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Shofi Ahmed May 2017
A night owl in the harvest moon
was awake till the crack of the dawn
but wasn’t surfing online, wasn’t rowing
the boat in the digital river.
Deep down to a dreamweaving scene
that was, in musing, painstakingly creative.

Wait till you snap up a witty aphorism.
The darling buds of May will be in bloom.
The tickled pink nightingale too will
give out its voice, singing a song.
Save a copy and tweet it to all,
but do give us a demo, tell us a bit more.
Where does it shine and sizzle?
Where did the winter tuck away the rose?
This is a poem from my book Zero and One available on Amazon.
Jaxey Aug 23
I've tried to write
So many poems about you
But you're beauty is copyrighted
And I don't believe
In plagiarism
Sad poet
A Simillacrum Aug 17
There was a bang at the door, but it wasn't the pizza.
Marcus revealed himself to a man standing a head taller, who was buttoned up in a well fitted suit.
"Mr. Williams?" the man asked.
Marcus shook his hand.
"Marcus. How can I help you?"
The man introduced himself as Daniel ***, a representative for Eris Save States, LLC.

     "Wow." Marcus stared down at this kitchen table.
Daniel gathered his papers, and bowed his head.
"I want to make it absolutely clear," Daniel said,
"You're under no obligation, whatsoever,
to take any action with this information.
I understand this may be overwhelming news."

     Only muddy images came to Marcus's mind. Her light brown hair. Her green eyes. Her umber skin. Out of touch, out of reach. Running from mom, running from school. A ghost, ghosted him, and that was that.
A Simillacrum Aug 14
Why, is the superfluous one.
What, is unnecessary, too.
How & When & Where, then,
are inescapable.
     If you act on instinct,
how far will you go to self preserve?
When will you break?
Where will you turn?

Is it your self you'd extinguish,
or is it the other flames?
There can be only one,
but the prize is: death comes
down the path of least resistance
to take a multitude of shapes.

     As for my body,
nothing much to lose,
nothing left to save.

As for my body,
nothing much to lose,
nothing left to save.
I would rather die an original,
Than live as a copy.
Ken Pepiton Jun 14
this is what comes next,
we have learned
to wait for
this. Dr. Joe Dispenza
Star BG Mar 18
Children are spongers
soaking in what are presented to them.

Don’t smoke, or drink. They copy.
Don’t curse, or steal. They copy.
Don’t hit, or abandon. They copy.

Show compassion, and good values.
They copy.
Show responsibility, and give aid.
They copy.

Show LOVE, sweet LOVE. They copy.

just a thought about how kids are so influenced by what they see at home.
elliot Feb 23
how many times
do I have to apologise
to the person staring back at me
in the mirror,
for seeing her
exactly how other people do?
Poolza Feb 10
I was just an empty husk
Not taught how to feel

Then I copied
those around me

They laughed, cried, and died
I laughed, cried, and died
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