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Still Crazy Aug 2017
My body

disembodied step by step,
no disambiguation
or neutral observers
to go oy
or shush or protest

disunited piece by piece,
arms disarmed,
legs lanced and amputated,

yet he/she lives on,
chest and head,
and doesn't protest,
or angry curse fate

someone staunches
the ****** words,
the ****** tenants
of the boastful remnants
cry out

beaten you
in every way
as long as chest beats
and tip of tongue

I am more than whole
I am undefeated,
nor is ended silence,  a white flag of surrender,
my words live on...
written in 2014
Nicolegy Jul 2017
she doesn't have a lover
but her heart is full of treasure
by the people who cares for her
and just like that, for her it was more than enough.
yes, its been a while
Wordsinalign Apr 2017
The quaintness of a bar in the heart of my city breathes an air of charming, old-fashioned walls, it echoes of the days and night I sat there drinking my gin and tonic pouring my words onto pieces of paper or into hearts.. it reminds me that modern life is convenient but the quaintness of certain walls never die!
George Krokos Feb 2016
God is really so much more than we have ever imagined
yet it’s within His imagination we’ve all been fashioned.
From "Simple Observations" ongoing writings since the early '90's.
Jude kyrie Jan 2016
An Old Fashioned Break Up

When love's last words are spoken…. Cherie.
When tender hearts are broken…. Cherie.
Now our dream of love  is far away
Now lost in the mist of yesterday.
When love's last kiss has faded …..Cherie
When loving hearts are jaded ….Cherie
Once love blossomed
with the bright moon
Now it  plays  a sad tune for me.
Now my heart is broken …..Cherie
when love's last words are spoken…. Cherie
when love's last words are spoken…. Cherie*

Based upon a beautiful Melody written in 1934
Cesare A Bixio (m) Bruce Sievier (l) 1934
Now that's the way to say goodbye
Jaime Nautte Jun 2015
A room filled with smoke and drink and
knives in pockets. A man in a grey suit
sits at the bar and lights a cigar.  

He can smell violence in the air here. Metallic and
sickly sweet. He grins with anticipation and orders
a drink. Old Fashioned.

A short time later in a room filled with smoke
and blood and knives gripped in dead hands,
a man in a red suit laughs softly and sips an
Old Fashioned.
Grace Jordan May 2015
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Basically I'm saying, babe, you're hot.  You know its funny, I adore Shakespeare but i could not handle writing like him. All proper and British and modern... I'm too old fashioned for his tastes.

Let's think about it. Shakespeare was a progressive of his days; making words, analogies, that are timeless to this day.

What am I using?

Old tricks of the old writers to quell my taste for old art. Gods knows I describe everything as if I were Dickens, all elongated and profoundly bloated in the most beautiful and adoring way.

But back to where I was. You.

This sonnet is for you. I did promise one this night, did I not? In my head I did, at least. Oh dear, this'll be a surprise in the morning. But at least it is a surprise just for you.

I at least hinted of a sonnet, a sonnet for you, telling of you and our love and how it makes me feel. So here we must go.

You are the moonshine to my midnight, the angel to my demons.

Too much? I dare say, it must be, you have simply gone giddy with giggles. Perhaps a different route should be approached.

If I were a murderess, which in all heart-related actuality I am, I will give this fair promise that in all my running around and cutting out hearts, that yours will simply be those one I keep closest to mine.

Alas, too dark? Oh, my love, but there must be some way to express my doting! Be in not in a dark sonnet, or an adoring sonnet, perhaps a comedic one?

There were two things I was certain of. One, that he was a vampire, and two, that I was irrevocably attracted to him.

Oh, perhaps too comedic. Perhaps too unkind. Perhaps a bit too much paraphrasing. But I digress. Anything I can do to please you, my dearest one? Anyway I can express how I feel without making you laugh, or giggle, or simply chuckle at me?

It cannot be as simple, as you say. It cannot be as easy as holding you close and whispering in your ear how much I love you. Can it?

Well I promise, then, that I will spend my nights whispering towards you my affections, and holding you tight until you can stand my embrace no more. Will that suffice?

Oh, I love you.

And I suppose that's the best way to put it.
Carley Jul 2014
Call me
old fashioned
But knives are for
cutting boards
And exposed thighs are for
This isn't meant to be offensive to anyone.
O dear Morpheus, for thy rest be no disturbance in thee?
For thy sole ideas be neither order nor structure in flow?
Fear I sense for thy sacrèd inmost sanctum closes its eye.
This is a Sijo that I wrote one morning after having trouble sleeping. Its language is mostly influenced by William Shakespeare (hence the grave accent).


© Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude

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