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FRITZ Mar 2018
not morning but a yellow gleam
encases my surroundings
developing the world
in a faded nostalgic glimmer.

last night i wandered around a club having ditched my friends
just for a bit. it was i needed some space to fill my lungs with
something like impropriety. i ran into a woman who said she loved
my style. she had heavy but well-done eyeliner on, black lipstick
and a serious spray of piercings or diamond studs lining the right side of her face. i gave her a nod and my best i'm-not-drugged
look. i noticed she had a platter so she must have been a server. i clicked my cigarette holder in my tongue and stumble off.

i walk on the other side
im pumping blood to a body that doesn't experience to a body that
cannot relish or feel. both liberating and damning it is.

slaughtered fruits, abandoned plastic, clothes like rags on the floor.
what filth is this
what time has come?
caught and corrupted and cornered.

will anyone read this and will anyone make sense of it?
the importance or the symbolism? the intimacy?
but a poem is just words.
and a cigarette is just smoke.
just floating.
FRITZ Mar 2018
one simple sting on the tongue liver shocks and
drop by drop you
lie through your teeth.

six Septembers and nine days to the mark I

was gone like a cat hiding in the drains.

                                  look at me. I am yellow with anticipation.

     corrode dates and twist memories like rags and red soak

                             sick and perforated you proliferate and the

cycle continues..
watching clouds collide
KRRW Dec 2017
May you never
rest in peace

In your grave
bereft of grace

Yield your worms
and decompose

All your flesh
and blood and bones

Kangkong is veggie
that grows in water

Okra is known as
the Lady Finger.
Written
02 August 2017


Copyright
© Khayri R.R. Woulfe. All rights reserved.
KRRW Dec 2017
Isang batang babae
ang pangalan ay Izabel


Zabel ang palayaw
nakasuot ng kahel


Ang lahat ng ito
ay pangarap niya lang


Batang babae
isa palang hukluban


Eskandalo niya ay
kanya nang tinatakasan


Lahat ng patunay
pilit niyang pinagtatakpan.
Written
02 August 2017


Copyright
© Khayri R.R. Woulfe. All rights reserved.
KRRW Dec 2017
Dadalawin kita
sa iyong guni-guni

Aapihin kita
sa lahat ng sandali

Nanamnamin ko
ang lahat ng 'yong pighati

Igagapos ka
umaga, araw at gabi

Lagi mo na akong kasama
sa 'yong tabi

Oras mo sa mundo
ngayo'y nagmamadali.
Written
02 August 2017


Copyright
© Khayri R.R. Woulfe. All rights reserved.
KRRW Dec 2017
****! ****! ****!

Burp! Burp! Burp!

****! ****! ****!
Written
02  August 2017


Copyright
© Khayri R.R. Woulfe. All rights reserved.
KRRW Aug 2017
An anxious amortal
archnemesis
affectionately
allowing an amoral
animosity
achieve an attitudal
agressive and aversion against
any and all
annoying,
aggravating,
afflicting,
and almost annihilating
alliterations,
although all
aforementioned actions
are absolutely
artificial.



An amiable
abomination
and architectural abuse
at an alphabet achieved
after aesthetically
arranging ample
arbitrary
alternatives alone,
amounting an acclamation.



An affinity at
awkward avante-garde arts
arising at
an astronomical acceleration,
aside an archaic
argumentum ad
antiquitatem argument
awfully appraising
an atheistic and agnostic
apparition,
anthrophomorphically
alive and apparently
alright after asphyxiation,
alluding an astral authority
absolving accusations
and all allegations.



An advantageously
astute and adroit assassin
always actively
acting and assaulting
alone, ain't assisted
anyhow,
already
antiquating auxillaries
altogether.



An alliteratious afterfocus:
Aborting all anticipations.
Anticipating affirmative antagonizations.
All are alright.
Already airtight.
Adios, amigos.



Author: anonymous,
an acorn-afflicted,
assassinatrix affiliate.
attributed as Agent Argent.
Written
04 July 2016


Genre
Alliterature


Copyright
© Khayri R.R. Woulfe. All rights reserved.
FRITZ Aug 2017
I am,

static bring me back the stone

bring back us the grave.

I am,

weathered and the stones

surface is covered in moss.

slipping my sleeping head beneath

slippery stone.

dead particles clinging to static.

I am,

shadows over your mouth

full feeling of weight and listless

ness lifting you to meet the sun.

I am

sound and soft waters

crisp undulating waves

polish my face.

     my teeth are sharp and white.
I focus on the notions of 'stone'.
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