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Zywa Mar 2023
Be responsible,

and legitimise nothing --


with a nice story.
The romantic illusion of folk culture and folklife studies

"Het Bureau - Afgang" ("The Office - Failure", 2000, Han Voskuil), page 188

Collection "Not too bad [1974-1989]"
Unpolished Ink Dec 2022
A harp that needs no fingers
no hand to pluck the strings
it speaks of love’s betrayal
and ****** when it sings
the stone had been left alone
to trek in search of a pool
that when a child offered the stone a floatie
the stone turned down the offer  
to drown
in the “stone’s special pool”
maybe the insecurity/pride/resentment
adding a extra ton or two
When I started hitting the gym, I had no trainer, friends and what not. Today I laughed how flustered I was when this other gentleman came up to me to give me advice.
Alan S Bailey Jun 2020
A million words, a million thoughts,
We've all been here writing till the end of time.
What new ones may have been brought?
It's all I can think of, did something happen?
Am I still original or am I out of line?

"Soon-to-be-victorious" you start the  song,
A dirge of memories past, till the very last.
The rhythm sounds like 'other time folk music,'
Played to an *****-like effect,
I guess you would be able to out-do my
Eccentric best.

Keep playing that well worn traditional back-days song!
You know I was here to **** you down all  along...
piper m Apr 2020
My baby
I don't want your leftover time.
Although I am sad that you are no longer mine,
You don't know what you want, babe
And I think that's alright.
But I know that I'm worth more than your leftover time.
Derrek Estrella Mar 2020
There is a beauty, I must confess
In the roll of her eyes
She is an all-encompassing baroness
In ill disguise
There is something behind her charred lips
That I do wish to hold
But when she sharpens her lilac fingertips
I simply lose my soul

Sat still by the fire, she seemed to me
Sadly contrary to eternity
She speaks with words that one cannot teach
Her gaze beckoned me to reach

She walks to me on scalpels
I cannot deny her
She drowns my tongue
In the sound of lyres
Her name, Her name
Her name, Her name
Her name, Her name
Her name

Escapes my mouth
Through no fault of mine
She cannot be held
In the interest of time
Her age will never show too clear
When her hood falls down
The sun will kneel
There will be no sound
But her spinning heel
This conquest, so severe
Her teeth lash out like mirrors
I held her hand in fear

As she types away all of her rights
She keeps ******* tied
When she asked me to call her Eurydice
I politely declined
She threw a fleeting fit that died with a kiss
From me unto her hand
Then she said, “how could you throw away all this bliss?”
I couldn’t understand
She snapped her toes, the room bellowed
I quickly shrivelled in brilliant fright
Her nest of pearly hair swallowed me
Then she fell out of sight

The lady stood behind me
In a dress of pins
She smiled and swayed
I never saw her again
Her name, Her name
Her name, Her name
Her name, Her name
Her name

Escapes my mouth
Through no fault of mine
She cannot be held
In the interest of time
Her face will never show too clear
When her hood falls down
The sun will kneel
There will be no sound
Nor pain to feel
Her footsteps, so severe
As the pangs of her toes echo clear
I run, for I know she’s near
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