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Marietta Ginete Aug 2019
To the girl he is in love with,
Don't let your story be a myth.
He deserves a love beyond it,
for he is a man full of wit.
please don’t waste the guy I never had a chance with.
Justin Aptaker Aug 2019
the angel called out to me
Recite!
But I said,
"what will I recite with these unclean lips? "

So the angel ripped my larynx
out of my throat
and set it on fire
until it burned to ashes

then I began to recite
Written ca. 2014
A B Faniki Aug 2019
Zeus is a man who has been around for long
in his long life he has heard the siren song
the song that make men
jump overboard into the ocean
he said it's an echo of "help! help!" for long
© A B Faniki all right reserved  8/11/2019 this work is part of my work for my next book  the work is in limerick form
Vivek Gupta Aug 2019
I am a legend!
Heard about my story?
Heard about my end?
Heard about my Glory?
But honestly,
You don't even know me!
You only see,
What you really wanna see!
There's more to my life than just a lesson!
There's love, pride and obsession!
My misery and pain is what they really took!
To represent me on pages of an old dusty book!

              -Vivek!
Justin Aptaker Aug 2019
jet-stream, that trails
jet-stream, clearly shown
to us as the mark, as the mark of the one
most awesome of gods, of the Creating Snail
    gentle, and generative,
                      and
                fertile
                   by: our one mind

                                      below
             all our reason, in light
of our eyes, of our ancients
in season

fruit, when found eaten
red hand, in jar dripping
we liken to something, reflux acid sweetened
sweet before swallow, as is every scroll's sum--memory
    distant, and blind,
                      but
          not dumb
Seán Mac Falls Jul 2019
.
On winsome plains of dusted origin
Gods spoke: “Let fresh, sensate flesh
Incarnate, let questioner, move lost —
Come.” And in birth was live funeral,
Wrested body of spirit, seer of mercies.

In a story set to flame for children —
Old man poet writhed on a new cusp
Betwixt madness and old firmaments,
Where spinning globes set time adrift
And mankind undulated like sad song.

Hush poet would never know in sight,
That meaning shared time with industry
And all the buildings that vibrate are cold,
Where tall suits shimmer and music dies,
Death knows it’s place among the wreaths

For tall tales are sodden by rainy graves.
It is better after — that poet was shaper
Mostly in death, like shining Phoenix,
Like concrete angels haunting chapels,
Or mythical creatures populating fable
As ancient groves of tree reach skyward.
.
Amaris Jul 2019
Gods, I’ve been forsaken!
I – formerly blessed by the sun –
Cry out to you, you who leave
My words unheard.
Once a daughter to kings, I wait
Inside an indiscernible prison
For the fall of my beloved city.
I predicted this, my people, but
I cannot blame you, my people
I spurned the sun, burned my fate
And now no one will heed me.
They tell me I am
beautiful, I am brilliant, I am
insane.
They tell me
To leave the future to kings.
I spoke to you, my people
The contents of the horse
I spoke to you, my people
When we shall catch our demise
With axe and fire, I rush,
Only to face the barrage of disbelief
I hear them laughing, my people
Those who will carve their place
Where you once stood
But you will not listen.
Based on Greek myth of Kassandra, a Trojan princess cursed by Apollo to speak prophecies but never be believed.
Seán Mac Falls Jul 2019
.
I see myself in you—
With a spike we two spoke out,
Vagaries of wind, verisimilitudes
And the moon gives us her light.

Black bird, black robed Druid,
We both are spinning round
The hills draped in psalms
Of the oak and windy leaves.

Your words, I hear, go unsaid,
My utterings babble, ring in a rill,
Cold and cascading to mosses,
Bleeding from a lone escarpment.
.
Derrek Estrella Jul 2019
It felt like a drainpipe down the gullet of the actress
As she leapt out of sight of the red baroness
Asking, why do the streetlights stay blue?
And will the soil maintain its hue?

Faceless people eating capriciously
As they tenderly speak of their shore leave
As they’re foisting their dreams to their sleeves
Speaking of odd, foreign fleece

Decadent manners spoke in secret tongues
Polarized banners through brazen tar lungs
As bravado finds a new face
To win wars with one holy gaze

Something’s the matter but it’s all for nought
As the gilded Centurion claims he forgot
What he built his first child’s house upon
For all his sons are vagabonds

I mimicked a child in the way he embraced
His nascent complacence to the human race
Clinging to a wooden rail
For fear of the careless hail

A man claimed his newsboy hat kept him enclosed
For his fear that his thought-dreams would serve to corrode
The last bastions of society
Which he clings on to haplessly

The visor hung low on the Titan of Rhodes
For he knew of the judgment on one head exposed
In his position above
Where the sky belongs only to doves

Calendars festoon their tactless grace
With legions of chandeliers, forming a haze
Now, we know that the days are numbered
Yet, the fact leaves us all encumbered

Facsimiles of the nationwide veins
Will collapse next year as they fight for the grain
Now, the horse is extinct with the train
And everyone fears to remain
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