User:	poetry (posted by theinternet)
	Date:	2008-05-15 20:58
	Subject:	A LITERARY TRIBUTE TO MILEY CYRUS
	Security:	Public

I said something bad
but bad doesn't warrant any sort of emotional reaction.

Bad is okay.
Bad has a bed to be made,
money to be made,
an ocean to see.
twin x's to be removed from bads eyes.
to let bad see,

it isn't so bad, if bad can see.
a glass is neither half or half
it is just a glass.
joy to clarity.

Plans to be happy,
are just happy plans.
There is no happiness if bad doesn't let it.

There is no happiness if bad exists.
Now can be just as good as tomorrow should be.
And that's something bad could see, if bad could see.

	User:	poetry (posted by superbad)
	Date:	2008-05-15 02:26
	Subject:	SWARM ROBOTICS
	Security:	Public

lavender chamomile my fingers rub the ache
out of my eyes
tell me, jesus christ,
what is the root of all evil?

i made a list for you that won't be read
and just now i wanted to say something but that something turned around
and fled back into me and i felt
dirty dirty dirty

	User:	poetry (posted by beyond_compare)
	Date:	2008-05-14 00:39
	Subject:	[untitled]
	Security:	Public

My past is stained.
Charcoal on lace.
Birth on sheet.
The pitter patter of rain
Beckoning
A lion's glare
Raw meat.
Taunting a tethered limb
A single word provoking
Blood clots and smoke.
In my veins
You now flow.
A ressurecting hour.
Choke.
If I spit it out
On top of a setting sun
In the warm wind
You may gag
And retract your hand
Let every thought
Make you cringe.
When will it birth from your lips
Impatient one?
We have more time than clocks
A child's hands
Holding a gun.
Confusion
Confession
Convulsions
Stellar.
Heartbeats on
Dancing eyelashes
Are not gonna kill her.

	User:	poetry (posted by ashnevra)
	Date:	2008-05-13 21:29
	Subject:
	Security:	Public

	User:	poetry (posted by theinternet)
	Date:	2008-05-12 13:11
	Subject:	WE'RE GONNA DIE -- WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE
	Security:	Public

the monitor is slowly destroying my eyes,
but the lessons are impeccable.
Especially in a society that's changing,
into an insular single-sided bubble.

We love our stuff, pretend we don't love each other.
Pretend we don't need anyone to belong.
Well it's all bullshit, and we're all faking.
And each time the monitor flickers, it's
a little more apparent.

I know I am preachy, disjointed and unconvincing.
But there's something at stake here,
and if it's mostly correct then it's mostly
okay.

Everyone is part liar, everyone hides to stay safe.
But everyone wants everyone to know all about them,
(but not really) because there are terrors to hold back
(and mostly) everyone doesn't realize. Because communicating
self is most important, but somewhere along the line
you realize everyone is just as weak and self-conscious
as you are.

	User:	poetry (posted by theinternet)
	Date:	2008-05-11 18:21
	Subject:	R KELLY WONDER KING
	Security:	Public

do not worry dah-ling,
i fell in love for both of us.
your part is already done.

volcanic mischief of the erupting kind
pass the shot gun shot glass and kick
back until the acid passes.
poison personality swirling in an ocean
of fish in the sea.
do not take breaths if it ain't easy to breathe.

do not worry dah-ling,
i will charge you for my services,
cupid's arrow skin prick burning.

magma with swagger, the surface is fuming,
the vapors are salty, my face burns.
the rubber on my shoes is melting
from walking all over you.
wicket wishes today is a brighter day.

	User:	poetry (posted by theinternet)
	Date:	2008-05-10 17:14
	Subject:	YOU FUCKED UP MY COMBO, GODDAMNIT.
	Security:	Public

Because everyone loves bucket lists.
They sure are fun.
We'll count down each and every
thing we wish to accomplish
one by one.
Trivial by trivial thing.


Don't worry, you won't catch me crying wolf.
And it is hard to gauge the temperature
when we're engaged in temper pulls.
I suggest a carry on, if you don't want some
of your items lost.
We're going on a guilt trip.

Down to the Titanic in a submersable,
Kissing the Blarney Stone.
Pointing to a US City on a Map
& Then Making that US City our home.

It will be swell, to promise
And at the end we'll stand alone
Ala farmer in the Dell.

Constantly ignoring, making life boring,
don't worry you won't catch me crying.

We're engaged in temper pulls,
the road is a hard one,
dusty and vengeance full.

Going on a guilt trip,

Climbing Mount Fuji
Sleeping out under the stars,
Looking for some answers
and as usual, finding none.

