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MOTV May 2017
Sometimes
I'm feeling like...

I need'a
Speed up.

Move fast.

As the Green light turns Red.

Pedal to metal.
I am off in a flash.
Foot on lock.
Won't ease up.

Drift off.
Drift late.
Just wait.

Skidding with thunder.

As the Red Accord rubber wheels bleed
We recede in aero
Fall off
Into the off ramps bridge

Onto
The freeways
Incoming traffic

Levitated, watching myself
Crashing

Going numb.
No longer masking.

My actions.
     my actions.

cause they are there to see
From the bridge
Lights flashing
Honking, speeding
passing
Cannot flee.

Hitting elements.
Fire, cement, gust of mighty winds
glass, clashing.
With a subtle gentle breeze

I am there
I stare
I am surrounded by the abyss
Our life

They are there
O' so aware

We conversating without words
Bliss

Awaken

We all are bare

Naked
Paul Hardwick Jul 2013
I guess today
I am just feeling old
I can not get'in the mood to play
and all the words I write, while in this place
smit me.
Benjamin Woolley May 2016
Drunk on the couch
You
Peeked nimbly over,
Shining wet,
******* pressed, half-held,
To take something from me;

So wet
  you slip
from my
fingers.
Miguel Diaz Jun 2016
Maiden and Observer

As speculated,
The observer and the scientist
See an enigmatic entrance.

The arrival of the specimen:
He shows haste,
His wrist flickers:
Punctuality.
He mouthes questions of career:
Orderliness.
His vocal appetite silent:
Surrender.
He declares instruction:
Superiority.
He brightens athleticism.
Focus.

The smile appears through
in the unknownest places,
Within restaurant doors,
Through the soundwaves.
Through ideations:
Competitive movement.

Inertia and stagnation is of disinterest.
Wordly reflection produces empty reciprocration.
Can it be a metaphor for the observer,
Can the specimen by the symbol?
Both reflected from one another.

There is the one,
and then, the other.
The challenge is:
Exhibiting both states
Simultaenously.
This is the task of the maiden.
The balancer of scales.

The scientist seeks to understand,
There is evidence of somes sort
A hidden bliss a smile inside,
a moment of analysis.
Notions brought on by previous experiments.
Past failures predict present outcome,
Recent knowledge or estimation?
Emotion links to reason,
Reason negotiates but stands firm,
The scientist is fatigued, his hand lowers.
Body language is lazily interpreted by curious Observer,
Studying this new behaviour.

The professor places his spectacles on,
He sees no other path to take,
He concludes and hypothesises,
This specimen can be learnt from
No more.

Specimen's silence allows flowing thoughts to pervade the mind of the observer and the scientist.
Silence given to the cynicism of life,
the broadened mind
perceived as narrow.
The observer is observed.
Now conciousness changes in the realm of the user experiencing himself.
Self perception, self defense,
Guard is raised,
Gates are closed.
Only water flows through,
Other matter obstructed.

Maiden, Observer, Scientist, Specimen.
There are themes of quantum physics, "The Secret", new age philosophy, pseudoscience and metaphysics in this poem. Interpret it as you will.
Robin Carretti May 2018
You are clawed at him like a

Red hot
Las Vegas Jack-***
Lobster
"Persuasive Mentor"
Sling-shot
Underlie Supervisor
Skin softer He's Mr.
Softee

He molded me
to build me
Not to love me
So planned to
Deceive me
Fish desires
Mermaids
Flirt their tails
underwater
emails

Like the Greek word

"Synecdoche" we call

French hot bread
Brioche
His mustache
Underlie
Attache case

You're over his
Head

"Now" face to face

Fly••• First- Love- Yourself

Why? W- wait like H 4 hell
Y- Yell!!

Who's going to tell

I was head clicked
heels
Watered down
my shrimp

Enjoy your now
"Big Gulp'
Help wanted

He got me under

his skin
Pulp Fiction
The rain in Spain
stays
manly
in the lie diction

Wha?ever he got to me

So erotically smooth skin

The next of kin

Aromantic overly
romantic
Like the
Interstellar

It felt like
Marlon Brando
Ditto
Hello!

