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Ken Pepiton Jul 9
____
To wish dementia on anyone, one
must have some sense of the state,

mindless, or careless, must one choose
at entry, as the power on self test clicks ok
the idea
that we are in some
sorted form, some charicature of our kind,

we mortal thoughts, of the worthiest sorts,
science and religion and the arts, with
little time for developing technique,

the instant the amusement stops,
bemusement proceeds to untwist the plot,

for we are poets, are we not
bound,
by many vows we each must make, to here
the court of last resort, the literal last card,

in such games as have clear winning outcomes.
What were odds when we flipped this side to that...
Karijinbba Nov 2021
You in your wait,
me and in mine,
we've brought to a halt
our whole LIFE for awhile
your garden sprouted new seeds
I don't want to live nor die
without you
You've gone willow on me
I blame only me
Hear my plee and re-appear
bless me ágain babe
Pick me up from this dessert land
where only evil passes by to steal
my last portion of bread.
my last earned dime.
I am homeless near your
gold mine and frozen wind
turbines
in your power bless me.
Please fortune maker
build me an abode.
  Save me from this homeless
exiled purgatory.
I've paid for my mistakes
I am only human spare me.
~~~~~~~~~~
Karijinbba
https://youtu.be/7dtjpC6Oyrw

need your help need you be my friend. 1678-517-5066
loving you only you eternally bless me only you can stop my slippery slide you got power to stop it help me please
Raven Feels Sep 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, put old lines from different pieces and call it a poem:>


when fantasy is an exile from reality
our souls glide not exist
when the insensible is reasoned insensibly
our feelings become the blood flow itself on vessels knit

when we our found in a breathless surrounding somehow
our breathes are meaningful and we are blessed in
love on earth is some of what we imagined now
if we didn't find it on it we would have invented it

for the happiness is a factor
and the hope is hopeless without a smell of grace
so surreal of how the other's presence excludes the sad chapter
words on red cheeks become to faint in pace

the place empty on a canvas is painted
and the dark finds the light it never knew
after tongue pauses the say acquainted
to speak in stares that fill up the silence's hue

but fair is not fair for a reason
thoughts muffled like an invisible bottle of wine
the heart wins to a self mind treason
and the pearl burdens the ago better than a dime


                                                                                   -------ravenfeels
Raven Feels Apr 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, why does it seem like we abandon the other planets?:)


threatened on the nights

on the skeptic luxuries they ignite

other insecurities come to highlight

abandoning wants of dark carries that were once in hindsight

not sure if marvelous from the precious of the might hopes tied

clouds of mutual Venuses or Mercurys to collide

on backgrounds of relate of lonely to define

styling a vintage glass of polished wines

not a drink but the dime

not a dime but the inside


                                                                                  -------ravenfeels
Poetic T Jun 2020
You weren't vertical with your rhyme,
na brov you weren't a stand alone dime.
Throwing it in the air and landing face down,
  you now horizontal laughable like a clown.


But we ain't here to watch you blow up,
more like deflate, claiming this was a set up.
Tripping over your words like a stuttering
      F.. ***… k you... and there's ya muttering...

No one follows you, more like your wife walking
out on the embarrassment, **** blocking
you as she got an itch that wasn't seven years,
more like size matters and yours were in arrears.

Look I don't want to put you down, I want to hit
you so hard you feel it in the next life. Llease quit
cos you haven't got what it takes to spit lyrics
you have dry mouth, your words are you own critics.
Sketcher Jul 2019
There was a man that sang in rhyme,
Every time he found a dime,
But by the time that he found nine,
He’d forget how to rhyme,
Then go back in time to rhyme,
Until he found another nine.
mjad Mar 2019
I don't like mustaches and you remembered
You kept it till last December
When you knew you'd see me one last time
You dropped out of highschool for an extra dime
My friends say you're not good for me
And I understand
A dropout and the girl with the principal as her biggest fan
But I live for the moments we have together
From Subway dates to running home in bad weather
My friends don't get how happy I am
How I understand that you aren't a good guy, but not a bad man
You have a warrant out for your arrest
But I sometimes fail my tests
We all have our bad things, we regret and don't flaunt
But you are not one of mine, and I'm of yours I hope not
A bad analogy I understand, but take a moment to see what you can
He's a sweetheart and a charmer for sure
But he loves me for me and that's pure
I dont get guys like that much if at all these days
And I know he means good intentions in all of his ways
As bad as they may be
And my friends remind me
We mustn't judge a book from the cover
Simple as can be
Colm Dec 2018
On a dime it turns
Vertical and sharper than any knife
Falling to one side
Suddenly
And the next thing you know
You’re not there anymore
In life
This is about sudden change and the shift in perspective. How quickly things turn on this human earth. Like finding songs, changing directions and the like. Some things just pop up out of the nothingness of the unexpected life. Why? Why did you choose? Why did you try? Or not... Just because. LOL.
Jo Barber May 2018
Poems are so fine.
I do them all the time,
sell 'em for a dime.
Such pretty, pretty rhymes.
A writer's block exercise.
SassyJ Mar 2016
Stock them high was the order of the day
In queues one by one, they flock shops
A social warehouse of common sales
Slashed home events, buy one get one

On a balcony I sip Chai Latte swiftly
Masses line up on spotlight street path
Each drawn in enterprises of expenditure
A dime for a good, a rhyme to amass more

Coloured triangle on the forehead illuminates
A third eye, a seer pry, mood eased to try
Our eyes meet and my tiled notebook melt
Sing my heart don't protest,soul free to sate

We lost in narrowed jungles strolling multiples
Outer casts giggling, deep withering multiplex
Pasted blocks of concrete as loneliness replies
A vice subtle, an automated paradigm in demise
Thanks J for a lovely day out, my soul is free to sate. I had a triangular pyramid on my forehead and you never questioned my spontaneity. I couldn't quite explain to people what the painted triangle on my forehead was, they really cannot understand..... I tried to be understood.Live life...Love Art....***
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