Contacts Poems - Poems about Contacts

(a series of micro vignettes) Chella and I are reading our analysis assignments together because that’s how we link and build. We read out loud too, because how else can you judge the flow? When my phone, lying on the table, jiggled. The caller ID read, “Tommy’s girlfriend.” Chella gave me a little look. “I never change anyone’s ID,”...

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To make it on the stage, in this day and age, I'm convinced, Contacts and Clout are what it's all about. Woke up this mornin', feelin' all washed out, went down to the local drugstore, for a bottle of Clout, the druggist he said, 'Sorry son, we're all sold out.' Woke up this mornin', feelin' all turned about, went to my...

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clarity seeps the wound the flip phone missing digits a womb infused with violet hues it's quiet till it fidgets happenstance and bruise it swells for martyr avenues the screen is cracked yet vivid seed in purple seized usurper seems the impact killed it...

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What are they? Who are they? Why are they Powerful? Ans. They are lions. They are tigers. They are hunters. They are angels of death. They have contacts and approach. No one dares to stand in their way. No one has the right to speak against them. No one has the right to ask them why? They have money and men that's why they are Powerful. Note.Never...

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do not drop. always look up. birds with no wings. legs made of springs. shields and walls, no time to fall. persistent yet sly jumps up high trust and threat eyes waiting to set beam of light bears unwavering fights. decoy and ace worthy of all praise like divers in the sea, rough, painful, yet free. kept in the air. angels are there desires to win no ending to begin hits the ground, giving the crown....

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sometimes i find it hard stretching my arms knowing they can never reach to my lover let alone another country but saying MY means mine and she is hers and I i'm just me not an owner yet i know her in a different way that can only be said by email with photos though not what the reader may think for no nudity needed...

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Iris blue waves o'er glazed lens roll As glossy petals overshadow fibrous petiole Azure film painted on organic console Beneath, imperfect tract, shaded hue, droll Briny solution foams under plastic scroll Tinted tufts surge, o'er white corners bubbly air hole Sparkling amethyst streams, on surface stroll Sunlight glints, more radiant beams does dole Artifice sculpts each, prim, orbital hole But shallow breakers intermittently crash...

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And his eyes His eyes They speak So many truths But his lips His lips Never seem to move And I'm blind I'm blind For believing They would Some day Sputter something Good And my eyes My eyes Can finally see The truths The truths You'll never say To me Any my lips My lips Will grace yours Form the Words good-bye And let you go...

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