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Vianne Lior Feb 16
Ruins hold the ivy,
Beauty grows where cracks divide,
Love blooms in decay.
Sudzedrebel Feb 10
Betting on plays
And whether teams could pull it through;
Factoring rates given to the risks
Versus stats, records, and rankings,
Of losses, successes, et cetera.
Whether physical or digital,
These playful monetary mediums
Like domestic feline & bengal tiger.
Like dog as like cat,
It's a different reaction to them
And connection with them
Having grown up around them.
These paper jaguars & plush lions,
So much for the fear of adversity
When you're trying to crunch everything.
If you're always in the middle
Of working through or thinking about something,
Punching an equation,
Then how can anyone hope
To knock you off kilter?
It's just another component-
Another addition & subtraction,
Division & multiplication,
To calculate & sum.

You've gotta be in it to win it,
And you're always just one bet away
From winning it big.
Making it good
Sometimes takes all it can take,
And even then you might not
Break even.

I sense disturbance,
See some malign figure,
In your line of reason.
Yet, through our conversations,
No appeal can be made to logic.
The calculations offer a grime visage.

Play with your heart, play with your gut,
As your head will steer you wrong.
If you're thinking about it,
You're thinking too much.
Just lay it on the line,
Bet it all,
But don't bet too much.
Listen, it'll be fine.
Tomorrow we can
Recoup your loss.

The contradictions are lost,
The irony was over
And you took the under.
The spread accomplished
Chose the given
And you were taking.
If something flew
You were beneath it.
owls at dawn Feb 5
don't try to say too much
clarity breeds disappointment
Jon Feb 2
"Avast," he spoke,
and fell to the ground.
Bullet through his back neck,
collapsed without a sound.

The song of the hero,
such a lovely thing.
So perfect and pristine—
ultimately nothing.
aleks Jan 21
the people of loss
have nothing on us,
pillows of unravelling floss.

only the pillow knows,
a pedestal for weakness,
our shared bygones.
'avoir le cafard', or 'to have the cockroach' , is a french expression for feeling depressed, a sense of malady.
It opens in transition
Warm Texas rain in June
Dallas in a cocoon
--
Kingdom of the sad harvester
Crop of tears raised in the sun
Forming long shadows on the screen
--
Starlight in cathedral
This explosion within
Enter the soldiers
Enter the dragon
--
Framed insects
Relying on hidden stairwells
To cover their hasty escape
To seal their fate
--
Inside a fascist restaurant
The men hiccup and cigarette
The women just smile and pirouette
Dancing around the blast zone
Detonating minds and hearts
Just as the end credits roll
Rose Adriel Dec 2024
The streets are dark,
on Christmas eve;
with none to rule & conquer darkness...
Staring at an abyss...thinking there's hope,
the long Halloween's nightmare lies still...
Snow slowly stranding shadows upon such a splendid slumber - this macabre alley presumed a plain phantasm.
The scent of chestnuts...flattered nothing but a bitter sweet souvenir;
even you...resemble a phantom of grief!
That terrace taught turmoil & tragedy,
on Christmas day;
all reunited to cherish cruelty & carve out hypocrisy from honesty...

~ A. Rose
I was supposed to upload this om the 25th of December at exactly midnight.... I'm so late bit I didn't forget to upload what i had prepared on the 24th... Well, I wish you guys a merry christmas(a very late one) and a happy new year 2025.
Jack Groundhog Dec 2024
A marble altar
in a gilded Baroque church —
Poor babe in manger
Kundai N Nov 2024
Yesterday I wondered about a math textbook
From a former grade
And yawned disappointedly,
Prancing in a bubble of wonder,
"which idiot could've gotten these answers wrong?"

     A smile befell my face
     adoring my superiority
     And cracked a laugh or two
     Scoffing the sheer ignorance.

Silence shortly pondered upon my mind
I slapped my cheeks and banged on the table.
I resented every smile in detestable realisation,  
The book was mine.
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