Submissions by RevolutionAL (Alistair Plint)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
poe-tree is my home, away from home. I scribble a hell of a lot. some I put here / some I don't. depends how I feel on the day!
I saw Your Hand
The bar-room
had a saloon air,
some strange country music
playing background;
the timber-finish
- swing doors
round tables, seating eight
(Texus-Holdem plays ten
on a full table
but the house needs some odds)
they sat in shadowed light
-all seven
the dealer had dealt
an extra Ace
to the lady
with an orange bow
the chap in the leather hat
lit a cigarette ...
had a saloon air,
some strange country music
playing background;
the timber-finish
- swing doors
round tables, seating eight
(Texus-Holdem plays ten
on a full table
but the house needs some odds)
they sat in shadowed light
-all seven
the dealer had dealt
an extra Ace
to the lady
with an orange bow
the chap in the leather hat
lit a cigarette ...
#narrative
#LifeAsAWriter
#metaphor
266 reads
3 Comments
Make The Bed Sing German.
#love
#girlfriend
#erotic
#LifeAsAWriter
#sexy
302 reads
8 Comments
I Subscribe To Us
It was never cute love for me
-was the rough love
the same that
measured five weekdays
in twenty four hour breaths
counting texts waiting for
your car arriving
outside my door.
The same core trembling
hard love that turned
a normal average Joe
into a lock-downed
cracked concrete pedestal
in the mountain of
non-contact we endured.
as terrifying as it is
the fighting
minute by minute
check up died,
axed by governments.
a global...
-was the rough love
the same that
measured five weekdays
in twenty four hour breaths
counting texts waiting for
your car arriving
outside my door.
The same core trembling
hard love that turned
a normal average Joe
into a lock-downed
cracked concrete pedestal
in the mountain of
non-contact we endured.
as terrifying as it is
the fighting
minute by minute
check up died,
axed by governments.
a global...
#love
#LifeAsAWriter
378 reads
9 Comments
Midnight Nightmare
we're born into
fiction
with no
book of lies
and truth says
its sorry
the myth's in your eyes
will you still love-
when the poetry
dies?
sold as fast-food
containers
(eat while you cry!)
electric finger-tips
once
lit-up-a-room
-feeling
hard-rocks
heavy-knocks
long-blonde-locks
...
fiction
with no
book of lies
and truth says
its sorry
the myth's in your eyes
will you still love-
when the poetry
dies?
sold as fast-food
containers
(eat while you cry!)
electric finger-tips
once
lit-up-a-room
-feeling
hard-rocks
heavy-knocks
long-blonde-locks
...
#rhyming
#fiction
#LifeAsAWriter #MyInspiration
#LifeAsAWriter #MyInspiration
310 reads
12 Comments
To those Who Killed Before Us
Your
words
slide over pages
like ice cream
melting into
sugar
cone
Your grammar holds
as a centre piece Flake
We still lick your opinions
suck on your concepts
and eat your pages
I feel the thunder
of reading
perfection
in titles
as bone creaks
into the next
page
of
your
every
moment
while I pray
on Theresa to
bring you back
in this life or the
next ...
words
slide over pages
like ice cream
melting into
sugar
cone
Your grammar holds
as a centre piece Flake
We still lick your opinions
suck on your concepts
and eat your pages
I feel the thunder
of reading
perfection
in titles
as bone creaks
into the next
page
of
your
every
moment
while I pray
on Theresa to
bring you back
in this life or the
next ...
#LifeAsAWriter
#memories
#love
386 reads
10 Comments
Footprints, Gravel, & Freeways
Breathing thick viscosity
tonight
wondering
if oxygen molecule
O
can be multiplied six times
O6
or are two little atoms all
we really choke up
O2
plastic lungs
in brown
paper
bags
gripping finger-nails
into leather arm rests
of three seater
couches
in dark
sitting rooms
...
tonight
wondering
if oxygen molecule
O
can be multiplied six times
O6
or are two little atoms all
we really choke up
O2
plastic lungs
in brown
paper
bags
gripping finger-nails
into leather arm rests
of three seater
couches
in dark
sitting rooms
...
#LifeAsAWriter
#StreamOfConsciousness
254 reads
4 Comments
Of Golden Statues
Let's discuss the way
of old hearts
their bleeding dried tears
pump away
While blood cells burn in
ecstasy
-lives only they've lived
Let's buy tickets and
keep the stubs
in treasure boxes
at local
pubs and speak the truth
days gone by
in tunnels winding
true love sung
Let's hold dear the eyes
that shone through
square boxes at night
write the plan
of tomorrow's land
play the words
echoing you-tubes...
of old hearts
their bleeding dried tears
pump away
While blood cells burn in
ecstasy
-lives only they've lived
Let's buy tickets and
keep the stubs
in treasure boxes
at local
pubs and speak the truth
days gone by
in tunnels winding
true love sung
Let's hold dear the eyes
that shone through
square boxes at night
write the plan
of tomorrow's land
play the words
echoing you-tubes...
