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a expanded love is,
a written love
love expand to a written love
love expand to a century,century
of a written love
a written century is a,
written century of love

time expand time to a written love
time expand time to a written century
decided by time is decided by the expansion of time
decided by time is decided by the expansion of a written love
time expand to a expansion of time
time expand to a expansion of a written love
time expand to a expansion of a century

the making of love is the making of time
the making of love is the making of a expanded time
make is making of love,make is making of a century
a written century is the making of a written century
a written century is the making of a written love
time take us to a written century
time take us to a written love
my writing is called philosophical writing. i only uses middle ages words,words liked gracious,extravaganza,etc... this poem is about time is the making of time,century,and love. i don't add capitalization's on my writing.
Morrie W S Apr 30
if love could lie
between a thigh
between a dream
a rampant scream

i've heard your call
for moons and months

the darkness outweighs the light
the mouse, it cries the brightest night
the dreary have the beeline flight
and thus succumb: morning light
Haylin Apr 8
Fighting on the front lines
With red pens
For creativity,
For independent thought,
For common sense
Not Common Core

This is a battle in a bureaucratic war we’re losing
Keep pushing and shoving against an impenetrable wall
But we’re only foot soldiers, not actually giving orders

Kids look down on us and they ask,
“Will this be on the test?”
And say,
“Get out of my face.”

Here’s what I wonder: Why is “mistake” a forbidden word?

Taught by parent(s) to resist.
These are Kids who fail to create
But recite, recall, and retaliate

School is no longer a safe haven
Testing, testing, 1-2-3 hundred murdered students, teachers
Safety off and then off
Still off

Hanging by a thread and losing the grip a little more every day

Following the curriculum map to X marks the standardized test.

We dig and
                  Dig and
For the buried treasure trove of teaching magic. The legitimacy and respect our careers deserve. The money, the time, the love, the support.

But it’s buried under so much testing and red tape, and so    

We fail.
Earthquake, more than five.
It takes luck to get away.
Need the happiest occasion of a moment.
Need a muffled joy cry.

Need an alarm clock, included on six.
Need in pajamas in advance get.
Need inglish make khoumvork.
You need to experience wild delight

From the metal sound of the door,
From electrical shocks inside,
From the purple faces of the fire,
From the strange noise in the morning,

From the grinding of black plates,
From getting wet torn shoes,
From cursing indistinct in the hallway
And geranium, like a rose.
julianna Feb 6
We’re stuck in a web
But sometimes some get lost
They become a diaspora
Of goners.
Once here
And now
It’s like what you say these days matters more than who you are.
Maxim Keyfman Dec 2018
no i'm not crazy i'm different
I am enchanted enchanted wanderer
I am a traveler from one
the stars on the other I'm not crazy
no I know for sure

and don't say and don't sing here
sing kneeling down in the bushes
for me to leave for me to come in
I opened my door to outsiders
long live science twenty first century

no i don't use horses like cars
no i don't fly in the ocean i don't fly
no I live like in the sixteenth century as
in my own home I left
which house I had to warmly leave

Maxim Keyfman Nov 2018
be water know water
here is the man’s lot
here it is the lot of every century
know water be water
every every every day

and all the mountain peaks with
magma and solids
all books are thin and thick
bound with pictures
on the stretcher all the water

all water means never everything
water and therefore always what
it means my I am my humanity
my I am my each
day i hear see hear see water

Rohan Press Sep 2018
we'll feel-
as collegiate corners
are filling the pages of
our tragedies.

i attempt to seek
next century's repose:
the motion of a thousand
spinning conjectures.

your restlessness holds
junction and duration,
consciously screaming of our
former years.

i'll seek-
you in oscillations
and what little you
left of memory.
she'll show you the answers

I'm tired of time
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