Best Outlet Poems


The Ballad of the Plastic Freak

I’ve been sitting here so long,
My butts getting numb,
So I jump right up
And stick out my thumb.

He comes rolling down the street,
With the only smell of mention,
The noxious fumes; olfactory tension.

Now I’m not trying to make excuses.
But I Really needed to get to,
Lower Catoosas.

This dude with odiferous outlet
Was a goin’ my way.

If you think that was dumb,
Just listen to this:
It was a super-charged Edsel 
With slicks on the rear,

It had the characteristic stench of,
Cheap, stinkin’ beer.

When I jumped in the car
He shot me the Bird,
And laid on me 

These immortal words,
“Far in man…
Like what’s going off?”

I was stunned awhile
Had to catch my breath,
He looked at me with
A grin like death.

The smell was real,
The driver was not.
Like a bobble-head doll
On the dash installed.

I regained my feet,
Away from the freak,
“Thanks, but I’d rather  walk”.

Poetry Is My Outlet

I have grown thus far in life knowing many forms of outlet for my depression
I have seen many outcomes arise and fall into what I refer to as  "feeling regression"
Writing is the only outlet that truly allows feelings to leave your inner soul
You can write in a vast variety of forms yet one makes me feel whole
I write the inner most feelings of not only myself also including those around me
I have seen all walks of life first hand and found where I truly want to be
I have longed for inner peace inner acceptance of whom I truly have become
I am now a father, a stepfather a man and my Mothers son
And yet the only way I can share these feelings with no form of regret
Is in the form of unstructured poetry it is my only true outlet
© Sean Trott  Create an image from this poem.

Outlet Fun

we all need this
this you must git
get out nodoudt
stump dance and run
have some
OUTLET FUN


No Outlet

Walk carefully upon this muddy road,
Lest quagmires snag,firmly grab hold.

No outlet is nearing end,
Lifes course running short,
Precious hearts to mend.

Trace steps closely ,avoid tiny cracks,
Ground feet firmly,lock on moral tracks.

Clear fallen brush, pave this rock filled pathway.
Followers share common visions commit to stay.

Voyages traveled desperately
No money to spend
No outlet will be destiny,
If character slips and absolutes are un tend.

Detours tempt ,promise to ease unrest,
Distractions coax to alternate roads,
Spirits set to test.

No outlets trick and confuse mapped routes
Final destination must be clear,without doubts.

Heed and abide boundaries of integrity,don`t stray,
Aiding,serving strangers whom enter each new day.

There is an outlet that can be found,
Journeys filled of peace and love so sound.

Unconditionally give every special gift
Encouragement smoothes bumps
Spiteful souls gracefully uplift.

The Other Outlet

long and winding road
without Him you go nowhere
dangerous, dark road

Summer Boredom Outlet Haiku

boys come with bare feet
to the water just to wade
and take it all in....
© Marty King  Create an image from this poem.


Outlet

In every embrace
We find a home, cities dread
Modern dissonance
Of ice cubes clinking
In the nodding head

A Creative Outlet

Pencil strokes and midnight tokes
My mind is in a daze and my heart is broke
Pages penned in the wee hours of the morning
Getting lost in art is a form of mourning

My brain shuts off and everything is quiet
Without an outlet these emotions riot
It may not look like much in the moment
But these memories are mine and I own it

Processing comes in many forms
And through the process a passion was born
The desire to create relatable pieces
To pave the way to peace and realization

Words wander onto paper
as the pen sits between my fingers
My mind creates when it feels destroyed
It soothes my senses when i feel annoyed

The art of creation manifests different vibrations
A way to relate to others and share my aspirations
Through pages of poetry and works of art
I’ve worked through some of the hardest emotions and mended my heart

Premium Member Sing a Song

Learn to sing a song is simple
To sing a good song is difficult
But it's for an outlet of emotions
Regardless to happiness or sadness
Difficult to speak to oneself
But easier to sing a song
If you're happy sing it
If you're sad shout it
It just flows out like a stream 
Your heart should hear it 
Your loved ones should feel it
Your Almighty God should know it
No professionalism though
No excellency though
No audience though
But you know 
You're not totally alone
In this world

Outlet

I was always thinking too much
About good and evil and such
Fortunately sooner than later
I learned to put it down on paper...