#LifeAsAWriter
#memories
#nostalgia
266 reads
6 Comments
...living the minute
It started in the young years
keeping the vessel alive
between candle counts in
birthday cakes and a new grade.
In the early working years
holding calendar days
Mother's day, Father's day,
Christmas, and Easter fetes!
Month to month living after
marriage. The wage in wait.
The monthly steak and vino date
Living the 30 days was great.
Divorced years calling for weekends
See the kids, hearing "bye daddy"...
keeping the vessel alive
between candle counts in
birthday cakes and a new grade.
In the early working years
holding calendar days
Mother's day, Father's day,
Christmas, and Easter fetes!
Month to month living after
marriage. The wage in wait.
The monthly steak and vino date
Living the 30 days was great.
Divorced years calling for weekends
See the kids, hearing "bye daddy"...
#LifeStruggles
#LifeAsAWriter
273 reads
4 Comments
Don't Make Me Emotional Now
That
Fucking
Word
"Masculinity"
rides through tongue
like a Kawi*
throttling
bend 16
-Ingwe
in a final lap
Slides as a oil-spill
during change
over leathers
soakng
jeans
leaving
the black
to live forever
in denim dreams
While the skin
tanned
olive
is shaded
in grease
that fills
pores
settling
in crease-marks
like tattoos
of hardships ...
Fucking
Word
"Masculinity"
rides through tongue
like a Kawi*
throttling
bend 16
-Ingwe
in a final lap
Slides as a oil-spill
during change
over leathers
soakng
jeans
leaving
the black
to live forever
in denim dreams
While the skin
tanned
olive
is shaded
in grease
that fills
pores
settling
in crease-marks
like tattoos
of hardships ...
#LifeAsAWriter
#unicorns
328 reads
9 Comments
To The Bearded Chap In Bed Six
I'm leaving tomorrow
herewith thoughts for you
to borrow
she's six
-your daughter
while visiting she sang "happy birthday"
as you couldn't sing to her
she mentioned
a bully at school
he sounds like a tool
think you should look into that
Apparently
he broke a bracelet you gave her
she was distraught
at what your reaction would be...
herewith thoughts for you
to borrow
she's six
-your daughter
while visiting she sang "happy birthday"
as you couldn't sing to her
she mentioned
a bully at school
he sounds like a tool
think you should look into that
Apparently
he broke a bracelet you gave her
she was distraught
at what your reaction would be...
#love
#family
#LifeAsAWriter #illness
#LifeAsAWriter #illness
303 reads
6 Comments
Canvas Dreams Of Tomorrow
Face to barrel of her 9mm pistol
He started to ramble rolling rhetoric
The heart chanting mantras of...
"May we not aim to change the men
Let us kill, to save the men
Charges are hereby dropped
you are assigned to full duty immediately
- the task is this...
Leave the streets with one less dead-body
we do or we die, and that's the life!
-Thank you for taking the time on me."
The essence of...
He started to ramble rolling rhetoric
The heart chanting mantras of...
"May we not aim to change the men
Let us kill, to save the men
Charges are hereby dropped
you are assigned to full duty immediately
- the task is this...
Leave the streets with one less dead-body
we do or we die, and that's the life!
-Thank you for taking the time on me."
The essence of...
#LifeAsAWriter
#SelfReflection
#SelfWorth
#mystery
#metaphor
259 reads
2 Comments
When Will It All Just End?
downstairs
a pot is boiling
it's steam
The kitchen tiles
cry tears
down gray porcelain
draining the
life out of the morning air
the stairs creak
Something I've been meaning
to fix
though I do see the poetic
in announcing
my arrival ahead
of time
as water rolls in hot
burning oxygen
I add two
handfuls of pasta
to the pot
watching the rolling
the news is...
a pot is boiling
it's steam
The kitchen tiles
cry tears
down gray porcelain
draining the
life out of the morning air
the stairs creak
Something I've been meaning
to fix
though I do see the poetic
in announcing
my arrival ahead
of time
as water rolls in hot
burning oxygen
I add two
handfuls of pasta
to the pot
watching the rolling
the news is...
#LifeAsAWriter
#SelfReflection
344 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by RevolutionAL (Alistair Plint)