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Mahum Siddiqui Jun 2015
The bugs in my head won't go away,
They've taken up permenant residence in my brain,
I can feel them at the nape of my neck -
they're crawling deeper into me,
Eating away,
Eroding my mind.
If they insist on staying
I hope the memory of you is the first to go.
Emily Rose Bunch May 2015
Flittering, fluttering, dancing in their flight
Glittering like emeralds throughout the night

The dance begins before sunset and goes on by the light of the moon
It is a ritual we hope won't end soon

In May every lightning bug gets excited
To this dance every firefly is invited

The dance begins when they hover in the air
Then one by one turn on their light for flair

They spin, dip, and dive
While others are continuing to arrive

The lightning bugs continue on through the night
Showing off their little lanterns of light

Finally, they come to a close
After this long dance, a firefly has to doze

Like candles being blown out, the green flashes of light are no more
But not to worry, they will continue for weeks until the final encore
This is actually a poem I wrote a few years ago on a camping trip.  Fireflies were starting to appear, and the Owl City song, *Fireflies* was stuck in my head.  Hello inspiration!
Invocation May 2015
First of all



                               it's a god ****** roach
                               I sit in there and do things
                               my bottom area is not your playground, man


Secondly

                              the roaches here are about two inches long
                              so this one can **** right off
                              and leave me alone forever
much obliged
pardon the language

Edit: or they're four inches long and don't die
          THATS JUST ******* FABULOUS
Madzq Apr 2015
There was a bug
on a rug
that they swept over.
He rolled
And he poled
To get up over
The rug
That the bug
was swept over.
Side to side
He twisted
By and and by
He had lifted
Up off of the blasted
Rug that had got him
So thwarted.
There are things
Beyond our control
Things that stifle
No matter the trifle
Things that don't make sense at all.
Just remember the bug
That was swept onto the rug
Wriggle and writhe
Don't settle, you'll die
Keep trying like the bug on the rug
Be determined
Janine Sleiman Apr 2015
everyone tries to be different
everyone tries to be the pretty girl
all petty and trend setting
there's no point in trying to be like someone else
because in the end everyone will try to be you.
its like forcing a ladybug to pollinate with bees
complete different purpose
yellow.
red.
forcing your mind set to change
for the sake of he,
even though we know.
destroying ourselves,
flying with broken
black wings.
its true
happens too all of us,
once we change for others
we destroy ourselves.
robin Mar 2015
i have no patience for you your feet sunk in the mud im leaving even if you stay behind.
nosebleed in a public restroom irrational shame,
dark stains on the carpet and we strain with the task of memory.
if your feet hold you back cut them off at the joint.
self-dissections in the lab,
case studies of the effects of
obsolete diseases. black plague typhoid smallpox
specimen pins/surgical staples, an efficient kind of suicide.
ill try not to smudge your lipstick when i kick in your teeth,
your white-knuckled hands digging grooves in your thighs.
efficiency as poetry.
brutality as poetry.
█████ as poetry.
i am trying to make a perfect vacuum of myself, purer than space. purer than black holes.
this is for the dirt ground into my jeans for the rusted nails in my walls , this is for you,
your delusions, your lover impaled on a sundial and you weep to complete the scene,
admire your artistry.
this is how to make feathers look like armor,
this is how to renounce your body,
how to be a living parody how to give up on yourself,
from a vulture to a prince. wren to a gryphon.
the water i drink is infested.
with eggs hatching in my throat i become more than myself,
mother to a thousand maggots.i name them all.i divide my love evenly among them.
here i staple my grievances to the doors of the church,
here i scream of plagues in the streets, filth in shining skyscrapers,
here i imagine myself cassandra here i prophesy misery
here i staple my grievances to your chest where you cannot brush them off this time.
you licking the doors, trying to taste what's gone, finding splinters in your tongue,
stuck in the braces you had
when you were twelve.
{i curse all metal grow more crooked by the day,
crooked man in a crooked house crooked cat on a crooked fence i can still rip your throat out with crooked teeth} you glisten you glisten you shine
like oil in the pan,
oil dripping from the car,
oil on top of the lake. lover where are the matches the pilot lights gone out again,
burn off the blockage till the heat shines blue.
domestic arson.in the forest you gather tinder,
too damp to burn clean.you smoke us out of our home.
leave it for someone better, stinking like a forest fire.the soundtrack is so loud i cant hear what you say,
im shouting with the strings it all sounds the same when you close your eyes,
smoke-blind you whisper from across the room and ive never hated you more than i do now.
i read your lips i write your words i staple them to the bedroom door i kick in your teeth too fast too fast a reminder that this isn’t pretty, eggs in the throat an exoskeleton too brittle to block the blows.
[me fetal on the kitchen floor me standing with ****** boots]
i count the teeth,
mark them as a symptom.
shedding the physical/shedding teeth.
shedding children from an open mouth.
Isaac Mar 2015
A spider under the doorknob,
Resting peacefully, yet carefully aware.
But even its senses can't prevent the
pressure and shock crushing it gently,
quickly. A rapid fall and another shriek,
beneath the shadow he goes, just like the ones
underneath
our feet.
??? this is awful
Nicole Ashley Feb 2015
I am blue
I am black and white altogether
I can tell today is not my day
Not my day
Not even with you
Not my day
I feel trapped like an insect
Under and inside a glass cup
I am the insect and cup altogether
Transparent but unseen
From the inside
No one can hear me
I'd rather that so
I'd rather them not hear me
All the white noise
Clicked off from the world
I shut down
I'm under and inside the cup
Squirming yet staying still
Never moving evermore
I am blue
I am black and **white altogether
I can tell you this
Today is not my day
Even as I write these words
Not my day
The world's noise was clicked off
As I was put under and inside this cup
Not my day
I hate being in and under
Bug in a cup
Not my day....
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