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George Krokos Nov 17
When criminal activity at a place doesn't cease
all the people will never enjoy any lasting peace.
From 'Simple Observations' ongoing writings since the early 90's.
Francie Lynch Oct 24
They flip like flapjacks,
Sizzlin' on heat;
They flip like a light switch,
The rats,
The finks,
The stools,
The snitches.

How many will get told tonight:

     Y'll sleep wi da fisches.
      That'll school you alright.
Always use good lures.
Svetoslav Sep 25
With a body wrapped in a crimson dress, she bears a violent temper.
Shining daylight, raging bewitching, captivating cunning.
You arrive with starry eyes and cheeks flushed like a ******.

In her curly hair, autumn curtains hang—roaming rays hot.
She glows in the night like a pictorial wall with hieroglyphics concealing madness.
You step elegantly, but you're a dangerously stealthy predator.

Grassy hills in floating flames burn beneath a voluminous haze.
Her look describes fabulous waterfalls, endlessly flowing and shining in the coming dawn. You associate with robbers and kings, but they do not understand, and no one will save you.

Lovely eyes sprinkle enchanting rays, her lips intertwined like a rose petal.
Her heart enticingly calls with her fruit to be drunk.
You hide in the nightlife, dress up, and do your love magic.

Neck fashioned in autumnal garments, wearing scarlet ruby earrings.
Her pink skin smells of perfume, inviting like a grape on a vine.
You invite visitors with your charm to carelessness, forever forced.

Her lips are flowing bewitching rivers—intersecting strokes of crimson. They bring a dream to taste her deep soils and her artfully carved forms.
You are determined to captivate without marrying— you stay lost in rebellion.

Zoom zoom goes the car with drug dealers

Being chased by the cops in a spotted deal

The exchange was spotted by the police

Who gave chase six shooters drawn

Firing at the fleeing BMW that sped away

Bullets zinged into it others were fired back

It was a right cowboys and Indians time

Just like a movie film with John Wayne

Who will win the cops or dealers?

It’s just like a films script but real
I spent another evening
In one corner of
My mind...

My conscience is
Left bleeding,
And I don't know what I'll find...

My future hangs in balance,
I'm too nervous
To sleep,

But still I keep my chalice,
I fill it and
I drink...

The courthouse is
A palace,
Of justice and of

But when I walk inside it
I shake from head
To feet...

I beg the gods I
Don't believe
To grant me just
Some peace...

Please let me enter
Into hell
And walk out
On two feet...

Oh, let me enter into hell
And walk out
On two feet...
I'm going to court tomorrow for my first felony charge (yay) let's hope my lawyer does this job and I walk out of there free. I always get the shakes when I have to go to court; thank gods Xanax exists...
neth jones Aug 20
who re-marrowed this hollow tree ?
thought themselves of mythology ?
processed death into the dying **** ?
blunt   blackened hope
           buttering up what god ?
                                   what mischief maker ?
: Loki the crow with his promethean nose ?

covering his crooked actions
                          the defiling of a life
  a coward of failed coupling
congress    a night down the pub
    the gender polar pair collided
            sottish upon their union
genitals bragging through urgent gaps in clothing
but that urgency deflated
it muttered away
he felt baited
             he committed to ******

crude amateur throttling
  a ***** sogged brick  
an indiscreet botch up
    and a stolen wheelbarrow  
        to ferry her away

'The Mourning Tree'
           despondently sifts for nourishment
its gummy combs of branches
  sashing particles  from the night solution
the tree ; a cavity
too verrucose and fleshy to whittle the winds
                                               or fife a tune
a rubbery craggle     foreign against the landscape
should   rather   make out its' habits
                  off the floor of a deep sea trench

roughing in the corpse
head first   down the gullet thirstily
skirts up and claustro
between spread limbs
to ***** puckle in the hollow tree
evicting the bird of Minerva
      ‘whoing’ into the charged sky
  blooded over
             the night blackens further
               brooding on the event

who re-marrowed this hollow tree ?
married themselves to a mythology ?
force fed life   engorged within deathly seed ?
upended crime     in lieu of a sacrifice
           he offered a glass of woman
               to oder the night
he strummed teasing fingers
      raked them humming
         through the heady resistance of the air
electric creeping warmth   over the skin
                        erecting the hairs
   museum silence
   an arena    as fraught equal    between magnets
       clouds cut the moon
      moon cut the eye
    sinful kiting to mend a link
ramblings kinked
he makes sparking incantations to the gods

one scatting madman
one corpse woman

that same bled night
where the furrowed fields
            meets natures disarray
children approach this woodland border             
children with empty baked bean tins
      that they joined with lengths of string
trying to reach out their ears
    extend their timid range
       to sprites, nymphs, pucks or faeries
an older kid strikes up a cigarette
one of the younger ones squats to ***
         and be mocked

one brave girl of ten years
  runs a tin and the line into the woods  
it jerks taunt after about thirty paces
she wedges it in a tree fork and runs back
the children crowd the receiver tin
spooking themselves
        upon the hollow wisdom of small gods
            that mask their shame in the dark
influenced by ‘ Who put Bella down the Wych Elm? ‘

misuse of the word 'sashing'
Steve Page Mar 22
Do you see a puzzle?
Or do you see a game?
Something to deduce?
Or something we can play?
I'm enjoying a binge of Elementary Serries 1.
Randy Johnson Nov 2022
When a surgeon had to operate on a man, she was ******.
She botched the operation because the patient was sexist.
She learned he was sexist and botched the operation so that he would die.
She bragged about it to her friends, it was something that she did not deny.
But she didn't expect one of her friends to turn her in.
Now she's rotting in prison, she's no longer a surgeon.
She doesn't even realize she did wrong, she thought she had the right to ****.
A surgeon is never supposed to take a life, it's a surgeon's duty to try to heal.
She thinks her patient was **** but he was a better person than her.
At least he didn't **** another human being, he was not a murderer.
My crime is that
I care too much,
love too much,
trust people easily,
don't act like a regular man,
and show my wounds
to the people I love.

So I am always misunderstood
seen as stupid
and left brokenhearted,
hurt and alone.

Maybe, just maybe,
I should for once turn into
what society wants me to be—
a man with no heart,
emotions, and care.
One small change
will affect everything else
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