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Through anarchy, you gain fame.

Through monarchy, you claim an executive name.

Through trial, you earn a new automobile.

Through a steal, you gain a first class meal.

Throughout it all, you learn that the battle is not worth the fall.

Throughout it all, you learn how to find your natural call.
One of my better poems I think, as it can be very difficult creating rhymes aligned with the same rhyme throughout; without losing any authenticity or creativity. Hope you enjoy.
i love her tender,
i hold her tinder
i told her as her
cylinder smoldered
keep the cinder.

© Matthew Harlovic
28 strings hanging from above, teetering and creaking with each of my steps.

The wood below feels as if sand seeps into my skin, making the next heavier, and heavier.

When did the world decide to become so clever?

The marionette is unnamed although the disease is written clearly across the fogged bathroom mirror.

I avert my eyes from the truth as though I could never decipher.

A slap to the face and a fluid ounce of love is all it took,
two floating hands to fix my gaze upon all I could, my own life book.

I suddenly could hear the willows whipping and dripping wet in the rain outside the brook, I was no longer deaf to the pain I caused and took.

The mental games we play are never far from the outsides the lines of our life's coloring book.

Climb to the tallest line of the page with your grappling hook.

It only takes one outside and unbiased look and the keys to the castle are unhooked.
 Apr 2017 Ginny Vollor
Isabelle
There is this girl
Who appears out of nowhere

She looks at me
She smiles at me

A look that cuts straight to my core
Waking up my veins, my body, my soul

A smile that pierces through my heart
like a billion of Cupid’s arrows

On top of the other, one right on the top of the other
Then another on top of the other, arrow after arrow

Straight..
Into..
My soul

Straight..
Into..
My heart

And this is the part of the dream
Where most girls will grab your hand

Where most girls will embrace you
Kiss you, saves you

But this girl isn’t the same
Isn’t the same with most girls

This girl didn’t save me
This girl holds my hand

She smiles again
And asked “are you ready?”

And finally I am
I am ready

She didn’t save me, together we fall
No, we didn’t fall, we jumped

And this is the part of the dream where
as we were falling into each other

I woke up, I woke up
Too bad I woke up

It could be perfect, this girl
But it was just a dream

This girl..
Just a dream..
Because I couldn't sleep. Ugh.
Inspired by This Girl.
 Apr 2017 Ginny Vollor
欣快
We're in the sun and I'm moving from your mouth
to your jeans, we're watching the stars and we're moving
We're going down the green boulevard and we're cruising
you speak Romanian, I speak you, we're going to far
and moving to the beat as one and the wind blows the hair
in my face and I got news for you, I can see you just clearly
as I could before, carefully, barely hanging on and catching movies

I can't keep away from your kiss, back and forth want to feel
the rest of you and all of you can't wait to catch you all alone
we're in the sun and I'm moving from your mouth
to the hole in your heart, tell me how you feel and who you are
you speak barely, your rhythmic breaths tell me all I need to know
waste the day and spend all the time in your pockets, all alone
floating around your head and hanging midair in your palms like
a red balloon
 Apr 2017 Ginny Vollor
Jim Davis
Mommy loved Daddy
Then me

©  2017 Jim Davis
Signor Bialetti Brews the Coffee now


Grazie, grazie, Signor Bialetti
Natty with your moustache and pork-pie hat
Charming man, your aluminum design
And Italian elegance grace my stove

If Don Camillo were to visit now
And bring along his ****** pal Peppone
They would still argue faith and politics
Just as they do in Emelia-Romagna

But here, over biscotti and expresso -
Grazie, grazie, Signor Bialetti!
I just saw my love
Tightly he held her hand while
rain drops stung my eyes
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