Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Aug 2015
Carl Joseph Roberts
Home Is Where The Heart Is

Home is where the heart is
But my hearts no longer home
So I'll pack my bags and move away
To go find what I need most

I never want to look back
On all that could have been
I'll turn the page on this book of life
A new chapter will begin

I hope one day you'll understand
What I have to do
Move away from my home town
And start out someplace new

I never thought there'd come a time
When I would walk away
From this town where I grew up
And know I'll be okay

They say home is where the heart is
But my hearts no longer home
So I'll pack my bags and move away
To go find what I need most

Home is where the heart is


Poem by : Carl Joseph Roberts
If you like please share with a few collections

After many years in Ohio it seems my soul is calling me to another state. At 50 years old and with working in Law Enforcement for 27 years as well as private sector and flipping houses, it is now time to enjoy life a little more. At 50 I'm sure I'll still be doing something, just not sure what. Flipping homes seems to have been my passion these past 10 years so maybe that. Maybe something else that the man upstairs has planned for me.   I think for me it's just time to start chapter two.
 Aug 2015
Joe Cole
Give me an acre of forest
Beneath an acre of sky
Where a million stars look down
And the earth in contentment sighs
 Aug 2015
Elisa Maria Argiro
Dive down into
the Sea of Words,
flip my mermaid tail    
to the passersby.

Dive down deep
to the bottom
of the sea, the
very deepest depths
of this salty sea.

When I come up
to the surface again,
starfish weave shells
into my auburn hair,
while sirens sing
new words to me.

Vast expanse of
emerald waters,
Sea of Words
you are my home.
©Elisa Maria Argiro
 Aug 2015
Knights
I would travel across all the galaxies
Just to be with you

Even if it took me centuries
For you there's nothing I wouldn't do

I'd explore every planet
Just to find you

I'd collect all the stars I'd come across
So on the day I do find you

I'll give you all the stars as a gift and reminder
Of my fascinating journey

Of looking for and finding you
*My love
 Aug 2015
Elisa Maria Argiro
Leora,
when you sing,


God comes and listens.



And your father,
red headed, 

red bearded,
full of joy and 

loving,
tender pride,
visits us.



Where he lives now,


in the heaven neighborhood of 

my own parents,
singing this good 

is still special.
Only humans made into angels

 know how to make those sounds.

Leora,


when you sing,


the clouds dance 

above us,


and joy, pride,
nachus,


is all we feel.
©Elisa Maria Argiro 2007
 Aug 2015
brandon nagley
Locketh me up
Throw me in prison:
I'm in love dear sir
Oh didn't I mention?



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
 Aug 2015
Ann M Johnson
It is often said that the cup can be viewed as half full or half empty
The fact is we should be able to agree on is
    We all have a cup that can be filled
        If we All tried to build another person up
          Fill there cup
            Instead of putting others down
      which can drain ones own cup along with the other persons cup
If you meet another person who appears mean or insensitive or rude
perhaps their cup has been drained so much
They don't know how to fill it up again and are badly in need of having their cup refilled
A small compliment a little kindness, a smile could help fill up the cup again
A cup of friendship can go a long way and help  another person have a better day
The world is full of hurting people needing to have their cup refilled
Seeing things from someone else's perspective is a good start
Is the glass half empty or half full, you can decide?
Have  you raised your glass and tried to share a Cup of friendship
and filled another's cup today?
If not the present is a good time to start
If we all filled up the cup instead of emptying it
We would have a better world
Fill up the cup today
 Aug 2015
Wednesday
When he asks you to purchase a gun for him-
one he is not permitted to have,
say no.
When he asks you to help him saw the serial number off of said gun,
say no.
Hand back his sweaty, clenched-palm, ******* tainted money.
Do not deny him in words,
this will only force him into a blind fit of rage-
One where he throws glass at his apartment walls;
the apartment he pays for with the crime drenched money of his "clients."

2. Do not tell him of your weakness(es).
Do not tell him about the men who touched your inner thighs
when you were waiting for a ride home from the bar
you were never even supposed to be at.
Never ask him for help.
Do not let yourself owe him anything.
When he tells you that you have "daddy issues" written on your face,
play kind.
Do not utter the word pervert aloud.
Do not make it clear that you know he touches you
when he thinks you are drunk and asleep.

3. When he asks you to tell him how you really feel about him,
deny your obsessions.
His emotions will not, can not duplicate your own.
Do not feed his already overflowing ego.
When he tells you "do not touch me", let him pull from your grasp.
Do not take it personally, fight your feelings, quiet your desires, shrug.
Laugh it off, check your phone.
Play coy, know that even a woman like YOU cannot pull off
desperation with a simple smile.

