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Rosie Toes Nov 2020
to learn to
enjoy the unknown
rather than to
fear it
next, reality
Michael Luciano Nov 2020
I started dreaming then I couldn't stop. I was awakened to the cruel plot. Sounding crazy coined as a crackpot. Tried to hold it in but I could not.
Spill the beans watch the heads roll. Dump all the bodies into a big hole. Storm the hill and burn the structure. Ravish these power driven mother *******.
Steak a claim upon my last will.
Take all the money to the landfill.
I will not be your walking puppet.
I break your rules because I love it
Renée Brookes Jun 2020
I am of the past,
the present, and the future;
reminiscent reflections of incomplete potential.
Never satisfied with the present,
I seek a brighter image.
A confident black woman fulfilled.
Ken Pepiton May 2020
Just in case

What if Eve, as an easy lable for YMRCA, were

the first wombed man with wit to make her will known,
vocally?

What if she could sing, and smile, wink and
blink and look away,

coy, from the crib.

She steals, so'ld say the tales, her daddy's heart, but not so fast

this is, say 120 KYA, as current model mortals mark time
since most recent common mom... walked balanced, upright...
I bet she could dance and sing... but
some reason or another, now

no offspring of any mom alive when YMRCA walked, walks now.

Not upright, ya sher... maybe eve was the only wombed man.

What if, any of that, but this is a strue as we may know...

all construed facts point to life being
struely
not as simple as a boom... though there are ways to end it,
as we say we well know,

we've seen the cancers... mental deranging during mind wandering,

we have heard the stories,
Hydes who remained,

but only Post-mortal Marvel has myths where Hyde is the happy side.

Silly, I would love to have friends.
But no stupid people, none un willing to use a word of the day
to escape a bout of ignorant rage

-- Brubeck, Sonny... yeah like the Sundance Kid's prison flick,
-- but Sonny was a first gen Jesus Freak,
with one of those, at will, eididic memory's.
He also owned the first digital watch I ever saw. I thought he was rich.

In a rage, Sonny once screamed in my hearing,

GOD WHY MUST THERE BE OTHER PEOPLE?

as orderly types were taking him, strapped to gurney,
to Camarillo State Hospital,
a truly beautiful place for solitary rememberence
of everything
you ever said or did. Like, the window of your soul

become the big screen, with no body projected there...

all around me everyone is not there...

then I see, I guess, this is a way that prayer was remembered as

Sonny slowly rose to re
ify a present with other people in it, but masked.
Toying with madness.
neth jones Apr 2019
I want to understand human purpose ;
The doubtless impaired devotions that deviate from
‘The Human Idea’
There’s something ‘recovered’ that persists in each life
yet
in each life
it is usually
quashed habitually
These purposes are mused from off of the makings of our lives
and
when applied
can become true
unearthed work
a driven propulsion
a ‘*******’ or offering to the ‘Creator Idea’
a truth of an individual view
or
at least
some sort of an approximation.
be-no-one Mar 2019
Your hunger grows
a flame fanned
by desire
An instable voice
in your head
No sleep ,restless
Never present
running to stay a few
steps ahead
The more you see,you know
the praise is cheap
it doesn't translate
But now you've begun
they're watching
Prove it ! Prove it!
Burn it down.
Allyssa Jan 2019
While you stuff my throat with your words,
I still have you wrapped around my pinky.
For you are rendered under the power of my lips,
The slight touch of my tongue on your neck,
The will of every man held between my legs.
You shake,
You grab at me,
You moan my name and yet,
You think you have your power.
As I lay with you,
Your soul slips into perdition,
Your eyes beg for mercy,
My fingers trace down your abdomen and leave marks behind.
My pet tiger,
You have earned your stripes and in my keep, you stay.
You buckle under the pressure of my whimpers and whispers,
The scrunch of my face while you hold my body beneath yours,
Our foreheads pressed together in pleasure.
My love,
You cannot leave me.
For I have your own will used against you.
Lust was my power move and you fall for it every time.
Hillary B Apr 2018
being driven off a cliff isn’t too bad
other than the cold breeze
and that song that ended too soon
the butterflies even eventually fade
but man, let me tell you about the view
clouds danced with the horizon
the setting sun peaked through
Bob Ross would’ve envied my last adieu

sea gulls hovering
waves crashed over dunes
ocean mist floating freely
my head was stuck on stupid ****
bills unpaid
plants unwatered
I wondered what you’d assume

You'd search for something rational
Maybe a faulty barricade
or a curve that I hit too soon
positive I had been a little reckless
in fact those are partially true
I don’t know how to tell you
the real answer was you
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