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Swanky sauntering swagger of a sashay.  Verve’s chutzpah, moxie savvy's panache, dexterously agile acuity.  Articulate coordinated excellence and prowess’s talented exceptional.  

Intrepid intuitive intrigue, mystical magical multifariously versatile nefarious nemesis.  Malfeasance evocative tout, execrating eventuation evocative expletives, executant tour de force entelechy's apotheosis.  Ne plus ultra irrefragable opulence, erudite illuminism numinous piquant poignancy.  Dynamic livid lurid vagile puissance.  Lucid orotund sonorous fecund resilience.  

Eloquent exuberance felicitous transcendent epiphany.  Nuance tactile audacious preternatural metaphysical clairvoyant imperative.  Augur quantum ominous avant-garde profundity, virulent vivid indomitably indefatigable cogent fatidic, quintessential deft.  Celerity innovative veracious metamorphic, adroit nimble avid austere. 

Fulgurous astute atman clever crafty rapacious sagacious.  Effulgent zealous fastuous temerity machismo enunciation diction, imperative repartee.  Exserted protuberance educement proclivities succinctly ostentatious.  Ardent arduous inductive adamant incursion ostensive hornswoggling swashbuckler!
Sometimes a man's got to rant!!  Extraversion embezzlement euthanasia extortion, embark embargo extradition!  Ostensibly decadent arrogance and blatant flagrancy.  Annex annul.  Exotic trollwood harlotry and mule kit blues.  Deally romp resembla blur!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Jared Jan 2020
A place beside the trees,
A vibrant place for me.
Surrounded by the leaves,
A place where I can be.

The trees don’t jeer.
The leaves don’t even ask me my name.
The wind’s blow judges not,
Whose face is graced with its kindly breath.

This is not my own however,
As many share it too,
Opened doors to whomever,
Worst of even you.

People carelessly walking,
Without the slightest aim.
The thought ever pervades my mind:
“I wonder if they feel the same?”

In this fruitful land, my greatest catharsis.
And yet, there is something not quite right here.

A gentle, creeping darkness,
Whispers in my ear:

“It is said that where you look,
You can find and see,
A place with all the answers,
The place inside your dreams.

But when all is said and done,
And nothing’s left but rot,
There was no place at all,
And you will be forgot.”
Andromeda Apr 2019
Cries the Cymbals!
Screams the winds!
the show is beginning
and the characters shall sing!

says the audience!
cries the narrator!
the foreshadowing melodies
must be remembered for later!

listen close
listen carefully,
for behold the characters pain
is about to be told.
let the spiral begin
I'm a tool pondering skyscapes.
Fondling a memory
Left behind
On sunset marquees.
It raced into the horizon like
A toad on the road.
A neon dream waving farewell.

Exploring mindsets:
An act in caressing
Bloodbath tesseracts.
A roundhouse rollercoaster,
Spinning at velocity of perfume
Hitting nasal perforations.

Core memories surface along spine cutlets,
No longer intrinsic
I'm settling for more.
A bathed blue baby is a moment
Too long to endure.

Hindsight is
A parson's lake passage;
A mad monster yet to be tamed;
A grain of salt to a fresh wound made;
Moments of grace from a fake great ape.

Blue morons slide
Into Mormon jovial footsteps.
Derided ice forestry into
King's cloaked ancestry.
Which makes family the
Opposite of attraction.

And yet here I am
Talking to you,
Eyelight through obelisks
In hotbox barricades.
Hiding behind
A past of newspapers.
Headline reads 'ONLY DEVINE'

Wipe the frown,
Draw the sword.
Don't be ignored anymore.
AllyRose Jun 2017
I’m treading on thin ice.
Misplaced my safety net.
Captured in this crooked paradise.
Your pants are catching fire.
Curiosity killed the cat,
Cause he thought he was a tiger.
Glued to your filthy habits,
You can say that again.
If you don’t stand for something,
You’ll fall for anything.
Words mean nothing…
You’ve got my blood on your hands.
You said you cared,
But you didn’t mean it.
Where are those angels,
When you need them?
Your arms trying to pin me down,
Just like all the monsters,
We read about in poems and plays.
When the curtains drawn,
Is when the show really begins.
If only people listened to the overture.
I keep telling them to listen.
Your voice inside of my head,
Filling me with your venom,
Like the villains in your comic books.
If you don’t stand for something,
You’ll fall for anything.
Words mean absolutely nothing…
You’ve got my blood on your hands.
I said I don’t want it,
But you think I don’t mean it.
What if those angels,
Turn into demons?
You didn’t care to help me,
No one cared to help me,
Nobody can.
If only people listened to the overture.
Why don’t they ever listen?
Martin Narrod Oct 2016
I see your eyes scolding me, but full with the love couples give each other when the hour is late and they only want for sleep.

But in the frequencies of the distant elk calls, you must know, as I will tell you, yours is the only vocal range I relish
K Balachandran Jan 2016
A letter of intent, so clear, addressing me
written in exquisite feminine form,
in the script of love, her eyes encrypted;
only I'll be entitled to read it, none else,
and undertake the next delicate move.
It comes gliding towards me, isn't it magic?

Nothing unexpected this , in fact two pair of eyes
for a cool one week,did negotiations in intense silence
pregnant with desire, culminating in love,
                                                           ­         the scent of love
elates, it's in the morning air, binds us together, wafts!
Yes, you are the wild flower, the honeybee is here.
Leal Knowone Apr 2015
Feeling my effects
here on the chair, yes that is
****** overture
It is simple and stupid deal with it
in the mourning
the moon
begins to rise
to the
in the room
between the thighs
forbidden fruit
from a filthy city
that ruins lives
so the troupe
snipped ribbons
ripped ties
flew the coupe
and found suit


thought it was provoking

when they
caught em
smoking loosies &
tagging in
elementary school
bathrooms &
peeping ****** movies for free
mercy me, a perturbing
flea ridden circus
ballyhoo at
high noon
look between
the alleyways
like pearly gates
adjacent to
& facing toward
the gallow stage
saved for traitors

& may I say

these are unhallowed days

triple x files.
furious grady stiles
walked the
daily eighty miles
to the liquor store for
his quick pick or maybe just
a curious
eye sore for bored out tricks
on the nearest corner &
the queerest gory ***** flicks for
a nickel a dime a quarter

- mind the camera -

prison bar

flock stickered on
the flickering light
mock bicker then its
quiet on the farm tonight
⁢ doesn't seem right  
the sicker sheep seek
sleepless nights
in the street
took Darwinian flight &
a diving leap
to diamond minds
thicker fleece &
meaner teeth
drinking on cheap forties
sneakin up on sweet
***** mother glory

A memoir.

— The End —