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Ron Conway Dec 2019
So once there was a kindly boy
Concerned with art and life.
His wit and pen were sharper
Than his mother's butcher knife.
                
His kindness wasn't well received
By those he called his peer
Who roughed him up and called him names,
That caused him pain severe.
                

But he did not respond in kind.
He let the insults slide.
That's not to say he would forget.
Payback would be supplied.
                
Our boy was quite ingenious.
He planned reprisal well.
He kept his focus to himself;
A silent tolling knell
                

These guys had pretty girlfriends
But their ardour was amiss.
They didn't know that knowledge could
Contribute to their bliss.
                
By studying the art of love
(And all of the mechanics)
He paired this with some scarlet ink,
Producing co-dynamics.
                

He worked his project long and hard
(The irony forgiven)
Until he had a missive that
Resembled  passion's heaven.
                
He wrote of carnal fervency
And zealous jungle love.
He wrote of things that people don't
Admit they're thinking of.
                

The guys weren't really much for words;
His poetry dismissing.
The women were and when they read,
They knew what they were missing.
                
It wasn't long before the girls
Were seeking greener grass.
The guys were left exposed as if
A pheasant under glass.
                

He sees them now quite often at
The Chick-fil-A drive through.
It causes him to think about
The Karma we accrue.
                *
Life has it's way of straightening
Imbalance it would seem
And he was getting luckier
Than they could ever dream.
                                      rc
Ballad
breeze Nov 2019
As I’m standing at the balcony
While the city is asleep,
I’m the part of cosmos’ alchemy,
Facing meaning of the deep.

I’m not lonely in such atmosphere,
No need longing for the speech
As I feel all struggles disappear
While my mind is getting rich.
~
Oh the nighttime
Oh the light moon
Can’t forget you
Felt the wind blew
Made that vibe due

~
I don’t really know how to name and type it as it meant to be the song and now I am thinking of it as a ballad or rhyming poem.
Pratham Sanghvi Oct 2019
I feel something I've never felt before
I feel it right to my core

It steals from me without me knowing
And yet i keep going
Deep into these unknown trenches
Losing half of my soul and all of my senses

I kept at stake my heart
And lost my mind too
I chose to give you my love
I ended up dying too.
J J Aug 2019
Autumn,with the force of rapid thunder
Dawns the sky, clawing the lake asunder
  Beneath our steps
As we leapt
  To,fro,and to again;

Here we burn, trapped to our limboid sojourn
Gasping for air as the Daemon sits without a care
Tracing and chasing the ends of his thinning thread
Connecting to our voodoo dolls, laments of our death
In silent whispers only existant at all by the dents
Where our mouths should be.

This dreaded haunting, this memory looped
With crimson nails the Daemon draws hoops
Pliable as a smoke ring from laughing lips,
The Daemon strings us by his fingertips—
Reminds us we alone created hell on earth—
You can taste it in the kicked up dust,
The unlexical powder that remarks our birth
In this stale heat, our skin starts to crust.

I called you my best yet, you said I was a settlement in a lost bet,
I called you a ***** and wished I drownt you in the wishing well
Where you'd only have other mute spirits left to tell; I set

Out on a ****** scheme that night--
To slit your throat as you awoke and watch you fight
Without a chance.
I watched you in your contorted dance and felt you lift,
Shiver and go stiff
Dying in my arms. But as I sighed I felt invisible red eyes
Settle on us from the willows
Behind the blindness window.

I heard a needle scrape, a scornful moan and a bat's descry.
I knew then I truly was the pawn in a wicked game
Who's evil was signatured in our name.

The devil netted your soul dear, and already had mine.
And as I sat straddled over your limpid frame, frozen in time
And feeling his nails, like worn toolbox screws, along my spine
I oddly thought pleasantly of better times:

Of our first meeting on that autumnal day, when caught in the breeze
And kissing discreetly
Amongst the trees
and along the lake we simontaniously compared to the mythical  Lethe.

I loved you then, oh how I did,
And in return, we'll love forever—
Us, the looping dead.
Derrek Estrella Jul 2019
It felt like a drainpipe down the gullet of the actress
As she leapt out of sight of the red baroness
Asking, why do the streetlights stay blue?
And will the soil maintain its hue?