A= hot brandy with

Stella
waterfront

Being upfront skin kissed

The espresso I got you intense
dark under the mood weather
Cold-Hot-Mood swings she got

what life can bring better
Menopause or Men on pause

Am I hooked?
Another eye
full look
The more
four more

I got to you I see
It comes in three's to
die for the need
I say more

That part of you
bare-mitten
So smitten

The skin chilled fire fit


Moms scent and you felt her

touching you her mind
and yours

Cut out hearts
Red Riding hood
Grandmas out of bed
What was said
Tough skin what
big brown eyes
Looking mad
That's what U got blowing
in the wind
on her skin to begone
Girl is gone
One call Jailbird


Our eyes leave the world
blind but speak more words

you opened up the blinds

Hot desired I got you, babe,

How in a spiritual sense

Was this in your character

by the quintessence


Or always a coincidence

You were being raised

Why is life so much to crave

Like your the side order
and he she and fee fi fun


The main entrance
Starfish dish the
Goddess sun
Undertaste
The dinner mint
gave her refreshing
rush

Fifty times being burned

Over just a bite on my neck

of French fries

Not so overly touched by your lies

But you do have amazing eyes

Traveling through a skin-tight

maze the light fixture retracing

How tough skinned you are

I got to give you some credit

This is not the website

How you read into me

Like "Reddit"
I got it

So many time you have

done it lies

I never planned to get

you under my skin
Who wants to die

*** rebound always
Goodbye

Those fifties those dames

hot club smoking and
jamming

But feeling the tightrope
Fishnet
hooked
Supernatural spooked

I don't see you smiling

I couldn't breathe I felt

like choking

The devil own scripture

Our eyes perceive as the spies of

Boom explosion the hunger gets

intense face to face

Like we are the
TV on a binge

You cannot tune us but the
hot flame

can never tame us

Embedded by what we see

And touch-Oh! Me
U-C who would want to
go through this
2 B Me
Waiting for something
Like the Freebird I am
the Robin

How the earth confines us

Who is the one who

got something on us

Somes deep feelings

The Cole Porter

I got you under my skin

Someone on the pull
arouses

But he knows your
pleasure but where is the
promises
On the premises
He stacked her roses

One smell he got
The words spelled on U

He said with an
Under__line

" My Rose"
  Underlie
  My skin
  Smells brilliantly
  Like the eye of an
  Apple pie
I got someone maybe not U. That underlies big piece of the pie tough skin regardless if its a little lie
Nat Lipstadt Sep 2024
awas amidst
the bits and bobs of my pseudo-sleep,
check my watch oft habitually,
understand
that the precisive time is not
what I seek,

no,
what I desire is reassurance of
some sort, that time is present,
that it is
a measurable actuality in,

my about,
a breathable actuality
woven into my
Body’s  Constructional
Constitutional Cconsciousness


that time is there, here,
for it is rhe

wondrous of all wonder,
it is a
present of, from,
and,
is love itself,

love is time…
(think on it)

it is all and only
butpossibility,
the future in
slow mo
is both
realizable & visible ,
even some part knowable;
its somes & sums,
as we daily
practice realizing it,
as if
time is a
smuggler of snuggles,
comforting but not
for too long
like
a new lover’s
exploratory
beginning beguiling explanations
reforming our ardor
into
viability

or

a glove
asking us each:
slow s l i d e
your hand inside,
then,
newly commence
waving yours,
airy all about

conducting a new self
into your
precious moment of precarious
existence,
that we dare not waste!

so:
write and right
are no accident,
but purposed
equals,
friends,
brothers and sisters,
one and both
coexisting
at
in
the same time…
writ in the dark hours
when the watch
watches over me
9/17/24
Where is my laddie? As reason,
Time, unreasonable, runs amok,
Precious, stone frost on the rose,
And sun travels yoked with moon,
Somes, climbing into skies broke
With light and smoke and hopes,
Dashed on earthly tides quaking,
My heat waits to be aired, beaten,
My soul, thirsts for carnate touch,
In of outter reaches of openesses
My breath suffocates in rainy sun,
All this life to know is but waiting,
The flowering of my flower wanes.
I make myself so happy for no reason then stick my own back,
melancholic acts of treason, cut and measure my own lesions;
a line between pleasure and pleasing.
Not an pessimist nor a type of optimist but a realist who has mastered the execution of delusion and illusion.
Oxymoronic, Guess I'm just human;

Apparently the semblance of a god,
so making something from nothing isn't odd,
but I was given everything from a soul to my bones, hair to my toes;
Even to me who stays in this, sinew and ivory, home the reason is unknown but I know the weight of this form has its toll.

