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Take a word, words, or a line from the previous post...
The nostalgia
A silent triumph in the chest
The electric
Jaw clenching
Prions
That keep me
Feasting on
Yesteryear
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58 Replies
Reply by Lady_Legacy
posted
Yesteryear
A thought in passing
A word forgotten
No time to think
Mountain Biking
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Reply by Cesar
posted
No time to think
Mountain Biking
quick, quickly
racing through the trail
i've got my suit and helmet
in the woods
near the ocean
on a sunday afternoon
Reply by HΣX
posted
I've got my suit and helmet
But the rain still
Falls in every piece
And gets through to me
It's time to tread
Into the storm
And my sword is only
Transcendental
Reply by Swampbaby
posted
Falls into every piece...
And becomes jagged.
A broken bottle
Feeling every wave
Waiting with infinite patience
To become
Sea glass
Smoothed and torn
By the tides
An echoe of ebb
And yesterday
Reply by Cesar
posted
updated
and yesterday
things were still tough.
although today is better,
i can't help look back
at the time lost
in yesterday
Reply by Swampbaby
posted
Were still...
Placid as lake water Mid-July
When the air pulls your limbs
toward the ground
And every movement
Is effort
That you are not willing to give
Your skin feels the umber
Of sunlight
And even the insects are silent
Reply by Cesar
posted
*swamp, i dig that!
That you are not willing to give
That you are not willing to give,
all that i needed for you to give,
makes me enraged.
Enraged that I must take care of it myself
Fuckin shit
I know that this isn't going to work out.
Reply by Swampbaby
posted
*ty Cesar *
I must take care of myself...
Because I am
The carer
And sometimes
Selfishness
Rears its head
Telling me I
Must be first
A
Trophy
Of gilded
Faithlessness
24 karat
Reflecting
The needs of others
Only worth
The gold
Painted on my edges
My care
Is a thrift store trinket
Waiting for a home
Reply by cybercorewhore
posted
And sometimes selfishness is needed!
I've spent my whole life trying to make the rest of the world happy, instead of learning to be happy with myself.
I rip and tear, shred myself into pieces for the sake of others.
Bloody and battered I crawl through life and never give myself a break.
Sometimes being selfish is the most selfless thing you can do for yourself.
Reply by Swampbaby
posted
Learning...
To speak to trees
Is a patient undertaking
They speak so slowly
And my thoughts fly by
So quickly
Learning to speak to the wind
Is so much easier
Every scream torn away
To be dissected
By the curve of the earth
I tried once
To talk to the river
It smothered me
Reply by Cesar
posted
is a patient undertaking
to find my true calling
my true path
nevermind the
pain
confusion, eratic-ness, the out of control powerlessness of the day
the endless nights
the desperate moments ravaging for something
for what?
patience, and maybe i'll see.
Reply by Swampbaby
posted
Ravaging for something...
Or possibly just pillaging
The thought of every passerby
As they plod through my view
I know they have their own lives
Dreams, hopes, hates, worries
But All I want
Is to make every stranger's story
A part of my own
An glance cast upward
And we look at the same clouds
Reply by Cesar
posted
(but all I want)
but all I want is something better.
Something true to me.
something to carry me through with enough excitement to help me forget
forget it all.
forget today
forget yesterday
forget everything
Reply by Swampbaby
posted
Something to carry me through
Conversation
to pass the time
Education
So I know to rhyme
Salutation
To acknowledge
My existence
Creativity
To make moments flow
A bit of levity
So my humor grows
Passivity
To lessen
My resistance
Reply by Cesar
posted
creativity
to make moments flow...
...is the goal- to make moments flow, with creativity.
To inspire and feel inspired.
To grow, to reach the heavens.
tonight, though
I'm in a rut
so i phone a friend
I take a break
and find creativity in... conversation
conversation?
it's art?
what's the goal?
i choose the flow in life no matter what shape it takes-even if it's not 'art'
i choose the flow
Reply by Swampbaby
posted
Conversation...it's an art...
One we respond to
As casual hobbiests
The flow of words
Response
And echoe
Of the emotion we hear
In the voices
Aimed toward us
And we take in words
Sentences
Thoughts
Ideas
We pull them into ourselves
And masticate
Chew down meaning
And emotion
Until it is something
We can digest
Regurgitate
Combined with our own acids
And ask someone else
To clean up off the floor
Reply by Cesar
posted
and ask someone else
Should i do this or should i do that?
Does this make sense?
What do you think?
because, of course,
I'm a bit- let's just say, not quite in my right mind.
Reply by Ghost_in_a_Jar
posted
I'm a bit- let's just say, not quite in my right mind.
