were a compliment.
My mind massages shapeless polypous thoughts
like tight constricted muscles aching for release.

3am casts these philosophies into horses,
whipping them into shape and speed
before the eyes of this statuesque ******.
This anxious wakefulness begs my manic self to dance;
suggestively ******* tickets to ride like cleavage.

Sleep is fast becoming a neglected former engagement;
as my mind trips over fallen heroes
wades through my favourite mistakes
in a wonderland unfolding faster than I can fall
while the world beyond my window remains dark.
This poem was written in response to prompts by a friend of mine who is throwing a competition offering a signed first edition copy of her poetry book as a prize.  Visit her facebook page for details of the twenty word prompts and details on how to submit.
https://www.facebook.com/Siajanewords?fref=ts
Brianna Ki Mar 8
i’ll fixate on you
til my time is due
the waves we swam
and all we’ve been through

is never enough
to unwrite our glue

seasons may shift but I stay the same
through autumn's loss
and winter’s claim
spring may call
and summer too

Yet nothing can pull me
away
from
you.
Emery Feine Oct 2024
They should really invent a place where I belong.
Not one with entirely sunshine and rainbows,
God knows I've prayed too little for that,
But one where
I fit.
I don't stand out,
But I'm still my own person
And not that me that I've shown others,
Deceived them for far too long.
My fixation with belonging
It's like a need
That will never once be met.
And I'm left starved and ravenous
For just an ounce of it
And its empty calories
this is my 127th poem, written on 10/11/24
Jellyfish Dec 2023
I want to stop hearing from you
And take a long break, but
I see your name in number plates,
Signs on streets and mine in the blame.
When will I stop fixating on all of this pain?
Larry dillon Apr 2023
I tricked a god.
now Cronus can't escape.
Sealing a god in an hourglass,
I locked time away.
To stave off my lover's date with fate.
Where she will perish, becoming lost to me.
Locked behind heaven's gate.

Cronus promises to **** me-
when i set him free.
Only with his freedom will the world reanimate.
Containing a god with dark magic;
I made a costly mistake.
Trapping him forced the world to become frozen in place.
-But I could spend forever learning
every little feature of her face.

How her frail figure fought for every breath.
The chemo for the cancer ate her weight.
Shedding the hair from her head.
I'll remain here by her side,
until I devise an alternative to what Cronus said.
stretching her final seconds into the infinite,
as she lays here in this hospital bed.

                           ... ♾️ ...

How can i exist in a museum with one exhibit?
I tried forcing time to rewind.
I meant to spite the concept of mortality.
Instead I've been trapped here for eons,
With,her still somehow lost to me...
...I am tempted to set cronus free.

                           ... ♾️ ...

It's been chess with two moves:
You either speak or don't speak.
I can't find another way.
I've become worn out and jaded.
Cellmates with Cronus so long,
In this temporal prison I involuntarily created.

          "It's wrong to steal time.
As karma,you've had no one to spend it with.
You tricked a god, but I'll still grant you your wish.
Undo your dark magic, a swift death I promise you,
Once your soul is released from the world,
I'll cure her cancer, like i believe you intended to."

And as Cronus spoke.. i knew what i would do.

Telling him,
"I refuse to let time pass.
I refuse to release you from the hourglass.
I refuse to let her be lost to me."

I pull her in close as i grin,
Cronus accepting defeat.

"I'd rather remain here...

In a staring contest with eternity. "

-
A story of a man who ensares himself in his own trap he'd set for a god, and the folly of hubris when mistaken as love.
Yenson Oct 2021
The entrepreneurs of the Casinos sits in luxuries
reeking in the readies
be it not for them to judge
if the mugs want to gamble who are we to talk

The talentless Wasters join inadequate and retards
hiding in rampages
be it not for them to judge
the proclivities of moronism are attestations to status

The innocent sits in truth amid thieves and mudslingers
conscience untroubled
be it not for who to judge
virtue is its own reward and vengeance is of the Almighty

The fools will sizzle and cavort in foolish this and that
legacies of mindlessness
be it not for them to judge
Talk sense to a fool and he calls you foolish for blinds sees not
Wisdom cannot be imparted
be it not for me to judge
The foolish and the dead alone never change their opinions.
"SHE LOOKS INTO MY HEART."

I said to her, I
told her that
she resembles
the moon  in the
midnight when
she's at her
brightest state.
She looks into
my heart when
she fixate.(s) She
resembled the
sun too and moon
were her
siblings. Because
they
glamorously shines
together.
#C9_fm
Edward Dominic Mar 2019
Are we perfect because there's no forever,
We can't learn to hate ourselves together.
Inside and outside show the same,
Love lust, quick release, just a game.
There is nothing there that we could cover,
No feelings that we smothered.
If it's not love then it can't hurt,
Climbing into bed without a word.

Slowing down would mean boredom,
So we're left with no time to find the problem.
The role of both a lover and friend,
A candle wick rope lit at either end.
Now, alone with time to dwell,
The idea doesn't sit quite so well.
A memory can't help the mending.
Short and sweet always has an ending.

Are you just my fixation?
A figment of some sweet imagination?
If I picked your life apart
To see what I could have known from the start,
Would I find myself happy
In the face of a reality?
Or sad? As, broken at the seams,
I see the remnants of my tentative dream.
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