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Joy Apr 2020
Jimmy was tripping.
This morning was a while ago.
Last night was a few days back.
Today was Tuesday
and Monday was last week.
He remembered what happened
a few weeks ago last Friday.
And March seemed to be
the longest month he's had here.
February was sometime last year,
January was as far off as WW2
And December was as old as Rome.

This evening seems like a hazy plan,
and tomorrow was too far into the future,
Jimmy's mind wasn't spacious enough
to store lines as big as next week.
He couldn't make out the words on TV
they've got his eyes unfocused,
but even through the fog,
he couldn't understand
and at the same time not understand
the news.

He wasn't on drugs.
But his mind was messed up.
He'd been in lock down,
four weeks now,
barely did he leave the house,
or make out what time had passed.
This was his only safe way out.
Escapril day 7
I did, I went to my spot, going against my plan.
I can also say that I don’t regret it in the less.
I can do what I want, as it's my daily routine.
I make the rules, so I can add new ones as well.
I also made sure to set my alarm for 5:30pm.
I’m watching WWE Money In The Bank tonight.
I’m gonna be watching it with my dad.
I almost forgot to do this entry, actually.
I got caught up in studying my Japanese cards.
I made FlashCards for all the Hiragana words.
I’m going set by set, that’s how my brain works.
I got the first half of the first set of cards done.
I mean, I think I do, and that’s really good!
I’m learning because WWE Asuka is Japanese.
I wanna know what she says, so I’m learning.
I’m a huge fan, as my dad could tell you.
I'm wearing her socks in case she’s on MITB!
I can say that today is going very well, also.
I still love the daily routine, and will keep it.
I’m gonna get back to my Japanese now.
I’ll talk to you again tomorrow afternoon, bye!
I’m really enjoying this a lot!
ms reluctance Apr 2018
Silky vanilla custard
(fluffier than clouds)
sweetened ever so slightly,
topped with wafer-thin
layer of hot, crisp
caramel.
Crack!
Poetry form: Epulaeryu
Cana Feb 2018
A silly little wobble
A subtle little flavour
A saucy little topping
A sultry little dessert
takitak Dec 2015
Planted here,
     you grow amidst,
     this urban landscape
     you're forced to exist

Oh how sad I am for you,
     sad that you'll never know
     the world outside,
     this bustling, busy metro

Because you're planted here,
     you're forced to inhale
     the toxic fumes and worse—
     someone even pees on you!

And yet, you're still here
     doing nothing but growing
     in an island between two roads
     growing strong in your humble abode
Day 7- Take a walk until you find a tree you identify with, then write a poem using the tree as a metaphor for yourself or your life.

~~~
Alicia Apr 2015
I looked for temporary satisfation when your love
was absent. I understand it may be selfish of me
but waiting for its return is like waiting for the last
autumn leaf to make way to the earth -- the beauty
of summer fades, and Mother Nature loses her youth
as the arms that reach the heavens slowly die.

Truthfully, one could not forget intimate kisses shared
in silence, and the voice that has resonated in the mind
as the sweetest lullaby. If only it was possible to find joy
within the pain. Although laughing at such misery could
ease a weary heart, the perfect love still has too strong of
a hold to let go of the affection it has received.
No audio.
Twitter: @the_monAlicia
CH Gorrie Apr 2015
for Oscar Wilde

If only love came easy.
Once exposed to its removal, its terror, the heart grows queasy.
How hard it can be
To know loving's unlovely
Side: The caught breath once the curtain falls,
Deadened sanctity when recent calls
Turn against self-esteem.
"Was it just a dream?";
"Was it a rue,
Temporary?"; "Was it true?"
Questions amount to nothing.
Answers only seem like bluffing.
I want to love you,
But I know the drill: Two,
Then one. One's pain *is
expectation,
One's guilt is association.
"Life is short—let them care";
I wait...I dream...I stare...
Poem for day 7 of National Poetry Month.
Ottar Apr 2015
money is not my mistress

though she could be if,

she spent … more than time with me,

understand my pockets of

resistance have holes, weak

am I, over strong, this is a

lack of discretion that has led

me to this place, where those

on all the wreck tangles,

won’t look me face to face,

so take it to the bank

so take it to the vault

so I can be within Gestalt

so I can for the moment

in the moment be richer

than before I am poorer

by one so… experienced.
Prompt today was a rich one, however it bankrupted me to write it, so  I  cashed out, liquidated, and am looking for a likeable receiver.

— The End —