Submissions by jukebox_
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I'm a rambling, emotional observer.
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
8th May 2014 5:56pm
8th May 2014 5:56pm
Train poetry no. 2
I think that concrete is ugly.
What's wrong with splashing the world
With a little extra colour?
I would paint the bushes if
It would just stick.
What's wrong with splashing the world
With a little extra colour?
I would paint the bushes if
It would just stick.
515 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
8th May 2014 5:33pm
8th May 2014 5:33pm
Train poetry no. 1: since she got a full time job
Some days I spend the whole day
Hoping
That nobody else notices the
Glaring flaws
In my personality.
And the fact that I end far too many sentences
With um.
And I won't go into detail
About these moles and blemishes because
Who really wants to climb
Into a crawling pit of snakes?
That's right
Crawling.
Even my flaws have flaws.
Hoping
That nobody else notices the
Glaring flaws
In my personality.
And the fact that I end far too many sentences
With um.
And I won't go into detail
About these moles and blemishes because
Who really wants to climb
Into a crawling pit of snakes?
That's right
Crawling.
Even my flaws have flaws.
618 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
27th Mar 2014 5:17pm
27th Mar 2014 5:17pm
Ode
to the smelly tuft of lint I found in your belly button
and every bit of forgotten life discovered in the dark places since.
I owe you one.
For every time there's been a branch
growing just so out of cliffs of sheer rock and shame.
You catch me
and hold on, as though your unstretched muscles have been itching
for a bit of abuse
and a smack
of responsibility.
And you hold on.
As though skinny wooden fibres were all it took
to keep light from drowning.
You saved me.
Put your lips on mine and heaved
as though I...
and every bit of forgotten life discovered in the dark places since.
I owe you one.
For every time there's been a branch
growing just so out of cliffs of sheer rock and shame.
You catch me
and hold on, as though your unstretched muscles have been itching
for a bit of abuse
and a smack
of responsibility.
And you hold on.
As though skinny wooden fibres were all it took
to keep light from drowning.
You saved me.
Put your lips on mine and heaved
as though I...
712 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
21st Mar 2014 3:07am
21st Mar 2014 3:07am
the dark places where they keep your vegetables from ripening so they don't rot before you can buy them.
I think the first person to
put a mirror in a bathroom
stall deserves some kind of award.
Because how often do you get a break like that?
A quiet tap on the shoulder from
a friendly stranger, kind
enough to prevent the crippling shame of
Toilet Paper Trail.
Kind enough
to let you know that
the way you're going -
was never more than a pipeline;
Intersates of spilling chemicals
creating the illusion of a trail between
bald dirt and
dead nature.
And it isn't tidy enough.
No, Honey, those jeans...
put a mirror in a bathroom
stall deserves some kind of award.
Because how often do you get a break like that?
A quiet tap on the shoulder from
a friendly stranger, kind
enough to prevent the crippling shame of
Toilet Paper Trail.
Kind enough
to let you know that
the way you're going -
was never more than a pipeline;
Intersates of spilling chemicals
creating the illusion of a trail between
bald dirt and
dead nature.
And it isn't tidy enough.
No, Honey, those jeans...
604 reads
3 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
15th Mar 2014 3:50am
15th Mar 2014 3:50am
I thought she might be skipping school.
I have this ongoing fantasy where
I'm a good kid and
you believe it.
Where life is blind and you
along with it because
I hold strangers
dearer than friends.
And for no popular logic
such as 'strangers
are just friends you haven't met yet.'
No.
It's more like they know something
I don't.
Things like first impressions,
politics I'll never care for,
a favourite color that
isn't my own.
People are just windows
To a soul
deserving recognition;
A name in need of
mention; an answer gasping...
I'm a good kid and
you believe it.
Where life is blind and you
along with it because
I hold strangers
dearer than friends.
And for no popular logic
such as 'strangers
are just friends you haven't met yet.'
No.
It's more like they know something
I don't.
Things like first impressions,
politics I'll never care for,
a favourite color that
isn't my own.
People are just windows
To a soul
deserving recognition;
A name in need of
mention; an answer gasping...
579 reads
3 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
14th Mar 2014 6:09pm
14th Mar 2014 6:09pm
lonely streets.
I stare.
Possibly because I'm afraid to blink.
I'm afraid to miss something.
Or because this world -
all around me -
is the only inspiration I've got and
if I miss it
what is there then?
Possibly because I'm afraid to blink.
I'm afraid to miss something.
Or because this world -
all around me -
is the only inspiration I've got and
if I miss it
what is there then?
673 reads
3 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
7th Mar 2014 9:10am
7th Mar 2014 9:10am
claustrophobe.
A castle, a fortress, with walls on all sides.
The clock keeps on ticking, my time I must bide,
carefully waiting for my soul to take flight
whilst my heart finds refuge in the blackest of night.
