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Vexren4000 Oct 20
Payback for payment,
Petty paltry peril,
Primrose periwinkle petite girls,
Petting potbellied pigs,
Petrol pounding in pistons,
Pending papers piling up,
Pens polling poll takers,
Petty paltry penance,
Paid by the piper.
For a piece of peace.

©BAS
Taylor Ganger Oct 13
Oh, what a brilliant man!
I love everything about him
I wish that were me
But it could never be
Because
Because
Well I don't really know

I just don't feel free
Free to feel my soul
We've lost touch

And I feel terrible
Because
I haven't been looking
And I know it's been wondering
When I would come around

And now that I'm being smothered
And my vision is going out
I can only unleash
A pathetic shout

A cry for help
To my lost love

And I deserve to be lost myself
My echoes should go unheard
Because
Because
I know I've ignored
Those cries for help

And let them fade
Luiz Oct 7
Ominous bells ring with fury tonight
under a moon passed a fourth sleepless dawn
red eyes follow cloaked in shadows a light
as knees penanced all sins he foregone spawn

guilt riddled ghosts embrace him with sorrows
the king’s calling to his **** to come home
he rebelled! battled to dawn tomorrow
ghosts demand justice scream from the skydome

spirits tighten defeat til he's guilt free
sins of past paid as wrist with blade, he slays!
light floats aloft over, *** his decree
red floor fades as he goes into a daze

comes to in E.R., *** refused his doom
borrowed time to pay more owed sorrows soon


Luiz (paying the ****) Syphre
Copyright 2018
James Khan Oct 6
i./

To life, that old preponderance of pain
Where moments lost are never found again
And memories like cemetery tombs
Lay hidden deep in time's sepulchral ****,

What life is this, forever looking back,  
Lamenting colours fading grey to black?
A somber song, a sigh on every breath,  
Beseeching *** to grant the prize of death,

But what of poignant pictures, highs and lows,
Of each embittered thorn and fragrant rose
The mind has sensed and stored in snapshot frames?
Nostalgia fades but still the bulb remains,

To life! -  and all the chronicles of thought
That haunt so often now that time draws short,

ii./

To death, the slippered larcenist of life,
The harvestman with silver scales and scythe
To flail the soul and weigh the deeds of Man,  
I fear your touch as only sinners can,

A scar upon my spirit speaks of pride
Where love or something clawed before it died,
Repentance gave no suture to the wound
That love or something like it left, impugned,

The names of faith are lost inside a glass,
I praise for morning, noon and midnight Mass
And so, the stark indifference of days
Becomes a blurred and misanthropic haze,  

To death! -  I say, please take my tortured soul
For **** can be no worse an empty hole.
Shakespearean Sonnet form.
Sage Oct 3
I am still sorry
More than yesterday
Have not washed my hair because
it still smells like the last night we shared
together in your bed
I cannot wrap my head around it yet
James Khan Sep 23
hood and a tracksuit
a sign that a man is fit
for no good purpose
Taylor Ganger Sep 18
Sometimes I don't know
What's going on
It brings me to my knees
To the sand
And there are so many
Grains
Between my fingers

I remember a friend
Who cut his foot on glass
And how I felt
Seeing that ****** cut
Dripping and so
Full of sand
Morgan Spiers Sep 17
to pluck each petal
off of a rose
             leaves
                  only
                        the
                            thorns.

i refuse
to w
        i
          t
            h
              e
                r
                                                    
                                                   away.

no matter the
                              drought-
no matter the
                              little light i receive-
no matter how
                              strong the wind that
                                                          blows.

i will
   fix
my roots in Your soil.

i will
   quench
my thirst in Your grace.

i will
   become
a garden
   in
        the
              desert.

no matter the
                                circumstances
i am bound
to   b l o o m
with You
as
the gardener.
Jack L Martin Sep 13
Imitation is NOT
the best form of flattery
when the imitator
gets credit for the idea.
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