Long One night stands Poems
Long One night stands Poems. Below are the most popular long One night stands by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long One night stands poems by poem length and keyword.
I've had many one night stands, that left me empty
Spent way too much on whiskey, and on beer
But the one thing, I find, as I get older
Is that lonely, is my biggest fear
My friends have all gone on, to get married
And here I sit, on this barstool again
My troubles I share with the bartender
Hoping that he'll be my friend
It's lonely within these four walls
Even worse is my heartache and pain
From knowing that my future won't change much
And tomorrow will be more of the same
Lonely in self, and lonely in love
Lonely and empty inside
This lonely makes me feel incomplete
But is lonely really a crime
Seven precious hours I've wasted
Just watching the clock on the wall
Wondering if the silence that surrounds me
Is the sound of a heart gone AWOL
Can you lend me an ear if you have one
Would you care to spare some of your time
To listen to a man who needs answers
Is being lonely really a crime
Lonely in self, and lonely in love
Lonely and empty inside
This lonely makes me, feel incomplete
But is lonely really a crime
Lonely in self and lonely in love
Lonely and empty inside
This lonely for me has gone on for so long
I think I'm starting to loose my mind
This lonely haunts me
Most of the time
But is lonely really a crime.....
An eight-year-old in ’29, one of seven kids,
Living in a steel mill town when it hit the skids.
They watched the whole thing spiral down, not much else to do.
She never got to finish school. My mama was a true Depression baby.
She’d talk of things they went without, times they just made do.
Told me of the hungry years, how they’d struggle through.
She taught me basic recipes for keeping flesh on bone,
But now I’m left to figure how to battle with my own depression, baby.
I’ve always sought to do my best; should come as no surprise
When left with next to nothing, I would learn to improvise.
Though bankruptcy, divorce and other cuts have left their mark,
I rose above it all to only fall into this dark depression, baby.
I’ve done some things to ease the pain: whiskey, smoke and pills,
Way too many one night stands, long walks in the hills.
I might’ve gained some altitude, might’ve gotten high,
I’ve never slain that dragon, though I’ve tried it all for my depression, baby.
I want to love you calmly,
Show you my world as our
Hands slowly intertwine
And truly understand each other.
I didn’t think this kind of love
Could really exist.
I thought it was all one-night stands
That ended with someone hurting.
I mistook the flame of lust
For the warmth of compassion.
Love should take its time,
Not ignite quickly, then fade.
I kept chasing highs
And left before the lows hit.
I never paused to reflect,
Forgetting my actions left wounds.
I was focused only on my pain,
Thinking love would heal it.
I used bodies as distractions
Instead of learning how to feel.
I don’t want to hurt anyone else.
I’m tired of keeping things short-term.
If I choose to commit to us,
I want it to be out of certainty, not fear.
Don’t let the fear of pain shape who we are.
Let’s build the meaning of us together
As we try to be human.
Illusion of Intrusion
The illusion laced with confusion how, so many think they know, only too get lost in the hunt for the perception of ease.
Please, the one that matters most.
Protect and hold your true feelings close, while taking another dose.
Only to brag and boast, giving a toast to the night air, to stare. Wondering is anything ever fair.
Yet, you find yourself still ready to declare sentiments, for those that are no longer there.
Now, it's just an unsettling feeling of lust. Whispering those words, who do you trust?
Denying the things that unfold, behold the things that have turned cold. This intrusion; this illusion of truth, that has left you bitter, with one night stands. Sadness falls, wasteful is the game.
Shame, when there are more losers than winners. Leaving things the same way you arrived.
Survived, when taking aim at ones heart, where all things start and shall remain.
Encompassed by the wants and needs.
Freed to take heed of all adversity, even when stricken with uncertainty. University of clarity, which has risen within view, to pursue that which is real. Instilling that which is faith, hate when there was doubt. Hope when there was pain. Love still remained, embedded within these veins.
Darius Howard
Meaningless
I want to write you something that means something,
But all I say is meaningless;
Less to me and less to you.
I struggle to get myself out of your bed, because of my head.
I am trapped inside a box of thoughts.
Which question to ask of you?
No answer to ‘We need to talk.’
Leave me lying here in my own pity;
The dreams I keep inside my head.
You orangutan through one night stands;
A love like this is without love.
Break a promise to be a man
And you will see a divorced wedding dress,
So drenched in mud.
This is how it all begins,
So this is how it will all stay.
You can never remove those stains, those sins;
So tear apart every syllable I just have to say.
Your lies are on fire! I vow to change;
You and I have never really felt the same.
I say what I need to get you off my chest;
You hold me down with promises.
Tell me when I have passed your test,
So I can admit the truth; that it is you who is worth less.
Less than friendly and now a part of the family.
A part of the furniture; surely soon to be less than all I have.
Prepare to take a grand piano, to the head
And I will tell you where you need to stand.
Stand apart, we are never near,
To understanding the words we never speak
And the thoughts we never hear.
I cover up the bruises on my heart,
To hide the shame of loving love.
I leave behind all the memories of what we are…
By simply giving up.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
For years he has spent countless hour trying to be noticed.
Finding himself where she was, unconsciously.
He would talk his game, lame as it may be,
this was his way of being seen.
In his dreams he had her, had her many times.
Numerous intimate moments, conversations
they'd have each other again.
Then, as abruptly as it began
this figment becomes an imprint embedded forever,
a memory in a vault of disappointments.
Often,
most days he sits in deep thought, wondering
why not him?
What is it other men have that he doesn't?
Is he to confident in himself? Is he to bright
to where he becomes dull?
Overwhelmed in his literary career?
maybe.
Two weeks go by,
he stays away, distancing himself.
She was becoming a distraction.
Wrapped tightly in his own mystic fantasy world,
intrigued by his new circle of friends.
