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CMXIClement Oct 2020
Slithering subtlety, the serpent saw a shard shaped slightly like his self.  
He gazed into the glass, seeing a reflection.
"What beautiful feathers I have!", he said covered in scales.  "What beautiful colors--- and wow!  Look at my wings!"
He mused to himself, (it's no wonder I soared so much higher than the others...They had no wings!  No illustrious feathers!  They only have scales, that's why they're different than me!  They not like myself, or other birds that I see).

He slithered sedated and satisfied with a sullen, sad and insecure of sense self under surface.
Along the way he spotted a Gold Parakeet, he compared himself and said this through his teeth: "Your scales are ugly, and cracked, and dull.  You slither with your wings from trees very tall.  Why can't you fly, and be bright like me?  You're unable, and there's something wrong with you, all the other birds agree."
The parakeet parried the poisonous paragraph perfectly:
"When you see me, you see what you want.  You attack what I am because I have what you flaunt.  But I soar high, while your words sink low.  One day you'll be measured by the scales you show."
The parakeet pondered puzzled at the python's reply:
"I see only the reflection of the glass I passed by."
Bhill Jul 2019
It's too early to bark, I told my dog
The neighbors are sleeping, like a log
Let's not wake them up, for a little while yet
They like to sleep in, or did you forget

Sleeping in is a challenge, for some, but not all
I like to rise early to see that new ball
Colors of the morning are often, grandiose
If you sleep in you miss it, and I need that first dose

Brian Hill - 2019 # 186
Are you an early riser...?
J Christmas Feb 2019
Never let anyone tell you
How ****** up a person is
Pointing at Her or Him
At them or here with
Disdain dressed
To look like despair
God damns the
Sanctimony of fools
Black robes
Far worse for the wear
Let em point at me
I have not a care
Because just like them
I am Jack the Ripper.    I am St. Paul
I sifted salt with Ghandi
And I slit throats with King Saul
I am the ****** Mary
I hear the knocking
on my door  
It may just be the neighbor
A fiend looking to fix me
Or to score.   Either way
We’ve all been here
Countless times maybe more
Its eternity that's calling  
Remember living forever?
Before you were ever born?
I've offered every solace
I've mended every fall  
I’ve turned the other cheek
And the pious broke my jaw
My work here is near done
And trust me I had a ball    
So shed not a tear
Nor curse me to befall      
For soon you will be me
And I will be you all.
Copyright 2019 John D Christmas
Naaliah Green Aug 2015
I'm having thoughts
of grandiose things.
Pain filled lives always
sing for less rain
Your body comes and goes
Used up like a vacant hole
There are so many cigarette
butts lying around
Polluting the ground,
like you did to my mind
I'm trying to remember
the light and
asking myself,
"was it always this bright?"
It always seems like nothing
matters to you -
and I guess you're right
Right now it seems like
all you want to do is
What be more grandiose than poetry,

     expound at your own discretion,

   bottle sunshine, save it in a jar,

    tie an affectionate knot, spread it around

     flood desert mirages with flowing spirits,

speaks kindly and murderously about love,

  can tempt winds to uncoil temptation's gist

****** upon or written asunder desperation

    relentless in its seizing of human behavior,

magnifying moonbeams or star's decimation

    perfumed magnolias to winter's cruelty,

  call of the wild midst sweetness of fresh rhubarb pie,

infinitely vast in its incalculable grasp of predication,

  beyond limitless infrastructures 'neath fancied significance

— The End —