Ties made are rarly cut
more than the material is used,
bonds spirt imbued,
that which feeds hate and love.
My soul is the ocean my form the soil my mind the heavens so it's wisdom guides the toil.
What I put on to my body will seep to the sea, be it poisons or ointments that is to be seen, my wish for foresight seems obscene,
a noxious tint colors the scene
Ah this is but a show, how else can I explain the tragedies sown.

Who wrote this play?
No
Who paid its commission,
who conscripted us to suffer, no need for permission, no fine print played off as a simple omission?
Actors with no access to backstage
so it is do or die,
freedom in a cage,
the 4th wall blocks our eyes.
we get no reactions for our performance
no real feedback,
so we face our troupe like opponents, for no real reason.
Whilst some seem to flourish in a limelight others perish in darkness
some disappear through trap doors others fly with out harness.

seasoned thespians sometimes show us a way; how to perform our parts, from when they entered the play.
We are told there is a script, so I would say some have forgotten thier lines
but honestly the script has never passed these eyes,
all I know is that somes voices are drowned out by the soundtracks of anxiety and sadness;
The polyrhythms of fear and deafening sound of loneliness and madness
How could the director have this?

That's the purpose of a tragedy; make the watcher feel like they are living lavishly.

Wanted a reason why I find it so tragic.

In the words of Life 'There, you have it.'
Slam tracscribed. I've been reading some tragedies and re-realized that fact can be truly worse than fiction
jennifer ann Dec 2014
"charlotte, are you ok?" my father questions. i'm looking up at the television, still stunned. it cant be. she was found dead on the scene, she had a severe lung infection, and inhaled far too much of the smoke from the fire. she didn't make it out of that apartment building alive, but i saw her... "um..i'm fine, just rediculously clumsy thats all." i nervously lie, quickly grabbing a broom and sweeping up the glass. and my father looks at me like i'm some kind of alien from outer space that he can no longer reach anymore. and somes i wonder if there is anything to reach for. maybe i'm just a mouse going through a maze that never ends, always hoping my piece of cheese will be around the corner but only finding another berrier or a path way that is going to lead me absolutely nowhere.
deanena tierney Dec 2011
I packed a little box today.
The one of you and I.
And with every item that I placed.
I could not help but cry.
The box was full of memories,
Of all the times we shared.
Times before I had to question,
Whether you even cared.
Some pictures of the two of us,
Somes poems wrote long ago,
Some movie stubs and jewelry,
Are all thats left to show....
That for a moment I had loved,
And that I was loved by you,
But if forever has now ended,
Then there's nothing left to do...
But pack our little box away,
To store momentos of our years,
I held it close up to my heart,
Then sealed it with my tears.
Babu kandula Jan 2017
Somes mistakes cost you a lot
You really don't have enough
Time or strength to focus
On the damages it made

You take a sedative
You try to cover the scar
That it has left

Deep inside
How busy you might be

They haunt you like a
Dark figure
That you dreamt about
When you are all alone
In your childhood

All your nerve connections
Try to fetch the same old memory
And you have no option
But, stick to the same channel

I wonder how I am surviving
This ever lasting darkness

I know hope is a very dangerous word

Which always lets you stay
While you actually want to leave

That one hope
Helping me to fight back
With all the strength I had

In the world that completely
Busy with her improvements

No time for me to wait
But, just to catch up
And reach
Before the train left my station
Just a thought, to motivate myself.. I hope my hope will help me .. whatever I do..
Silentnote Jul 2018
In the house, I am in the house,
No doors, only windows.
I perceive the world through these windows.
I was always happy staying in the house.
I am protected by the house.
I am proud of my house.

One day, irritated by the limited view of the window,
I wanted go out....
Tried 1001 ways ,still couldn't break out.
I am locked out of life, weeping inside.....

