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KHY Nov 24
my fingers are laced in a chalice
of drugs that **** my sensations.
i used to resist them as a loner—
until the white coat angel
ignited my fouls with
radio-**** tweaking.

now i sprawl in expiring
fictions that come anew
and reprint their additives;
making me a king
of numbers, of colours,
of game.

until my world is all
mold and brain.
Do not 
Use foul language. 
It is not good to hear. 
Speak something wonderful that is
pleasant
Which brings joy to its possessor 
Enlightens ones goodness 
And character 
Always
Ephesians 4:29
foul weather friends creep in with the clouds
misery keeps company on the inside looking out
    “i’d pull all the teeth from your open mouth
before i’d ever let you frown”
it's all gore from here on out
heavensent friends descend from the clouds
hiding fangs behind kind hands
you can hardly hide your smiles
    “i’d rather see the frown torn from your mouth,
than ever think i’d let you down”
friends from above, keeping me from looking up
i can’t ever be like them if i don’t learn to stomach blood
    “you could be happy, smiling with all your teeth -
but then why would you need me?”
Jeremy Betts Feb 15
It's true, I usually don't know what to do
What if I'm not around long enough to follow through?
Never know if my way or the highway is the right way
What did that sign say?
Will it be possible to recognize this impending last day
Even if just a day before it's referred to as "Ah shiit, is that today?"
This is foul,
Where do I go and what do I do now?
And just because I know what to do doesn't mean I'll comprehend the how
Who in their right mind could stand here and say they could handle the architecture and atmosphere of so many types of conflicting fear?
Who's the stranger with the black soul looking back at me in the mirror?
I wish it was clearer
But there's never a gene around ever
Take note that not every question has a viable answer
While some answers only raise more questions after filtering through questionable ******* banter
That's why there's a little manic in the laughter
And a wave of panic soon after

©2024
N E Waters Jan 2021
Run aground
play real foul
you say I'm the ***** dame
beneath your ***** scowl
Oh, a soldier of fortune you are not

Oh, the circles you swim
to believe anything
make icy waters
boiling hot

Oh, you like to say you're in the know
a little girl in a grown man's closet
waiting for the sun to get low

you might say you're superstitions
but you never learned the mythos
Halloween is over,
Now go on home and
rattle your bones and tell Teddy
why you sleep alone
Lie alone with your lies, child
The audience is gone

Give yourself whatever performance you need
to explain away all your misdeeds, but
9/10 lifeboats can't be wrong

(maybe you stared too long)

You say I am the morning
I might just be just your morning

But even if it's what you don't like

I will always be his night.
Mark Toney Aug 2020
He can curse up a storm
make a sailor blush
Foul blue language
spewed out in a gush
Could strip paint clean
off a battleship
Exponentially worse if
you give him any lip
Rambling in sincerity's guise
but his worst 4-letter words
are all his LIES




© 2020 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
8/15/2020 - Poetry form: Rhyme - My poem was partially inspired by a phrase I would hear from time to time as I was growing up. “He’s a ***** mouth and he needs to have it cleaned out with soap!” I can assure you the repeated uttering of that phrase wasn’t directed towards me as it took only one time to put me on the straight and narrow ;) - © 2020 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
K Balachandran Feb 2020
Sky was clear, deep blue,
When a jet plane passed through;
Aesthetically foul!
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