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Did you know that
if you pour fat on a stone
God will eat it and
chip his teeth
becoming, ...angry?

Did you know that?

Is that, ...literal?
in meaning...
did God once bite a man's flesh
consuming his shoulder;
like a pork shoulder?

Did God do that?

Maybe God just shouldered,
...the burden of...
silly men and teacher's tales?
Maybe he didn't chip his teeth at all?
Perhaps he swallowed something ridiculous?

I don't know,
Believe what you like...

From space the Peloponnese,
appear like a chewed-up shoulder.


Don't they?
L  Oct 2018
Im taking a bath
L Oct 2018
And then everything that ever made sense crumbled and shattered. And i was left to let the water overcome me. It ran down, flowed with a constant that comforted. The moisture started breaking down that which i settled to engage myself with.

And here i am mourning something that was never quite mine in the first place.
A Henslo  Dec 2017
Galatea
A Henslo Dec 2017
When a poem comes alive
I might be like Pygmalion
Not sharing her with anyone
Gently adoring her all my life

Yet, relieved from her laces
Doesn't a poem's magic lie
In that through the reader's eye
She may reveal her many faces?

So I charily hand her over
To the public domain
As however much I love her

It would be a thoughtless sin
Not letting you discover
What I never did put in
AH 2017
Tommy Randell Oct 2017
You can't see me using the cliche
Putting things in inverted commas
Twitching my fingers like Rabbit Ears
So I use Italics instead

You can't hear me stating my case
Raising my voice in a questioning way
Or saying it louder to make the point
So I use Bold instead

But, Emotions, Irony and Sarcasm
These are a major puzzle
For the Poet every day ... I mean ...
SILENCE in capitals? How useful is that?

And resorting to the old convention

Of putting it out there in double spacing

Isn't much of a clue really -

*Skribi en universala lingvo eble helpos, mi supozas ..?
How many
Does it take till
Your personality
Turns
To a sorry
Where you’re not
The protagonist
But the jury
Call you guilty
To your Prerogative
I meant it the other way but no one see it
So what can I sway
One man army
Fight towards believe
Ion really **** with no body
But they against me
Drunk or high they exclude me
From one of the best ideology
I hate that
Couldn’t even turn back time
It could never  rhyme
This isn’t old English
Not a game
Can’t even explain
Poetry is vague
Or even vain
Mark of Kane
I would not  explain  
File a petition
Fairness is not dismissive
Mention something n
That no one listen
I’d share you what I have for your next visit.
It’s a language deeper than we think.
Amanda Noel Jul 27
I need to remind myself  
that there is desire to keep,
the picture they can paint me to be.

going further in the lines,  
tears apart the design,
pulls threads from the spine,
separates the binds,
exposes the disguise.

cutting connectivity, while
murdering the mystery.

Leaving me just as lonely as  
when they only knew,  
the picture they painted me to be.
Osiria Melody Mar 24
The language of poetry, an endless canvas of creativity
Born out of your mind, you write anything naturally
Sometimes, the evils of WRITER'S BLOCK comes thundering through the front door of our minds, creative factories

Sometimes in desperation, sometimes in blissful
reverie,
You capture the mental images in your mind and let your imagination take flight
Open your artistic wings and fly in your imagination, brave writer

Personally, I find inspiration in everything from
poignant blades of grass crying in the morning,
To selfish trees, stubborn to move like how most of us feel on a Monday (maybe)

How you read me is up to you, your own mind,
your own opinions
You may not love all of my works, but that doesn't matter to me

Poetry isn't about writing for the sake of filling up our empty glasses to quench our artistic thirst,
But a grand toast with the drinks of feeling freed, every time we pen our thoughts down and relish in the language of poetry



Melody
3/24/19
(ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*:・゚✧ [throws orbs of support at you]
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