I searched for love
and found it after many years.
But she didn't fufill me. Alas,
more tears

I looked for work
and got it after a few weeks.
But it didn't fufill me. And all my
hope leaks

I decided to pay for pleasure
and it worked for a few nights.
But it didn't fufill me. How life's
pain bites.

I turn to substance
and I live from day to day.
But it doesn't fufill me. My sanity
drifts away

I long for some feeling
and all the clocks fall.
I can't grasp anything and
I am; and that is all

James Court Dec 2017

Mary had a little lamb,
two lobsters and a Christmas ham,
a three-pound tub of chicken wings,
seven bratwurst tied with strings,
thirteen loaves of garlic bread,
a schnitzel bigger than her head,
four rare steaks, a dozen eggs,
caviar and turkey's legs,
roast potatoes, fresh pigs' trotters,
sunfish from exotic waters,
strips of bacon, mushroom stew,
chunks of bread and cheese fondue,
and two whole jars of sauerkraut,
(to clean all of her insides out).

Finishing the pasta salad,
Mary soon looked drawn and pallid.
"I don't feel well," poor Mary said.
"I think I need to rest my head."
Then from her stomach came a moan,
a straining, churning, twisted groan.
Mary gasped; her eyes grew wide.
She'd only seconds to decide.
What could she do? Where could she go?
Her stomach was about to blow!
So, reaching for the nearest bucket,
she retched, and then began to chuck it.

All the courses that she'd swallowed,
and the apertifs they'd followed,
all the steaks and all the fish,
each and every single dish
came flying back from in her belly,
filling up the bucket smelly
with a foul and toxic brew,
and no one knew quite what to do,
so this went on for ten whole minutes
till Mary had expelled her innards.
When she was done, her eyes were red,
and sweat was pouring from her head.

"Are you alright, sweet Mary dear?"
her mother asked. She didn't hear.
For Mary was already off -
the waiters saw her try to scoff
the whole entire pudding bar.
Now, this had pushed her mum too far.
"Alright!" her mother cried, "I'm through!
I've done the best that I can do.
I'm sick and tired of all you eat.
I will not pay for all this meat.
I'm going home. Go get some help —"
Then Mary's mum let out a yelp!

She glanced down at her legs and saw
sweet Mary there begin to gnaw!
She struck the lass, but with great haste,
alas, the girl had reached her waist.
As Mary's ma was there devoured
by her offspring, overpowered,
she cried one thing ere final slaughter:
"It smells like lamb in here, my daughter."
Mary licked her lips and grinned.
She belched out loud and then broke wind.
She felt her tummy start to rumble -
and calmly ordered apple crumble.

Don't judge me, I was really high when I wrote this.
Esriddersi Nov 2017

If I were a baller...
with a million dollars...
and just a wee bit taller...
I'd give a dollar to a goat...
and spend the rest on a boat.

Mike Robbins Nov 2017

How do I know when to stop editing, to stop critiquing,
To stop looking for errors that I'll inevitably find
Courtesy of my flawlessly functioning mind
That does what It's told
And finds what It's told to find
In a sea of subjective humbug

Let's try working backwards. Let's try
Finding what resonates with us. How do we
Do that if we have no idea what resonates with us.
How do you find a hole in an air mattress or a weak spot in the drywall or
The small of your lovers back

You fucking look for it

How do you find a needle in a haystack
Why not try using up the hay
Before digging around for the small hazardous object
You goddamn lunatic

Oh, but this is full of errors
I can see them from here

Have you not legs?
Well then have you not wheels?
Well what have you?
Good! USE IT.

Picture a room
Through the slit of an iron maiden
What do you see
A room

What do you feel

Why

Could you feel differently
If
You tried

Stop picturing, start looking, continue feeling and being?

Bah, try doing. Keep busying. Busying is key, and the lock is none of your concern.

It's probably a shitty one anyways. Who knows what it holds shut. Who knows
How effectively it holds it shut. Who knows what lies behind the thing that It's
Holding shut.

Shut up,

Ps. I love you

-MR-

jdotingham Oct 2017

a snake went
                  for a
                    walk to
                             day,
                                  but
                      ­          sna
                             kes
                          slit
                        her
  ­                    at b
                      est.                                     ­            ss
                      i cou                                             ss
                        ld ex                                          ss
                  ­         plain                                     ss
                              it better,                           ss
                                but this                       ess
                                  apple has           ame
                                     made my head

jdotingham Oct 2017

the hour(s)mash makes time pass,
in a matter quite absurd!
for time cannot
seen at all,
nor can
it flylike
a soaring bird&
some may say it pours
(you know?), but i say that misses the mark! time
descends like sand (it does?), in the hour(s)mashed before dark

Lucius D Luuk Oct 2017

I
Eating dirt and drinking rain
Holding me tight on this ground.
I would never fly again,
Sins I've done, spread around.

II
Eating dirt and drinking rain
All alone in this space.
Every day is all the same,
For thousand years, same old place.

III
Eating dirt and drinking rain
Darkness, only friend for me.
Freezing moon, hand is cold,
Mind, the only enemy.

/17
Hadiy Syakir Sep 2017

I am tired
of putting on the shirt
because it reminds me
of the unwanted chain
before the imminent dawn
plucked bouquets
torn down curtains
ripped out blankets
burnt book covers
broken empty cups,

because all that
are just signs of a show
that is about to be staged.

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