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Ainnoot Mar 6
The milks gone bad
My drinks all flat
The lights now flicker
My favorite fruit‘s bitter
Every morning a pimple
My shirts always wrinkled
I’m sleeping less
My hairs a mess
If you were faking it
round of applause
for my favorite actor
So help me god
since you’ve been gone, Love.
my life’s a disaster.
Blazing emotion in the lust of first sight.
Uncertain hearts, and unclear minds
tragically filled with stories
of failed loves.

Broken pieces, cracked trust,
and fake smiles, but also a growing desire.
A desire for something real
something that isn’t just a one time passion.

Something that is more than another
failed story.
Something that is real, tangible, and something
that lives on through time and time again.

So is this our new story?
Played in the major scale?
Or another minor detail
in my harrowing tale of love.
Hello! This is a poem I wrote involving a new love interest in my life. It's a fascinating situation that I would much like to keep. But my past relationships tend to end the same, and new ones rarely stick. So I find myself wondering if this person is a major part of my life blossoming an original story or just another minor detail in my current tale.
a minor typo found this fanatic spell binding hound to resend a poem dashed off in a huff (past the hour) if nothing else than fur his peace of bot tee, mind. Thus this Norwegian bachelor wannabe (most closely aligned with said status closely attained unmarried state by pledging my Unitarian troth)  tilled, sown, and furrowed spirit nsync with the missus sleeping in close proximity.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

dog tired this day - march 29th, 2018

no matter this dawg gone pup
     took numerous one after another cat nap
his utterly fatigued
     body electric still ragged
     as if he went without sleep for a lifetime,
     ensnared within a time warp,

     espied that aggravating "aw SNAP"
(error code instead of a webpage
     indicating Chrome happens to be
     experiencing problems loading)
     or, simultaneously
     caught in a narcoleptic parent trap

thus, while a burst of energy
     temporarily doth prevail
(a priori which extreme fatigue
     of body, mind and spirit -

     more troublesome, and worse than -
     getting crucified
     with a rusty nine inch nail
alleviated with deep sleep finds

     much more tiredness
     than usual quotidian sleepiness
     bruiting this male)
     being imprisoned (for high

     gram matt tick crimes
    and misdemeanors) such as: comma, splices,
     dangling a modifier, splitting an infinitive,
     unnecessary parenthesis (), et cetera

     which landed me punctually,
     proverbially, and squarely
     in the slaammed shut jail
fed thin gruel with grubs that didst flail
nauseating pluperfect revulsion
     each time hide exhale

which, many hours long rests did restore
for a bit of time only for totally tubular
      exhaustion to come roar
ring back leaving me tour
     charred as if...i fought in every major war.
Kaitlyn Nov 2017
I've only ever relied on someone else for my happiness.
Looked to them to answer any question i had.
Until the moment they were no longer there to guide me out of my perceived darkness.
But i was stuck.
I waited on you but you only walked away.
So thank you, because i believe I've figured it out.
How to be happy and not dependent on you.
You're the one that has gone and replaced the role i used to play in your life.
So i guess you can ultimately say that you have done this to yourself.
And I'm not really sorry.
Sorry.
I am focusing on me and you are now playing an insignificant minor role in the way my life develops.
Thank you.
I love you my best friend.
Things i will never say to my best friend; the one that tore me apart and walked away.
show me you love me
in a dream you can't
control, we collect crystals
and give each other tarot
readings - but i always
wonder what you are thinking,
laid out between judgement
and queens in my pink floral
bedsheets. not real, i'm
seeing it all the same.
this is one of my favorite cards, i get this a lot when i do readings for myself.
Snotty VX Apr 2017
Passing cars of noise,
The onlookers, judging me,
My headache, myself.
A senryu poem I made for class that I still kinda like
Morgan Kelly Oct 2016
A dry desert feeling creeps up my throat
I can almost feel the bright,
Red color lining the soft tissue.
Body aches starting at all twenty digits,
Eventually make their way throughout the body.
Sickness.

To some an excuse for rest,
"So why does sickness make me so upset?"
I try to scream,
But, alas, my voice is lost.

Ah, the voice,
What a silly instrument,
"Silly how," you may ask.
Well, it's weak.

Why can't my two ***** of vibrating tissue,
Stay healthy?
I need to use those stubborn chords,
My voice should not be diminished,
It should be strong.
This is a major problem,
That, to others, may seem minor.

Sing the notes,
Finish the chord,
Don't be flat,
That doesn't mean go sharp.
ENOUGH!
I can't even sing.

Unable to participate in a pleasurable passion,
All because of a
****
Weak
Immune System.
For anyone who is so inclined:

https://soundcloud.com/apexparadigm/sets/sunrise
Solo keyboard. Piano/*****. C minor, mostly. Improvised. Instrumental.
The rhythm hits me first,
Off-beat, syncopated, unpredictable,
Yet I find my foot tapping in perfect time,
My body synchronised with an ever-changing pulse.

Then the bass,
Driving, moving forward, eager,
I find my legs moving with it,
My body pulled by a promise of more.

Then the chords,
Dissonant, unresolved, uncertain,
Yet my ears enjoy every one,
My body desperate to understand the logic behind them.

Then the melody,
Haunting, minor, hesitant,
Yet my eyes are drawn to those that sing,
My body overwhelmed with bare emotion.

Then the lyrics,
Hopeful, free, safe,
And I find myself singing along,
To a song I didn't know, but that resonates in my heart.
Anna Vigue Sep 2014
It doesn’t matter what I type
As long as I type words
It doesn’t faze me what the hype
As long as I infer
The lyrics although musical
Just bounce inside my head
They always start with music
But the  words come out instead
It does have a tune.

— The End —