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SelinaSharday Oct 2021
Poetic People..
we are not herded sheeple.
We are word lyrics, song makers,  mind shakers,  current speakers, history makers, past revealers..
Word life breathing, comfort givers.
Word Movers, Books of chapters and mental creators of Intellectual content givers.
We teach, subtract and we word multiply in many unique stanza, rhythms and soul dynamic gifts.
Poetry people we can ignite, warm up or cool down to enhance hearts temperatures Spirits our words lift.
Poets are examples of writing freedoms and of all 12 styles and forms of Poetry formed arts.
Sonnets, Ballads, Concrete ode and Prose. and the many mo's are starts.
Poetry People are such a variety.
Best leave us free!
As living Poetry!
Poets, cook, serve, they provide, Poets entertain, make your hearts sang. make your mouth overflow with giggles of laughter, gets your brain on that thinking and reminiscing train.
Somewhere in time!
Come back to me.
My love
Two minds one single thought
Two hearts one single beat
Thats is still us dear
I love thee rdd-Jpc
"I still exist" twin flame yee
did write entailing all this.

As the world bends it loops.
I find thine sylhuette dancing
hobbering around me.
Looping me back to life
Yee never left me beloveth pc
Thanks for waking me up
For watching over me rdd

"Each night before I go to sleep, not knowing if I shall wake up ever again,
but with your name in my lips I see the sunshine
again and again.!" PC-Rk.

I love thee so much
I think of thine courage
love brain heart, grace,
It all defines me within

In thine arms forever
I remain to part never
My Angel guardián
yee have saved me sweet P.
Yee bit the apple yee love me

This love I have shared
With human predators, wolves, boys beggards
enemies poets and kings.

But allmy travels spin me back into thy loving kindness and wise patient love's serenity.
whence happily ever after

I, i, still exist.
~~~~~~
https://youtu.be/QPROkOaqE_4

based on my life's true events
Somewhere in time.
Brett Jul 2021
Hope here is dead. Man in a box, Cobain in my head.
Court me some love and spin on my throne,
Of brittle remorse.

Sick in the womb, the silver spoon pollutes.
Tiny tadpole in the pool, grows to patrol the Black Lagoon.
Devouring the newt it once knew.

Fearful men, conceal their worries, in tall tales of courage.
Ironclad, Iconoclast. Kings and heroes alike,
Plant their flags in fields of ash.
Zoe Mae Jul 2021
He wanted to be accepted
By those he had rejected
Thought the poppers would feel blessed
If allowed just one day of rest
Thought they'd savor the King's scraps
Even if it meant scrounging around like rats
Thought they'd never dare complain
For even one day of his reign
Wasn't the King surprised
To see the commoners got wise
They stormed the castle through
And found him hiding in a shoe
Everyone laughed, what a tiny little thing!
Who knew you'd have to be a mouse to be bigger than the King
Brett Jul 2021
In this wasteland of avarice, I struggle to pull silver threads
From this gray cover of smog. The sound of brittle bones aching,
Drowned out by the quaking footsteps of titans.
Men, who would be gods, push for you to play your hand.
Knowing from their fingers, have you been dealt the cards.
A deck of diamonds, devoid of Kings with hearts.
Honor has been dead, since Pride married Malice and,
Greed shacked up with strife. 21st century freedom.
A modest monetary price,
For ownership stake of your life.
There is no honor in a wasted life.
Hamna Jun 2021
O slaves of Allah Almighty!
When you purify yourselves for Salah with Wudu,
Don't only pay heed to your covers.
Pay heed to the filth hidden deep,
Deep Inside of you.
For Allah, The King of all kings,
loves
purified hearts...
Wudu is the ritual washing to be performed in preparation for prayer and worship. When we take a shower or wash our faces, hands, feet, etc, we get externally cleaned. But don't forget to cleanse your internal selves...✨✨
FC Azaele May 2021
Hate to the desires that falls upon the other hands
torn to two
oh, what wicked kings
To crown the serpent,
burning the ancient dove's feathers
Shambling presence, odd pretence
Hatred burning, lust no long deserving
Torn in thorns, seen no more
flickering lights, fuming flames
smouldering walls down across the buried bodies
of them all
Oh, What wicked kings
to **** them all
what hate to the desires that goes on forth
the damning thrones
To death throes for all hoped that lived, now no more
Oh what wicked kings
To where the lands are darks and people do not
strive to roam the streets at all
Oh what wicked kings,
**** them all.
what's this poem about? I don't know.
Sometimes the pen writes for you
mark soltero Apr 2021
bb
let me sing
until the day that i die
that i won't
because it's hard to remember
it's going to happen one day
hopefully the lovers i didn't want
can cry for me
because no one will be
maybe the girl next to me will be there
i just don't want to be alone
can't face the darkness by myself  
she's the kingslayer of my dreams
ready to save me
GQ James Dec 2020
Slip them ******* to the side,
Let me rub your back,
Let me rub your thighs,
Let me rub your feet,
Baby I know you had a rough day at work,
Lemme ease your pain and ease your mind,
Lemme make you feel better.

You always taking care of everyone,
Lemme take care of you,
You deserve a break,
Relax baby I got you,
I'm yours so I'ma take care of you,
You ain't gotta do it on your own,
A man never lets his woman struggle.

You can do bad by yourself,
I'm here to help and make it easier on you,
You can lean on me and I'll hold you down,
You my queen and I'm your king,
I know you never thought you'd meet your king,
Never thought I'd meet my queen,
When you stop looking that's when it comes.
KING MEETS HIS QUEEN.
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