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Felix Hackberry Sep 2021
Queen of waves,
relinquish poor ol' *******,
set world free,
forgive ol' debts he owes,
******* he was born,
no name in gravestone

by drop of ink and wave of feather,
would he rule the fleet,
emperor of new bold world,
destroyer of rights

poor ol' *******, blood in his hands,
dirt of the sea must be brushed, everyday,
whip must be whipped, on a stormy night,
as violin deserves to be played,
and grand orchestra has to be born,
on a beautiful day

poor ol' *******, destined to suffer,
melancholic tears fell from the sky,
the night,
Moirai sang the fate of poor ol' *******
Felix Hackberry Sep 2021
flowers in my soul pray for rain,
tulips, orchids, roses travelled through vain,
roots, leaves, thorns dried in the ground

lost glory of summer breeze,
ease before colours fall,
tall they stand, in abyss of time

where captains scream,
To starboard! Time of glory is upon us!
battle ships at storm,
waves splashes to neptune's wooden angels

cry for love! cry for peace!
my dear Star of Greece!
shed a tear for summer breeze!
Felix Hackberry Sep 2021
the day is here,
once again,
they drag themselves,
to boxes,
we call,
democracy,
a number here,
number there,
vote with voice,
that doesn't resonate,
their frequencies,
and we forget,
unkept promises,
Hope plays hide-n-seek

I've seen the world change,
not by numbers but words,
written by a drunk poet
Felix Hackberry Sep 2021
tomorrow is a shivery thought,
one I stated yesterday too,
yet birds are still singing today
Felix Hackberry Sep 2021
Oh how the ruins of romance are sad,
kissing in the rain, wet, cold, just bad,
dancing in the moonlight drunken, just fab,
wondering should this turn me on,
or I just embarrass myself,
in front of Hermione, next,
comes morning and it's due,
screaming        
                             "nevermore!"
Felix Hackberry Aug 2021
Once you, you and you,
made me cry in my room,
and when I say,
I'm happy for you,
I truly mean it

And all those times,
I curse you, you and you,
late at night in my room,
and you're all dead to me,
just know,
I don't mean it

As there must be,
balance in the world,
there are you,
and me,
writing opposite word
Felix Hackberry Aug 2021
I've come to find,
there's two types of poets,

-ones that can't write a word,
and ones that are stuck writing-
in their childhood room
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