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The drops are so much deeper,
and the highs aren't high at all.
Ongoing expectant measures listed,
of these persistent calls to pressure.
To fill a frame that's drained,
when switching off is no longer an option.
Are these real problems or signs of age?

Before was easier, yesterday simpler,
but would the early days help to mould,
when you've already grown from there.
Late observations of missed play,
a rug pull calls out the fool to vacate.
As we're a little bitter in vain,
there's no sweetness today.
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
Old mould
You are cast
No more sold
You aren't antique
For you aren't unique
You are fatigued
Suffered creep
Belong to
A herd of sheep
Think deep
Your past
A waste
Recycle yourself
Dumpster you escape
Do some fission-fusion
Turn molten
New mould
Recast yourself
Be useful
Don't be useless
There is no age bar to think deep, introspect and remould yourself to be useful to the society.
I wish I’d never learned the word hate

I hate the wind for making me cold
I hate the idea of time and growing old
I hate it when the corner of books have a fold
I hate myself for becoming a mould

Yes, I’m a mould - I change people like clay
Which, I guess, I do every day
I don’t tell anyone what to do or say
But somehow I have guided them in every single way

If you told me we had a long day ahead
I’d say I’d rather be back home in bed
If you told me a small bad thing a stranger had said
I would hate every single hair on that man’s head.
Moulds and mold
Shape it right or let it rot
Meanings to words
As you seek
KNOWER Jun 2020
You've prob'ly heard it told before,
Of "Midas' Touch" in written lore
But what you prob'ly might not know's...
Of Midas' kin, "Sadim", his bro

While Midas' touch turned things to gold,
Sadim's hold would turn them old
Upon his touch, things would grow mould,
Or break apart like pummeled stone

Well, SADIM's MIDAS flipped right back,
his brother's white, and he's the black
his name suggests he'd turn things dim,
his presence's dark, foreboding grim

But mark you ye, they're needed both,
Sadim's death, and Midas' growth...
"SADIM" is "MIDAS" read in reverse...
(for any who might've missed it).

I have been feeling rather off-beat after having accidentally broken my brother's computer... :/

the experience left me feeling like...
Sadim, "the Angel of Death"... :(

I just thought to try and pen down my thoughts, and feelings, regarding the experience in the hope of getting some respite...

I hope you enjoy(ed) the piece...

may love, life, and light always be with you all... :)
Scarlett Jan 2020
that Gigantes face
so engulfed in clouds of euphoria
teeth melt and mould
against my delirious musings
that sweat of shame
and remoulded nausea
dissipating sand of
rapacious time bruisings
Diving in with blinkered eyes, I find
a growth that crawls across my skin and sinks.
It swims and smirks at demons planted young
enough to draw a blank on valid roots.
Doubt nourishes delusions ‘til they bloom
in clear distortion. ****** boundaries
blurring in the glass that could be used
to feed an urgent withheld fantasy.
To bind my view on bare skin: agony.
The kind where breath escapes the reach of lungs
and bones could shatter pain-free, senses numbed
by visions of strict moulds and goals to hit
in light of realisation: I don't fit.
Salmabanu Hatim Jun 2019
Cockroach,  Cockroach , what are you doing in my soup,
In the kitchen I was playing hoop la hoop,
And I fell in you soup mister,
It's hot and I am getting blisters,
Scoop me with your spoon,
Before I swoon.
Please don't shout or scream,
I will be thrown out of the kitchen of my dream,
Filthy and messy,
With rotten fish, slimy and smelly,
Red meat in blood,
And fungi on sauces and salads with mould,
Never scrubbed,the kitchen,
For thousands of us it's heaven.
Be a pal,
Go away with your gal,
At least I did you a favour,
Not eating in this yucky place forever.
25/6/2019
Poetic T May 2019
I think the moulds were broken with humanity,
for if we were perfect
there wouldn't be so many faults
                                    in the mould.

But we learnt to smooth over the  cracks
                      and realise
                                            that we aren't perfect
but together we can mould a better future together.
Simone13 Aug 2018
Like an aberration
A colossal of ways  
Is when the moonlight
Meets the sun raise  

                                           Time-lined asphalt
                              Orb shadowing the dawn
                          Avoiding flickering wounds
                                                   By moving on

Like a neighbor
A wall mould to clay
That is the burden
Between night and day
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