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J J Aug 2019
With hair of a million spider legs-
Eyes with irises like Saturn's looping ring,
She sings and begs to differ my good morning;

Her tachy tic toc steps scraping the pavement
as the brady day fades
and sun strings in, washes away all that ever was

and I'm caught here in the stasis between sleep,dream
   and being
where morning is neither a blessing nor an omen...

Night's alone, i am cold as the breeze between
Skeleten and steel chain,

But with you near, time goes by gentler,
it is easy to be in the other's company,
Held and holding,both pretending we arent insane

Boredom's hegemony sets in and rocks us asleep;

And what a joy-- to be linked,two minds complete by dreaming softly of the other.
Sam WG Apr 2015
Hey ** don't you know
I've got a stitch for you to sow
Call me in the morning I'll be out of bed
Oh yes, "You can never get too much rest!"
Half a day working at the circus
How about we juggle an English breakfast, side of French Toast
Tie my lace and tighten my waist
I'd hate to have to save face, before the birds have barked

I can't wait to see you next evening
You know I might jump off the swing early
Hit the ground running
so you won't see me coming
Well anyway I've ruined the surprise now haven't I
But anyhow hey **, it was wishful thinking
I'll still step-stone through the snow
And you know it'll melt like it always does
This is me doing my best (well, the first time I've tried) to write lyrics like Syd Barrett. By the way it's supposed to be recited like a nursery rhyme would, it doesn't sound right if you don't make it a right old song and dance kind of tune. It could be longer but I'm going to bed so I'll just post it as it is.
Riley Walsh Dec 2014
The Goonies
is an underrated movie.
is pretty groovy.
Ryan Chisholm
***** ****.
The Goonies
does not.
Gabrielle Ayoub Oct 2014
During the struggle, love can pull us up
When comfort and warmth can’t be found, we can still reach for love
Because in the end, it shows us the way
But what is love exactly? Love might be a dream, a silent reverie
It might be everyone’s fate. Or is it nothing but an illusion?
Love remains a theme dearest to poets' hearts
Whom will never stop intriguing us
With their various styles and love readings.

— The End —