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himangshu Jul 2021
he waltz in the room
she waited for him
she was a harlot;
he was her redemption.
The memories have not yet passed
away, into an area I’ll forget. Awaiting
a time I feel fine, awaiting, always
waiting. Conscious that is no right
way to live. I’ll die anyway.
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCgZCmCJJoCVwq2M3GH8VzLQ
Eros Jun 2021
Depression was gained
Brains were strained
As we enter the game,
We knew it couldn’t be the same

We were supposed to be anew
But we all knew
School is only a prison
Even though we listen

We have finally risen
Speaking about the feelings
Like the red roses
Blooming in the fields
Causing healings

School has been causing friction
So I use fiction,
To stop a restriction
So I wouldn’t let the tears glisten

As school ends,
I hope for a happier time
But I can get in line
As I’m not the only one
Who has been inflicted
And restricted
This is about my experience this year with school along with my general thoughts on school.Also is for a school project.
GraciexJones Jun 2021
She inhales a huge chunk of the chemically bitter white gram,
Shouts 'I said GOD DAAAAMNMM! GODANM' in the woman’s toilet,
The women snare at her and she beams a grin as she wipes her nostrils clean,
She strolls back to the same uncomfortable silence she had originally left,
A man with a face like a slapped *** and small crabby eyes stares at her,  
He lights a cigarette and continues to ask her questions about Mr Wallace,
She angelically takes a sip out of her £5 dollar milkshake,
An announcement storms the room “JACK RABBIT TWIST CONTEST”
She glares at him with an excited smug expression,
The man profusely refuses,
She pulls at the chance and says “I want to dance, and I want to win a trophy”

She centres the room with her bold presence,
Introduces herself and the man to the audience,
Chucky Berry 'You never can tell' dawns the room,
She strikes a mixture of aristocrats dance poses,
He follows along whilst wiggling his legs and arms,
She twirls and moves closer to him,
She spins and rocks the swimmer move,
Thrusting her chest towards him,
He drops into the mash-potato dance
She shakes her *** and struts her feet,
He jiggles into faster swings and sways his hips,
Captivated by her flow and energy,
She becomes entranced by his charisma,
The two intwine like a wreath of flowers,
She devours him with her blood shot eyes


The song comes to an end,
The crowd roar with excitement,
She beams at him with pride,
He shyly smiles and bows down with Mia Wallace
Carlo C Gomez May 2021
~
The disruptor,
whether digital or analog,
strikes the bell,

bioengineered automaton
—a manufactured life form
given little agency or dimension,

mnemonic to the finitude of life,
and subtle muddling of humankind's
supposed moral transcendence.

~
Randy Johnson Apr 2021
I'm an ex-prizefighter and my name is Glass Joe.
If you're wondering if I could win fights, the answer is no.
I got my *** kicked by a shrimp and his name is Little Mac.
I got knocked out in the first round when that boy attacked.
I'm called Glass Joe because my jaw is made of glass.
It was humiliating because anybody could kick my ***.
People laugh at my losses and it's something I resent.
I happen to be Glass Joe Biden and I'm the President.
I run America but I sure can't take a punch.
If you hit me in my stomach, I'll lose my lunch.
I lied to everybody when I said that I came from France.
I got *** whippings in the ring, I never stood a chance.
Even old women could knock me out and I'm not a fighter anymore.
If Americans learn that I lost ninety-nine fights, I won't win in 2024.
This poem was inspired by the Punch-Out video game
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