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Proctor Ehrling Feb 2020
You're reaching the town
I left at your incentive
Your verb was a noun
My verb an adjective
I've built a rapport
On breaking my own heart unprovoked
You've built a house
You lie in it and burn to dust
Freestyle written in 3 minutes.
Anastasia Jun 2019
Volatile (Adjective)
Seeming to change without reason; unstable and unpredictable

Synonyms: Me, Love, Emotions, McDonald's ice cream machines
i can barely keep my eyes open rn
Martin Narrod Dec 2018
well then shepherd in the mess why does that sharpened cowl of wheat surround those sweet yams in the satchel, some scene of loosening transgressions, no pear ripening itself one dull, and one unfulfilling afternoon, rolls down over its branch of sister and brother father and mother Bartletts from the stem, only to make its way into the bottom of that stretched out tawny hide. Where by the wayside every other nobody can see straight inside when a hand moves in, sweeps its fist and then goes deeply down into that can of rotten novelties we all hate, but you feel keeps us in suspense. I wonder will it ever end? Bells busting from the insides of their guts, another candy shock, up and bounces, popcorn kernels, roasted almond slivers, and some preceding green vegetable posted on the 8th St. Diner marquee display on 9th, another advertisement fighting at the sore, devoured hunger for that silhouette following closely behind the moistened wells where my brush dabs lightly into the cup before the gouache and paint mixture begin to dry, that is where I wait and wonder why? Why? Pained with hunger but besmirched with fright, skin sweaty, knotted like muslin yards growing weak against the coil. So humbling were the groans that nearly a decade crossed swiftly across his face, only five or ten minutes had passed before another twenty years flowed into the vast matrix of the rivers of blue sweat marked by estuaries, creeks, and streams across the brow, down the cheeks, and ultimately across the neck, lazing down into the chest, before settling its heavy panic soaking in the guts. Where a heavy glass brick has been vitrifying in the sun, never have two people seen the steamy and piping-hot quarry go from its conviviality and festivity of life, into this shriveled up tree having found its way into the prairie where giant winds bend its branches and enormous thunderstorms nearly strangle it with its own roots. Frisked by sin and pangs of nostalgia in which a thousand thoughts intersplice the whorls imprinted upon our brains.
Thought circles
JayceeJellies Jul 2017
Laying here in my bed,
which lays in my sweltering room.
Laying here moody,
until I start thinking about you.
My room is so hot I'm going to die.
Eileen Xu Dec 2016
Cracked skin
Empty eyes
Chapped lips
Sullen sigh

But a ghost
In woman's shell
I'm no longer here
Can't you tell?
Elise Jackson Aug 2016
The color of the afternoon sky, the color of the crystal clean pool in your backyard.

The color of my eyes, signaling that I’m alive.

The color of your lighter, the one that lights all of your cigarettes on fire.
Matthew Randell May 2015
Radical as Shakespeare
Cool as Frost
Spooky as Poe
Cyclic as Lee
Rounded as Austen
Abundant as Brontë

Earnest as Hemmingway
Dark n Beautiful Nov 2014
How many times have I brought to the table
My Island flavors?
How many times have you read
my inner thoughts:
how many times will I share them again and again

It all began in 2004 from the moment I walked in
You wasn’t there and I didn’t really care
You ***** more than a female
you took on a huge responsibility
so you went out and brought the  singular noun, pronouns
adjectives,  plural verbs, preposition and the infinitives

For a New York minute you should have
brought Heather Taffet  the grave digger for security measures
My poesy is my poesy
The sun always seems to be a symbol of life.
and life is worth living.
pixels Oct 2012
Words swathe me in calm,
Sentences, paragraphs that soothe.

Viridian verbs burst through the grey,
Taunting me into action-
Seducing me into a delicious dance-
Gypsy girl, swing your sentences my way!

Turquoise adjectives wrap around my wounds,
Embracing my flaws and perfections.
Rough olive skin; somber caesious eyes-
Gypsy girl, with amaranthine scars.

I drape myself over sienna nouns,
Steadfast, supporting me proper, improper, always.
Paper, songs, tree, sky, love, Jami Lee-
Gypsy girl, use your words correctly!

Each turn of a page lures me deeper-
Each spoken rhyme embraces me close-

Jami Lee, sweet little girl, get your head out of the clouds,
And your nose out of a book!

— The End —