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Ken Pepiton Oct 14
Bang the bell
start the tellin of a story 'bout a man name…

Yo, t'was a wombed man, ennui is no excuse
onus is on you. vive la differ-ents.

True, t'tell, she was an upgrade. Mito-mom.

First ol' Ish said, it sounded like,

"Wow, ishi mine? How'dyoudothat?"
so for a while ishi was her name.

Was I sleeping and now a wake, or

are we past all that?
The garden walks meeting all we met, with names,
knowns, all named

The I in Ish knew names of every man-named thing,
but Adom 2.0,

she was something else. Ish could hardly think

something so beautiful is made of me?
Why, Ish wondered, but didn't say aloud.

Is she curiouser than me?
Is that what's different? No, there's more,

but that's a lot, curiouser and curiouser,

Here come the servants forming to inform,
curios come,
kachinas from the west.

This night we all learned the dance the angels do,
on the point of no return.

Too beautiful for words and then,
past the point of no return,

Ish take her and she is mother of all living,
Eve for short. Mom.
Family dinner in the local retaurant where everybody knows me, but none, in fact  know my name, so my mind wandered...
MicMag Aug 25
You don't have a clue
how much I need You
without you I'd be nothing
without you I'd be nowhere

Counting on You (1 of 10)
a countdown series - poems of decreasing length, each using You as the first and last word
Pull your mask out
Let your guard down,
You need not hide anymore
I see you for who you are
Not what I desire to see you as
And I've got to say:
From where I'm standing
You couldn't be more bare.

Finally, stripped off of your facade
I see you for what you are
You're just as clueless as I:
Here to discover life!

Now, let's take this plunge into the abyss
And realize all our forgotten realities,
Sketch on each other's silences, we will,
For repainting these faded colors is fill;
For we know: time there's none absolute
But for our time together made of absolutes.
fatima Jul 31
tell me
as i know nothing
clueless as it is
everything is just unknown

as i want to know things
to understand, not to be mad
i want to be open
in everything i want to know

so tell me
as i am clueless
like a child full of woes
am curious enough?
just tell me if i'm bothering you.
Freddie Ruiz Jul 19
We take the stairs all the way up to the rooftop.
The night, the music, the breeze make me wanna take my shirt off.
We’re *******, but bring out the drinks, no one can stop us.
A game of truth or dare to show them who’s the real boss.

From the roof, we jump into the pool with whatever we got on.
This isn’t a scene from Clueless, but we can still play **** & Blow.
The neighbor yells he's gonna call the cops if we don’t keep it low,
but we planned to have fun tonight and the night is still young.

We run this, we’re not followers, we go with our own flow.
We don’t have to prove anything, if it’s dull we make it glow.
Before you decide to join us
there’s something you better know
This is a ‘Go Hard or Go Home’ zone.
This is my crew and Yo, I’m the Boss!
Written on December 18, 1999
Composition number: 77
mitus May 16
Each day I gain a little more tiredness but today could be the day it stops.
A poem about love
How do I write something
I am not good enough

This expression of love
I have no idea where to start
How to rhyme and stuff

Girl do you need the strange art
For me to show that I love you
With all my heart

O heavens above
How do I write something
I know not of.
I don't know how to write a love poem. But I do know how to love her.
Something valuable, precious even
Sometimes painful
But always hard to contain, hide, or forget
All encompassing
Terrible confused with myself. I'm lost inside. I've lost myself. I'm just... hopeless
Lin Jan 9
Oh, how easy it would be?
With these evil thoughts
That just seem to overtake.
I know they are lies
Just trying to eat me from the inside
And just trying make me cry.
But, oh, how they make me always think
How easy it would be.
This is a different version of another poem I made. This one is shorter and more of my classic poems, while the other is more of a story.
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