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Corey Boiko Aug 2017
I forget what I forgot,
But at least remember that.
Hold on, I think I got it!
I'm looking for my hat.
I must've left it someplace,
but can't recall quite where.
I scratch my head, Eureka!
The hat was on my hair.

I've got to get this down,
or forget again, I fear.
So I check for a pencil,
write behind my ear.
There I find my glasses,
out of sight for years!
Now I see it clearly,
No wait, it disappeared.

I forget if I forgot.
Was I already here?
Inspired by true events, written in the style of Shel Siverstein
Gilang Perdana Aug 2017
1
a singer — he want to go to the moon
and I pinned on his head. he wants
to sing with all the heavenly body
and allege about love to his lover

2
another singer who like to dance
also pinned me on his head. he walks
like a moon — hard to tell the contrast
of black and white from a cubit

3
and again, a singer. I am as cursed
too lazy to go everywhere — to like forever
I want to be pinned on his head — sing along
and dance from a stage to another

4
and I am —
they'll refuse me
if I'm not me
: but do not
BY JENNY JOSEPH

When I am a old woman I shall wear pirple with a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.  
And I shall spend my pension on bandy and summer gloves and
satin sandals and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired and gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells and run my stick along public railings and make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain and pick the flowers in other people's gardens.
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat and eat three pouds of sausage at a go or only eat bread and a pickle for a week and hoard pens and pencils and beer mats and things in boxes.
But  now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We shall have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old and start to wear purple
The wonderful write by Sally A Bayan titled "Sepia" inspired me to dig this out and post it here for her.
Jellyfish Mar 2017
The flowers may bloom

but your sting is painfully,

preventing the view.
Sienna Luna Jan 2017
Flubber inside

filling out the cracks

you and that

insipid hat.

Wolly sweater

boatload of pins

find out when

our love life begins.

It's quite awkward

when I get so nervous

like hot liquid

boiling in a pan.

It's really kind of funny 'cause

I can't figure you out,

man.

Grist and marrow

you're a stringy

kind of fellow.

And every time I see

your stupid smily face

I get this rubber

in my tummy

a fit I cannot place.
Peter Kiggin Oct 2016
Grasp

All the leaves are travelling north
Make small tornados with strong winds along the path
Energy circling like the hands of time all around us happens so fast
Sometimes gives notions of birds in motion flying home after all at last
A season of dark nights are coming with long shadows that stretch and cast
A ship on the seas flies it's flag as battering waves try to sink her and her mast
Wild like a banshee she tears down trees then come the floods angry not to have appeased the power aghast
It all starts with a single spinning jenny on a sole tree that drops and flies as the light breeze grasps.
Time lasts grasp
MindsPalace Aug 2016
Where in the heck are my glasses?
I've seemed to look everywhere.
Everywhere that is, but in front of my eyes.

Where in the heck is my cell phone?
I've seemed to look everywhere.
Everywhere, maybe, except my own pocket.

Where in the heck is my nice, new pen?
I've seemed to look everywhere.
Everywhere, yes, but not by my ear.

Where in the serious heck is my hat?
I've seemed to look everywhere.
Everywhere, sure, though still not on my hair.

Where in the heck? Please, seriously,
Someone tell me what is going on.
I can't stand losing all my stuff,
And right now it all seems to be gone.

Where in the heck did everything go?
I can only find my wife.
And she says if I can't find my things,
She thinks I've lost my life.
Cat Fiske Jul 2016
my tongue soaks in the spit in my mouth like its bathing in acid,
everything begins to burn in my mouth,
but I haven't had anything but water,
and the casual biting of my stubby fingernails,
I feel a little less then dull compared to the angel with greasy hat hair,
my bangs never stood a chance next to her rolled out of bed attire,
I didn't have the grace to pull a look like that off,
or well any look it seemed like,
but he clearly liked her,
and I let him have her,
and I keep the tears inside,
until his silky hair boy and the plain looking girl were gone,
and I weeped damp wet tears,
and felt like every bit of me was as bitter as battery acid,
DaSH the Hopeful Jun 2016
The oppression hangs stiff and unrelenting
And the sincerity comes off too awkward and from left field
I just want to move, but all I can accomplish are twitches in different directions
You're talking at me, not with me
And I'm close to fabricating an elaborate story to put you in shut down mode so that I can continue on my day
I don't care about your message
I'm not buying your book, I'm not reading your pamphlet, and I'm not joining your group.
I'm eating a ******* burrito, and that's IT.
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