4. On the occasional nights he texts you at 12,1,3 am
and asks you to come over, say yes.
Allow him to take you, make you moan, swallow him.
Touch him, taste him.
Mesh your bodies like a woven basket and feel his sweat pool
on the bone between your *******.
Do not make it personal when he smiles while deep inside of you.
Never take it personally when he holds you close,
your naked flesh touching in a way that almost makes you burn.
Smell him, let his scent linger.
Press your face into his tattooed back, curl your fingers around his
chiseled arms, his thick black hair.
Feel him, but do not make this personal.
You are just another empty thing in his bed.
You are not quite sure how much is left of you,
but you both know he will **** it until it is long gone.

5. When he asks you to keep a safe of his product in your apartment,
bat your lashes.
When he offers you money to do it, smile.
When he whispers he might be getting followed,
when he tells you he will be murdered soon,
when his tires get slashed,
do not laugh. Do not say anything.
Remind yourself that this is all rhetorical. This is his game.
When the city comes creeping, comes knocking,
pretend it is normal.
When he triple bolts his doors- even his bedroom door and windows,
do not comment.
When you feel knives under your pillow and a gun under his,
pretend you didn't. Roll over. Ignorance is bliss.

6.When he spends days locked in his room and comes out smelling of
a box of magna champa incense and marijuana smoke,
stab wounds in his thigh, say nothing.
Patch his injuries, stifle his excuses.
Wet the rags, be ready with gauze and bandages.
When he calls you after a week of silence and tells you of his blood lust,
tell him of yours.
When he tells you of his pain, his sadness, his regrets, just listen.
Fight him in his kitchen with soft fists and deadened eyes.
Do not surrender, even when he pins you in a choke hold
a bit too long to be alright.
Stand your ground. Stare at the tiled floor.
Never take him at face value when he is like this.

7. He will tell you about his surely upcoming death,
how he is close to dying, obviously.
You will tell him how every time you pass the bridge on
your way home, you think of driving your car off of it.
he will look at you with poison in his expression.
Realize you do not know the color of his iris. Do not figure it out.
Know you are not the only, never will be the one.
You cannot change him, cannot fix him.
He has been a prisoner since he has been a son.
Remind yourself he has been behind bars for
longer than you have been alive.
He has no idea why the caged bird sings,
and he does not give a
**** about what Maya Angelou has to say.
He has fought too long and hard trying to break free.
 Aug 2015
Wednesday
Im about as subtle as a gunshot wound on a Thursday afternoon
and everyday when I wake I forget how to use my feet because
you were the bones in them and now you are missing

one day will I be able to say your name without sounding like
***** in a wastebasket in an office

without sounding like a dead deer carcass in a stream

last spring you took me to the park
and we walked the trails and layed in the pine needles
like nesting phoenix and I think you burned me on purpose
well I have yet to rise from those ashes

all I ever did was ******* love you

remember when your parents went out of town
and I spent the night in your bed and when I woke up at 11 am

I saw the sunlight streaming through onto your face and oh my god
you were just so beautiful

remember when we got drunk and spent the night
in your backseat after you threw up 3 times in the street

do you remember
do you even remember me

I think of you at least 7 times a day
and I always thought you were all I ever needed
but here I am now

learning how not to need you
 Aug 2015
Wednesday
I have this creeping ache on the edges of my bones
like the way crystal forms,
slowly.

Like the way prehistoric bugs that live in caves die every day.

I think I forgot to close my eyes and woke up blind.

I live my days hoping to grow inwards until my bones
start the delicate tearing of my skin and
water fills my lungs.

I have longed for this to happen ever since i was 7 and
I heard drowning was the closest you can get to

euphoria.
 Aug 2015
Mike Hauser
it ain't none of my business
but still breaks my heart
dropping my spare change
into your empty cup
no idea how
all this went down
it's none of my business
so i move along
as it sets me to wonder
how many of us
are one paycheck away
from our own paper cup
hoping above hope
that there is enough
change during the day
to at least buy some lunch
no it ain't none of my business
but still breaks my heart
dropping my spare change
into your empty cup
 Jul 2015
Robert Blankenship
Why is Jesus condemned ?
Why is he despised?
Why is he rejected?
Why is he belied?
Why is he forgotten?
Why is he treated with scorn?
Why is he viewed as venom?
Why is his character torn?
Why is he detested?
Why is he treated with hostility?
Why is he abhorred?
Why must he suffer such cruelty?
Why is he the bête noire?
Why is he vilified?
Why is Jesus hated?
When for you he was crucified?

RLB
Next page