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Try Dec 2018
you can't game & watch the clock,
that's how you lose another stock,
she run away with your cash,
its a smash and dash,
over in a flash,
at least you still got to tap dat ***,
sitting back puffin da herb,
think how its so absurd
that 69 be the cap
in smash,
that's the ultimate smash,
****** innuendo
right in front of your face,
hurry up and get your fix,
that taste,
that glaze all over her face,
yeah.

© Try
for all those who are enjoying Super Smash bro Ultimate
(strike while the iron's hot,
else...up prize cold hard steel Goldfinger
rewind: the following case in point).

Believe me you (stranger out there
along the information super highway),
perhaps feeling comfortably numb,
which I (personally experiencing futility)

vainly searching for Nirvana) attest
to be more appealing that flounder
(like a Phish out of roe jeers waters),
this Pink Floyd wannabe (actually live

ving an absurd existence as an A1 Deep Purple
People eater among a Band of *******)
oft times doth Abandon All Hope, when
this close (a hare's breath - imagined

by thumb and index finger nearly touching)
pinching that elusive Golden Silence),
when in the throes (up raised hands
signifying Abhorrent success) hopelessly

striving to summon forth a measly poetic
creation only to Rage Against The Machine
(Ablaze In Hatred) horridly glomming fruit
less endeavor, (a far cry approximating A

Blue Ocean Dream) extremely at wits end tide
feeling the painful impact re: classic mind
paralysis vis a vis Abnormyndeffect (whereat
most diagnoses an Abomination at best,

(strongly resembling, and easily mistaken
for gingerly feigning good knight two step
A BoogieWit da Hoodie), thus mental health
specialists advocate best ditch writer's block

as an Aborted effort gone south (by About a Mile),
yea...Just Above The Golden State (The Ruins),
when...with a whoosh A Canticle for Leibowitz
manifests and Jethro Tull appears waving a

magic wand while issuing Abracadabra birthing
from out The Breach of Silence inspiration met
with immediate backlogged literary juices, and
sudden Abrogation viz A Broken Silence, where

what appeared as a budding **** fantastically
heralded breakout New York Times best seller
collapses into a Uriah Heap of absentmindedness
twisting within psychic wind Abysmal Grief pain

full Acceptance of Absolute Zero literary talent
with strong considerations for an Accidental
Suicide Usher red via shocking the body electric
with maximum AC/DC self selected Act of Violence

deadening this once Acute Mind eve vent chilly Beck
conning Adam and the Ants, the Addiction Crew, and
most Petty full Heartbreaker i.e. A Death in the Family
unexpectedly engendering A Different Breed of Killers

who (Like the House of The Rising Sun nemesis),
essentially a Phoenix villa fied Gorgon Twisted Sister
faintly resembling a cross between Golgotha, Adolescents,
and Adonis, when...Who should appear A Dozen Furies

hence fomenting A Dream Too Late, Adultery admonished
by an Adult Mom with a doctorate in Advanced Chemistry,
and physiology of A Few Good Men inexplicably trans
forming into A Flock of Seagulls After Dusk matter of

fact After Forever leaving an Afterglow Against Time,
a veritable Air Supply ample enough to solve every
Algebra problem posed by Alice Cooper easy enough
to solve by average Alleycats, Stray Cats and Also Eden.

I hope you enjoyed Altered Images (ideally while in an
Altered State) Among the Oak and Ash during A Month
of Somedays assigning Amorphous Androgynous (A Pale
Horse Named Death) naysaying A Positive Life!
DaSH the Hopeful Nov 2017
I etched patterns into a tree with a pocket knife that had a red plastic handle
            Indentions such as these never stay
            Yet eternally we press against the world

        Hoping to make a mark that will shine in the daylight and glow in the dark
                    
~

           I'm a shriveled slice of the Americana pie
      With my soul on a swivel and the devil in my eyes


       Life was a son of a ***** with fists that spat dirt when it spoke
                And it ONLY screamed.
        
        
~

   I'm somewhere between *David Duchovny
and Stephen King
      And I'm trying to rip up manuscripts that I didn't write and I don't know who did.

      
Goodnight America. My patterns will explain my existence more than I ever could.
Intellectual stimulation* from a twisted mind
Bringing life to the *insanity
I tried to hide
Cracking whips to break the chains, feeling death drip from my veins
Pouring poison down the drain from infections inside
Chasing rumors through the sewers, lost in tunnels of depravity; God's the only viewer but this show's not quite reality
Gravity scraped knuckles with me all the way down
A brute stuck in a boot loop asking me to drown
These restarts after crashes turned my synapses to ashes
Now I can't feel the rats in my cyber cerebral casket
Dead in the head and strapped into my bed
I dug at my wrists until I saw red
The doctors applauded at everything the gauze did
It still couldnt stop it *so on it bled
This life has become more than I ever wanted it to be and the future looks even more hopeful as far as I can see.
It's like shooting stars in your eyes,
I could make a wish on you all day.
Your pupils have a comfort only found in my dreams
and the space behind is a galaxy of time
           I'd gladly get lost in.
In essence, your eyes are my infinity.
An endless pool of peace and love that I was so graciously born into,
     have happily lived through
          and will peacefully die in.
Your eyes smoulder with an imagination that is even bolder than I could have dreamed and colder than this toxic air we've been forced to breathe.

You write poetry across your face to form a Gas mask of rythym, blocking out the hate yet sealing in ideas that might frustrate you.

You hear the birds in the trees and you read the articles in every magazine, you take in information like the bees to the Queen.

Your thoughts radiate an aura surrounding your entire body, you bleed history and pop culture facts, you need the written word like an addict needs their cigarette packs.

You're empathetic to your core, you feel what everyone else does so you hide yourself in your mind until you can categorize the emotions from the lies.

I know you can feel the love in your heart even through all the cracks, like a weathered and torn apart roadmap but you're taped together perfectly and even with a few wrong turns you always find your way back to me.
Sharde' Fultz Mar 2017
Ill go Stacey Dash on you
Blastin you
Actin like my daddy ain't black
Attackin You
With these alternative facts
Hate the "fake news"
So I can fool wypipo into havin ME on they team
Low self esteem has made me green with envy for the machine
There's no in between
I don't support you
I hate your black support groups
Why don't you just pull YOURself up
By YOUR bootstraps while I deport you
Cause I'll resort to a white face
And paint my own race
As lame
My claim to fame
Clueless
To the truth
I Maintain this
Self-hate
My lips stay lyin' through my tooths
I don't mind being their puppet
Long as they keep my noose loose

"As If" -Sharde' Fultz 3.2.17
Just Melz Feb 2017
I wanna hold your hand all night

I wanna kiss you until I melt into your very soul

I wanna undress you with my eyes until the image of your perfection is embedded in my memory

I wanna be in your arms until I can feel nothing but you and the darkness that surrounds us becomes all we know

I wanna make love to you until the sun rises on us and we're blinded by sweat and high off the fire that sparks every time we touch

I wanna fall asleep in your embrace, secure in the knowledge that I am loved.

I wanna wake up next to you until...

Forever.

I wanna be with you until...

Eternity.
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