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kayzamo Apr 30
I've decided, firmly -
Today, a year later from when I knew you;
A year later from when I cried...
I've decided
That I don't want religious *****.

Now hold on - I know how that sounds.
"This ***** is gonna castrate me!
Or something," is what you probably said.
Don't worry, little altar boy.
I only use my machete for garden snakes
In my two inch back yard.

The nerve, the gall, the gumption,
To tell me in the sweetest way possible,
"I'd prefer a subservient house wife."
You couldn't even tell me to my face -
It was second hand knowledge,
Passed along to me by my stoner co-worker.

I bit the pink marker and ****** it dry of ink.
The False god stopped sending you love letters.
Boo hoo,
Poor you.

I'm not entitled to anyone's love, and especially not yours.
You came into my life like a bullet,
Which through the lenses of rose-colored glasses
Looked like a gentle butterfly.
The Cosmos - she was looking out for me.
She's seen too many limp men like you,
And saved me with the gravitational pull of the moon.

So once again,
For those in the back,
Who were too busy wooing Joshua Harris:
******* and your christian *****.
Still not sure if this is too scandalous for HePo, but I figured I'd give it a shot. Critiques welcomed!
Poetic T Nov 2020
Well this has a deflating feeling but
                         a pumped upending.  

There was a little one, he was always
kicked around, but they were the best
of times, boot or hand he didn't mind.

Scuff marks marking his features,
   every now and then washed off
Mudd crusted between stitches.

If he felt a little deflated they'd
be positive pumping him up full
of air once again.

It was him and them for a time,
  but it moves on.
He went out less and less,
  it was summer and he went
           out once.
Sitting on the windowsill
wishing to between the blades
of grass. at the end of a foot and
                   a goal post.

Not being kicked and thrown
around, then it got real, he was
put in the shed empty not feeling
the air between his stitches anymore.

Then he heard voices in the back,
   don't worry you have friends,
Were all a little deflated in here?
I think some of us were mislaid.
Forgotten by mistake or we like
to think that. Hi, I'm seasonal, I'm beach.
Now I'm just missing the sunshine.

I got a puncture, I wasn't as floaty
anymore, I was their favorite  seaside
friend, you see they fixed my bobo.
I don't leak anymore, but they didn't
fill me up or throw me again.

I was put in here for another time,
but I only see them when they are
looking for lost things, but not me.

Meet tennis and his sister,
there a right pair, one always going
over the net, the other hoping that  
the other would hit so they could
feel the air bouncing between the
                            racket and them.

The racket was in here, but never talked
just time pulling at his strings,
sagging as if a smile hanging upside down.

We have been in here a while,
  don't know how long, we just
chat about the fun times before.

So they told each other stories wondering
what it would have been to be the other.
Laughing and joking at the possibility
of either hit by a boot or floating so high
in the air,  as if they'd never hit the ground.

Time passed and one day the family all
came to the shed, older than before.

Oh my gosh, I remember you guys..

Mum, I found the beachball, oh my gosh
he's still got his kitty plaster on...
They pumped him up and he went in to
the air, he could feel the heat of the sun,
and it felt right again.

They grabbed me I was a little shrunken,
  And the boy now a man, oh my gosh..
I thought I lost you, they pumped me up.
He did tricks with me, on knee head and
foot, wow he's got better as time passed.

Then racket came out with tennis and his
sister, what shall we do with these,
   Oh' no they thought are going to end up
in the trash.

But they saw racket tightened his strings,
and then the yellow siblings where smacked
against the wall, they smiled at the noise and
the feel of Racket upon them again.

The sun was beaming and everything felt
like before. But then they were put into
the car with other objects, a vase slightly
chipped, but beautiful anyway.
Books, with folded pages, what stories
they could tell us, another time anyway.

We traveled a while, hearing noises
outside, And handed to another,
don't worry we'll find them a new home.
We were put on shelves, price tags stuck
to us, we were left behind pieces that
others didn't want to throw away.
But finding us a new home, racket and the
twins were first to go,
                    at least they weren't separated.

