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Andrew Sep 22
I could read it all from the earliest of times
To the most modern i could listen to it all
The jazz and all the drums and the soft whispers
Of love, and I could see all the mountains and
All the empty spaces, to know the difference between the
Mathematical infinities and reality or could i? The
Mississippi in winter, the desert in summer full
Of nothing but non emptiness to think or know
The physical is finite
And I can sleep good tonight. I feel like propane
I feel like nothing and could be
Just a comma before the unknown
Following the amazing and breath taking
Without breath, spineless and speechless
The reaction takes place and does all
Not at all and even then it's up to opinion
If it all matters or even if matter exists
It could be just an illusion for all you know
A B Faniki Sep 5
I am who I am and that is
All I want to be "Me." I
May not be as majestic as a lion or
Walk as gracefully as one or
Have a roar like one, but that is
Ok, for I know who I am and what
I am worth -I am a child of grace and
Although I am not the first of my kind nor the last of
My kind yet I am one of a kind"My thumb print say so"
A B Faniki © 9/5/2019 all right reserved  knowing ones woh i s a beautiul thing and azaming . This pom is an acrostic  with I AM WHO I AM.
Rise, smile, it's morning,
We wake up to new day dawning,
Please stop your yawning!

It's A. M. Haiku,
Fresh day for me and you too,
Now, where are my shoes?
Make you smile, feedback welcome.
acacia Aug 10
I don't like ******
I don't like (hidden) charms
I don't like hemmelig gestures
I don't like flick of the tongue

I cannot appreciate your beauty, it is not a talent
I cannot allow myself to faun over does who turn yellow like my lawn
Beauty is empty
Beauty is nothing at all
All you pretty girls, you seem like nothing at all
Don't bat your eyelashes
Don't color your cheeks
Don't throw on your new scarlet shoes
Don't let yourself fall into the week

You boys stay away from me
Your harrowing eyes rest beneath my leaking pipes
You pretty boys will never go for **** things like I
Sometimes it is you who tempt me
With you, boys, I would wish to go far
But take away your rotten dreams
Place them, from me, real real real real far

Take your tawny shoulders (take your blue shatter)
Take your conditional romance (take your charred bouquet)
Take your pre-set curls (take your square, veiny hands)
Take your petal heart (take your eyes from me)

I do not want (wo)man-kind (or the like)
I do not want you
Sometimes I wish to erase you from my palmistry
What is a being like me to do?

Charge me again, taxation, I rise from the smoke
Destroy all my golden photos
Look away from me
Look away from me
Look away from me
Look away from me
Look away from me
Look away from me
Look away from me
Look away from me
Look away from me
Look away from me
Look away from me
Yes, look away from me

Giggling, bubbling, hysteria
Girlish, boyish beams
How do you stand this?
Why do you stand this?
I will not stand this
Look away from me
by Friar Sonya (my character)

she doesnt like these things
c Jun 5
Please do not tell me
You love me
Because that scares me so much more
Than loving you
Ever could
Drew Vincent Apr 5
I know it now more than ever,

you were always my forever.
my soulmate
Nat Lipstadt Mar 14
“Who will judge, as many trudge
through mud, mucking up the rug,
a coating of clay formed by God on a particular day.
Yet talent is ingrained, whether sane or insane,
and verse is treasure or a curse, unrehearsed, dispersed for all to see,
will they applaud or disparage, this marriage of mind and rhyme,
by design aligned, a sign of the times...”

ms. patty m*

once again a thunderbolt command hits between the eyes, on-right
the precise spot where the head aches with desire to fulfill the write!
but to what can I add to this encompassing question already
better answered by the questioner?

who will judge indeed!

all the time and far too often,
the flotsam rises to the surface, when better left ignored,
while the jetsam jets nowhere, buried deep though breathing yet,
on unseen sea bottom of ignorance,
luck of the draw by one who designs, who aligns,
a capricious starscape in the firmament
as well as
the infirmity & ignominy of caskets lying quiet in sea trenches

that the answer herein contained, a supposition,
a poor poets speculation, a soul’s lactation,
the very question is a cyclone bomb by competents
who are blinded+bound+blessed by

the only judge and jury is
your forefingers tip,
if it tremble a-slight
when caressing the key called send,
your cellular fiber
has adjudged worthy,
and no dare disagree

talent and distinction
randomly and irrationally distributed,
but the courageous caress of a send key pressed,
is all that is needed
to impress the only judge and jury
authorized you
in advance to
love yourself insanely well enough
to write
to send for
a request for sentencing
Thursday March 14, 2019 10:51am

N.B. as I said,
patty m asked and answered it bestie better
M-E Jan 10
Its when we started looking for -
Our diffrences
We lost the magical power
Of true love
And we scattered ourselves
Apart from each other
As a deck of cards
Falling away from the hands
Of an amateur magician
Rohan Press Dec 2018
Expressions lax at the crossroads.

Their worn tracks are like
little smiles (stained, muddied,
darkened) on evening's
soft purchase.

— I'm clutching dry lips
on these bleeding
little mouths.

— I'm remembering
to be as stars:

so closely far away from you.
the crossroads is where i kept my composure.

where you—oh, sweet you—looked up at me.
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