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Lightning my eclipse
He became unlit
for love was a hybrid
of both dusk
and dawn.
©shadeofalonelygirl
Stefania S Jun 2018
the way it percolates

driving us mad

bringing tears to our eyes

often heavy and sad

my neighbor claims karma

an act of simple fate

laughing i drove off

his words unaware of my morning escapades

an affair with a man

married in state

his wife wears a crown

of the knight that she made

his heart, may be heavy

his head overwhelmed

his pain numb inside 

mine a throbbing shell

under the dripping trees 

of the Old North State

our lips met

while

our bodies sought fate

tangled were our limbs

no judgment we laid

onlookers know not

their ignorance in spades

my jealousy gripping

like the pulse and the pain

our tongues lapping up

what others disdain

hands clenched together

a night full of waves

guilty some may cry

but please save your rage

i have no time for your misdirected pain

we work and wonder

our daybreaks heavy and claimed

years have gone by

what have we paid

mountains don't move

not like thrashing seas

nor do carolina skies

or the heavy florida heat

where will we be when the clock strikes time

beneath a hammock of oak

or a splintering of vines

tobacco barns in sight

the owl's swift decline

curving roads leading

rabbits fly by

empty nest for one

the other full and spry

moments of sanity

spared by lucidity

medication blurred thoughts

windows to the world

veins pumping heavy

words turned to swords

heal we must

but how do we know

if this is the pain of the stay or the pain of the go

anonymity for one, me, i don't care

i have no shame for my truth

no guilt left to spare

my journey, long, spirited and cold

my hands pumping blood

meant to eventually go
FRITZ Sep 2017
what was this supposed to be again?

I think I left my keys in the car.
the nightbird sings a song
the humid air beats down like
a while-worn five hundred miles.

a roach tapped against the glass.
a gasp is stuck in my throat like
gross times *****-up and eye lids
shut.

the keys are in the car and this poem means nothing.
Oiciruam Aug 2017
The language I write in is not my language
But it is the language of my thoughts.

This is not the language I spoke to my parents
That is not the language I speak to my love
That is not the language I spoke on the streets
That is not the language I prefer to read
That is not the language I spoke to my first kiss

So then, what is my language?
Is it the language of my great-grandparents?
And if so, which one?

Is it the language of saudade,
Habibi, cariño, or serendipity?

My language is none of these
And all at the same time.
KHAYRI RR WOULFE Aug 2017
An anxious amortal
archnemesis
affectionately
allowing an amoral
animosity
achieve an attitudal
agressive and aversion against
any and all
annoying,
aggravating,
afflicting,
and almost annihilating
alliterations,
although all
aforementioned actions
are absolutely
artificial.



An amiable
abomination
and architectural abuse
at an alphabet achieved
after aesthetically
arranging ample
arbitrary
alternatives alone,
amounting an acclamation.



An affinity at
awkward avante-garde arts
arising at
an astronomical acceleration,
aside an archaic
argumentum ad
antiquitatem argument
awfully appraising
an atheistic and agnostic
apparition,
anthrophomorphically
alive and apparently
alright after asphyxiation,
alluding an astral authority
absolving accusations
and all allegations.



An advantageously
astute and adroit assassin
always actively
acting and assaulting
alone, ain't assisted
anyhow,
already
antiquating auxillaries
altogether.



An alliteratious afterfocus:
Aborting all anticipations.
Anticipating affirmative antagonizations.
All are alright.
Already airtight.
Adios, amigos.



Author: anonymous,
an acorn-afflicted,
assassinatrix affiliate.
attributed as Agent Argent.
Written
04 July 2016


Genre
Alliterature


Copyright
© Khayri R.R. Woulfe. All rights reserved.
Ritika Dev Jun 2017
A furry little kitten,
white, dotted with black.
No dominance,
it’s co-dominance!
Neither allele could make it through.
Running far ahead,
collapsing on the way.
Beauty shows in her phenotype.
Unfortunate signs in her genotype.
Kitty is diseased,
for heredity be cruel,
for her father killed by illness too.
Kitty,
a beauteous hybrid,
Her mother, angelic, snowy white.
Her father, dark and eerie.
What’s the probability?
Kitty be unique,
neither her mother or father,
finding a tad of both.
One Dominant or two Recessive alleles?
Neither.
Stuck in the middle,
Lies my Kitty.
A seventh-grade writing assignment I tweaked a bit.
M Harris Feb 2017
Fairytale Evolutions,
Terminating Digital Mutations,
Simulated Sensations,
Transcendent Revolutions,

Hybrid Generations,
Altering Stagnant Amplifications,
Shape Shifting Constellations,
Sterilizing Implications,

Eliciting Blissful Animations,
Decoding Kaleidoscopic Flirtations,
Fabricating Holographic Dimensions,
Reflecting Labyrinth Ramifications,

Transgressional Diversifications,
Empathetic Extortion,
Serene Distortion,
Subversive Contortion,

Forging Conceptual Inoculations
Violating Illusionary Variations,
Incarnating Prototype Deviations,
Radiating Subtle Speculations,
Catalyzing Crystallized Civilizations.


-01:09AM
priya mistry Feb 2017
We are waves of people
We don't accept defeat
Carrying generations of their blood
Etched on the palms of our hands and the soles of our feet
We defy the laws of gravity, our cosmic bodies in orbit always revolving
We possess a transformative skin
Continuously moving, constantly evolving

Current crashing, ripping through the earth
Roaring tides behind us, our vicious flood fights
The foundation of millennial’s - conscious, violently beautiful beings
Our loud waters, impossible to ignore, amorously painting our rights

The right, the will, the intense appetite
Flavored by salty words with a sweet impulse for action
Drowning all numbness, consuming the calm which once was
Thinking like philosophers, walking like warriors, as they record our reaction

Thin, musty white air trying to cover the shifting blue hues
The water never stops moving
the ripples inconceivably vast,
Our wave leaves masterpieces of celestial proportions
Our space is here now,
our tomorrow will not echo the past

Ours roots are planted and grown in our cities
Perfectly immortalized in a valiant state of existence
We are waves of people, waves of voices
A digital age of collective resistance

- p.m
SassyJ Mar 2016
Cloud of smoke rising above
Revelation of joyous tranquility
A stir within the belly stiffening
A grafitti smiled, you lived within

A mouth stitched, heart un-sutured
Constrained by the apathy you bear
Consolidated in tethered pastures
A stare of silence vigorously imbues

A pleasure to meet your selfish leisures
Hear the voices rattling in throned castles
Run encircling the failed soul games
Good luck from one, another, a mother

I was bred as a hybrid alien, a predictor
Take these words and run, jog on
Your palms saturated with energy
Leave the magic and gallop with horses
Misael Lopez Nov 2015
You are both and neither,
A lonely traveler searching for a home,
A social outcast,
A winding fork in the road.

Always Two separate paths,
Converging and Diverging,
Must you choose one or the other?
So many Possibilities not yet discovered.

Your unique disposition,
Superior to all in retrospect,
Yet they say purity and unison,
Not diversity and opposition.

Why then, where and when then,
Do you truly belong?
In every sense,
that is both your gift and curse.

You must find or create,
The mystical land of Grey in-betweens,
For both you and me.
We are who we are
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