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I must write a poem
symphony of synonyms
hurricane of hyperboles
mobocracy of metaphors

floodgates in my fingers
obstruct my insanity.
No monsoon of carefully selected
adjectives, nouns, verbs
storming blank parchment
running ink stores dry.

Instead I simply gawk
at the word-worthy world.
Write poems on the seams of my skin
and under my eyelids.

Engrave the secrets of my crux
in the stem of my brain.

Cut out my own tongue.
Useless in formation of my phrases,
they are inconceivable
to modern man.

You'll never see my madness untill you examine my insides
cut me open, unravel the mystery in my cold blood,
Find me dead and read my lips.
they will be stuck in a
morbid *smile
 Feb 2013 Multicolored Eyes
Ria M
Feeling lost and feeling lonely
Can't I be your one and only?
Wandering along to my own heartbeat
Life's more fun with another pair of feet
A *** to squeeze, a hand to hold
A pocket to put my fingers in, when they get cold.
Someone to splash when I jump in puddles.
A lover to stop me getting in a muddle
A friend, a foe, a confidant.
 Feb 2013 Multicolored Eyes
Ugo
When a sight of dying babies
Becomes peace, a haven of tranquility,
When you only listen to the priest
No longer for the truth, but for lies

When a mother’s duty becomes to ****
No longer to give life,
When children no longer grow old
But the old grow to children

When life is not seen as learning
Rather His punishment for the unrighteous,
When graves are harvested as birth
And being born becomes the new death

When killers are praised as heroes
For sending men to rest, to peace,
When those who save lives
Become the greatest fugitives and enemies

When your unconscious becomes reality
And reality becomes that which is hidden;
Then you’ve arrived at the land of the gods
For the opposite of this Earth exists.

For every one thing is
In respects to its Antithesis.
http://www.amazon.com/OLAF-Nothing-Above-Fiction-ebook/dp/B009XZ9OVY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid;=1353822133&sr;=8-1&keywords;=olaf+last+king+of+nothing
 Feb 2013 Multicolored Eyes
Ugo
Funny how we woke up in the morning
and pretended that tomorrow never happened—
strutted naked in mirrors celebrating our youth,
laughing, knowing suns and moons couldn’t do the same.

We borrowed our arms from the fridge
and peddled bicycles with bad breath—
trading war stories ‘cause we knew
if we came back alive
life would still be the death of us.
Don't look.
The world's about to break.

Don't look.
The world's about to chuck out all its light
and stuff us in the chokepit of its dark,
That black and fat suffocated place
Where we will **** or die or dance or weep
Or scream of whine or squeak like mice
To renegotiate our starting price.
Sleep would be
Sweet

But to sleep beside you
Sweeter.
The cold wet weather made for a sweater
Gray clouds are a sign of rain to come
the mood is set of rainy days
Hot chocolate a treat that warms you right
The rain washes away frustration
Makes the day better for the sun
Rainy weather keeps you inside
Most of all dry makes you lazy and sleepy
Wear a hat that keeps you warm
Layers to keep you from getting soaked
Use an unbrella to bounce of drops
Avoid puddles or jump in them
Play in the rain different from other days
The smell of wet ***** once the rain stops
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