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ShFR Jun 2013
I wasn't always good with words
until I learn they can be manipulated
stripped for parts,
reworded and planted as if sod,
sound the same,
rebuilt like a cars:
thesauruses are essentially junk yards,
they allow you to play tennis with your mind
they can replace signs,
are intimidated by the weak
yet rejoiced by the blind,
and --
in the end
I know words can do more than just rhyme
they chime in during chimes and relate simple parking tickets
to fines,
politicians use them as smoke screens
with words
I can metaphorically call them ninja’s
the way they evade questions and attack with their sharp tongues
so I won
well -- I'm winning the battle with words,
just know I can curse you now
without saying a curse
© 2013 by S Fraz All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of S Fraz
Aye Yo
I swear..
That my mind's been spinning
Around and Around
Like my head's literally

On, the Ceiling

So you should already know..
That I'm not a big fan of
Windmills or Pinwheels

But my thoughts are mainly
Off the scene

Man.. I rather stay chill like them
Crimson Trees, so much like
the Breeze

I'm just Chill'n

But it's not a cool feeling just
standing around with both feet on
the ground, while suddenly having this..
Cruel Feeling

That Life
Is not a  CRUISE

There's no
Smooth Sailing

But my tendencies are itching
For me to be E-

But yet trouble and I still met
NEVERTHELESS.. And I could only
guess.. it was because

We were both being

But in this world where we both
live, is really not that

Which kinda feels like I'm trapped
within a Dungeon
Or maybe?
Some kind of creeped out

But now it's all Eyes on me
See.. How I got the whole
world peeping and in A-

But to them?
I'm just another
As I speak.. on what they said
Yeah, He's apparently
Off his MEDS!!

As I turned to
Face them

That's why I consider them each
to be my enemy now
Because I'm seeing
Three or Four
Hundred more now
And they're all

[[  " RATTLING MY CAGES!! " ]]

And it's so much so
That I just imagine them all
On stone walls..

As being  FACELESS!!

And I've been living and thinking
this way.. ever since

But the suspense is killing me more
Although? Vandal be.. my Alias
Which is a cruel art to pitch
But still..


So as of now..
I couldn't care less about this mess
that I've been left with
Or should I say

Or better yet..
For the lack of a better word
I've been hit with

Which was never heard

But right now?
I am not the one to be
Messed with

For I have  PTSD
To the MAX!!
Or either Or
I have just been tagged from
here on and so on and so on
And further more..

As just another
Insane Poet ( slash ) Prophet with a
I am not a Ceiling Fan ( I am not crazy )
Crimson Trees ( Fall season )
Lawrence Hall Dec 2021
Lawrence Hall

                           He Never Met a Phor He Didn’t Like

He never met a phor he didn’t like
Where the dead are always spinning in their graves
A discarded cup looks like a war zone
And poems are unpacked instead of read

Or hyperbole ‘WAY OVER THE TOP!!!!!!!!!!!!
***! ***! ***! OH!!!!!!!!

And freighted his lines with adverbs in rank
Until they really actually literally sank
Metaphors, hyperbole, and adverbs seldom help communicate ideas.
sparklysnowflake Oct 2021
Our little collegetown is a jungle tonight,
with the deafening, staticky drone of locusts constituting
its own kind of warm gravity,

sidewalks drenched and carpeted with a rotting mess of
blood-red maple leaves, and

thousands of spiders the size of human eyes, glaring
down from the dead-center of their backlit, dew-drizzled webs.

I always thought that I'd never be loved enough.

In crafting anthologies on the angles of my favorite noses,
I pretended I didn't want someone else’s protractor on my own,
and prepared for a life sentence as the uncharted geometer,
the invisible painter, the secret poet,
the immortalizer, rather than the immortalized.

I find myself, now, to be a poem––
your poem––
etched into the curvature of your jungle-green eyes.

But walking home in our jungle tonight, I feel sick.
Your ears distort my hesitant laughter
into a dissonant, deafening euphoria, and

when I lay my head on your heated chest, I can feel the blood
gushing underneath your skin,
surging through your veins, storming, drowning
you, and I feel sick because all this love you pump for me--
all this love you are drowning in--
only rots in my guilty stomach...

When my memory is watching me
with her thousands of glaring eyes,
she will always mourn the breaking of a beautiful heart.

"You treat me like I was your ocean
You swim in my blood when it's warm
My cycles of circular motion
Protect you and keep you from harm
You live in a world of illusion
Where everything's peaches and cream
We all face a scarlet conclusion
But we spend our time in a dream"
-- Jungle Love by Steve Miller Band lol
Zoe Mae Sep 2021
Where will we be when the last elephant falls
I'll still be in the room
You'll be down the hall
Let's keep pretending
life's never ending
when it's really the extinction of us all
She saw love behind the metaphors,
  my intentions was leaking
through the sentences that I wrote
as she travelled through my poems
she found pieces of herself
in every writing.

If I would make a love poem for you
then I have to spend
twenty four hours a day,
seven days a week
twelve months a year
cause true love is endless
the ink may run dry
or the paper may run out of stock
but here in my heart
and in my mind
I can create hundreds of poems
that tell
how I love you
I love you my adi
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