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can't take on another lover
I'm just looking for a friend,
I gaze out of the tinted window
as the night washes away
the pain in the end,
would you like to sit next to me
when all that you've held sacred,
falls down and does not mend?
while we watch chaos overrun the world,
and now there's no time to pretend.
I'm not a man who sold the world, neither am I another shoulder for you to cry upon.

When it does happen, I'd prefer front row seats to watch the end of the world unfold. Are you up for it?

PS:  Inspired by Jim Morrison's soulful vocals in 'The End', the perfect apocalypse song for me.

Apparently, he was also the first rock and roll artist to have been arrested on stage during a show.

Nigdaw Jul 2019
A lonely soul, looking for inspiration;
Balanced on the edge of life.

Words penned from a dark mind,
With occasional flashes of light.

A loser in the end, but brilliantly -
And everyone missing the point.
I had a fun night with two.
One died and the other is starving.
They came to see me
like the mysterious sea about to *****,
the kind of sea where often in the evening a dozen clairvoyants ****** by every other god
come to drown!
I had a fun night with two.
One died before I could hold her and the other, I starved her to death.
Honey! Could you please get me my vegetarian horse.
I need to catch a revolutionary jellyfish then feed it with my idea of religion and let it dissolve in the mysterious sea.
You are stupid and so is your god!
I had a fun night with two...

- Samar Charulingah Godfrey
Elizabeth Brown Oct 2018
I stand on the edge,
The poetry of one long dead
reaching out to me through a wormhole.
Taken too early from a world not ready.
His words reach through my chest,
into my soul, pulling out the deepest pains
and the brightest days;
Pulling me deep into the Earth
to hear it's silent song.
Dakota J Dawson Feb 2018
A white porcelain

Sits atop
The stool

Beside a resting
Toilet and silent sink

Drains are clogged
Must be the fog

Airing up
Inside the room

Thick and heavy
Full of cream

Like a hot
French Pastry

Soap melts
Into a fine cappuccino

Skin is soft
Not smooth

Tired of the water's touch

Lips separated
Leaking drool

An earlier soft drink
Makes its appearance

Sake makes my soul
Gold and sublime

A snowball I received
To the face

Magical cocktail
Island tragedy

In Paris
Couped up

Stuck in a bathroom
Head bobbing

And Down

Side to side

Direction unchosen
Ears sweetened

By a tranquil
Heavenly sound

A song
Heartfelt poem

Layne's voice
Shouting from the void

Guitar strings
Beats of a drum

Native quotas

Just peace
No hate

Possible gain
***** to be given

Fall upon my brow

Hissing in the heat
Chilling a man-made sea

Fingers tingle
Fabricating a jingle

Eyes swell
Blochted art on the walls

Feet numb
Deciding to stick around

Like a sore gum
Withered with gin

My armor
Solid arms

Continue to fall
Down with my divinity

I am Lucifer
Shining meteor of false hope

Chest heaves
I begin to grieve

Hope for a dawn
Pray to hear a new song

But here he comes
I am bleeding

Shaken by the storm

And crying

This means
I am dying

Is the time right?
Harley Hucof Apr 2017
The heart of the Lizard King beats with every note
It speaks of a strange tongue and a banned tone

A vision of the future and past incarnations
A trip to the edges of creation

The Lizard King smiles, but it knows him not
He cries but the tears refuses to drop

18th generations of a pure blood race
The Lizard King offers the last chance to escape

Words of a lost soul that won't breed
Pain, pleasure and desires till the Lizard King fals asleep

Words Of Harfouchism
Xan Abyss Feb 2017
Ride the Serpent, baby
Into the Great Sea
Ride the Devil, Angel
Into the Deep Sleep
I came from outside
With a universal mind
And you and I can fly, my darling
We need only to die

Ride the Serpent, baby
Into the Great Sea
Ride the Devil, Angel
Into the Deep Sleep
My friends on the inside
Pour us fountains of red wine
"Alive!" She cried, and I was mystified
By the crimson in her eyes

Persian Night, babe - fly with me
See the light, babe? Cry with me
I wanna taste your fearful tears
Show me your eyes and open wide
When the ancient witch appears
We can howl like beasts of the wild

Come back, LA Woman
I'm sick of doin' time
Is this the end?
Can someone find me reason for a rhyme?

"We are but clowns in a cosmic circus, degrading ourselves for a silent, uncaring audience. Their Collective gaze dances across our fragile flesh like so many knives on fire. We bleed. We burn. Our healing begets new ailments. We continue to suffer. We continue to survive. We never stop smiling. The circus is all we have. To lose the horror is to lose the Majesty as well. We must not quit. The lights have not gone down, and we hope they never will. We cannot afford to lose our audience. The Show Must Go On."

Persian Night, little angel!
Fly with me!
See the light, little angel?
Die with me!
I want you here, obscene
For all eternity
For I long to hear the scream of the butterfly!

So turn off the light!
Turn off the light!
Turn off the light and see!
Turn off the lights!
Turn off the lights!
Turn off the lights for me!

...Ride the Serpent, baby
Into the Great Sea
Ride the Devil, Angel
Into the Deep Sleep
Turn off the light and climb inside my universal mind
And finally we can be free
An homage to Jim Morrison.
Taylor Marion Oct 2016
I woke up today in a house, a house I knew was my own but looked much different than I remember. The kind of house one sees in dreams, unfamiliar yet definable. In some way or another. I was tangled in a bed of sheets that had clearly been slept on for months without cleanse. Painted with ****** secretions, ranging from love-making to menstruating. Ash, from pipes to papers. Make-up, from nudes to noirs. You, a stranger, walk in with a giant bowl of cereal and two spoons. You knew it was my favorite, but I didn’t know you. But I knew you, you know? In some way or another. I wanted to call you a name, but it didn’t seem fitting. Maybe it belonged to a memory, what was that memory again? Oh, I don’t know. But you looked at me like we had shared so many memories that we became a new name. You spoon-fed me Wheaties and folded your feet between my legs. You kissed me and whispered a Van Morrison tune, “I never knew the art of making love ‘til my heart yearned with love for you.” And that’s when I knew.

I shoot up from the bed, leaving a concave within the foam mattress, and eye the carpet as if my feet were going to fall through.

“Hardwood. This is supposed to be hardwood.”
“What?” your eyes follow me in confusion.
“Be quiet.”

I grab a loose end of carpet near a corner and start tearing it up from its bonds. Low-and-behold, blonde hardwood sat quietly beneath it, as if it’s been waiting for me to unearth it. Unearth you.

I buried You.
Everything started rushing back to me.

I get up unsteadily and tear down the wallpaper to find a screen playing back every memory. The faire. The zoo. The restaurant. The concert. The park. The bed. Our path. A doorway. A starry night under a deck. Loose cigarettes and empty bottles. A volume so loud I can’t hear myself assess. A voice echoing off every wall; “I love you’s” in infinite delay. “I hate you’s” in infinite succession.
I’m running through this half foreign house now trying to find You. Who, what, and where are You? You’re nowhere to be found. I’m searching behind every door, rustling through every nook and cranny, tearing down every trinket of décor. I’m falling to my knees and crying in my palms. Where are You?

I cry every last drop from the ocean of despair within me, open my eyes, and let the reality sink in:
This house is empty and You’re nowhere to be found.
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