Bound by sex, work, after parties, and sex.
His mind vexed because love always finds a way to escape him.
Finds him, then disappears.
Is he the culprit?
Could his aggressive confidence play a part?
He only yearns for a better, plentiful life.
Who knows the reason.
Maybe love is like a great wine that is out of season.
Many women have tried to tame his beast,
welcome his skeletons.
One came close to success only to break ties after four years
due to mental distress.
Many years have passed
parties,
after parties,
college parties
Parties galore.
Friends along his life journey turn family.
One night stands occur!
Jared Pickett.....
10/10/2007
Asavvy1
She has a tumbledown deck, a creaky rocker.
Dandelion seeds carry memories
from one neglected garden patch to another.
She’s not that old, but her wine has mulled,
a hard sun has scoured her features.
There were children once. They play
now upon her mind
as crippled backwoods memories.
The ‘law’ took them, and the grinding years
brewed more bitter coffee, while on the decking
coffee cans were filled with cigarette butts.
‘No-good lovers’ still occasionally
practiced their shoddy dance steps,
but even the one night stands have dwindled
to hasty matinee tumbles.
Few life choices were well made or unpaid for,
yet in the ***-end of each day
she wanders upon her dandelion patch,
and prays to the girl she once was,
then she retires to a tousled bed
to sleep with the rootless shadows
that float as light as air
through her ramshackle nights.
...I couldn’t help but thinking back
to,”For better of for worse.”
The more I thought about it now
the more it struck me as perverse.
I had always looked at my wife
with a love unconditional,
yet she only would return it
if my bank account was full.
It was as if some switch was thrown
and all around me I did see
the truth that most of my close friends
had marriages based on money.
Lawyer friend Bob, who’d been let go,
was being divorced by his wife,
dentist friend Rick forever buying
jewelry to get some love at night.
Then there was John the sax-player,
who always had great one night stands,
but no woman would stay with him,
you didn’t make much in jazz bands.
They there was Chip who lived next door,
with a wife that had not a care,
but joked,”I’d never leave you dear,
unless I find a millionaire.”
I do not doubt that they like us,
but it doesn’t seem like that’s enough,
it seems there’s always conditions
that are placed upon their love.
Maybe that’s just how they’re wired,
like men drawn to fertility,
they need resources to love us,
which strikes me as a tragedy.
When growing up we were all told
that there was one for us out there,
one who would see what is inside
and about this forever care.
Coldy, I see it makes some sense,
attraction to those who provide,
evolution cares not for love,
it only cares that we survive.
And even knowing what I know,
it’s not like I’ll seek a divorce,
men generally do not fare well
inside our biased family courts.
I’d just end up losing my stuff,
child support, alimony,
could never stand losing my kids,
having them taken from me.
I just wish someone had told me
the truth about all of these things,
back when I was a younger man,
back before I gave the ring.
Maybe this is why they hide this,
otherwise who’d give it a go?
The only thing I’ll say for sure
is that both of my sons will know.
And demons scream
Into the crowded sky
Of lands built in absence of mind
Of neon dreams, diners,
Haunted Malls n parking funeral lots
A ghost nation walking the wastes
Of neon dreams n marketing schemes
Hell is in the ancient seems
Of neon dreams n one-night stands
Money sex power and fame
All looks good on credit cards
Religion, politics, the oldest game
All know no shame.
All covered in the hues of shadows
Of neon flickering, dreams dreamt
Of future crimes
Of lost memory, lost history
The strategies in mysteries
Feeling the grime
All look good in televised glory
All just video violence in 30 mins clips
For the short attention spans theater of the mind
Dead eyes plugged into silicon
Systems of a dark web ruled
By something unknown, unseen as...
It dreams in neon!
Dylan Carston was a well-off young man,
thanks to a large and health trust fund,
his father was a true Wall Street ace
and had been quite generous to his sons.
Dylan had set himself up in Miami
after years spent getting his MBA,
he did consulting four days every week,
the other three he did like to play.
He’d partied with friends at all the bars,
and had his share of hot one-night stands,
not yet had he thought of a wife and kids,
he was enjoying the life of a young man.
One Saturday as he walked down the beach
to get exercise and breath the sea air,
he stumbled upon a frantic woman
calling for him to go over there.
As he drew near he saw down in the sand
a young woman who’s face had gone blue,
he could see no lifeguard near where they were,
but fortunately he knew what to do.
He found no pulse when he listened close,
and placed two hands high on her left breast,
with hard compression he began CPR,
pumping furiously at her chest.
Every so often he placed his mouth on hers
and forced oxygen deep into her lungs,
the other woman ran off to find more help
while Dylan continued the rhythmic pump.
Finally after three desperate minutes
a gurgled rasp echoed up from her throat,
life returned to her, the blue fading out,
though her eyes still knew not where to go.
Moments later he heard the rush of feat,
the lifeguard and the woman had returned,
Dylan gestured to where the girl lay,
“I brought her back, now I think it’s your turn.”
The lifeguard thanked him for taking action,
then knelt down slowly at the victim’s side,
ambulances came, reports were fill out,
when Dylan left three hours had gone by.
He felt good about saving the woman’s life,
it was a moment he would not forget,
congratulations came in, on top of that
the lifeguards sent him a certificate.
Three weeks went by and Dylan returned to
the safe routines of the everyday world,
and bit by bit his thoughts turned away
from the near death of that helpless girl.
So it was with a great deal of surprise
when a process server told him these words:
“Dylan Carston, you’re being sued for assault,
you can consider yourself dully served.”
Dylan’s mind whirled at the accusation,
he had no idea how this could be true?
Had some ex regretted their time and cried ‘rape,’
were they evil enough to go down that route?
CONCLUDES IN PART II.