Faceless people eating capriciously
As they tenderly speak of their shore leave
As they’re foisting their dreams to their sleeves
Speaking of odd, foreign fleece

Decadent manners spoke in secret tongues
Polarized banners through brazen tar lungs
As bravado finds a new face
To win wars with one holy gaze

Something’s the matter but it’s all for nought
As the gilded Centurion claims he forgot
What he built his first child’s house upon
For all his sons are vagabonds

I mimicked a child in the way he embraced
His nascent complacence to the human race
Clinging to a wooden rail
For fear of the careless hail

A man claimed his newsboy hat kept him enclosed
For his fear that his thought-dreams would serve to corrode
The last bastions of society
Which he clings on to haplessly

The visor hung low on the Titan of Rhodes
For he knew of the judgment on one head exposed
In his position above
Where the sky belongs only to doves

Calendars festoon their tactless grace
With legions of chandeliers, forming a haze
Now, we know that the days are numbered
Yet, the fact leaves us all encumbered

Facsimiles of the nationwide veins
Will collapse next year as they fight for the grain
Now, the horse is extinct with the train
And everyone fears to remain
C H A T A N T May 2019
There is something so calming
About the spiders spinning web.
Something so comforting,
A song sung by the dead.
Hear it wallow in the distance
Like an unforgiven tune.
Sung by the rivers daughter,
The beauteous sunset muse.

Bask in the moonlit waters
Barely but blessed by shining sun.
Hold to your heavn'ly quarters,
The likes of which shall come undone.
For if you catch the spider spindle
You are likely to be safe.
In other wares, their finer fares
In absence, stay awake.

I speak not for the Titan,
Or God nor Goddess alike.
I speak not for the tongue
Of the mumbling friars might.
For Alas my hearers hear this plea,
Beware the nymph of sophistry
Derrek Estrella Jun 2019
***** Miss Whint took a flight on a Saturday night
***** Miss Whint showed the world her insides
If science can’t show her a number
She’ll take despair to a mystical side
And the world will be her child

If you can find a path to the sea
I’ll call you a human being
If that’s worth believing
Faces articulate so cantankerously
And lose any intention for their mind

While we grow, yet still coagulate
Perhaps we’ll see, her cruelty’s bound to time
And we’ll be fine
In her broken home is where she dominates
And hates her own cherry tree
Who screamed immensely

***** Miss Whint, she took a flight
***** Miss Whint was despair at first sight
She lost emotionality
When she confided in reality

***** Miss Whint has the look of a saccharin knife
***** Miss Whint made it hard to live a life
When we’re all strangers to the sun
The working man’s light is the muzzle flash of a gun
But we’re just having fun

She sweeps the open road with love
And a diamond compartment
Twisting the road-bent
Indignant children are the fodder of her highway
That leads to a city in the wane

While she eats the air and lives another day
Deep lines accentuate her mighty wake
And that’s okay
The fools are left to smiles and opulence
She makes them find sense in their own pretence
Preaching, “there’s no end”

***** Miss Whint, she took a flight
***** Miss Whint was despair at first sight
You lost emotionality
When you confided in reality

If her mouth was wider when she began
Maybe we could have had some fun
But how could she care for what happened minutes ago?
There is an open vent to useless things to sow
If her eyes were brighter when we lost our lives
Maybe we could be satisfied
But typewriters stay their hand to the climate’s cold command
And we’re left to indulge in what still stands

So, as I wrote this like a letter
To a lady of vicious weather
Someone then caught me and said,
“Swallow those words or I’ll have your head”
So I said,
“This note has no point, so go count your coins”

***** Miss Whint has the look of the fourth of July
***** Miss Whint took a ruler to the human life
When we’re all frightened by the sun
The working man’s light is the masquerade of a gun
But we’d all rather run
Sharmila Juliet Jun 2019
I am falling for you every time
Whenever I look in your eyes.
The moment I hear your voice
My heart get raptured with highs.

Looking at your those dreamy eyes
My whole world stops for a while.
Is that only your voice sway me
No, you also got me with your smile.

Your look is like a piercing sword
Its entered straing into my heart.
Your music touch deep on my soul
Set fire on my mind and every part.

your songs are like a sweet liqour
My hungry heart never get full.
Tasting your music my heart always
screams one more as its dwell.

You bring back all dead word alive
With your song, whithout it shrink.
My heart already getting week
I can't bear no more of your wink.

Your music which bring the spring
For the eternity as my heart sings.
I inhale your song in every breath
It grab all my heart strings.
This Poem is dedicated to CNBLUE Jung Yong Hwa.

Format : Ballad
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