The first time I knew my friend Abe had a girlfriend, again, was when he told me that she gave him a *******. She was from Korea [of course!] and he'd found her online, somehow.
I never got to see her. The ones I got to see always left.
I was waiting to leave the house for my whole life. Now that I'm leaving, I'm running to stay. The grass is always greener on the other side. The green is always grassier on the other side. Green is the color of money. The world is currently yellow. Yellow and brown, like the house I grew up in, the color of piss and crap mixed to a vibrant ugliness.
The dream was to get a job and live without doing anything I didn't want to do. Maybe if I did some things and not others, I could do more than subsist - I could enjoy subsistence.
The dream was to have 2.4 kids [rounding down to 0] and a little corner of the world I could call my own, some place that I could talk and have people nod woodenly like bobblehead dolls, all lined up in a row, soulless.
The dream was to not have 'work'. To love life, somehow. To escape the idea that one had to do things and, instead, to do things because they were pleasurable. There were always things I had to do; there are always things I will have to do. But I like doing things because I want to do them.
This is probably a common sentiment.
I said my first words as I read them off a stop sign. I never did listen to myself.
The dream was to have freedom. It's a dangerous thing, being able to do what you want to do, until you discover that you don't want what you want at all.
my mouth is full of winsome lies -
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
Do you know what it's like to live fully there?
I've truly learned what that is
but only through memory
It's been over a year since it happened
I get dizzy, all the time
headaches, I can't concentrate
I'm only half living
It's really hard to face at times
I can't do **** all
I can't write papers
or hold a job
Nobody knows what is wrong with me
It feels like I'm slowly dying
I don't want to grow old
to feel every step closer
to death's embrace
mortality is a horrible thing to feel
it doesn't matter that I'm not actually dying
I want my life back
18 is supposed to be the best time of your life
Under the shadow of a common tree
Crowned with golden autumn leaves
I was calm and silent
As much as that tree was wooden
Alone in the afternoon, just me and plant
Watching the lake and the horizon
Overflowing with extreme interest
I scratched my back on the trunk
Thinking about a poem to write for the next contest
Paper and pen, and a good mood
And a good relationship with all the small critters
near my pack of snacks.
Suddenly at the lake's edge
My eyes refuses to believe
How quaint and rare
Peach without her umbrella
Wearing a pair of crystal shoes
Stolen from Cinderella
And then comes Snow-White
with her dwarf crowd
They jump into the lake
Disappearing in a shroud
Unsurprisingly
There were also elephants
Making strange noises
As if they were chanting
Flying hens laying eggs
Filled with nut cream
Of utmost quality
I almost stopped writing when I saw that
Stars pouring down moon juice
That afternoon wasn't aware of the night
Bringing lightning and moisture
And a very weird picture
Peach without her umbrella
On pole position
Still silent I stood still
Under the shadows of the common tree
Just watching and relaxing
And here I'm reporting
Everything that happened in that afternoon
Under the golden leaves, next to the lake.
I guarantee, it's not fake.
Oh beloved angel, let’s circle and circle around this halo of yours
Until one of us gives up, and shatters among these cloudless heavens
We are dreaming of love endlessly screaming for the last drop of it
But we never wake up to taste it!
We never wake up to taste it!
Precious stars to catharsis
I’m addicted to these kinds of explosions
Like the trigger you’ve been clenching caused the Big Bang
Reaction, (boom!) And from that point we collided, we wished we never did
Because we can’t escape this cycle that cycles round and round
Back to the…
Precious stars to catharsis
Cut, slice, hack, copy, paste this cycle for an exit
Out…
Nope! We’re back where we once entered because the moment we opened up
To each other was a home we keep returning to
(This is so familiar)
Like these recollections were marbles in front doors to make us slip back
Where we once were
(It felt like I said something like this 2 seconds ago)
Argh! Like each line is a maze repetitively distorting originality
Like these little golf balls make us slip back…to that same line
About the marbles slipping us back to where we were
(No, not again!)
Repeat, repeat- that’s how we want love!
Like hard-boiled is how you want my eggs
And sunny-side up is how I want your legs
Sex never ends because either one of us begs… for more
Even if we do it with the same position
From the bedroom to the kitchen
From the kitchen to the attic
From the attic to the public
From the public to the public bathroom
From the public back to our private
Bedroom (hush)
Yea, wherever we want because true love never ends
So don’t ask me anymore questions of the where’s and the when’s
Because I’m gonna cut and paste the same line as my answer
Over and over again, singing it until it rings in your head
Over and over again, singing it until it rings in your head
Oh beloved angel, let’s circle and circle around this halo of yours
Until one of us gives up, and shatters among these cloudless heavens
We are dreaming of love endlessly screaming for the last drop of it
But we never wake up to taste it!
We never wake up to taste it!
Bound to a house
manuactured cotton jail cell
my hunter's muscles ache from disuse
hawk's eye vision separating
the totemic from the academic
it was black magic
the cool aura of a wet spring evening
is the scientifc method of a pagan reality
glass windows let light in but I can't see
an interpretation of the green other side
though it calls to me
leave your house
and go home
That's just how I think.
Nothing definite;
Every metaphor-
scattered between lines.
Every simile-
an ocean apart.
Every thought,
A train.
But truth?
Rains down,
hammers against the page,
crashing, smashing
cracking the bars,
You say I have sixteen to fill:
I say I have sixteen to break.
Alone again.
Each
Word
Suspended
Adrift
...
...
...
Is it over?
The Poem?
Life?
Maybe there's something afterwards.
Heaven
or Hell-
Doesn't matter to me.
Just want a place to write;
because then
at least
I'm free.
Right?
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
Cardigan Sweaters,
the foggy weather.
Are you real? A phantasm?
a joe blob or a full or chasm?
