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A creative-idual enhances the notion of an ordinary human.
Creates magic out of the dimmest detail.
Sees the minuscule extraordinariness nobody else can.
Romanticizing our existence.
Everything has the value of gold, it all means something.
Their worlds are as valuable as the breath of life to the listening ear.
Showing only a peak of the flowers that bloom within.
See beauty, become Beauty.
S.R.
 Jul 2015 sanch kay
hunny
limelight on me
ice sculptures dipping on my
forehead
citrus flavor of my mouth
drop to the floor
absorbing the feeling
everything is a blur-
no, not a blur
flashes
On
The counters of poetry
I dock and lock myself
Then
I scope on the bottles of liquors seductively
And spellblind by their syllables
I took the shakers and hybrid
The Similes
The Onomatopeia's
The Nemesis'
The Near-Rhymes
And The Triadic-Lines
Then I gulp fourteen shots of Sonnets
From my paper-glass
And glug a paradox
Or a foil-sigh
Trice,
The knots
Bundling my eloquence
Will exonerated itself
And torpidity will cuff my consciousness
And the droplets remains in my paper- glass
Will impel me
To quest for myriad of them

I'm not drunk!
I'm not drunk!
I'm not drunk!
I
Will slur
With half an eye open
As if the other is broken
Stock on a comedy chair

Then
When the
Limbs of time tread
Will I rush to the counter
Like the athletes at Olympia
And hybrid
The Blank-verses
The Alliterations
The Limericks
The Litotes
The Aporia's
And The Dysphemism's
And
Gulp countless
Yet measured shoots
Of Ballad,with my paper-glass
And unravel the oratories
Of sacred secrets,eclectic enchantment and regrettable reflexes
Aside,or injects the world
With my rugged pins of eruditions
Bestowed in me by the liquors of poetry

I'm not drunk!
I'm not drunk!
I'm not drunk!
I
Will slur
With half an eye open
As if the other is broken
Stocked on a comedy-chair

Again
I will rush
To the counter,and hybrid
The Exaggerations
The Personifications
The Imageries
And The Caesura's
And
Gulp uncounted shoots
Of Epic's from my paper-glass
And
Eulogise my steam and wit
Yet,I'm drunk
And deeply drunk wholly
By a might that mortify me so much
That I've become a slave
In the awe of my servitude

Now and then
Will I weep and wail terribly
Each morning,each noon,and each night
For the great demise of myself
And for an emancipation
From the perpetual counter-cells poetry
I'm drunk,and deeply drunk by poetry.

Deeply Drunk
©Historian E.Lexano
The liquors of poetry has stain my tissues
 Jul 2015 sanch kay
Matt
On and on and on and on
A pointless game
Or some sad song

This guy I know
Sits in an office chair
Each day

A slave to the banks
Is all he is anyway

And this guy doesn't know
That his money will soon be
Totally worthless one day
True reality
Pops after perceptions pierce
Illusion remains
Three simple words hardly spoken
Is all thats needed to fix this
Why won't you say them...
dream of lilies,
blues and whites
in their little islands,
flower of the starlight,
flower of the water.
What I tell myself while
Asking,
Covering my tracks that
Show I'm suicidal,
The pretty lies that cover up
The cuts I caused myself.
Wanting to cease existing
To the point no one remembers my name.
Hate and Numb
but i'm fine.
Please I just need to talk
I say to the darkness, It ignores me. You ignore me.
You were Always
never
There.
If you are wondering, I am fine right now, I promise.
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