It's like I'm sitting in a glass box,
Painting pictures on the walls.
I have every color
on every finger.
And it pours from my fingertips
to the glass canvas.
I create masterpiece after masterpiece
All while the world goes on around me.
I could stay here forever, really.
Here in my museum of color
But it always ends
When I realize I'm not in my glass box
I'm coming back to a conversation
that I forgot I was a part of
Reply by Swampbaby
posted
Glass canvas
A brittle, shiny thing
(Life)
And I am careful
(Gentle)
Small, light strokes
(Creating)
Vibrant hues
(Loud)
And the fear
(Screaming)
That I will break it
Reply by Cesar
posted
small, light strokes
inevitably turn in to longer stronger strokes.
but maybe, i'll stop.
i hear the tv on.
the game.
the game is always is good.
but so are long strong strokes.
Reply by Swampbaby
posted
Turn in to...
Seeds to trees,
Coal to diamonds,
Molehills to mountains
And the inevitable cliche
The Caterpillar turns into a butterfly
Fluttering
Floating
Free
A plaything for kittens
In gardens
Reply by Swampbaby
posted
Broken Dialect...
A miscommunication
Error in translation
That halts her words
And makes me reconsider
Every
Single
One
Of
Mine
A sinking trepidation
Pause in conversation
A bolus tightly formed
Of all the things I could say
Balled
And
Waiting
In
My
Mind
Reply by Swampbaby
posted
Capacity for green forgivness...
The roots I cut from you
Dry and wither
Crisp and cryolate
On frozen ground
But you grow
You reach out in
Otherworldly
Turn the cheek
And anchor yourself
To the earth
Of tomorrow
Reply by inactive
posted
updated
A stifled dance on frozen ground
treading steadily to not provoke, nor make a sound,
but to no avail, for spirits always break free,
and the steps begin - one, two, three...
A stage that threatens its beloved
with melodies of icy irony, but the dance proceeds,
a routine oblivious to the woes of its "fan", once so avid,
nothing but acceptance for the peril it precedes.
Reply by Cesar
posted
nothing but acceptance for the peril it precedes
was the first step
without acceptance he couldn't begin
although he tried
he tried- evidenced by his exhausted body
evidenced by the endless thinking, the endless anxieties,
the life changes
but nothing happened, really
until he accepted the perils of his past
as it were, he was running his wheels on mud while his mind only dreamed of the fantastic future he was to have
Reply by Cesar
posted
as it were
he laid on his back thinking
resting, sort of...
actually, rest is needed
but first some glory
some life
some passion
one last spark of that something that makes life worth living
if only he could have it all the time and carry it with him instead of having to clock in for work the next day
Reply by Swampbaby
posted
Rest is needed....
A reply to 14 hour days
Where every bruise
Is
Maybe
They just needed
To get it off of their chest.
I mean
Honestly
Wouldn't you
If they kept you
Inside
Trapped
Fenced
And
Pacing
Reply by Cesar
posted
wouldn't you...
shout!?
wouldnt you scream!?
i mean who could bear such bullshit
time and again....
...until now
Reply by Swampbaby
posted
Until now...
But maybe time isn't
Exactly how percieved
Maybe now
Is a memory
10 years in the future
Maybe now
Is an ancestors
Last breath
And maybe
Now
Is something
You don't want to think about
So you focus
On storm clouds filling the horizon
Reply by Cesar
posted
storm clouds...
in my head
expectations much?
control
and then the pain of the let down
was it she that let me down or was it i that let myself down chasing storm clouds in my mind in the first place?
Reply by Swampbaby
posted
Tou can chase
Lightnining
Expect it
While Loking at slate skies
But electricity
Blooms
Everywhere
So be afraid
Of grey momentum
But also
Be aware
Of baby blue.
And high places
In the end
It is your magnetism
That attracts
Electricity
Reply by Cesar
posted
baby blue
like soft kind skin
and soft pillowed skies.
life and the sweetness in moments,
the passion that carries me through life,
hopes for the future and dreams of my life.
am I a romantic or simply someone that is breathing
Reply by Swampbaby
posted
Simply someone
With enough limbs
To imagine myself
A tree
Yearning for light
My roots
Upending cement
Creating
My own space
In this
Unrelenting
World
Reply by DoomedIdeas
posted
With enough limbs
To imagine myself
reaching for safety.
no longer what i was, but
new enough to move on
"greener pastures", sure, but
the sky has always been my destination.
with enough limbs
to imagine myself
in flight.