Melting, melting.
Lines of melting.
The foggy air leaves unprepared bouts of sweltering.
Humidity. Humidity.
There's a proclivity,
for to reach greener shores, one must jump toward the floor.
I wear the headphones in this relationship.
The first time I knew my friend Abe had a girlfriend, again, was when he told me that she gave him a *******. She was from Korea [of course!] and he'd found her online, somehow.
I never got to see her. The ones I got to see always left.
I was waiting to leave the house for my whole life. Now that I'm leaving, I'm running to stay. The grass is always greener on the other side. The green is always grassier on the other side. Green is the color of money. The world is currently yellow. Yellow and brown, like the house I grew up in, the color of piss and crap mixed to a vibrant ugliness.
The dream was to get a job and live without doing anything I didn't want to do. Maybe if I did some things and not others, I could do more than subsist - I could enjoy subsistence.
The dream was to have 2.4 kids [rounding down to 0] and a little corner of the world I could call my own, some place that I could talk and have people nod woodenly like bobblehead dolls, all lined up in a row, soulless.
The dream was to not have 'work'. To love life, somehow. To escape the idea that one had to do things and, instead, to do things because they were pleasurable. There were always things I had to do; there are always things I will have to do. But I like doing things because I want to do them.
This is probably a common sentiment.
I said my first words as I read them off a stop sign. I never did listen to myself.
The dream was to have freedom. It's a dangerous thing, being able to do what you want to do, until you discover that you don't want what you want at all.
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
I've truly learned what that is
but only through memory
It's been over a year since it happened
I get dizzy, all the time
headaches, I can't concentrate
I'm only half living
It's really hard to face at times
I can't do **** all
I can't write papers
or hold a job
Nobody knows what is wrong with me
It feels like I'm slowly dying
I don't want to grow old
to feel every step closer
to death's embrace
mortality is a horrible thing to feel
it doesn't matter that I'm not actually dying
I want my life back
18 is supposed to be the best time of your life
Under the shadow of a common tree
Crowned with golden autumn leaves
I was calm and silent
As much as that tree was wooden
Alone in the afternoon, just me and plant
Watching the lake and the horizon
Overflowing with extreme interest
I scratched my back on the trunk
Thinking about a poem to write for the next contest
Paper and pen, and a good mood
And a good relationship with all the small critters
near my pack of snacks.
Suddenly at the lake's edge
My eyes refuses to believe
How quaint and rare
Peach without her umbrella
Wearing a pair of crystal shoes
Stolen from Cinderella
And then comes Snow-White
with her dwarf crowd
They jump into the lake
Disappearing in a shroud
Unsurprisingly
There were also elephants
Making strange noises
As if they were chanting
Flying hens laying eggs
Filled with nut cream
Of utmost quality
I almost stopped writing when I saw that
Stars pouring down moon juice
That afternoon wasn't aware of the night
Bringing lightning and moisture
And a very weird picture
Peach without her umbrella
On pole position
Still silent I stood still
Under the shadows of the common tree
Just watching and relaxing
And here I'm reporting
Everything that happened in that afternoon
Under the golden leaves, next to the lake.
I guarantee, it's not fake.
special thanks to sentimentgx4 for the sig
Pourquoi?
It’s only my reflection
Yet I’m still afraid
in a syringe of our dreams-
Nearing overdose
It's time to come clean
Revive the pride, lust and greed-
Be saved by fear.
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
All submitted poems will be saved for the next round.
Oh beloved angel, let’s circle and circle around this halo of yours
Until one of us gives up, and shatters among these cloudless heavens
We are dreaming of love endlessly screaming for the last drop of it
But we never wake up to taste it!
We never wake up to taste it!
Precious stars to catharsis
I’m addicted to these kinds of explosions
Like the trigger you’ve been clenching caused the Big Bang
Reaction, (boom!) And from that point we collided, we wished we never did
Because we can’t escape this cycle that cycles round and round
Back to the…
Precious stars to catharsis
Cut, slice, hack, copy, paste this cycle for an exit
Out…
Nope! We’re back where we once entered because the moment we opened up
To each other was a home we keep returning to
(This is so familiar)
Like these recollections were marbles in front doors to make us slip back
Where we once were
(It felt like I said something like this 2 seconds ago)
Argh! Like each line is a maze repetitively distorting originality
Like these little golf balls make us slip back…to that same line
About the marbles slipping us back to where we were
(No, not again!)
Repeat, repeat- that’s how we want love!
Like hard-boiled is how you want my eggs
And sunny-side up is how I want your legs
Sex never ends because either one of us begs… for more
Even if we do it with the same position
From the bedroom to the kitchen
From the kitchen to the attic
From the attic to the public
From the public to the public bathroom
From the public back to our private
Bedroom (hush)
Yea, wherever we want because true love never ends
So don’t ask me anymore questions of the where’s and the when’s
Because I’m gonna cut and paste the same line as my answer
Over and over again, singing it until it rings in your head
Over and over again, singing it until it rings in your head
Oh beloved angel, let’s circle and circle around this halo of yours
Until one of us gives up, and shatters among these cloudless heavens
We are dreaming of love endlessly screaming for the last drop of it
But we never wake up to taste it!
We never wake up to taste it!
manuactured cotton jail cell
my hunter's muscles ache from disuse
hawk's eye vision separating
the totemic from the academic
it was black magic
the cool aura of a wet spring evening
is the scientifc method of a pagan reality
glass windows let light in but I can't see
an interpretation of the green other side
though it calls to me
leave your house
and go home
Speaking of PRC 164, in case you weren't aware, I'll be taking over as the host. I look forward to hosting it for a while to come!
The new submissions thread can be found here.
Join the Poetry Running Contest!