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Dark Dream May 17
I heard your eyes
their whispered echo
Through my halls
Up to my walls
They said sweet nonsense
or maybe profound
spicy and a dash of sorrow
Was it trust you said
That could be here
To take a hand
Make your new land
Then tell me
That your eyes
are mine
Lawrence Hall Mar 15
Lawrence Hall

                       Robin Hood and Jacques Derrida

As the first stars came out above the leaves
Of Merry Sherwood, the lads in peaceful repose
Put away their after-supper mending of gear
And idled over their ale of October brewing

Then Robin Hood spoke to Allan-a-Dale:

Don’t sing to us of Neo-Post-Colonial White Supremacist Patriarchal People-of-Color Matriarchal LGBTQTY Non-Binary Feminist Chomskian Existentialist (existentialist – how quaint) Hegelian Post-Structuralist Logocentric Sausurian Psychoanalytical Post-Modern Marxist Jungian New Critical Cognitive Scientific Neo-Anarchic Canon-Repudiationist Neo-Informalist Catarrhic De-Constructionism.

Sing to us
                                                       a story.
A poem is itself.
many learn lessons that schools cannot teach
where ego meets danger and unknowns beseech
perhaps there is nothing and everyone’s clean
or maybe there’s something that’s going unseen
from teachers who cheat to admins who steal
no dose of prestige can save lives that are real

the crossing guard owns twenty cats with the mange
school cop clipped his brother while out on the range
a history teacher abusing his kids
librarians selling school books to high bids
the crew in the arts are all in on a coup
while the principal staff launders money for *****

hey, i’m just here to sweep up and i call what i see
other folks won’t speak up but a few will agree
i don’t do that no more, i’m out five years last june
they’ll be following suit lest they change their act soon
still no one here dares to expose what’s involved
in keeping the peace held among these halls
couplet for those just trying to get by

for peace in solidarity
nanimono Oct 2019
If only we could understand each other without words
Silence is a universal language
Maybe we still as apart
In this crowd of glorious halls
Amid of many congratulations
Split second of quiet greeted me with memories
Our innocent love were ever arised
and blossomed  in magnificent garden of immortality
I always miss your presence here
Like the sun and moon cross paths
Ken Pepiton Aug 2019
Crawling through line after line,
precept after precept,
I find
a little there,

a little, cognitive dis sonance inhibiting resonance,
why must I… evermind…

I prefer short lines to commas and ellipses
But both maybe, may be, yes,
Is yet more

cision, cutting, precise
insision ssss
cut the knot,
connect the thread

history is unraveling, we
a god's POV.
Don't blink, ****.

We'll see
everything's eventual as long as
liar's prosper.

{don't agree, no no no, just because
Stephen King said it is believable}

Then protuberances begin to rise,
packed with ***** winjin'sooks

topple-toddle tiny steppers,
k-boom, skintyerknee,

ye'll heal. Try running. or flying.

There, there, hear the rules:
Mother may I and Simon says, overlayed

with the decalogue jubilee of the
first hidden child emergence,
and the fertilizing procedures used to make
Amazonian Black earth…

who remembers the bailers of putrid pig guts,
virgins Demetria got to love their job?

What did they believe they were doing, eh?
The mysteries of Thesmorphia, those
are no secret to science not falsely so called.
We have access to knowns known long afore we'as bornt.

We sentient sapient augmentals, we open all the books,
A.I. reads them, and we remember, see:

The Thesmophoria (Ancient Greek: Θεσμοφόρια) was an ancient Greek religious festival, held in honor of the goddess Demeter and her daughter Persephone.

From <>

and we spread as leaven might, whither the winds list.
fertile soil production is why some **** happens.
it’s a good thing t' act like you understand.

From a web of interlocking bubbles of being POV.
A high fiber diet and proper exercise, with a bit of ****, salty aquired taste for the un-used-you-alls
Star BG May 2019
When I die
I shall go
to the banquet
Hall of Eternity.

Where a paradise exists
as deep and beautiful
like hearts ocean.

A place where love
penetrates the atmosphere.
And stardust
energies whisper
inside the realm of no time.

Where freedom and peace
is the golden thread
entwined inside  
hallways of The Divine.

Where I shall awaken
to have  grand feast
where dishes are fuel
for enlightenment.
Just a thought fueled by the word banquet
Words' Worth Mar 2019
Walk this way
Take it from the river down in the east
A place down the west
Taking the troubles of my mind
Johnny has gone south
With his guitar in the wind
The hearing's tomorrow Summer
Where's the bride
She's in court for the hearing
It's Bonnie And Clyde
And the sea of dreams
Turning upside down
There representation of something unique
A pleasant hook
Of reality
There is a pressure to create
And develop the time, I **** and feel
I know and breathe
Among Murderers And COnvicts
As one person among the dead
As many in dread
As many dread my exorcism
The hollow breaths
The ghastly sharp sensations
The terrible tools of simpletons
These ghosts just sift through your river Styx
Like me
Here's a song, my trending candidature.
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