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I sat at my dad's bedside as he squirmed and moaned in pain,
It hurt me to see him like that,
I prayed the whole night.
Then early hours of the morning
his countenance  changed,
He looked at peace,
Were my prayers answered?
Was my father recovering?
He smiled broadly looking at me lovingly,
"Dear the Angel Of Death has come,
HE says my place for breakfast at the table with God is ready,
It's  beautiful dear."
And breathed his last.
stopdoopy Nov 2018
There she goes

Girls file into line
Three by three
Knee length skirts

Down the aisle

Tell me yours and I'll tell you mine
Prayers morning, noon, and night
Careful now, They're prepared to smite

Up the Stairs

Now we dine
And then off to bed
One "lucky" girl gets to practice head

The tallest tower

She's had too much sacramental wine
Hands touched and caressed
And she felt far from blessed

Down she jumps

Touched by filthy swine
"what a horrible disaster"
Her eulogy given by that same pastor

The Devil moves on
Bryce Aug 2018
In the linoleum dungeon
Sparkling swiffer creature
Squirts the floor
Calls polyphemic odors

And the crazy stench of allspice
Biting lime and draconian breath
Burning the nostril coins
Copper shield bending the cilia
Oven mitts plastered with narcotic grease and decomposing meals
Of yesteryear
She speaks between steaming inspirations


Exhale the fire

It's'a hotta pasta lasagna
As the helicopters flap their handy rotories
Fast fractal birds
In circumfereferential motion
Cool down our mouths
Ice cubes in the juice
Plop a shot of gin
With that silly child's grin

And the room slowly cants
Begins to spin
As we laugh at the spots we cannot

Staring at the stellar mountain chains
Thrusted stone
Busted metal
Stabbing up into the sky

Where is the home beyond the horizon
Where we ate good meals
Not made alone
With parental guidance
As the days were stolen
By the erosive time
That spinning wheel


It's deep in us now
And the cells metastasized
That heaven is hell.
Shadow Dragon Apr 2018
The leftovers are laying on the plate,
it’s almost Half past eight.
The Fork and knife knightley laid,
on the tablecloth casting a shade.

On the plate there has been left a trace,
of the food from a chinese take out place.
Beneath the table a red stiletto heel,
that is probably all he can feel.

Slowly raising the glass of wine,
it’s a die and dine.
Glairying on the silver reflection,
how about he is shown a little affection.

The black hair in his eyes.
He is a human so centralized.
But once he loses focus on what is happening,
he will feel his whole life blackening.
Benjamin Rohrer Jan 2018
the sun
the sun
praise the sun
dance in the moonlight
the devil called me his son
the girl
the girl
she controls the world
because she is my girl
we dine
we dine
sun and moon clash
on humans
we dine
When I wake up in the morning,
I have rocks in my eyes that'll put your rings to shame.
I'm not the daintiest of women
I square my shoulders up and try to brace myself for the fall whenever I wear four inch heels or higher
I like t-shirts and sweatshirts with sassy and cool logos
Comic strip socks and cufflinks catch my attention before any dress would
I'm not perfect.
My hair is not always combed and I've never heard of another woman who has intense OCD but is at the same time extremely unorganized.
I'm a walking contradiction, an enigma to say the least.
I can eat brownies but react to cake.
My breath doesn's smell like apple pie in the morning and my pajamas consist of boxers and shirts three times my size.
I have a slight lisp when I speak and a face that refuses to soften even when I'm happy.
No I'm not mad, I'm good..
Thats just how my face is.
I don't believe in promises made by people because i've witnessed more broken ones than those fulfilled.
I'd rather let my yes be my yes and my no, a solid no.
I have a soul so old I could've kept your greatgrandma company and yet a spirit so young you'd think I was five again.
I've yet to find the balance.
I don't catch people's eyes the first or second time but I heard third times the charm.
I'm simply Geraldine.
I snort when I laugh and **** in my sleep
And at times I burp out the alphabet.
I'm just me.
Some days I'm sweet and on other days insane.
I break my own heart at times before anyone else gets to it
But one thing's for sure is that I am fearfully and wonderfully made
And my flaws are a thing of beauty to the heart meant to love me...
for me
Rosie Dee Aug 2016
When you
Fine Wine
But when you
Fine Wine
Must be
Just a silly little poem in dedication to my wine loving friends, with some inspiration from the likes of Dr. Seuss
Sombro Jan 2016
We all deserve to have our story to brag about
We all are just trying to stumble through this human fever,

Hush now, ignorant blessing
Float forward, a smoky charcoal dream
So that we may one day,
Eat our visions.

Let the whole world dine!
A new years poem, stringing together little lines I'd saved. Have a disjointed New Year.
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