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beware the Pied Piper
He doesn't really care for your rodent problems
He really just wants to steal your kids
The mice, rats, and hamsters are just the perfect front he needs.
Luiz Sep 21
I sit lonesome on a mid July night
as the moon's full glow gallantly flows
to shine her bright light on my dreams tonight
from that long ago that I once forgo

next day, I sit in a room full of smiles
the loneliest I've ever been alive
I can't dial the one that makes life worthwhile
so I survive until my drive at five

for later, my thoughts slip into a daze
and angels rain wet skies to my red eyes
as my head again graces my son’s face
the prize in disguise, for his love won’t die

and I keep returning, unrestricted
to my mind, where I am unafflicted


copyright 2020/ Luiz D. Syphre
Aashi Sinha Sep 16
I comment “yes daddy” on your videos
You comment “prettiest gurl” on my photos
We are just friends, but just maybe, just maybe we want something more.

a memory

the delhi monsoon, 2016
smashed inkpot like the sky
my head on the bus’s window
yours too
i said, “so what’s up?”

from there you would often turn around, have a look at me, shake your head, let out a shaky breath, give me that lazy smile and your eyes would be showing adoration, you would turn back and answer to my many questions

we talked about our classes, our future maybe not as a pair but as individuals

at some point, you and I started talking about politics, developing ideas out of the very little information that we had.

at some point, you and I started talking about art, dancing our fingers on the glass, creating figures and emotions.

at some point, we got to school

you stood behind me, the kids were just too slow, because the hormones had yet to be released, you were a little taller than me, your head dropped, and you whispered, "I want to be in the same class"

and both of us grinned, pushing all our feelings out, somewhere gloomy, twilight-like, dark and unseen.

you introduced me to your sister
you told me that you wanted to pursue sports
you said will talk to later

neither did you pursue sports nor did we talk again in person

I'm spinning in circles, wanting someone who might be mine, but I'm too scared to do that, trying to make myself believe that you really don't exist. I'm ******* selfish, yeah.

trapped here with the weight of memories and emotions that I don't want to revisit.

boy, boys are bad for you, I am telling you.
Luiz Sep 14
I'm locked in a glass cage
but I can't see out
I can't stretch my legs
locked in a fetal position

my mind is a prison inside another
where I'm shipwrecked on an island
in a sea of memories

their wet faces float in and out 
of an illusion 
with blood rivering from
both their little eyes

I miss you, Mason
I miss you, Maddison
I've been fighting tooth and nail
for you guys!

when the memory of you 
presses on my chest and suffocates me
I fight! for five years I have fought!
but I am on all four now

I don't have the physical, emotional
or spiritual strength to take another breath
my survival means holding you again
but it's easier just to sleep forever

but I can't do it
you own me and I cannot quit
but it's either your presence or my release
either way is better than now
Tizzop Sep 10
kidz are smoking my songs, drinkin' and sniffin'
welcome to the trip-inn, where magic is grippin'
the tragic city, neon lights, neon lights, demon's nights
i'm all in, never ever falling, swirling frisky, like a frisbee

45 to 88, made myself a shake
beat like an earthquake, first take
crying for a remake, dying for a remake
1000 tons of cheesecake, beafsteakz

yummy yummy, my past was slummy
so, you find tizzop where the ice is
my lifestyle is priceless, priceless
i don't care, nobody is viceless

how could one dare to imitate this flair?
i don't say words, i shout "yeah yeah!"
ipod-white teeth, you stop to breathe
and now be good, baby, get on ya knees
Carlo C Gomez Sep 15
The swing
The spinning top
The doll
Wooden horses
Battledore and shuttlecock
Trumpet and drum
Soap bubbles
**** in the corner
Blind man's buff
Little husband, little wife
The ball

Please let me return
To my childhood ways
And the happy games
We played
Jeux d'enfants ("Children's Games") is a suite of twelve miniatures composed by Georges Bizet for piano four hands in 1871.

Inspired by M83's song:
The color

To splashdown

Heavy with rheum

Waking to

A vinyl ocean
Of unco adhesion
And snap vacuum

Of youth


As scenes
Of upended worlds

The simple playgrounds
Both remembered
And loved
Sophia Aug 26
Welcome to our generation
Where kids pretend to smile
They pretend to be happy,
When in reality,
They're broken,
And they just want to die

Welcome to our generation
Where kids self harm,
Starve themselves,
And make themselves throw up
The generation that tries to die

This is our generation
The generation that wants to hide
The generation that wants to die
clem turner Aug 6
one of my favorite sights
nearly nine months ago, now,
was a young daughter perched upon
her father's shoulders
pointing the way,
resting her chin on his head,
an ornament on a busy city sidewalk.

my girlfriend knew this.
and she'd point them out when we drove,
"look, another!"
and i'd look, and i'd "aw"
and we'd drive until we saw another
or we reached our destination,
whichever came first.

but not once did i think, "i want to be that."

the sight was, at most, a novelty.
like a small hand grasping a larger one,
i am amused but i am amused in the moment,
and then we pass them in the car,
and they disappear,
and i forget.
until nine months later.

there's a little therapist (?) in my head that says,
you find these things cute because they are an
aesthetic vision of the future, a show of time's passing
that doesn't throw you into a fit of panic

i suppose that's true.
not good to see people as a novelty.
but it sure is easy, huh?
this doesn't make any SENSE what am i DOING
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