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Poetic T May 2017
blood droplets linger
a body crumpled beneath

footsteps up the stairs
5/7/5
Poetic T May 2017
Go and braid ya *** fluff she said,

"I did,    

            "I used your tooth brush,

She gags,

"I thought that was
              morning breath on it?


*"It was a breath but it came out my ****....
Poetic T May 2017
My twin isn't what he seems, we linger
between each other shadows of a silhouette
not always seen,  impressions are everything.

But we wonder the realms of possibilities,
he is a night owl, me I'm a cockerel rising
with head held high at the yearning sun.

He wonders the untold stories of a slumbering
visage that others never see. Finding meaning in
the collection of echoes reverberating in footsteps.

We are opposites yet we are a collage of repetitions,
our speculations are façades of the other, silken thoughts
collect the subconscious dew of another's refection.

We have never purposely done wrong, survival is
a trait we have honed. The streets were a kinder-garden
of restless sleeps and haunting dreams.

But when on appearance, when finger caught in the
cookie jar, a reflection of remorse can set you free.
or the fact our finger prints duplicate reversals.

We survived through the trials of life, I became the
other side of me, I was a writer, I was a musician.
We thrived of each others impressions.

We do let the other have extended times, but the
plus side is we each only age when on the outside.
I look at myself and we both have lingering smiles.
Poetic T May 2017
A merging of two,
not unlike another,
spectrums of shade
                        and light woven.

Coalescing to become
more than the singular,
A marriage of differences
                         becoming one.  

Beauty is a footnote,
a visual acuity of senses.
This eclipse of submerging
                          within another.

Now hues are a new emotion
painted on the sight of others
senses, like a new flower
                                  blossoming.
Amazing what beauty red and blue create
Poetic T May 2017
Little monsters frolic
           pirate ships "ahoy,

Imaginations gift of play,

An invisible play-pal,  
     Creativity of a youthful mind.

Keeping monsters of night away
Sometimes the monster is the one keeping them safe.
Poetic T May 2017
Savouring its exquisite tasting
                           you regurgitate it.

Some times,
              affection
can leave a bitter aftertaste.
Poetic T May 2017
My Poetry brings all the readers to my ink  
and there like
mines better than yours,
linguistically its better than yours.
I can verse for you?
but there is a charge.

I know you want it,
the syllables conjoined, making them read mine not yours.
Their lost in my metaphor,
ways I lock them within my harmonious chorus.


words are like milkshake
different tastes imbued within

aromas differ


My Poetry brings all the thoughts to my page, 
and there like,
mines better than yours.
Structurally its better than yours,
I can word for you?
but there is a charge.

I know you want it,
the morphology, making them read mine not your.
Their lost within my visual acuity,
ways I lock them within my syllable verse.

aromas differ
different tastes imbued within

words are like milkshake

Welcome to my ink-shake,
its like a taste that others will like,
woven in thought.
But my ink maybe not to your liking,
my tastes differing from yours.
But enjoy what I pen hopefully I'll enjoy yours
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