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iamtheavatar Jun 2014
Your* and you're,
their and they're,
its and it's.
***!

**iamthe_avatar ©2014
Austin B May 2014
I wonder what you would write,
If you had the inclination to dissipate such woes.
What would be on your paper?
What if my persisting persistence and boastful amount of
hyperbolic word arrangements could be yours?
I would love to read your writes and write your wrongs,
Hopefully your wrongs are just writes
And not a totality of havoc carefully spaced between blue lines,
Whilst chaotic linguistics tend to rise from a certain muse
I guess what I'm saying is,
That I am curious to visually participate in a what seems to be
Something near impossible.
Unless you are me and I am you.
Then my job is complete and I can happily say,
Its not half bad.
Kvothe May 2014
Words,
they have some arcane power, the
ability of adjectives to steer our mind subjectively.
The presence of nouns, now, they'll denote something of note,
could be a cookie, a concept, a cart, a coat. Of course
there's pronouns abound to substitute these nouns,
from her to him, and from me to you;
it's pronouns that make a sentence feel new. Now
we musn't forget the versatile verb, the essence of to do,
verbing verb is quite absurd though possible, it's true. But how to
enhance the explanation of an action, for example if I'm acting,
who's to say it's great or lacking,
well that's an adverbs job to do.
And...
We can't forget the connective.
Designed for spoken word
I came across something convicting the other day
Something extremely relevant to our lives today


Jesus wouldn't judge them for their typos and bad grammar and spelling mistakes, and neither should I.
Pete Badertscher Apr 2014
Meeting someone,
someone that strikes my fancy,
I take my soul out of my pocket--
expecting them to do the same.

My soul,
like origami that has been folded and refolded,
is worn at the edges and moth eaten,
has burns and scorch marks,
alcohol and coffee stains,
greasy finger prints,
smudge marks,
and small bits torn from it…

Together-- there on the street,
we compare souls on the corners of the world.
Some souls are almost new--
starched and pressed,
in a vacuum sealed bag.

Others, when taken out,
are even more used up than mine--
some break and blow apart in the wind
like glowing confetti,
leaving a dull grey stare in its owner’s pale eyes.

Then after we have compared souls
I fold mine back into its origami balloon shape
and put it back
in my pocket.

Souls are not a different distant object
they do not fit in a lock box.
Every act of compassion…
or apathy,
hunger…
or gluttony,
love…
or ****,
The mundane…
or the extraordinaire
creates a new mark,
a new fold,
a different shape,
a different you….

...than existed just a moment before.
Still feels a bit drafty, but I like it.
Claire Davis Apr 2014
This is you, you is I
In a way we never saw before
He is she, and so are we
Her thought on the basement floor

They're you and she too
You've never seen his go
I'm coming back to save you boy,
Tis the only 'he' she knows.

You're leading us to them
The strangest place they've ever known
His she is theirs as well...
Maybe I'll understand when we're full grown.
You use your commas
The way a Southern woman
Puts sugar in tea.
And, yeah, you're, killing, me.

— The End —