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Alex Z Feb 5
A car full of heavy watermelons drives,
on the melting Road under the blazing sun,
It moves with the earth trembling.
Got out of the car, and went home,
He fell directly on the sofa.
At this moment, time stops.
Clothes stand next to the cabinet,
Wearing heavy shadows.
A teacup sits on the table,
Shaking the reflection on the lid.
The lamp stuck his head on the wall,
Squinting his sleepy eyes.
They all listened in silence
Waiting for A ticking sound
from the master's wrist.
Orchid T Aspen Dec 2019
{|}{|}

sunflower
solidarities are pleasant enough,

{|}{|}

and they can die on the Hill over there
with the other volumes of
sunflowers,

those
that are puffed up
in their brazen majesty,

that are seeking the envelopment
of warm air,

that are vying for the ****** sun,
as always,

that are holding petals
who creep inside when put upon,

that are sobbing for the other sunflowers
as their radial compatriots,

that are living for all else
that cannot,

that are swaying with intent
that bends them off,

that are dying in beating blades
of grass,

that are toasting to deities
who are concealed in their flames,

that are writing ardently
in their soft refrains,

that are fornicating their pleasures
away from the other
sunflowers,

{|}{|}

that die on the Hill over there
when solidarity is enough for them
to extract pollen by their own strength
and pelt it at the bees
and dissolve on their stems.

{|}{|}
Hannah thomas Apr 2019
When They asked me
Who hurt me
I almost said your name
I almost cursed at the top of my lungs
The day we ever met
I almost broke every plate
In the kitchen
I almost cried another ocean
To drown out your memory
But I didn't...

I simply said myself

Because who lets someone stay
After setting fire to the bedroom
After leaving the ***** laundry
All of all their past lovers
on the bathroom floor
After leaving bloodstains on the carpet
Because who lets someone break them
over and over again

How can I blame him
When I could have walked away
at any time
My dear if I could hate you, I would.
sixpoetry Feb 2019
i see the world from within the ninth cloud
heightened view of a broken world masks cracks with perfection

when i take a step back and admire all i am and have done
the beauty bursts with colors not seen by normal eyes

so bright it burns holes through doubt
so jagged it rips disbelief

i stare into the soul of the world i’ve made
the physical incarnation of childhood dreams
teenage goals
and adult realities

my love has jumped straight out of a storybook
and into my arms
intertwined destinies give way to a magical coalescence of perfection
a lil bit of this
and a lil bit of that
grown into the cutest curly-haired kid you’ve ever seen

little feet in a big house
big dreams in a small town
long life full of short love
short eyes always looking up

dreams on the big screen
sleepless nights piling up like the empty coffee cups
exhaustion beyond belief
the credits roll
pride beyond exhaustion beyond belief

one minute and the world is renewed
all hatred is extinguished with the power of perfect love
an impact bigger than ever experienced before
a new generation awakened at my fingertips

i am the change i waited to see
through the years becoming exactly who i always wished to be

i am the light breaking through the darkness
the second after the first midnight
a flower in the concrete
hope rising through despair

my name is synonymous with every good thing
spoken in every household
and will last longer than time itself

but of all the fame and awards i’ve received
and have yet to put on my shelf
my most prized possession is not what
but who

i’m luckier than amarillo slim
same amount but different kind of rich as bill gates
and forever grateful
for all i have
all i am
all i have yet to receive
and all i have yet to be

i see the world from within the ninth cloud
heightened view of a perfect world
a perfect life
a perfect job
a perfect family
and a perfect me

who’s four inches taller than before
Devil Atticman Feb 2019
Have YOU ever experienced the following:

Sadness, financial debt, crushing loneliness, childhood trauma, all, some, or other soul-killing misfortune?

It all ends today. Introducing the CRYPTO-SPIRITUAL DEEP ANIMA CLEANSING SYSTEM (CDACS) from World Grip Inc. Misery has never been this impartial!

The "CDACS" learns about the user through exposure to create a positive feedback loop that discourages critical thought and negative emotion. Need assistance emotionally, professionally, or sexually? CDACS has you covered.

Disclaimer: rare cases of seclusion, loss of emotion, and unchecked growth of the shadow self have been reported in some users. Tell our professionals if you experience any disintegration of identity or hedonistic megalomania.

"PLEASE USE IRRESPONSIBLY!"
Marg Balvaloza Dec 2018
makulay na damdamin para sa'yo ay di pa rin kumukupas,
ako’y bihag ng pag-ibig mo, gustong-gusto ko ng tumakas
ang pusong nahimbing na sa pagtulog ay wag mo ng gisingin,
sa aking magandang panaginip, ayaw ko ng bangungutin

© LMLB
I'm all ready to give you up, forget you and ignore you. In fact, I'm half way there not caring about you. But you were always there to confuse me and bring me back to my senses. Why you're so good at destroying every part of me and attacking my whole vulnerability, waking my old feelings up, right when I'm almost there, moving on? Oh, please. Don't be the nightmare on my peaceful daydream.
Hannah Zedaker Jan 2018
zooming, zipping, speeding by
the air rushing by me as the spokes spin freely, gravity pulling me down
I outstretch my arms, and the wind lifts me high above the restraints of this world until the hill ends
and I clasp back onto those worn handles once more
bracing for the cracks in the walkway

'always be back when the street lights come on'

little creatures, sitting peacefully under an evergreen, only a little way into the old woman's lawn
a teal bike thrown quietly to the side
and crouch and creep slowly into the late afternoon
sheltered by luscious green ceilings above me, and the slight purr of a fur ball in front.

'always be back when the street lights come on'

the sun is setting quickly
but the bats always come out around now
an abandoned school with overgrown grass serves a grand hotel for my nocturnal friends
here they come
a large rain cloud of echo chirps and the flitter of paper thin wings catching air

'always be back when the street lights come on'

the bridge
water rushing quickly by,
it must have somewhere to be
the glowing moon settling above
content
prancing thoughts of dancing on those ripples and tickling the streaming moonbeams cross
and a little heartbeat quivers
trembles
shakes

"always be home when the street lights come on"
Julie Grenness Apr 2017
Some people live in fantasies,
Feed others non-issues and hyperboles,
Like politicians in government,
Phony fear campaigns, not what's meant,
Target disenfranchised, that's the way,
Who writes this drivel in our days?
Why worry about such hyperboles?
We all get ****** into fantasies....
Feedback welcome.
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