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Voor de Nederlandse dichters en kunstenaars onder ons: stuur me je instagram account, ik heb zin om nieuwe dingen te lezen 😊. Neem als je wilt ook een kijkje op mijn nieuwe account: @uniting.writing! Ik zie je daar!
onlylovepoetry Jun 2020
on account of you:

she says: do you know you often smile when, day dream dozing?

me says: on account of you

she says: c’mon sweet talking man, ain’t gonna fall for that hooey!

me says: hooey, phooey, on account of you

she says: nah, you writing poetry, no fooling me no more!

me says: on account of you

she says: I bet you got one of your girl friends singing to you, through
those wireless earbuds, doncha? who is it this time? a Sara or Joni?


me says: on account of you.

she says: you think big shot, you can multitask b.s. me? doing three things
at the same time!


me says: on account of you

she says: on account of you, I’m seriously ******, you don’t tell me anymore
sweet lies and alibis, probably writing an ode to one of your poetry gf babes!


me says: on account of you, can’t count no more, how many love poems in my lifetime written, and this one too, going out to you, charged to my tab, you babe,
are my account, my accountant, my accounting....
Poetic T Apr 2020
If my bygone
            echo was life


I would have already been rescinded .

But back by popular demand,
                                                   nihility..


I never got past yesterday.

If your account of this is passing pages
  then I'm an obituary that people skim past,

death on paper is still

             a cemetery of yesterdays that people never visit.
Ken Pepiton Feb 2020
What if wisdom, the thing, the being imaged
in the word
Sophia,
philo sophia, in a meme re maining, to this very day,
as true a depictical actual form, as lovable
as any, though
the thousand ******* of Artemis, that image...

Ask how many Dr. Spock Pablum fed boys,

would that image have cured from
mammary ******* sensory deprivation syn
drome, trap for lost boys,
never wishing fully formed in Michael Jackson, eh?
The Peter principle,
rise to the level of one's
incompetence and **** ****
and consume enough food for all Artemisis
famishished little lies, calling
more, more, more
Narrow AI, lust response,
so artfully inspired by Eddy Bernays,
and the silver screen's seductive radio voices,
Eddy,
you know, the Madison Avenue behabiourilist,
Freud's nephew... he cited Watson, the
one before the one
with Crick. Jimenee, we have been Disnified... if

I'd known
sooner, I'd have left your cake out in the rain...

so it melts, like the wicked witch of the west, or
east, I lost my bearings

who is asking what of whom,
am I involved in evolving your synaptic gaps?

We did entangle, in a sense. You are dear reader,
in the book of life with my name in it. Not on, in.
A beautiful hawk announced herself, swooped into my per-if-ery, as if to say,
watch this. She glided with the merest twitch of the tips of her wings,
down in to the valley where a mouse had moved, unaware.
Rainy Days Sep 2019
Isn't it weird
You know who you are
You found my poetry
3 times
Even the account I deleted
I remember you following me
It makes me smile
Ikimi Festus May 2019
Everyone has their own journey but there is only one path...
Many a man his life hath sold
but an outside to behold,
All that glitters is not gold—
Gilded tombs do worms enfold.
Had we been as wise as bold,
young in limbs and in judgment old,
Our answers would had been in scrolls.
Fare us well,
our suit is cold—
Time fast spent on vain-nity
and it cold indeed, a labour lost.
Everyone has their own journey but there is only one path with same destination "Death"...
What account have we to present after all is done?
Just a leap of faith but do note,
nobody ties the bungee
As it will be in the future so it was at the start of civilazation--
men lost reason and faith to birth
"a generation of lazy, entitled narcissists."
The blame of the antelope is on the hunter and
Birds of all kinds will end up landing.
And all will see whom on his own merit paid off their balance.
Crego Nov 2018
Self-indulgence
eats away at me
like my vanity
gnaws at the bones
of my bank account.
1145
Shofi Ahmed Jul 2017
‘Earth’
maybe a mole
in the mountain of space.
But the story is bigger
than any epic tale.

It's the one scoops
the bottom line
of the bottomless space!

Small simple finishing
tells the complete tale
'as above, so below'.
One that takes into
account all the matter
and the entire space.

The story goes on
The fine earth takes its place.
Now the mountain
sits on the mole space!
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