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Uh-Lay-Knee Dec 2017
Why, oh why,
do we feel the need to cry?
Over temporary pain.

The feel of grief is so permanent,
Pertinent, persistent and problematic.

It doesn't matter anymore.

How many times have I cried
over something that made me smile?
How many times was I made the fool,
used like a tool to satisfy someone else's needs.

I know, I know,
I need that pain.
I crave it sometimes,
unhealthy.

I hate it when it's mine,
but sadness is my true best friend.
Self-reflection on all the ****** up things that have happened to me
Lou Dec 2017
I sought satisfaction in stupid sheepishly and shallow strides.
Scared subconsciously, I swallow and sustain substance for pseudo self esteem strengthening.
I seemed of in service to slumber and stinging sadness, shots sank like ships, submerging into the sea of my swarthy stomach in seconds.
I somewhat sympathies as a sailor, sweating, struggling and swimming in slipping sobriety saturated in my sulking style.
Scanning swarms of serial swindlers, striking sculptures stances of self-doubt.
I stammer in a storm of slurs, ******* down my safety, stopping myself at the stoop of the saloon I see a seductive silhouette staging the space.
She stroke my sight, standing sanguine in scarlet, soul sold in high heels.
The smoothest sculptures in seven square miles were subjugated into scree and I was ****** in submission.
Stubborn staggering suitors, stand shaking silently as she is stopped by sharks stalking and snarling sycophantics.
So straightforward in suggesting their secret starvation to strip sensations, seem by seem, like a sub-par **** cinema scene.
They step and speak short.
She smokes off, stranding the scree in smoldering slaughter.
Its sad this soul-less sanctuary soaking up sorrows.
So self inflicting, and so satisfyingly side splitting.
She sported her spurned, scorned off into sadistic solitude and stained sticky stigma, sobbing to sleep.
So spent from simple stocked, stored and supported senescence of ceremonial subjection of ****** status.
I savior my sincerity, and stretched out of this strange stadium of stooges.
So long scarlet sanguine I sang softly, as she stole my sight suspiciously in sync with hers.
Sacrificial seconds split from smearing stolidity to sharing a smile.
That's simple satisfaction, so I seen scripted in sitcoms and shows.
Supporting sapiens in stasis to see sappy stunners on screen, to stare snoopy, as stabs and slashes strike socially into socialites of so called sanity and sovereignty.
To sweetly pay salvage as slaves of soppy studio slander.
Such is this sorry Saturday night, I am solidified in sedation.
I wrote this over a year ago, took me a few months to put it together properly but I wanted to share this fun time. Its about this bar I use to go to when I was in my early 20's and I use to watch people a lot act like savages, trying to pick up women, usual bar stuff. I hope this isn't too much of a mouthful, enjoy.
margaret Dec 2017
it's time to sleep
to roll over
and put
my eye mask
on. to think
about my special
bed in the clouds
and drift
into the soft
stream of slumber.
to soar into
that starry sky
and lay upon
a bed made
just for me.
when i reach
my bed i can feel
the warm, heavy
blankets wrap
around my body
in just
the right way so i
feel warm and loved.
i can find
the perfect
position to lay
so my aching
spine is soothed
and my legs
can curl up
like a small baby
who can't quite
straighten them
out just
yet. i'll listen
to the calming
sounds of the
sky. the
whispers wash
over my watery
mind and watch me
waiver into a
whimsy of sweet
dreams where
everything is
always okay.
Logan Robertson Dec 2017
she saw sea shell standalone,
shimering
sandy shore,
standing sentry,
solemn,
singing
sweet songs
sanctimoniously,
sharing soul,
spirits,
soothing silver skies,
stark sands,
silhouetted silence,
spanning sea swells,
sea stars,
sheltering
salted scenery,
seeing,
seeing self

Logan Robertson

12/1/17
Here's a lone women with a sunny outlook similar to that of a lone seashell. She sees
the gravitation pull a seashell faces, forces of nature, which parallels to her life, a life that is resigned to forces of nature filled with regret and resignation ... hence her environs, too, salted and bitter.
Ksjpari Nov 2017
Holi, a hearty enthusiastic festival in horizon
Colours curdling, water washing every *****;
Out of us evil ever going and playing on
Land of character cherished by coloured lawn.
What a scene to see! Gracious glory gone
If you miss this mesmerizing festival upon
A folly. Foolish will be called such a conn.
Holi, a hearty enthusiastic festival in horizon

Holy played in school is highly pleasing crayon,
For Kinar, Aayushi, Kunal. Aryan or John.
Monorhyme has one colour, holi many micron.
Mital, Mitesh, Vaikhu, SIddhu, Saurabh are don.
This day even principal thinks to prevent throne
And join joy with teachers - see anxiety thrown.
Holi, a hearty enthusiastic festival in horizon

Songs, screams; dance, D.J.; homage and hymn on;
This day with Holika heavy burdens and sins thrown.
Cruel Hiranyakashyapa was killed; glory was won.
Kunal, Arpita, Sandeep, Amit and Shreyas on lawn
Play water and colours with cool Pari’s scone
In Jalgaon, Agra, Kanpur, Karanja, Surat or Bonn.
Holi, a hearty enthusiastic festival in horizon
This poem is in alliteration. There are alliteration examples in each line. At the same time I am following Monorhyme.
Brent Kincaid Nov 2017
Platitudinous, pusillanimous,
Pulchritudinous, posterior
Poseur, postulating pus bag
Posing as plenipotentatious
President POTUS, posturesome
Proudly putting paws on *******
Publicly preposterous woosie
Pretending propriety: a putz.

Eternal egregious eccentricity,
Endless empathy-less publicity,
Effectively inbalming ethnicity
Eviscerates any essential nobility
Excluding even existential energies
Of expectations of excellence
Instead enacting evolution-free
Economical inimical extortion.

Hourly horror holler hate,
Both houses holding hotheads
And hundreds of houris
Honoring honor-free hopes
Hesitation-free horrible haste
Hosing hope and helpmeets
Who have inherited helplessness
From heartless halfwit hoydens.

Boisterous ***** and boors
Beat beauty and belief badly
But beg and bawl for bounty
Bathing in bastardy and blood
But beyond bowing to betters
Banquets and bowers of berks
Badly bent beyond blessing,
They’re best boxed for burying.
Kaylee Oct 2017
These words have become
Blemished, Bleary, Blurry lines
in my Heart and Mind
Brent Kincaid Oct 2017
Love begins with one of us
And, when lonely, still glorious.
At times, the story was libidinous.
When love came life got fabulous!
Sometimes it was truly glamorous;
Often noisy, raucous and clamorous,
And a needed dose of the amorous!
But, that should not cause animus.
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