	User:	poetry (posted by vavavanilla)
	Date:	2008-05-09 20:41
	Subject:	i lie perfectly still. Oh God, how could i move without going against your will?
	Security:	Public

I Hear whistles
I see angels and missiles
A child twirls across the sunbeams
And walks through all my dreams
A gun in each hand
It’s a cold world
I wouldn’t understand
I walk through blue sceneries
Crystals fall on top my feet as my fingers dangle
The strings attached are tangled
Lured into a state of mind
Innocence tiptoes behind
Kissing every deadly thing
Humbled from light fragrance and angel wings
A fantacy quietly hums within my head
This fire so blue has lost the sense of red
My warm skin becomes bitter cold
I watch my as hands stiffin
Than watch as they unfold
My conscience is muffled
Abandoned; forgotten
Scratching at my skin
Shutting out or falling in
There are always two sides to a story
To cause wreckage in the sane
I can’t remember my name
Just the warmth through my veins
But the high turns insane
and scandalized this game
We fall apart to feel complete
Those sharp crystals cut my feet
But they are so beautiful

	User:	poetry (posted by theinternet)
	Date:	2008-05-08 21:34
	Subject:	YOU GOT LOOKS THAT KILL BUT YOU ALSO GOT GILLS
	Security:	Public

Standing by the punch bowl.
Drinking full cups, spiked.
Chewing on a mass of Fruit Stripes gum.
You smile, I put a tattoo on your
tongue.

Her dress is beautiful,
The dance is amazing,
We're doing our own
boogey,
getting down,
doing all that totally rad shit.

The only problem,
I just made every thing up.


Instead, reality is a bitter place.
There's no punch bowl,
and if there was some punch,
It'd best be laid upon my face.

	User:	poetry (posted by theinternet)
	Date:	2008-05-08 15:03
	Subject:	HOSTILE BLURTY TAKEOVER
	Security:	Public

Don't retreat boy,
you're acting like a silly little bitch.
Your stomach is a mess, the festive
sickness leads with blistering quickness.
You aren't sure, you aren't sure. You'll
never know, an empty home. Because you
cannot stand to live alone.

And perhaps the distance was a blessing,
but you love your love in ziplock bags
to save the freshness, but ultimately
altering the taste. In the end this is
a lesson in lessening. A vision of division,
can't hold water if you're not treading
on some toes.
But loneliness is a noose.
And it's binding.
And so we struggle, and we compromise,
and that's why our insecurities are hanging loose.


And I guess, that's why people do this all their lives,
not everyone can have clarity.
not everyone can survive.
I thought I could bring you old with me.
Another late night, night lit, sunday drive.

	User:	poetry (posted by theinternet)
	Date:	2008-05-07 21:24
	Subject:	GIVE ME THIS FRONT PAGE
	Security:	Public

she's such a mystery she must've majored
in incognito, but let's not shake knees
until the days glow. the morning shakes
with an inebriated light, and I do the
do until the do don't fight. but we're
such fucking monkeys the way we gather
and call. The morning after afternoon
headache, spitting out sentences we
don't recall. Split back like scissor kicking
sisters taking sinister sides. The splitting
of the lines, into a critical divide.
This is what it is it is us versus you.

Don't be so stale. My friend,
Don't be so victimized.
And it won't be so much pressure
to allow the engagers to
atomize.

he's such a leper you'd think his hands
would keep to themselves, wrapped in
ribbon cloths, can't touch another woman
even if the victims sought. spit spaced
sentences as if the lines were bought
he lies in lanes catching the balls
trying to fall to the gutter that
don't want to be caught. He doesn't
love anyone and certainly doesn't love
himself, the we say that he lays just to
gather his thoughts. But its a leap of
faith to gather the fields that've been razed
the children whose minds have been raped
the futile, fetal patterns that have been
totally, and ethereally ingrained.
Had a very pleasant childhood, and still hate
absolutely everything about self.

Don't be so stale. My boy,
You have so much to live for,
But lets engage all types of irritators
to allow these kids to
Go here forth.

	User:	poetry (posted by theinternet)
	Date:	2008-05-06 10:55
	Subject:	ME AND JOEY A ALWAYS BE SWEATIN THE FLYEST HONEYS
	Security:	Public

If these are our happy days,
then call me Richie Cunningham's older
brother.

Call it college, call it writers block,
but I start the flame, then flicker
into the background from
whence I came.

And it is a glory less job.

This is vicious the quickness in which
things change, and its liquid the
motions that we swim in. The fishes
that we hook and live with. The emptiness
embodied in all our kitchens.

But none more empty than here.
But none more vacuous and filled with
self-deprecating sorrow.

None with dreams of dual magnums on Zanzibar,
right to the bottom of his jaw. None with
more debilitating, crushing, empty streams
of thought. Take an eternity of bad luck
to never have to see a mirror or a photo
again.

This means war, and war means war means
more and more of mortars and more than
you intended to see dead. But war
claims victims and victims with their
diction on death and death brings sorrow
but im sorry that the candor of tomorrow
is strung out like the california condor
and I want nothing more than to be happy
where I stand.