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it will never make sense
that the mechanics
of the human body
allows for a person
to bite their own
tongue or cheek
mindlessly
yet with such force;
eye-watering
and debilitating
a momentary paralysis
of fist-clenched frustration
and wordless fury
the blood that flows
cannot be stemmed
must be left untended
and simply spat out
     or swallowed
before that metallic taste
taints every mouthful
Creux Aug 2023
i stood witness
to a scene---
a king and queen,
their love serene.
a painter's dream;
a poet's delight;
their love aglow
in gentle night.
he leaned in close,
with lips so light,
upon her cheeks,
a tender flight---
the king's sweet smile,
a sunlit embrace;
the queen's fair blush,
a delicate trace.
how i wished
to hold still the air,
capture their love
in a canvas so rare
but love's vibrant palette
moves and evolves,
in the tapestry of time,
it resolves.
to paint their love
in hues so fine
is to capture the essence
of love's design.
in my strokes of paint,
in my shades of rhyme,
their story lives
beyond the confines of time.

Ω
Those bless'd cheeks
Are donned by God
As angels seek
Their latest garb

A rose would be
Confused as such
If ever seen
Beside your blush

A sacred tune
Erupts from when
A kiss is due
To praise your skin

The finest silk
The fur of cubs
Are not the ilk
Of your soft love

I'd gladly brace
A thousand thorns
To brush your face
But once each morn

And fear thee not
For age would come
And I'll have caught
The two-for-one
perfect.
Ken Pepiton Feb 2021
From labyrinth in Istanbul, my eye spied a familiar cord

Education
How can any education
Be a sufficient insurance
For a pathetic population
Keeps favoring ignorance

From <https://hellopoetry.com/>

Truth known makes free,
truth hid is not ignored,
it waits the fire the next time innocents
are sacrificed to lies. ... thanks, you gave me a spark,

as real as any angel a self anoints another, go
be a lying spirit in the mouth of the tyrant's prophets,
let all the wise

laugh at the possibility of one peacemaker's leaven,
leavening the entire lump, liked or not.

Plop. On to the publisher's desk, piles of wonder and ifity.
A fantasy realm,
counter trope, here the so-called victor-victim ratio,
is imperceptibly low,
we have a regulation: each day requires
its sufficiency of evil,
no harm done is intentionally not possible,
otherwise you get a dimension of flat metric orthogonal
constructive critics
assuming unassigned roles. Do you dance? Or only read along?

Behold how great a fire words may kindle in a satisfied mind.
Permission granted is a state to be in, if you can imagine that's our native earthling state. If we are not the happy people, such must be imaginated.
Ken Pepiton Aug 2020
it just could be

all I'm sayin is it might be me

you and me
because
once
you agreed with me that if we
could agree

we might settle some confusion
and make some lasting peace.

It could be you and me, in the end,
who had such power
all along.

Don't get me wrong. I'm just sayin'
we could all agree that death
is part of life and nothing

we do in life will help us know f'shore,
but I bet it has no punitive purpose,

life teaches lessons, not death. All's I'm saying,

we could agree but, we
just never considered

this might be our own determined free will
doing some never done deed heroic, like
binding the sweet influences of Pleiades,
or re linking us
to a hope hidden in fear of death,
retying the shades of liberty to our souls.

My side wins when we agree, so
if I surrender my will to thine, freely, see
we win.

Death has no course that led to victory.

Fear of death is the lie that holds men
slave to the market
and to war. Lose the fear, lose the dread.
Un sung songs on a Monday
Lane O Aug 2020
I will never grow tired of our love
we lie awake under the sheets
legs entangled
the softness of your feet
our late night prattle
smiles and laughter
the faint glow of the nightlight
the hum of the fan
your head finding comfort
in the crook of my arm
I brush my fingers through your hair
and kiss your cheek
we dream, we sleep
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
Each Color a Scar
by Michael R. Burch

What she left here,
upon my cheek,
is a tear.

She did not speak,
but her intention
was clear,

and I was meek,
far too meek, and, I fear,
too sincere.

What she can never take
from my heart
is its ache;

for now we, apart,
are like leaves
without weight,

scattered afar
by love, or by hate,
each color a scar.

Keywords/Tags: love, scar, cheek, tear, intention, departure, separation, meek, sincere, heartache, leaves, falling, scattered, color, blood, scab, scabs
Neelabh Sourav Dec 2019
By- Neelabh Sourav.
Translated from Assamese by: Bibekananda Choudhury.


I saw a variegated face on your hands
I saw a chequered venomous snake
Eyes bulging
Cheek nose swelled up like the character
in the painting of Van Gogh
Coughing intermittently
I saw an amazing sight on your palms
Magical actor fingers
I got startled on reading
What have you written

How dare you
Making a mincemeat of people
What an astonishing devilish pen I saw
On your hands
Anastasia Aug 2019
you have my heart
you don't need to ask
you keep my tears
inside of your flask
i plant kisses
on your cheek
so long as i
dont feel weak
but i never do
whenever i'm
with you
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