Poetry thread: New, newer newest


One day, I’ll wake up
Sell this car and buy a pickup truck
Move out and find some honest land
Far away from the Neon and

The stars they will light my way home
Yeah the stars they will guide my way home

And on that day I’ll shave my head
Won’t need no hair I’ll wear a hat instead
And find myself a big ol’ dog
To keep me warm in the chillin’ fog

And the nights will bring some comfort there
Yeah the nights will bring some comfort there

But these city streets
They are driving me away
‘Cause where there’s neon lights
You know there’s lots of hell to pay

And I’m drowning, in a sea of cars
Looking for a savior in the bars
At night my dreams are dreams filled with stars
But the morning sun’s up too quickly for my heart

Well Monday, I’ll wake up
Drive this car down to the lot
Go in and I’ll punch the clock
And all these dreams they will be forgot

And the neon bars will guide my way home
Yeah the neon bars will light my way home
And the neon stars will guide my way home
Yeah the neon stars will light my way home


Shirts in the closet, shoes in the hall
Mama’s in the kitchen, baby and all
Everything is everything
Everything is everything
But you’re missing
Coffee cups on the counter, jackets on the chair
Papers on the doorstep, but you’re not there
Everything is everything
Everything is everything
But you’re missing
Pictures on the nightstand, TV’s on in the den
Your house is waiting, your house is waiting
For you to walk in, for you to walk in
But you’re missing, you’re missing
You’re missing when I shut out the lights
You’re missing, when I close my eyes
You’re missing, when I see the sun rise
You’re missing
Children are asking if it’s alright
Will you be in our arms tonight?
Morning is morning, the evening falls I got
Too much room in my bed, too many phone calls
How’s everything, everything?
Everything, everything
But you’re missing, you’re missing
God’s drifting in heaven, devil’s in the mailbox
I got dust on my shoes, nothing but teardrops


The Big Book of Therapy

Bob Hicok
If you think of humans as rare
as snowflakes, your world
is constantly melting.

If you think of humans as essential
to keeping dogs happy,
someone will always want
to buy you a beer.


Love this. Feels like it should be a song


I think it is



She only cries on Tuesdays now
and every day she makes it
out of bed, she drops a coin in the jar.
She counts each hour of sleep, the times she’s up
and dressed by three, when she manages to eat-
they all earn her more. Yesterday
she answered the phone,
brushed her hair, saw something
in her face that used to be there.
Tomorrow is a possibility
she can imagine.
She watches at the window,
lives for the day she can leave
by the door. The jar fills,
holds more metal than air
and the scars
on her arms
line up
like a train track out of there.

Helen L. Storey 18/05/2017


awesome – love that last line!


Thanks. It was one of those ones that just fell out all in a rush.


If we were vampires and death was a joke
We’d go out on the sidewalk and smoke
And laugh at all the lovers and their plans
I wouldn’t feel the need to hold your hand

  • Isbell


Found these old poetry books along with an old copy of Winnie the Pooh from the 30’s.


Let your heart sing

If you’re looking for a song to sing from the heart,

You’ve been searching and praying,

So this I’m relaying,

It comes from the birds high up in the trees, :bird:

It comes from the rustling you hear in a breeze. :dash:

It comes from the cradle when a baby cries, :baby:

It comes from the heartache of someone’s lies. :broken_heart:

It comes from the ocean when it reaches the shore, :island:

It comes from the peace heard in a sleeping puppy’s snore. :zzz:

It comes from life and the joy it brings, :tada:

It’s the choir in your mind when your heart sings. :notes:
Just let it sing.


This one’s about a month old:

The Ocean in Your Eyes

Sometimes I linger on the gap in the silence
lost out in the dusk of some aborted dream
where I used to sail on the ocean in your eyes
that ebbed and flowed into the cracks in my heart
to make me new again

Sometimes I wait on the moon
to come leaking through the ultramarine night sky
and I whisper to myself, “and so here is where we start“
but we’ve been here before, on that rickety raft heading for the waterfall
that empties into the ocean in your eyes

Sometimes I hold my breath when I close my eyes
and I can feel it all come rushing back
like the waves crashing when the dam binding my heart breaks;
and your soft goodnight chimes in my mind
like the rain tapping its way across the ocean in your eyes


Just finished this one:

Summer-Storm Blues

Your eyes with their
Summer-storm blues and greys
Go swirling like upside-down snow globes
In the sweet-marmalade sunrise photographs
We took to commemorate the night we met

And I got you on my mind
Like a storm that’s gonna rip through town
And I got you on my lips
Like a secret I can’t wait to give away

You’re beautiful in black
You’re dangerous in red
It’s nights like these that go on for days
That make it hard to get you out of my head

Your smile with its
Inviting intoxication
Slips into the night like a criminal
Making a break for freedom at the city limits
Before the sun threatens to expose the day

And I got my reasons for getting lost in you
Like a song that patches up the scars and creates new ones
And I got my reasons for waiting on you
Like a train that’s going to pull away and disappear on the horizon

You’re beautiful in teal
You’re wild in blue
I knew I was going to have it bad
When I introduced myself to you


rumble strips
interrupted our drive
i said what i meant
in sickness we thrive
while you sleep
i will steal
no one comes home
for this
so the tap
while we wait
yes the tap
it just drips

yawning i swear
we won’t do the stuff
that other folks do
it won’t be enough
fair you say
I will thrive
and the child inside
will lie still
so the life
while you sleep
yes the life
it just flips


DAMMIT! Where is Talisker!??!


I’m here!

Been kinda busy with work/writing/yoga/guitar pursuits but all good.

Here’s a new one…

The Most Beautiful Suicide

On page forty three of Life magazine
against her last wishes, she is caught in time
calmly clutching her pearl necklace
with a white-gloved hand
framed in the metal cocoon
she created
when her elegant body
punched her fate
into the roof of a black limousine.
She wanted no one to see her-
no service, no remembrance.
Tell my father I have too many
of my mother’s tendencies
read the note in her black pocketbook
with her neatly-folded coat
found on the observation deck
of the Empire State Building
after she jumped.

Helen L. Storey 19/09/2017


about fucking time!

nice poem tali

missed you!


still down 1 egg, but very glad to see Tali back! :slight_smile:


Good to be back …how’s tricks?
Has Egg gone missing too? Did you think we’d run off together??! :rofl:


Missed you too sweetcheeks!

Do you get who the poem is about? I’m curious about how many people know the story?