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Top notch legal scholar Erin Go Braw
     (less concerned about being fair versus
     abominable, irrevocable, and execrable
     unforgivable oversight most holy "M" & *****)

cabinet of high priests,
     sans spelling chieftains ready to claw
your person to bits,
     and they presage remote clemency

     which decision told, when Jeff Sessions
     decides final punishment to draw
now, (see excerpted lines
     visited with glaring flaw

"Benediction For Lord Apple Macintosh"
     where ...bot sized wetbacks, setbacks,
     and drawbacks, required a secret char),...
     intimates a "hee haw"

and rock'm n sock'm pull no punches
     square at yar triangular jaw
YES, on account misspelling,
     whence Grammarian Jude Law

at the least aims (to topple a prospective
     title of eminence grise), banning access
     to such undeserved
     catbird seat, sans Rhetorical perch

laughing while ja plaintively call for maw
**** Oxford English Dictionary - but naw
can do, and hence paw
mister trumpeting

     "FAKE" wordsmith raw
flesh will turn into....
unreadable print until closing text
that elaborates how holiness felt vexed.

To ye (a freshly minted scalawag),
     these 20/20 eyes bulged agog
while steaming with invective
     at what attempted

     to pass as sacred poetic blog
when thee (Matthew Scott Harris),
     now pronounced, an illiterate,
     immoderate, and inveterate å!@#$%∑

with a severe cerebral clog
(meaning prefrontal lobotomy
     not out of the question),
      you m~r mangy whelp of a she dog
     (my humble apologies to canines),

less deserving than being
     whipped near death's doorstep flog
after henchmen (strongly
     resembling Alaskan BullWorms
     guarding this royal hutch,
     herein Cupertino, California.
Colm Jun 2018
Quiet is the honest whisper
When all the distractions are at an end

When your head hits the pillow
Your heart hits your ribs
And your mind's eye opens
To these inevitable ends

How we seek to wear ourselves so thin
How we think the future is better than
This present moment known to you

But the quiet whisper knows no lie
The honest whisper knows the truth
From the Sleepless Feet collection.

And I'm not commenting on depression here. This one is about the frailty of humanity. About the inadequacy of human works which are devoid of the Lords blessing. Because all we do that's for ourselves, will hold no worth beyond this world.
POSSIBLE May 2018
1.  I still see lightning
Through the fog.
I still see crosses
When I close my eyes
So many lost

2.  When my Eyes  are open
I see the Hurt the Broken
the Time spent Unspoken

3.  The Cracks                          Grand canyon size.
Missiles fired with abandon because there was no plan.
Mutually assured destruction

4.  Borne By a Single  Thought
Doubt.
When it's presence graces our minds
Faith finds It hard to Spark Through.

5.  Or Does it?
We cannot park in neutral every time the stop signs cross our path.
Peddling back and Forth When Swirling Bright Red anger Darkness to wrath.

6.  I wade through the RIVER OF SOULS
being drained by time and torment.

7.  But its worth it for you and it always will be.
You are my salvation and example.
Made bright by comparison to this Darkest Night.

8.  And with Hard work and Love....
Maybe we can save each other.
8 steps
Colm May 2018
When his shoulders turn and all hope is falling, like an iron on steel, like the rain in May. There will be no tomorrow for the us which was, for the walk which couldn't be kept away.
This is a favorite of mine. Not a hopeless verse about breaking up. But an honest omission about how all things which are meant to end, simply will. It may not be in our time or our way, but we all live and learn for the next day.
Nayana Nair Apr 2018
Stay right beside me.
Stay till I fall asleep.
Once my eyes have given up,
on seeing the world for what it is
and failing each time.
When my hold on your fingers
loosens breath by breath.
When I finally fall asleep.
Let me dream of a love for us
that hurts little less.
Live the life that I dream of.
Even if I am not there.
Nayana Nair Mar 2018
My dear,

Our hands muddied with smaller crimes
and greater guilts,
are the only hands that we have
to hold each other.
Our faults make up this love
is the only love that
can survive the deaths
of our hope and trust in each other.
Nayana Nair Mar 2018
The silence wrapping our words
was not born out of a deed or two.
Or out of lack of love.
We didn’t wake up one day
and began feeling alone.
The day we held hands,
we felt the alienation
that only love can bring.
No great love can
change what we were.
Where the plains of our own
lives and its insecurities met
there we see a crack,
to remind us everyday
that we never fit with each other.
this own lee bro' thar of yars
   dashed analogously graced
on par how a marathon runner raced
to Macbook Pro laptop computer post haste

soon as he goat back
   to his domicile nestled and encased
in the bucolic, democratic,
   and fantastic spit non defaced

woodland partially hydrogenated oils baste
surrounding Highland Manor Apartment our ace
in the hole, whence he i.e. mice elf
   (Matty Mouse) with threads of gratitude laced

within a feeble attempt
   to burble, cobble, fiddle, easy as gravy,
   an insrutable letter placed
in the output queue

   soon as all
   the typo O graphical errors erased
and, though struggle to convey love
   for such an endearing older sister,

   which digitally squawking,
   aye did not cut and paste
boot doth admit to allowing,
   a saucy bit of small potatoes sayest

   in ma trademark (truemark)
   stuffing of fluffernutter (that taste)
G---R---R---E---E---A---A---T
   (courtesy of flaky Tony the corny tiger),
   which gimmerish aims to waste

juiced spare moments,
   and tubby direct, earnest and frank
lemme communicate without resorting
   to caginess,

   but free roaming thoughts to thank
ye and Rich for welcoming a small group
   of family and friends
   to your Woodbury, New Jersey abode,
  
   somewhat near Redbank
to relish the salad days of times gone by,
   when as kids,
   we tricked each other with a harmless prank

such as hiding a fuzzy wuzzy Willie,
   or scaring the other
   with the molded Creepy People that doth rank
as laughably innocent, these topsy turvy times,

   when faith no more
   eroded cameraderie
   among fellow Americans to tank
especially as the world wide web

   iz going to fill in the BLANK
thus moments to share
   a tasty repast did help me to crank
out this artichoked gibberish,
   which when placed
   atop pyramid of cranberries sank.
  
as didst this heart of darkness
   within soul asylum
   of papa and momma genes
to two beautiful young women
   re: daughters, whose absence

   felt as gloomy fiends
similar to the Ogre encountered,
   when goose that laid golden egg stolen
   by Jack of beanstalk
   of story book fame as a cash cow means.
Colm Nov 2017
Some days are the sun
Some days are the moon
And some days are the stars which burn out in-between
*shrug*
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