Reply by Swampbaby
posted
Always been my destination
A garbled
White-diamoned sea
With sifted sand
That shifts with each ebbing tide
And the blues that hue
And weight me down
Like lead
With ought thought
With ought
Breath
With out
Weight
In this seamless place
This has always been
My destination
The bottom
The sinking sand
That pulls me into
Its self
And carries me down
To petrified
Reply by Poe_thetic_lie_sense
posted
In this seamless place,
it seems MySpace to replace
the master Face
Book.
Don't mistake;
look.
You'll find the crook,
Mark Zuckerberg
(and Tucker, Zuck here's son)
It's run; it's won
everything under the sun.
I hope it's done,
but Monday comes along
With a dire song,
and I don't know when the weekend comes
if it can be undone.
Reply by haunter
posted
updated
a thought in passing,
a thought of you.
wondering how rough your skin is,
if i'll ever be one to find that out.
edit; aw man i was looking at it from oldest to newest my bad
Reply by Cesar
posted
edit: aw man
i wish i could do it again
wish i could go back
and do it again
edit it
dang
aw, man
well
no use in pity parties
moving forward
charge ahead
maybe the junk past will help with living now
Reply by Ryan
posted
"I wish I could do it again"; As if the universe were a singular construct with only one right answer. "I love you forever." Forever: A human construct. I love you until I'm sick of you, until I no longer feel desire for you, until daily life becomes mundane and I blame you for my unhappiness, until I find something else that peaks my interest, until the kids are grown, or until I die first; leaving you to wonder why you're still here. Shall I blame God? Didn't I get all that I hoped and longed and dutifully prayed for; Or am I upset because they died first, and I'm still here? Will I ever be ready? "I wish I could do it all again".
Reply by The Feral Floozy
posted
Will I ever be ready?
Will I EVER be ready?
Will I ever be READY?
The only absolute is Death.
Get a grip.
Grip it good.
Get a grip.
Grip it good.
Sigh and moan and spit and twist
Ahhhhhhhh
Quivering in ecstasy
Alive but dead.
Quivering in ecstasy
Alive but dead.
Reply by .ahmad-coltrain hayens
posted
updated
.get a grip, grip it good
will i ever be ready?
will i every be better?
will i every be steady?
yesteryear.
came and went rather fast don't you say?
from being upset and confused
to adding masks to our normal costumes
it seems as though most of the year was just one,
really long day.
Reply by Neli Keli
posted
Reply by Jiggy the Creative
posted
A silent triumph in the chest dissolves to dust,
Unpolished and painted with rust,
When it was said, it was done,
The expectations could never be farther than one.
Reply by Swampbaby
posted
Unpolished...
Matte with rough edges
That jag
And scrape
Still a gem
Only
Unfinished
Reply by Cesar
posted
updated
unfinished
there's hope in being unfinished because if it were finished, then it be left sad and depressing.
but because it's unfinished, there's still time to turn it around, start anew, do something better, be better
so, go out and finish that which never ends....until, of course, u die.
Reply by Tobias
posted
(Until, of course, u die. )
Until, of course, you die.
"Until" you die
That what they all say,
as if it's something so far out of reach.
Humans and their infalliabilty.
Always thinking they'll have the last word
Nothing lasts forvever.
Now, you die.
We all do.
I'll finsh my life with my own words
Fully completed.
I promise.
- Pharus
Reply by Nao
posted
updated
Hoping wishing cravig longing
I stare and i look and i guess all around me
I invade the souls around me nit picking them like a biology class
Making assumptions and comparing them to my idealism
The realism of it all being quite depressing maybe even desperate
My vision cant stay still and my mind cant keep quiet im absorbing everything around me wandering wandering wandering in busy lands that arent mine to preoccupy
Wondering and thinking. Assuming and guessing. Thinking and thinking and thinking.
Are they looking at me? Making assumptions and filling up the empty spaces in their minds with thoughts about me? Are they listening to my breathing, looking through my skin and entering my soul? Wanting to guess what type of person i am, wondering if i am worthy of them, worthy of being.
Reply by lilyiffer
posted
The realism of it all being quite depressing maybe even desperate...
This is life
I exist only in the lives of few, and to be quite frank, I am unsure how many of those few that I like.
I will forever spend this life in drab misery, living a mediocre life, that will never amount to anything great. Though I do enjoy living simply, why can I not be great?
I here confess that in this lifetime, I will never do anything significant.
And maybe that's okay.
Reply by jimmieixo
posted
yesteryear
how should I treat you, now that you're gone?
were the feelings pretty enough to put into song?
how may I perceive you, after you leave?
may I turn our conversations, hesitations, adorations into a thing of dreams?
Reply by Axis
posted
The clock silently ticks
Screaming out
no one heard him
because the clock was to loud