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Doris Oct 2017
The beast and the fool the star of the game ready, set, pay to rid the toxic, to live without restrain.

Done, done and over the jesters eyes big and older, standing still The fool knowing the order. Clever, quiet, listening Patiently ready to wait.

The jester knew this tired game and playfully asked the beast to come down the hall, she used her magic and made him crawl,

The beast down on all fours, rolling around, his back up and face down making himself happy reciting the lyrics of the jesters sound.

The beast roared as he helped himself the jester silence watching in disbelief how selfish his lies, how deep his deceit.

The jester let the beast show her door as he thought he had won once more… The jester took a leap as she needed him to think…

1. Sweet and all fun.
2. He wanted to eat, say anything to get his treat
3. Stuffed, full and cold: tired from his chore then his anger would start to bore.

Click, click, click. One. Two. Three.

The plan fell into place, the jester watched the motion repetitive like waves of the ocean. Predictable as the morning sun.

Now the joker was ready to run. Her eyes filled with tears, The beast set the joker free as if came up with the idea all alone.

The jester was thought to be the fool, playing the games, anything to please, Her words did not matter, as she was his joke
She watched the beasts face beam full and bright to dark and hidden like a moon on a crisp October night.

She started the count down knowing the steps of what would come next and the fool clever in all of her jest.

Shocked at how easy it was to predict, the spell drifted over like the clock struck twevle the beast turned cold making sure he had the power to behold.

Repeating his roar over and over again. The jester continued to run, away so fast, grabbing everything to never look back.

She rid anything that had his mark knowing the beast never consume her space as he knew his doomed lonely fate.
She runs so far away. She did not come to play.

She came to put an end to all, letting him do. So easy to push her so far away using her rules the beast did totally play.

She runs so hard, so fast, so far. She never ever Will he used for tricks and treats for this **** boy beast has had his last feast.
Cassius Oct 2017
In foolishness I live
As I know not where I head
Nor how I shall get there

On the heels of grace I follow
Yet tomorrow no one knows
Where we will be at the time

The hour for which we search
Is a road less searched for by most
And can tame the mind to ease

On the heels of the hour
As roads combine with kindness, grace, and enthusiasm
We witness a journeys end

epicly, epic
Kathryne Oct 2017
i miss your tender touches
down my curves
caressing the small of my back
i miss your sweet kisses
on my neck
i miss holding your hand
and hugging your heart
i miss everything about you
i am a fool
for ever letting you go
G Rog Rogers Sep 2017
-The Village Idiot
  (Stupid Is)

You've heard it said;
Stupid is as Stupid does
But really now
Stupid is as Stupid
keeps doing

Ignorant ways
and idiot thoughts
Act the fool 'cause
that's all you are

I'd tell you to
get up and go
but you already
got up and went

Another fools errand
for which you have
so foolishly been sent

The village idiot
The county fool
What is the problem
Didn't we send you
to school?

We've heard it said;
Stupid is as Stupid does
But really now
Stupid is as Stupid
always has.

-R.
(9.26.17)
-LA
Meant to be humorous
with minimal animus.

©2017
Brent Kincaid Sep 2017
On twitter, he's the twit,
And he does it without wit.
His twits aren’t worth a ****,
But still he just won’t quit.
He’s such an outrageous ***;
An obviously halfwitted twit
Whose lightbulb isn’t quite lit
So spoiled, he doesn’t know it.

He constantly throws late night fits
And calls all of his betters twits.
Seems to have a case of mental zits.
We really want to kick him where he sits.
He never found education a good fit,
To him, being rich is as good as it gets.
He argues based on just tats for ****
He hoards every dime he gets in his mitts.

He thinks his taste is the Ritz
But it’s much more like the pits,
Made up like some madame’s kit.
Always the tackiest kind of glitz.
But any place this fat pig sits
Soon is covered with gaudy bits
Like some fairy tale ogre ditz.

Chronic insomnia must be the pits
Early morning hours, there he sits
Posting on the internet, collecting hits
Driving the Liberals out of their wits.
His ideas are the absolute pits
Even though copied by Brits
And they give sane people fits;
A lot like living through The Blitz.
Lexie Sep 2017
I lose all that I hold most dear
So I dare not even touch you
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