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Stone Fox Feb 2016
Feathers torn from the gaping napes of wind began to dwindle and resist in spite of the gravity crushing tsunami.

Trapped in a facade of  impersonating flowing rain every feather dived to their unplanned descent.

All drowning in the nightmarish truth of actually being smothered in tears of a blue eyed-giant as they fell from the sky of that big blue eye’s, dead decapitated face.
A face severed on a head that hid a heavenly chateaus inside a false impersonated globe forever resting among the stars.

Inside housed all kinds of dimensional beings rarely ever seen but all known to possess legendary archaic features.
They mastered all the realms and lastly rule our skies.
They are cold warriors of combat- handled by their deadly grace, poisonous envy,  blinding halos, and suffocating wings…

Oh such undeniably divine things!

First plucked from you, then stolen from me!


A conscious belief known only by those who wish to remain unseen

as we become the common theory of all your pretty inanities.
AMcQ Jan 2016
A monochrome film plays
Over and over.
To a singular audience.
It rewinds.
Pauses.
Fast-forwards.
It sticks on one frame
Over and over.
In the scene
It's me, lost in a
Labyrinth.
It's walls lit with
projected clips
of a monochrome film.
Playing.
Over and over.
Candy Flip Jan 2016
Align: right.
Now look at these sentences
Look at how they stick out from the right of the page like that.
Pretty cool, huh?
They look like icicles or some ****.
I should write a poem about icicles
And then everyone would think I'm smart
Because I'm making a metaphor with the very text on the page.
Or I could write a poem
About my mental process as I'm thinking this
And people will think I'm double smart
For being so meta or some ****.
Candy Flip Jan 2016
A lot of
The poetry
On this website
Is very
Sad.
Q Jan 2016
I'll sing my own funeral song
And attend my wake alone
I'll write and read my eulogy
And drive my hearse home.

I'll sing my own funeral song
Send my own soul to rest
I'll pray over my casket
And mourn my life and death.

I'll sing my own funeral song
Place a single flower on my grave
I'll out myself into the ground
And cover my stilled face.
just a tidbit that popped into mind after an interesting dream. the second of a five set for the new year.
Note: Thanks to V for his suggestions and always catching the little things I miss.
Check V's poetry out here: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/144637/boxes-and-shells/
melli7 Nov 2014
I’ll make a haiku
It will not say what I want
At least I’m speaking
Homunculus Dec 2015
All my poems are
The same, aren't they?
"You're being lied to by a corrupt,
Imperialistic government,
Corporations own your soul,
We're destroying the planet's
Natural resources, making
It uninhabitable, to ourselves and
Driving other species to extinction,
Capitalism is unethical, and
It subverts the potential
For real democracy,
Yada yada yada yada
Blah blah blah"



Maybe I should write about
Something else, but what?

I like flowers,
Flowers are nice,
Especially orchids, but
Not those weird,
Smelly ones that grow
On Callery trees... no
Those things reek like
Stale **** and sour milk.
Ah, but who could deny
The pungent and delicate
Fragrance of a rose?
Someone with anosmia,
That's who.
What, you didn't
Stop to think about,
People with disabilities?
How incredibly
Inconsiderate!
What are you?
Some sort of
Overprivileged, straight,
White, cis male ableist?
*******, you ******,
You might as well
Be a fascist. I would
Tell you to go back
To **** Germany, but
HEY, NEWS FLASH,
It's 2015, buddy,
Grow up and join
Us adults here in
The real world.
Wait... where was
I going with this?
A healthy bit of self criticism can always be helpful.
Fox Lauren Dec 2015
Oh---the words won’t knit themselves
Alone with nothing but mere thought,
Without the help of wondrous hand,
They’re nothing
But a sorrow lot

Of strangers screaming in sad verse
Visions of wisdom & of truth
Without the knowledge lost in sense
Without the soul of fearless youth.
Fox Lauren Dec 2015
fishing for words in th
e pool of eternity fishe
rmen of the world unit
e can you feel it shimm
ery waters let them tak
e it lie to your wife infi
nite times more than e
ver the bomb oh? THE B
OMB and letter A in the
back of your mind hold
ing a gun wait is it true…………………………….No? Laugh!
ryan Nov 2015
At this point it may not even
Be a poem,
Just too many intends in a too
Wordy sentence,
But it doesnt matter what it
Is, because all I
Want to get across is that

I love you.
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