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Shofi Ahmed Jul 2018
I wanted to walk
along the earth
on this great shore.

But before long
it dips in the sea
into the ocean.

It's not a problem
I see is a ******
still has the cloths on!
index finger of left hand
     (likened to Michelangelo
meticulously chiseling away
     at marble block), this poe
whit attempts to coax (zealously
     tap into his latent indivisible quo
shunt, sans self imposed

     quotidian literary endeavor slow
lee witnessing, an emergent
     reasonably satisfactory, though
hooping unbeknownst readers
     (perchance even a scribe from Yugo
Slav via) will only resort
     to lard out positive unsolicited feedback,

yet this scrivener well aware
bluntness evokes
     fulfillment loud and clear
inflating jowly machismo thru ether
narcissist quintessential rabid glare
     unpretentious vain warbling yakking

     zither plucking boastful demonstrably
     fatuous haughtily immodest luminaire
dismissively smug,
     sans literary endeavor aye share
thus, tis one objective when attempting
     to corral rampant thoughts,

     (that charge hither and yon, to and fro)
     at pace of greased lightening tear
chasing hash-tagged elusive
     Smokey and the Bandit
imp posse sub bull
     back to the future of 1977 year  

temporarily abandoning awoke
motive, i.e. initial challenge,
     viz going for broke
to sweat blood and tears
     digging deep within noggin, or choke
myself if merely draw blanks

     versus (beginners blind luck), and evoke
accolades accidentally
     tapping into creative
     (qua literary) mother lode
     joining belle lettres authored folk,
whose metier comprises compendium

     of alphabetized words
     receiving surprising windfall
     asper pig in a poke,
novel idea after nostrils emit smoke
the amazing dragon
     within (sol fully bellows)  
     finding me to feign taking a smoke

aware fame and fortune,
     where a written best seller brings renown
can essentially only be verbalized
     as a pipe dream from this clown,
who best **** sitter
     living hard scrapple

     (scrabble playing) hand to mouth shuffling
     along (the littered boulevard
     of rejection slips)
     wearing out one after
     another of me buster brown

shoes, perhaps posthumously
     gleaning raving reviews,
where famous names
     amidst cadre (espousing
     wife fours smiting
     social injustices extant loose

zing potential harmonic convergence,
     whether gentiles or Jews
throughout all foursquare corners
     of the world wide web
an economic eclectic diaspora,
     where underbelly of civilization
     pay heaviest ****** dues!
Gabriel burnS Jan 2017
Dip
The heart, the warmest sea;
night dives in
chasing dreams,
then suddenly
the day has come ashore;
a smile crawls blissfully
and parts the waves
to reach the sun
to ask for more
of the same
exchange of warmth
Tony Luxton Apr 2016
Vast lists of names at cenotaphs
on crosses, in columns of newspapers,
inscribed by those who lived, for those
I never knew so can't remember.

Reduced to uniform remains,
some named 'Soldier of the Great War'.
A greatness in numbers lost,
lives wrecked - measures of excess.

November flags dip, bands march,
standing to mark with silence
violence done to those unknown to them.
Some lament more recent deaths.

The piety of war.
jerelii Aug 2015
Overflowing the chemical reaction to it's combination.


The sweetest recipe;

Sugar, filled with recharging honey of love
surreal to my mouth,
tastes so good.

Marshmallow, dipped with chocolates, and the everlasting hope will.

Vanilla ice cream, dipped with feelings, extending the soft bubble pop to the intestine.
Feeling alive again, contentment keep it.
just tryna write something new!

Jerelii
Copyright
September 1, 2015
Tuesday (6:59 am)
Mike T Aug 2014
Fire of your scent,
(one, two, step, three, four, step, dip)
eating at my soul

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