Somes flashes of realisations,
seducing-  its all yours if you want to take it...
Heap of diamonds are open, just stretch your hand...
This longing is pricking my heart with hot needles...
I hate this house...

In my deepest sorrow, a tear fell on ground sprouting a healthy green plant...
As I look up, there is no house....
I am in the valley of lush green mountains....
There is nothing for me, but to dance with joy....
There is kneeling in this dancing, for all this grace....
yasmine Jul 2014
as we grow throughout life
we see through many eyes
from the oblivious to the wise

we learn to see through the lies
and learn that nothing is forever
no words can keep things together
we learn that people will say things
and not mean it
that pinkies don't always keep promises

through our eyes we see
the evil in others
the deceiving
we see our worlds being torn apart
right under our shoes
we see others tearing us apart
ripping our souls to shreds
for no reason

we will see some beauty
of the stars in the night
the beauty in a person showing
kindness and love
we will see the beauty
in people's words


we will feel the warmth of somes love
and the hatred of others
the lust of our lovers
the connection of our sisters

through our bodies we will learn
throughout time
that nothing stays the same
and that soon enough
everything will change
but we must learn
BLVNK Nov 2014
Her name is Tasha shes guyanese i guess shes in her twenties shes indian so i guess shes mastered kama sutra. Or am i just obsessed by the way she move, the way she smile and though my heart cant bare much in room. Is there a reason i am attracted to somes whos petite, so much i couldnt resist but to stare. And though she may not have much she has it all but a man took and now im here like what. Can it be that i am just behind in my line or am i just not attractive enough to get a ticket.
Am i not who am because of her existance. And though i cant even acknowledge my *** addiction. . Am i just a animal could i be deranged because i admit that i wanna rip off her clothes. Or is it that i dont fear to say it but i do fear that if i do admit it she wouldnt look at me the same. Should i just say that i just think your beautiful and i just want you to know that before i even go and enlist...
Soumyadeb biswas Jul 2018
An afternoon of winter
It rained blood and death
Whistled peace in the wind
They sat on earth and breath
The coming dusk reminded
Them the cruelty of war
The courtyard of sand was
Wetted by the tears of sword

Some lied on the field
Somes have cried
In that Misty winter evening
Some have been buried
Many thunder remain
All it lightens after the rain
KathleenAMaloney Jul 2016
Standing

There's No Fight To Have
Cause there No Lie Been Told

There's  No Fight To Win
Cause there ain't NoOne  Bold

No Comparing  to Judge
Cause there ain't none
But One

So Here's Where It Changes

Cause Somes chosen  Hate

I've chosen Loving
With LIFE  as my Fate
Won't stay around to Watch you
My Wings They Now Catch
As I leave all this Nonsense
LIfes  Struck now
A Match
brandon nagley Jun 2015
Us
Relishing words she scribes me
Capsules of love
She prescribes me
I itch for her
In passions thirst
We were concentrated by past life marriage
Telepathy words
For somes unheard
Though none to be listened
We know one inside and out
Oh ha-ha mi amour'
Didst I mention?
Yeah I know I've told thou all of her to thou
She's just mine world
Mine girl
The one thou seeith in movies
She's a poetess of night duties
Scaling we shalt do
We're aliens
Visiting
Gathering worldly news
For we watch the end of thy world
As chaos and killing overtakes
Me and her
Are sick of the others
Quite exactly the same
Except for ourn skin
Hers is godess caramel
Mines pasty ivory
Though blended in winery!!!
Calleth me crazy
But I'd be locked into her room
Nothing hast to be open
Just ourn painted wall moon
I don't care of the others amare
I careth for mine damsel
I careth and loveth thou
Not strangers of random!!!
I am thy king
Thou art mine queen
Thou art mine
There I said it
Thou art MINE
So sit....
Sit down
Feast with me...
Laura Jul 2018
Are you scared of the way
I let my lips curl?
That I think pleasantries avoid
responsibilities
to be more uncomfortable.
Stumbling into the unforgiving
fortress
of your worries.
I have had none.

My optimism
is not a scam
calling from Burundi.
It, at least, leaves a message.

Making mosts out of somes,
I have tried to find answers,
conclusions,
and a hypothesis worth exploring.

