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leechyna Apr 24
I miss my childhood
Just as how
I will miss my teen and youthfulness
When I get old
Waiting for unkown small kids call me grandpa
Pat their heads
And remind them, how my younger days we only had lantern

Will they believe,when I tel them I attended Jesus birth and death in one year😅😅😅
leechyna Apr 1
Town doesn't smile back anymore
Tough would be the word,
Clowny it seems.
All we do,
Is fighting back

Where are you fighting your destiny from ?**😂😂
Isaac Nov 2021
tattoos on my neck but should be your lips instead
tattoos on my neck but should be your hands instead
I want every part of me, enmeshed in you
the sun kisses my back as she creeps up behind the hill
shedding light on the aftermath of drunken thrills
I miss the blaze of the blunt and the bass in the club
relinquish my demons as we are talking it up
do you like my eyes that's where they hide?
do you like my thighs wanna try them tonight?
because tattoos on my neck but should be your lips instead
You told me your stories, your past to present, but today lead us to another dimension.

I wasn't there when you dealt with your demons, but now you have me so let's be fair.

You told me you were an alcoholic drunk, with no self luck, ambition or love for life. I never judged you and understood your story.

But now it's time to deplete your new mission.
You left without a say
You parted your lips to the bottled glass and began your sipping.
Waited 8 hours wondering where you were, and it sure felt like forever.

When you came back to me, you told me what happened, but you had a new demon inside you, growing like I never seen before.
You hurt my feelings, because you lied to my face, but I guess that's what happens when you're dealing with the addictions you must really face.

No more you said, You don't like the taste, your stomach hurts but now again you repeat the same mistakes from many years before.

I try to help, frustrated I' am, sad I' am, crying I' am, but you do not care, you're emotionless, because to you, I' am the mean one.

What is it I must do, you tell me to dump you, but meanwhile you tell me you love me, so what is it?

confusion, haste, anger, malice,
you left within a clip of air once again,
because after our talk, you had to disappear from the truth, the bitter cold truth that bit your tongue like a scared cat in the middle of a dark alley way.

I cannot forgive you, not yet, not now, prove yourself first to me and then we will see...
Sad from being lied to and 2 faced by my man, but I guess addiction is starting again.
Ken Pepiton Dec 2020
Who did you imagine,
when I appeared?
Words and nothing more,
more than you
imagined
much less than you have hoped,
had forethought been your reason
to be.

----
Look,
it is 2020, gnoshit, we are the beings involved

in revolution re
defined,
turn, turn, turn, there is a time
for ever in seasons of ifery
wished in comics

Red Sonya, eh, a Marvel Archetype,
or a thought,
a notion, or a gumption to appear as real,
an angel,

a word to the wise.
Stay alive, don't **** the buzz.
Watching comix on Hulu, drinking Thanksgiven leftover maagueeriTAS
Tiled Walls
Body Sore
Memories from the night before

Bathtub
***** stains
Bruises on your throat are a dead give away

Empty bottles
****** wrapper
You were sure before but full of regret after

Bathroom
Past noon
Time to put your mask on and face the news
waking up in the bathroom after a drunken one night stand
god
must have been
drunk
when he decided to create you
it's the only explanation
for
your
vile
existence
the explanation for your existence
Maria Mitea Sep 2020
Rain is washing its tears
from your longing promises
with the spray of the sea
vanishing on ***** winds.

Rain is washing its tears
from your salty kisses
with cuddly shadowy trees
and thirsty green leaves.

Rain is washing its tears
from your sweet words
with poetic unvoiced verses
drunken by unknown love.

Rain is washing its tears
from your burning pain
with the rays of the sun
drops’smile in flowers beds.
leechyna Jun 2020
There they are
Drinking their sorrows
Some taking beers
They can't bear
Calling themselves single
Behind them lies flawless breakups
Afraid to be in love
Torn to  halves
Hope in heaven they won't be single
I hate carrying drunken masters home
Nat Lipstadt Jun 2020
read his stuff
https://hellopoetry.com/r-2/

n.b. nowadays I write here only in praise of others,
as the rewards are far greater than any of the meager
stuff I got  laying around.

a poem for his summer soul-stice
<>


self-confessed to the priest, we us, both, meeting
in the confess-******, wee needy for a solid projectile
purging, me, cause, I’m a plagiarist of inspiration

**** it every time a ce r tain poet writes,
its a sock to my multi faceted square sided~head,
discoloring my eye shadow, my maskara crazy running,
frustration, admiration, mortar and pestle pounded

into a white powder of unadulterated adultery with a
frothy topping of a jealousy muse laughing face, at me,
cappuccino made from bitter herbs and pink sea salt.

in eight lines the man accomplishes
what would take me eight, eight full
poems, even then, not coming close

still failing to retake his brevity skills,
his summer solstice way of seeing,
by keeping the dark away,
by inviting the dark in,
making it under duress,
spill the beans of his life’s
ironies, some hellish,
some not, all well kept,
in Georgia granite stoney face.

the softest steeling of words that irritates
me into a fine frenzy... what’s the use,
point made, in how he undresses
the eyes
into just outright gasping,

and that is the only
permissible comment emoji.


______

r

Her verse
I need to taste the salt
of her soliloquy
be drunk on the sobriety
of her verse
those words she writes
behind my eyelids
makes me want
to crawl inside her skin
and listen to her heartbeat.
https://hellopoetry.com/r-2/

*************

Postscript:
as a poet, knee’d & head bent, asking you Lord,
would it have soiled a vast eternal plan,
to throw some kosher salt, on mes écrits,

let a soliloquy make my case, my summer
soul-on-ice, hangover from the drunken sobriety
that stays, retained, the sense of loss remains
long after he has left my screen, and I’m

wondering if he gets him poems from that
old yellow dog, if true, no fair, but o.k., I’ll
take it right, any way, I can, **** it. and you.
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