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May is quiet as the night
Prior to the first,
the Seventh-letter was alright
Haunted by the sight
The reaper, he wants to fight
But by luck of an angel
Alive be the fallen April
Dedicated to my best friend and his partner. I wish you two the best.
Seth Milliman Jan 2016
So in conclusion of all those years ago,
Always dancing on the edge of yourself.
Returning to your yearning of what you long for,
Alas the scenery changes evermore.
Heart in heart believing more.
Jess Bull Dec 2015
Vague and curiosity strike the audience
Of the author of such a cryptic message
The writer has everything to say but doesn't choose to say it
You will stop and consider the message's possible true meaning
Like one needing "to cut off her dead ends" when one posts a picture
Of a haircut
Or one saying "she now knows how it feels"
And her reading it, she does.
But these cryptic messages bring out the creativity in all our hearts
How can we contort or twist those messages to get its true meaning
We wonder and consider and wonder that one says something so poetic, so beautiful
Yet poetry and a cryptic messages share something
Poetry breaks a heart of the reader and leaves them wondering how
A cryptic message does the same
Except the reader wonders and considers if it really is meant for them...
Or someone else
A cryptic message holds so much power
And the truth that the author refuses to share
A poem takes an idea and allows its roots to grow in an infinite way that creates a stir in the readers mind

So really, a poem is just like a cryptic message.
aviisevil Nov 2015
I will burn this land to a grave and make
an idol in the hollow of the hallow
shadow, a crow, a cow,  pharaohs.

men on fire and women on spikes, children smiling and casting a storm across the sky,
flooding heaven in a whisper as water begins to pour from the eye to wither.

ashes dance to the winds, swirling and screaming through the smoke only to be cursed and burned, choked without a Phoenix to dream, I will swallow this dusk for a dawn as if I was never born, to mourn my own.

chiseled earth traversed, traveled, levelled, to make way for a travern that follows the winter through the mighty mountains, a fountain that shows one who seeks a face as it fades into the skin of its reflections affection.

skeletons crushed beneath the weight of bricks and stones, seeds sown, meat grown to feed the hunger of a stranger with no home,
claws and knives kept in the belly of a slave wandering in the midst of a cage, a cave with no escape.

slitting the sunlight and offering it to a red morning forming bright halo against the dark surface, a maze, ablaze with the hurried footprints of a sage that turned into a monster and made the cursed cry, a lie, to die for.

illusion of a delusion, evoltuing into a revolting fanatic staring at satanic verses carved on cryptic, epileptic, metallic claws of death.

words eaten by dust as it rust, sprinkling age on the old, cold, sold for a dream that mints insects clinging to the heart of its host, a ghost at most,
a soul to the least, a feast for the diseased
as they keep the ones who would weep in a coffin to sleep.

forming circles in thin air, a mare, a layer of filth emerging from an ocean of bodies floating in the images young and gory,
they will tell you a story and i wouldn't believe me.

in the wake of morrow, swallow the yester tears immersed in the black hue of the lingering silence, violence will crown another king, to sing and bring, wearing skin to hide the monster he became in the blessing of an idol, a crow, a cow, pharaohs.
Kagey Sage Oct 2015
My new medium
the Sanskrit pen
that makes my words widen
I wish the upstairs was more silent
I'm afraid of waking them
I return from the carriage quarters
where I blew off smoke
sending quick wisps through rings
and I closed the six doors of the four chambers
to arrange an exorcism
The smoke must dissolve
in only haunted rooms
and not reach the vents of elders or newborns
cause they'll certainly frighten
thinking demons abound
Numb as the ******, depersonalized
but realizing it (wanting it)?
What's my name?
I won't tell
but if you know it
could you say it aloud?
I swear someday I'll know myself
ConnectHook Sep 2015
find less than arresting: stilted musings gem-set

in ardent verbiage.

recherché semantics, florid phrases facing a withering sun

or policing of metaphor –

until handcuffed: Italic jewel thief caught on surveillance

Sudden bewildering

                                        spaces with odd punctuation;  ?  &

inward dithering semi-confessions in serpentine

verse.  Badder (or worse)  annoying line

           breaks /

cloying internal half – rhymes,

overwrought.     Over-edited;

over-thought until  you want to see

what’s on TV instead.        As if

the poet’s every random musing was so

essential.  Reverential semi-precious mythos

(Siren’s distant waves echo, shipwrecked rocks: Ossifer,  ossifer

it’s only boring poetry…

                        I’m so sorry. I’ll never do it)

again.
Poetry revival !!

DEATH to boring free verse !!!

Rhythm & rhyme in a structured line !!

YEAH baby...

Evan Robbins Aug 2015
A question I have to ask
Have I always smiled like this?
I have never felt so comfortable
Just happy to exist
Now you tell me there's a reason
A reason for your frown
Well darling I'd pick up everything
And just get the **** out of this town
Let's just run away
Start brand new
**** all these *******
Baby it's just me and you

But you don't even know me
At least not yet
Smiling with you
Was the least of my regrets
You claim to see my face
But I couldn't place the bet


I've seen so many folks coming in out of my life
But the second I met you was the second I started to fight
For better things
For happier days
For smiling for myself
For being awake
aviisevil Jun 2015
mister wick had a secret
that was too wicked to be told
master win lived in winter
with a heart so cold
mister wick burned himself
with words bought and sold
many springs have come and gone
win has become old
magician had the sea of seasons
wizard his wizardry
war never warrants a pardon
for a legend legendary
magic for a tragic clock
a cloth for a face to hide
when he killed the winter
his grin was grim and wide
the secret was cold then
words had lost a tongue
the other king was dead and
the heart was still young
another winter to howl for
now that his dear is dead
the lone king wears a crown
on winters wicked head
as snow begins to fall again
Notes (optional)
Rhianecdote Apr 2015
Time to hand the deck back
Before Alice in Wonderland
Becomes Malice in Blunderland
The looking glass cracks
And there's no passage back.

Sat at Life's table
Night after Night goes aRound
And you're Unable to leave.
Coulda drawn the Ace
But got sidetracked by the Joker
With your Inability
to pass up possibility
And it Leaves you looking in the mirror
At this fool that you see
The fool that you are
As you fall so easily
For this game
Who's only aim
Is to breed
losers to please
Those who have already won
With ease
Been Established for centuries
And now you're indebted
to this Society.

It Leaves you
Staring At the innocent face
You strive to disgrace
Even though it hurts you
And The sincerity
aids in your
Despair at he
That puts Gold before Good
Though it makes sense
Alphabetically
He who wages happiness
On the back of money
Will eventually sight
Looking glass Or not
*That the price is not right.
I look at our Society and how it just encourages and perpetuates the wrong type of gambling and risk taking in life and it makes me sick.
Justin G Jan 2015
I have a confession to make
And it won't be clear  
Or even wise for that matter  
But I was there  

My eyes saw what they saw
I knew they would tear    
And I swore it nothing new  
But no one was near

I saw what I saw
but now I am here
And yet I still wonder
If I'm ever really here  

I guess the skies
were never as clear
At least In this disguise
I am *sincere
There are places in life where I think everyone goes too once in while, but it's the lessons we learn from those places that makes it all worthwhile. Right?

Thank you TGWLY for creating this exciting challenge. It helped me tap into something I haven't felt in quite sometime. Much gratitude.
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