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Bekah Halle Jan 17
Man and men everywhere;
Silver-fox, gay, several-times divorced,
But not one without baggage to be seen.
Pimped up with ****,
Waged weary by work or
Isolated through layered losses,
The modern man: a peculiar specimen.
It seduces the obvious why we turn to women to fill the void;
Upside-down desires? Or love that truly inspires?
Randy Johnson Jul 2023
He was my papaw and he was my father's dad.
When he died in 1994, it was both tragic and sad.
If Papaw had survived, he would be celebrating his birthday.
If he hadn't died, he would've become 100 years old today.
He was born on July the 28th of 1923.
Today he would've lived for a century.
When Papaw took some medication, he became very sick.
He died six days after his birthday because he was allergic.
Dad was hurt by Papaw's death and so was I.
It's always painful to learn that a grandparent is going to die.
Deepali Dec 2020
Where only fields of mud i ever got to play in 90's,
the clock started ticking to the next phase;
20th Century-
Moving around,
i was spinning on the new MARIGO-ROUND
and when i jumped out i saw the crowd;
comming closer,
rushing on the same swing i was hunged on,
saw them spiral on the same game i was over from.
Iam spinning on the new dial of the century's game,
seeing everybody is going insane in doing everything to win their lane.
Its good afterall,
Its the 21st century and iam not licking it at all.
lets see what happen ahead in the next year 2021.
Essie okoli Nov 2020
A wild fire in her heart
Lightening in her eyes
Yet there's a gag over her mouth
And her arms are bound
Her legs in quick sand
Her steps uncertain and light

Dressed in black silk
And the most expensive perfume
Ginika bleeds
From her ears, nostrils and the corner of her lips.

Skin like honey and smooth like egg shell
Yet marked with traces of the heart's wound.
Upturned lips tinged with the colour of pain .
Paraded like the finest of masquerades.
Head held high but the whole world on her shoulders.
     Her picture on the magazine doesn't stop the whispers.
Cross Boundry Sep 2020
The world will empty
You’ll find your way out
Be it space or death
The world will empty
then, when its empty, no one will hurt me anymore
Alaina Moore May 2020
Don't feel like a cog.

Don't feel like a bird either.
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
The Century’s Wake
by Michael R. Burch

(lines written at the close of the 20th century and introduction of the 21st century)

Take me home. The party is over,
the century passed—no time for a lover.
And my heart grew heavy
as the fireworks hissed through the dark
over Central Park,
past high-towering spires to some backwoods levee,

hurtling banner-hung docks to the torchlit seas.
And my heart grew heavy;
I felt its disease—
its apathy,
wanting the bright, rhapsodic display
to last more than a single day.

If decay was its rite,
now it has learned to long
for something with more intensity,
more gaudy passion, more song—
like the huddled gay masses,
the wildly-cheering throng.

You ask me—
“How can this be?”
A little more flair,
or perhaps only a little more clarity.
I leave her tonight to the century’s wake;
she disappoints me.

Originally published by The Centrifugal Eye. Keywords/Tags: new, century, wake, new year, party, Central Park, fireworks, song, display
Sean Thienpont Oct 2019
She saw me with the twinkle in her eye
A smirk a wry grin mistaken for a cry
The smooth sound of voice with voice
Satiny smooth skin a perk of the ear, her choice
Her sensory saucy chagrin the uplift of silky tragedies
The embulient sound of, come hither, wise words that look to expound from deep forgotten cavities
How one tries to read a phone!
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