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N E Waters Jan 30
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.
Felicity Paris Oct 2020
summer aches and whines
when heavy blades press against its neck
it's foul; fair game

summer dies, decays, desecrates
suddenly, summer is seasonal;
less tangible than Hell had ever seemed
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!
IPM Feb 2019
My bones are turning
dry,
       breaking,
on the silver rope.
My flesh decaying
dry,
       cells,
blackened dirt.
Foul meat
drops,
        beneath,
the hounds hungered long.
nja Feb 2019
Recoil. And recoil fast.
She was of simple taste so He shattered her veiny lungs with his spit almost effortlessly.
Under his weight she was stunted, her limbs frozen by the constant of his blarring audioporn.
At every touch she had to brace herself for his embrace.
nja Jan 2019
He tasted dry,
When licked with sour spit.
His scent was foul.
Broad hands rejected
Curling feet.
Met by scowling eyes,
He criticised me with love.
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