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Poetic T Apr 2021
We had a shelf life,
an existence that we
        played like a broken

fiddle, out of tune...

But now every string is either
          broken, worn beyond its
reproductive rhythm.

Were not creating  vibrant
        versions.

Just broken, collages that
are just not a complexity

        more a diluted, infertile

copy
        broken and substituted

never to be the real thing..

humanity is just a fading shadow,
    fading under the unrelenting

sun of reality....
Elsie Greek Apr 2020
sleep, we sleep,
we would sleep on it
to make some of life
decisions,
like buying or not,
flying there tomorrow
or keeping still and alive,
somehow.
I know, right?
such collisions,
trying to process it first,
then to sleep on it,
but all I get is diluted
insomnia.
Poetic T Mar 2017
The sting of my verses will sew the woeful indiscretions
of what got curb bounced on the beat or the worst vocals
that you rhymed incoherently that were
                                                     collected in lyrical a doggy bag.

I will not fall on a sword of those that ignore my verse
that fall on the page, do you know why I write in diverse
motions? Do you know my demons the voices that verse
inwards on the white of my skull? my reflections reverse.

The sting of my verses will sew the woeful indiscretions
of what got curb bounced on the beat or the worst vocals
that you rhymed incoherently that were
                                                     collected in lyrical a doggy bag.

But excrement can be rhymed in free verse, I'm doing this
for me but I don't linger to impress! I word for my emotions
are a hurricane and I'm the eye calm but I swim in the abyss.

The sting of my verses will sew the woeful indiscretions
of what got curb bounced on the beat or the worst vocals
that you rhymed incoherently that were
                                                     collected in lyrical a doggy bag.

I'm vocalized to those that don't sniff the arses of poor vocals
linger on excellence not the excrement of poorly woven yokels.
Lyrics of verse are meant to move not stagnate silently,
they are meant to be lyrics that move the emotion violently.

*"Weave the best version of you, not the diluted verse,
Poetic T Oct 2016
The undercurrent always weaving,  
massaging upon the shores of each other.
degrading upon the other, so subtle in its whispers
upon the others embankment.

Thinking that with exploitation it is rendering it
susceptible to its whims.
But as light becomes more obscure, feathers of
impure tears collect eroded in impaired hues.

Two become indifferent to what was, but what lingered
for so long was now not as either had envisioned.
Diluted upon the verges of their joining, neither
now singular but an amalgamation of neither each became.

As each crested upon the others being, becoming less of
what they were and what was an eventuality. These feathers
of diluted halves would give flight to another born of neither
but both. the paradox of what was earned neither would exist.

"We wish to repeat ourselves on others,
*"Only to find the refection wasn't our true observation of our self,

— The End —