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Electric forest glowing
Frogs sitting in the trees
Croaking in the mist
Smiling hungrily
Wrestling with branches
Wetland flies abuzz
Sensing the arrival
Of modern cannibals
Nature cycles on
Irreversibly
A chain of leftovers
Can be counted on
Piles of dead batteries
Can’t tell past from future
In the neon fog
Among the living dead
Seeking out
A new path
Nava 4d
There is no separation
Only six degrees
Of heart connection
An electric sea
Of condensation
erin 4d
you ask me what makes my girl so special.
don't you know
that she is the eye of the storm?
a love poem about my girlfriend.
Sara Kellie May 12
With leather clad hands
and old plastic sheets
he makes up the reasons
for the people he meets.

They'll feel nothing's wrong
for he sings a sweet song
where false promises are made
with a smile from a blade.

And on a cold knife night
he'll extinguish their light
as they struggle for air,
for their pain
is longer than
the chair.
For seconds in the electric chair.
Eliana Moody May 8
Sparks coursing through hallways
Lighting paths that dim fast-
A message on a wire
Bent out of shape.

When a piece of paper is folded
The lines don't disappear
Just because the paper
Is pressed flat again.

Like wrinkles in sheets
These wires can not be
Pressed flat
Into smooth lines.

How many times
Can a fragile thing drop
Before its sensitive parts
Knock loose?

Your electric brain is
Permanently wrinkled,
Eternally bent,
Yet it sparks on.

Let it light the hallways
Of a quiet house-
Messages not received
Through beautiful bends.
Ken Pepiton May 7
take an itch, wait
scratch it,
did the itch ax fo d scritch or was that

you

voice in the head of the ehearer

radio, maybe so
maybe so
Frank Zappa, or
Emily Dickenson
or Suzie Creamcheese,

only her words reamain, yet
remain
mainly in my head a phrase

it seems, a phase shift
maybe so

electric trickery, I don't know

can you hear me now, is there reason?
is reason being
reasoned with?

Are we, reasoning together,
and you know not
is it me, it is

maybe so. May is thy word,
in this phase of
your moon

fuzzy light croissant logo,
Batman or is that a cross, and a rho?
Chi Rho praxis nexus Latin lying
demnation time wastin'

funny books, retelling stories
as if it's true, as if
I heard it, I told it, as I read it,
believing every word.

Classic Illustrated.

What good does that do you?
I confess,
Professor, I don't know

if, right or wrong, ification is
done by me or mere
fictional
May, the power, given a go.
I could say. May is my word, now.

May my best wish be,
the quest is,
good beyond reason,
doing that phase shift

electional trick to May,
seasonal reason
for unbridled joy.

Tending, pretending, trending
means more to AI than I.
May I make the difference?
Say I may.
May is your word now.
Worthy of a read, for what reads are worth. What can I say? May is a time word, for a tamer time, a phase relation relying on a tilt toward summer depending on my attitude. Perhaps
It's a fire that she can't, won't deny
no matter how hard, she wants or she tries
eyes that connect, in low lighted rooms
a spark gone dynamic, it burns, it consumes
her body betrays her, betraying him too
a ****** tango, electric
and blue

They dance every dance, a fiery romance
his feel on her leg, her scent on his pants
eyes that sparkle and twinkle in heat
maybe chance fleeting, the odds have been beat
she'll take him to places, they've both never been
electric, and blue
again and
again
Yup, minds there this morn, again LOL
shatteredpoet Apr 13
we are electric charges
pushing and pulling
back and forth
back and forth
back and forth
traveling through
the endless current
of love and hate
we are two charges, trying to meet in this swirl of energy.
Kayla Hardy Mar 18
How can I, a source of such exuberant energy, look so startled?
Black, sunken eyes with a wide, gaping mouth that can **** you, but also bring things to life.
Hunched against the wall, I pale in comparison to the pretty polka-dot paint,
just a hard, blank shell covered in dirt, grime, and dust.
Come to me only when time is on the line, with forceful, shaking hands.
to fill my deep, dark void with a surge of passion,
only to abandon me for hours at a time, while I exert all my energy just to bring you joy.
I hum and buzz until you rip away my nutrients until I’m ****** and drained,
with my surprised expression returning to one of electrifying horror.
But still, I’m the lucky one to give you a glowing light, always full, to destroy the darkness.
I’m not one that gets lost in dusty shadows that might never be found,
who sits in silence, with that shocked face, waiting to find out his powerful purpose.
Prompt: Write a portrait of someone or something no one else pays any attention to.
Rowan S Jan 30
Electricity
My flesh hums in anticipation
I'm completely
Losing
My mind
Literally shaking
My intelligence goes
Out the window
Very
Very
Quickly
Until all that remains
Is the desire
    for
        your skin
            on
                mine.
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