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Anne B 2d
You look like a wolf
in sheep’s clothing

And yet, you say you
are the dragon

Yet, you make us believe
in your story

You breathe no fire

You only wanted the
castle walls
to protect you
from our glances

If you had opened up
Put away your wolf hide

All could see
how lonely you are

And how wrong our story is

---------------------------------------------------------
Ann­e H. Bakke  |  02:09  @   29.05.2016
The narrative is all wrong. You are doomed.
nish Jul 18
they say love is blind
some speak of it’s weakness
lack of existence
turmoiling persistence

oh how they’re wrong

i’ve seen what it does, felt it's affliction
falling in love, you can’t choose your conviction  

love isn't just blind
it's deaf and so mute


your words, how they echo
the feel of unrest
i will always remember you, as nothing but best
your memory won't taint
your image, clean, so pure
the meticulous thoughts, and prominent words
things you said, and phrases unspoken
your hesitation and pride
the look in your eyes
the expressive emotion
all led to my demise

i tried moving on
clearly, it failed
i'll never feel free
save yourself, leave me be.
© M.H

just a revamped poem from 2o16
Maxim Keyfman Jun 28
You'll go up I'll go with you
You'll go down I'll go with you
You'll go to the right I'll go with you
You go left I'll go with you

I'll go anywhere with you
I'll go with you while my heart beats
And as long as I exist
I will go with you

You will go ahead I will go with you
You go back I'll go with you
You'll go far and I'll go with you
You'll go and I'll go with you

I'll go anywhere with you
I'll go with you while my heart beats
And as long as I exist
I will go with you
I will go with you

2016.
I'm the kind of junkie you would be if you didn't have distractions, see?

A dedicated glutton
as the feast is always full of things that make it hard to breathe
and sleep.
I really, don't know.
Violet Jun 12
Two years ago today
49 were massacred
In what was then the worst mass shooting in America

donald trump  
Had only this to say:
“Appreciate the congrats for being right on radical Islamic terrorism, I don't want congrats, I want toughness & vigilance. We must be smart!”
MARK RIORDAN Feb 17
PRESIDENT TRUMP RUSSIA DID HELP
TO GET YOU INTO THE BIG HOUSE
NOW PRESIDENT TRUMP TELL US THE TRUTH
THEY KREPT AROUND LIKE A LITTLE MOUSE



COULD HILLARY OF WON AND
BEEN AMERICAS NEW LEADER
PRESIDENT  TRUMP TELL US THE TRUTH
WAS RUSSIA THE MYSTERIOUS INTRUDER



HOW CAN YOU BE PRESIDENT NOW
KNOWING ALL THIS TOOK PLACE
PRESIDENT TRUMP TELL US THE TRUTH
BEFORE YOU FALL FROM GOOD GRACE



HILLARY THE FIRST MADAM PRESIDENT
IT IS PROVEN RUSSIA DID ASSIST IN GUIDING THE 2016 ELECTION INDICTMENTS HAVE BEEN ISSUED. THE BIG QUESTION NOW SHOULD HILLARY OF BEEN PRESIDENT I SUPPOSE WE WILL NEVER KNOW NOW WILL WE.
CPM Jun 2016
i keep running towards the sun
but the person i don't want to be
is my shadow.

- *CPM
CPM Feb 2016
home is not
him, her, & them
home is where
your mind, soul, & heart
connects to make you whole

you are your own home.
your bones are shields.
your smile is the sun
seeping through these
curtains every hour of the day,
and when these days are coming to an end
your garden has already grown
the most beautiful flowers.

to believe home is everything
but yourself is asking for a disaster
to break down the walls
you have been building for years.
home never lies in the hands
of another but your own.

- *CPM
blue mercury Dec 2017
in this thrifted sweater
and black and white floral skirt

in my soft and faded yellow
and on those pastel clouds
with my daydreaming eyes

i wanted a cheap ticket

you see,
i wanted a one way trip
to heaven
so i could stand protected
so i could stand behind
the holy gates,
bathing in gold light.
in my sweater,
wrapped in light
and safe.

little did i know i’d feel safer that day
that i’d taste some of heaven
in that sweater in late november
with your arm interlaced
in mine
like fate
had planned
for that to be
the moment our stars
aligned

you were a sunbeam
my sweater was security
and your arms beheld the stars
of the heavens
to me

and can i tell you something?
they were all
so
*yellow
Marlie Lynch Dec 2017
Before the murky waters came
Life was different
Maw-Maw’s red-bricked house sat at the back of our dead-end road
The ever-welcoming glass door with the
Faulty hitch opened up to a two-step stair
Leading down into a living room
Encompassed with the smell of
Cajun cooking
And basked in the essence
Of Family

After the murky waters came
Life looked different
I remember the water whirl pooling into the tops of my
rain boots
As I trudged next door to my aunt’s water-lined house
To comfort Maw-Maw, who lost everything
Her tears falling into the stench-infested puddles at her feet
And jumping right back up in a splash as if they too
Were hurrying to find shelter

The heat of the sun held the
Stench of the monster
That had us all in its grip
Patches of brown grass mocked us
Where the water had decided to leave early
And accumulate somewhere else

Piles of our lives lined the driveways
Mildew fogged up the windows of
Miscellaneous cars and trucks
Which still held secrets that the murky waters left inside
What could be salvaged
What remnants were left
From before
The murky waters came

Floors were ripped up
Walls gutted out
Bricks broke easily under the weight
Of demolition
Our hearts broke easily under the weight
Of the water

I once watched a documentary about horror
Which was described as something that simply should not be
but somehow
is
Horror was the bulging, black molded bar in my kitchen
The scattered furniture in my living room
The stench that took over my senses at the opening of a door to go inside or outside; fresh air forgotten
The fact that my bedroom looked normal in spite of the soggy carpet and the
Drooping painting hanging on my wall,
Clothes strewn across my bed in an effort
To survive

After the murky waters left
Life was different
Life became “before the flood” and “after the flood”
“Hey, how are you,” became “have you heard from FEMA?”
“What are you up to” became “are y’all raising or demolishing?”
Three mountains of bricks down my road became
Trailers on pedestals
The trash, our former possessions, was eventually gone
New replaced the old

Now
life is life
We are thankful for what we have
We still sit on that wooden swing in the shade of the afternoon
And we reminisce of a time before the murky waters came
All the while appreciating the
Now

And we still laugh together
We still cry together
Up in that storm-safe trailer
At the back of our dead-end road
Gumbo is cooking on the stove
And we’re basking warmly in the essence
Of Family
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