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ibkreator Sep 18
Under your bone is life
Under your life is death

Under your death is birth
Under your birth is skin
mjad Aug 3
He would let me break every bone in his body
Just for me to let him love me

But then I'd break his heart
Jordan Gee Jul 31
sometimes i sit and text women messages free
of any ****** connotations.
other times i come across a chopped & *******,
slowed + reverbed out version of a neoSoul song that i love.
she’s blonde and has a dumb thicc *** and
she’s a woman of few words and she was born
under  a constellation of fire.

like i was.

her eyes are nearly unblinking
and they say less than her mouth
but i know
there is a sea
of symbol-sets
beneath those televised eyes.

how am i supposed to weave or write
when the joy is coming for my neck.
time is the measure of energy in motion

so i turn the dial wayyy down.

God is not a time-piece.
God is a flour mill -
shaped like an inside-out hourglass
in the background of XI Jinping’s latest video on
Tik Tok.
“Violent anarchists held a ‘Night of Rage’”
“Violent anarchists graffitied the Hatfield Courthouse.”
“Violent anarchists continue to attack law enforcement with lasers.”

gravity is ******* the feet and
hills are ******* the walking.
graveyards are a hard one for the memory
(if you believe your family is another pile of bones).
at least we have our three deaths to draw on and die.
1st when our last breath leaves us
2nd the last time someone speaks our name
3rd when Zuccman the Reptilian deletes our postumus, memorialized FB account.

where lies the heart of the enlightened without a mirror?
or when the three deaths are drawn and
it hangs suspended in purgatory like a
pack of Newports in the freezer?
or like a stylized hospital mask produced under
contentious labor practices and
shipped to America via air freight
passing over the Xinjiang province where crimes against humanity
are being committed on an industrial scale ----
Nat Lipstadt Dec 2013
there is not a sexist bone in my body.
not a one.

there is not a bone
in my body entire,
that it's marrow,
but just tinged,
more singed,
nay, more, more,
burnt and burning
****** desire.

****** desire is a concerto
of the
five sense organs:
vision, hearing, smell, taste, and touch.

my body performs Halley's Fifth.
my woman listens carefully.
"She had never heard that symphony before, but she knew that it was written by Richard Halley. She recognized the violence and the magnificent intensity. She recognize the style of the theme; it was a clear, complex melody--at a time when no one wrote melody any longer."
- Atlas Shrugged, Part I, Chapter I
Written on the bus home, just now, that being sort of an apology.
First of a series of three; look for 2 x 3, and, 3 x 3.
isabella Jul 21
A long day,
A winding valley,
Between two ancient cliffs.
A song of a sparrow breathes through the air.

A lone traveler,
Along the dusty road,
Formed by man's sweat, blood, and bone.
Living on until it fades.

Nothing in this lonely place,
Will survive the plague of time.
For in each long lost memory,
Everything will die.

The sparrow song stops, stilled by death,
The winding valley loses its shape.
The two towering peaks tumble into weeds,
And what is becomes what was.
Body is thy art for centuries.
Body is thy art from form and bone, to flesh and blood.
Body is thy art for the private genitals of ****** function.
Body is thy art to own a kiss of each lip.
Body is thy art...
Each connecting bone, head to toe...body is thy art.
Our vocal cords that tighten as we speak...body is thy art.
Body is thy art because of it's natural form unknown to human yet known to soul as our eyes meet each stranger.
Body is thy art when we touch and connect.
We are art.
Sexuality is not an embarrassment, because body is thy art that we share everywhere.
Every ****** made from touch and *******, body is thy art throughout all humanity.
avoid military service
due to a bone spur
for which there is no evidence

have managed to tell
an average of 16.5 lies per day
since elected into office

slander possible opponents
and everybody else who
has a different opinion

divide their country
at a time when unity
were most desirable

sets police on peaceful protesters
just so they can pose for a photo-op
before a church flaunting a bible

but only for self-aggrandizement
     no prayer
     no empathy
for those who suffer most
    the victims of racist violence
    the thousands of deaths from the pandemic
        caused by his delayed actions
    the 20 millions of unemployed

people there are who
are simply too incompetent
to lead a country
Nabil Falchou May 12
if we were made from flesh and bone
then why are some made of stone?
Poem from my book
Robin Lemmen Apr 29
Why do I cry four times a week convinced this is the end? Breaking my own back to be perfect for you. The more I do, the less you respond. The more I do, the uglier I get. Why do I panic and obsess over silences? I count every unsaid 'I love you" and carve them into bone. Make sure I don't forget. Misery loves company, and I constantly crave yours. My body feels old when my soul is supposed to keep young. My heart hollowed out when our love is supposed to fill it up. Why do I fight so much when I am not sure this is worth it for either of us?
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