But maybe sometimes
we just don’t deserve one.
So we get 10.
overthinking the past is a personal hell
MissNeona Feb 2021
It's been really quiet in my space...
The cat does his best.
I haven't been telling people the real heavy stuff.
Cause I don't want to. And I don't have to. And it never. ******. Helps.
But when I hear the heavy of others, somes I end up bawling until I can't breathe... and yeah, it's getting it out, but it comes back... so, right now? I choose to fight through it.
I choose to appreciate the space I have to cry until I can't breathe.
I choose to appreciate the fact that nobody sees me when I don't get out of bed well, or for days, or if I whimper all the hours between it.
I am appreciative that I can fall apart in this quietness for a while.
Because I have been all alone... for most of this entire pandemic.
I appreciate that nobody has seen my breakdowns.
My questions.
I am trying to appreciate this time of grieving.
Because who else could love this level of breakdown?
I never had anyone before who could comfortably sit through this with me.
Not even me.
Until now.
Now I love my breakdown, because nobody else could.
She doesn't need to be attended to. She doesnt want to be saved from the tower anymore.
She wants to sit here, and love herself for crying.
Crying without having to he seen.
Crying without having to be heard.
Crying is the absolute most badass thing I can do with this.
Take the rage, the whoa, self-pity, fear of fractalizaton and terror of the unknown.
I got up to here... having major symptoms of chiari formation, theough multiple sockets being subluxed and dislocated (fixing them myself, too)... waking up three mornings in a row... body releasing on itself and nobody around to clean up my messes and the cats death throws but myself.
I am here for these babies.
Because who else could see?
We aren't against anyone, just for ourselves.
But self advocacy is hard when you've allowed yourself to tell you you are weak, lesser, not equal to... everyone around you.
Allowing my needs to fade and go unseen so I wasn't a burden on anyone else... cause I was too much of a burden to myself.
This is my Ode to Self-Love
I am a badass warrior.
Because nobody could see nor save me from a tower of my own creation.
And when the skies cracked and the cat began to falter it was like pathateic fallacy.
I get back off the wall when I stumble into it.
I laugh when my body spasms and something falls cause it has to be funny.
When the pressures of the world make me crumble, I keep getting back up... not because of any reason other than.. nobody else can or would.
My ode to self love is a mark of a warrior because I never felt safe enough to share my issues cause sometimes I could make even therapists cry...
About 5-6 years ago I realized I was teaching the teachers... talking profession with the professionals and surprising so many people.
I wanted to understand everything and everyone so I could understand why I was so weird.
Turns out my health struggles I joked were like a bill Murray sighting, "Nobody will ever believe you."
So I had to see, believe in, and take care of myself (as much as possible).
My ode to self love.
The hardest one to love.
The toughest love.
Cause it showed me the easy way was rarely the best way.
That suffering merely means to undergo.
And that we are all playing g the game of life.
There are no manuals.
There's no walkthroughs.
There is no 'you', only me, we, us everything and nothing and ... we are all in this together.
And the only thing I can ever ask another is that they take care of their circus of cells in the way that only they know, and I am cheerleading supporting rooting for and fighting for the inter child inside of everyone around me.
Cause you give me life.
You give me strength.
You give me hope.
You give me love.
You give me faith.
You give me inspiration to keep going on.
You allowed me to see me past the circus of cells and beyond.
And I can't wait for your ode to self, too.
I love you.
Thank you.
Who else could fight the warrior's battle? Only you ♡
John Dewberry Oct 2019
If you say it  has to end
I’m  not sorry, my friend
I’ve always been a party of one
And I don’t burn
When I’m facing sun
If you asked do you care
I would say if I course I do
Somes bridge must be burnt
or we’d never ******* grow

Why am I always so headstrong
Why am I so **** lonesome
I don’t mind loneliness
I just mind my mind
Thinking  it’s right all the time
Even when it’s not in my best interest

I’m a stubborn *******
With a tendency to be blunt
Call me an ******* I’d you want
I’ll tell you the truth always
Friend, lover, significant other
No one will be spared
Honesty is nice
But people seem to want to beat around the bush
Thursday to save face

But that ain’t a friend

— The End —