A new face taking them home cuddling,
holding them tight, a home was found.
Then it was beaches turn, a little girl with
her mummy, she saw the kitty plaster and
was smitten. She threw him in the air
i could see him smile at the thought of
once again being thrown again.

Me I was the last, I was asleep didn't even
realise that I'd even been sold.
Rudley awoke to a foot in my face.
what the, and I could feel the air between
my fibers, I could see children and more
of me being kicked around.

I was among others as laughter and glee,
as we were kicked and thrown, it felt like
home again, not the one before but a new
one I was inflated and gliding between posts,
back of the net, and out again.

Home is where ever you feel needed,
and never let yourself feel deflated as
we are all useful in our own way.

I have to go as I have fourteen children
chasing after me, and there I go.
boot to me and in the air, I fly again.
Pockets Aug 2020
Here I sit
Feeling like ****
Eyes red
***** blue
Reading haikus
Drinking cheap *****
Tryin’ to find that spark
If not to write
Then at least light my cigarette
So I can smother myself out
And go on to bed
Savio Fonseca Aug 2020
The Dragons took a Bat,
in their Hands and out fell,
the ****** Virus.
I wonder, what would fall out.
If each one of them,
had their......*****
in their Hands.
out toward the west
there's a gathering of clouds
which look like fluff *****
Poetic T May 2020
I laugh at old people
        out the window.

Then realise I'm looking at a mirror
Poetic T May 2020
I opened a door,
               feminism reaction

my ***** in my throat.
Some times opening a door is just manners...
Poetic T Apr 2020
It wasn't funny,
I'd used every spare sock.

Every newspaper that had past my letter box..

I couldn't use my ******* magazine
           as the pages had mysteriously



stuck together??

So I walked like a crab
         into my back garden..

My hose pipe connected,

I know how Sylvester Stallone felt
            In demolition man,
            three sea shells..

              F##k this S##t,
but no morality machine
for spare sheets....

F#########ck....

Ok lets get the water pressure just right,

I turn it on and my ***** swing like a pendulum.
               dam that made my eyes water..

This time I put it in the right place,
a unique sensation,
                but just as I was clean,

my back porch light turned on..

All I heard was,

"Frank don't worry its cold,

As he laughed out loud.

I walked back in my ***** sore,
                                   but **** fresh clean,

even though embarrassed..
Guden Nov 2019
A tiny breeze
Cleans the stagnant air
Around my bedroom.
I thank the gods
Nobody comes closer to me,
So they cannot smell
The stench of *****,
Unwashed masses of hair.
A breeze that brings
The smell of tear gas,
I sense the protesters
Didn’t want to leave.
Now the smell
Of live death
Fades away
Mixed with scents
Of freedom and dignity.
I wish I was there
I used to be clean,
I used to move around,
When routines kept me going
Instead of being petrified
By the following day;
I used to be useful
Or so I’ve heard.
Poetic T Oct 2019
I took the fruit, even before the snake
                                               whispered..

Even though the tale says it hindered
         my bequest to take the first bite..

By then I was wearing it as a belt,
        skinned before it spoke a word..

Vainness the first sin, of a woman
        and mans sin was not taking

the time to ponder the beauty
            that stood before him..

He listened to the voices,
    Don't bite the fruit...

        Biting my fruit, nibble
                                     maybe..

But bite and I'll crush your skull
                in-between my thighs..

We were kicked out the Eden Club..

But it wasn't his weak ****, its cos
                  I burned the tree.

I didn't nibble on no fruit,
        I don't go down like that.
  I'm more trunk if you understand..


That club burnt down.


        But I had my belt, so I'm a superstar.

Shining brighter than that north star.
He was lost after that voice
             never followed us  from the club.

We're sinners, not because we didn't listen,
         because I took the *****,
and knew that the  club wasn't worth the penalty
                       if we stayed by there rules.
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