Premium Member The Outlet Twins

The two black and white mini-twins seemed surprised beyond surprised.
Their mouths were open like codfish in the middle of a yell.
These babies were stacked on top of each other when they caught my eye. 
Black-eyed babies, with elongated mouths showing a startle that fell.

“Don’t touch that!” My mommy screamed at me, as I began to reach
Now I was startled, just trying to comfort them, to take away their blue.
“They are dangerous!” she and my grandmother in unison shrieked.
They are twin-minis, I thought, having no fear at all, being two.

Outlet

My pen;
Is the source of my greatest power,
Conveys my deepest private thoughts,
Translates the speech of my spirit,
Utters the voice of my very soul,
Thus is my most precious tool.

When I am sad;
My pen may be likened to a lost orphaned child,
Wandering aimlessly through the woods at dusk,
Exposed to the cruelty of this unfeeling world,
Helpless cold fearful and knowingly unwanted.
It drips sluggish tears of ink across the page,
Dragging itself with what little strength remains,
Desperately seeking and end to bitter sorrow.

When I am happy;
My pen is an uncontrollable fluttering butterfly,
Skittering quickly quavering across pure paper,
Touching down so lightly with seraphim feet,
Much penned up energy impossible to contain,
Excited ideas poor forth like ambrosial torrents.

When I am angry;
I unleash the rabid dog that is my weapon,
It launches itself forth with ferocious haste,
Scratching and clawing out loathsome words,
Shredding paper betwixt slavering locked jaws,
Its breath is heavy with the odor of blood lust,
Hungry for vengeance and a taste of the enemy.

Sweet Catharsis; 
Criticize me not for committing my thoughts to paper,
Scorn me no longer for sharing my feelings thus healthily,
Generously give instead credit for self-control and creativity.
Would you rather I go about spilling tears down upon my cheeks,
While depressed unwittingly bringing down the moods of others?
Or shall I act upon the ugly desires that anger may conjure,
Behaving recklessly deliberately injuring those around me?
Though happiness and excitement are meant to be shared,
Even positive emotions must be kept in gentle restraint.
So leave me to my great escape my personal outlet,
Do read enjoy and admire my prudent craft,
And if the fancy strikes you some lonely day,
Empower yourself with the greatest tool known,
Pick up an all mighty pen and write!

No Outlet

What way
Would I run
There is no way
There is no away
Is there a way
It is a far way 
From where I am now
Faraway from where 
Faraway from here
Faraway from her
Is where I would run

It would follow
Watch me fall low
Don’t act though
Don’t take action
Just take all I’ve got
I’ll just take the fall 
I’ll just take the hit
Hit me hard and true
The truth is stone 
Stone me broken blue
Leave me broke and blue
Just leave

The Red Knuckle

Bravely fought in experiment
curious pain brings forth a scent
it smells red like pain
it feels right as rain
so another and another flood the gates
is it that face that you hate?
sudden like a snap
resonates another smack
more force makes curiousity 
an immovable object with such verocity
a little less is never enough
you cant even say you have it rough
so when it gets old and white is red
then dont worry your little head
no bruise will call
on your assistance against this wall
so will you reach for the slice
the scraping vice
that rends flesh like fish in sea
glittering and shimmering among your plea
oh may this end but no
you want it so 
you do dont you though
this isnt sorrow
its pain that starts the wheels
no matter how your voice squeals
drowned out in the fog
of your mind

You Need a Outlet

why pretend
having fun no sin
you can bet
to make life set
YOU NEED A
OUTLET

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