Buenos Aires by Hannah Jancosko I found Van Gogh on a bus bound For Buenos Aires. The windows… http://wp.me/s3JPPA-452
Like handling eggs,
we must manage words with care,
and choose them with a keen eye.
Be cautious of the tongue,
for it has an excess chunk of power.
Words can be as comforting as the stuffed
bear I’ve had since birth,
yet harder and colder than
a cot at…
Arizona Truck Stop Blues
by Seth Brunson
Cold wind, rain, and snow
in the low desert again
crying myself to sleep
right around the bend
You didn’t see me there
a tear frozen on my cheek
in the pin-prick stilted air
a man crumpled in a heap
Under a thorn…
These three stooges lived out on the beach.
I went and lived among them to see what it was like.
it was some dark alleyway when the cops came rolling by and
we all vaulted this chain link fence so they wouldn’t see our red eyes.
they tried to kick me outta…
Hi fellow teens, I’m Jeremiah Walton. I’m 18 years old, and from N.H.. I graduated High School this past spring, and began hitchhiking in the Fall. …
Please reblog to help spread word of my AMA at r/teenagers!
Young writers, poets, and creatives, come check out what’s boiling.
In the Blue Plate diner the dishes crash,
the screen door yawns and lets in a warm breeze,
and cotton ﬁelds hang on walls while I beat
my knuckles against the Quarter-at-Goodwill
table. I’ve got a rhythm down by now.
My fantasies are my active engines,
Raise the black flag!
Anarchy earnestly sobs
a wince of abuse,
harlot mother of many.
all the love I’ve given
on shores like on benches
in bedrooms which smelled
after interrupted desires
on the dirty roads of the city
in many different cities
under rain that washed my senses
by the windows of many houses
during nights that i wished never…
I’m The Vessel by Joe Frostey Foster
I’m the vessel, looking for a friend.
There is a long road for destruction,
when the only…
Company of One by Lee-Ana Raphael
If I hadn’t been looking for company
I wouldn’t have found solitude.
You must first stand alone
two months three months crawling into four - I am sick of counting days like so many dull stones. Little ghost in my head, you’re the hurt that just keeps on hurting. Tonight I am going to carve you out with an ice pick and then maybe I will stop…
I had $50 in my backpack
Naw man I ain’t lyin’
Now could you spare a dollar I
really need a drink
I was Mr Well to Do
Until I traded a cigarette
to a stylish homeless guy
and he gave me pills
but even he lost a guitar
I feel like a clown out here between…
On your colored roofs, Genova
With the sea singing in the morning
The song of fishermen
And your delays
And the smell of lively streets
And the beaches crowded
With people on work-breaks
And all the yelling
The youngsters taking you over