Words come to mind as a thought, like a shiver
flooding my head like a powerful river.
The cold sets in - a ghost - and I quiver.
I'm a shell of myself, a piece of a sliver
Left between walls screaming of pain,
laughing at my failure, glaring with disdain.
My soul is my only chance of escape
from this prison to which the door lies agape.
Open, as I may...
The clock keeps on ticking, my time I must bide,
carefully waiting for my soul to take flight
whilst my heart finds refuge in the blackest of night.
Words come to mind as a thought, like a shiver
flooding my head like a powerful river.
The cold sets in - a ghost - and I quiver.
I'm a shell of myself, a piece of a sliver
Left between walls screaming of pain,
laughing at my failure, glaring with disdain.
My soul is my only chance of escape
from this prison to which the door lies agape.
Open, as I may...
594 reads
2 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
7th Mar 2014 8:52am
7th Mar 2014 8:52am
The Welcome Wagon
Welcome to my world,
I hope you enjoy your stay
in a place where everyone's crying;
where faces are gaunt and grey.
A place where everyone's hungry,
though we have food to spare,
and everybody is searching
for someone to love and care.
Nobody really has enemies
because nobody really has friends -
no one to step in and die for,
no one to save in the end.
Everyone feigns acceptance
of things they don't understand;
things that actually scare them;
their morals as stable as sand.
The truths that someone might die for
aren't...
I hope you enjoy your stay
in a place where everyone's crying;
where faces are gaunt and grey.
A place where everyone's hungry,
though we have food to spare,
and everybody is searching
for someone to love and care.
Nobody really has enemies
because nobody really has friends -
no one to step in and die for,
no one to save in the end.
Everyone feigns acceptance
of things they don't understand;
things that actually scare them;
their morals as stable as sand.
The truths that someone might die for
aren't...
662 reads
6 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
6th Mar 2014 7:16am
6th Mar 2014 7:16am
Snowglobe
There's a wall between us made of glass.
You can't go over, cannot pass;
only look and see what lies
behind this obstacle of great size.
Look and see what you cannot have.
You can stare and wonder, cannot grab.
One can only imagine and such,
like a sign that says: look, don't touch.
And that is all we'll ever do,
for there's a wall between me and you -
a wall of distance, miles untraveled;
following a road like thread unravelled.
This won't be the end of us two,
one day we'll find a different way through.
Until then we'll...
You can't go over, cannot pass;
only look and see what lies
behind this obstacle of great size.
Look and see what you cannot have.
You can stare and wonder, cannot grab.
One can only imagine and such,
like a sign that says: look, don't touch.
And that is all we'll ever do,
for there's a wall between me and you -
a wall of distance, miles untraveled;
following a road like thread unravelled.
This won't be the end of us two,
one day we'll find a different way through.
Until then we'll...
653 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
6th Mar 2014 00:12am
6th Mar 2014 00:12am
Singular
Stranded
all alone, without a boat.
Standing
on an island without hope.
Suffocation
feel the burning in your throat.
Abandoned
feel the rain begin to soak.
Distance
lengthy miles stretching longer.
Pain
of your muscles growing stronger.
Weakness
feel my heart begin to wander.
Smile
yet a sadness left to ponder.
Strength
lasts a moment, disappears.
Faith
asking me to face my fears.
Heart
barely beating, holding tears.
Moments
stretching longer, more like years.
Savior
but there is...
all alone, without a boat.
Standing
on an island without hope.
Suffocation
feel the burning in your throat.
Abandoned
feel the rain begin to soak.
Distance
lengthy miles stretching longer.
Pain
of your muscles growing stronger.
Weakness
feel my heart begin to wander.
Smile
yet a sadness left to ponder.
Strength
lasts a moment, disappears.
Faith
asking me to face my fears.
Heart
barely beating, holding tears.
Moments
stretching longer, more like years.
Savior
but there is...
564 reads
5 Comments
DRUGS POEM
Published
25th Feb 2014 2:58am
25th Feb 2014 2:58am
this one deserves a title.
i was destined for drug addiction.
i was told the drug addicts
were out there
not inside the gym.
in the chair
where my ass was planted
and my toes
were toying with the legs
of the chair in front of me
where another one sat
shooting spitwads
at the ultimate addict
standing
behind the microphone stand.
i was told
not even once.
gateways and the gangs waiting
behind them
and oh the car accidents.
come outside to see some crumpled
metal and ghosts
lit up behind the curtain
an extension cord...
i was told the drug addicts
were out there
not inside the gym.
in the chair
where my ass was planted
and my toes
were toying with the legs
of the chair in front of me
where another one sat
shooting spitwads
at the ultimate addict
standing
behind the microphone stand.
i was told
not even once.
gateways and the gangs waiting
behind them
and oh the car accidents.
come outside to see some crumpled
metal and ghosts
lit up behind the curtain
an extension cord...
876 reads
6 Comments
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