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David Hilburn Mar 28
Theory of a dread
Music in the naked thought
For more, than a kind thank you ahead
Where the cloth is worn, with a purposed climate to rot?

Music with a proud name...
Torrid whole kindred, and a dole of lead
In meager how, the gift of nothing shame?
Reasons and similar essence to rise, and fall with need...

Mercy for a minstrel of heirs?
Taken to lies and school's of thought...
Sweet avarice, do we know you one step more?
Like a bird of war, we see the tried and true, became not...

Them said, the tone of your voice is a sultry longing...
Strength and totals of sincerity, to show you a vaunted
Gold, and the many of sitting for a though, a song
Of guided misery, the stare of unison that joy meant...

A hat full of sunshine, is a waiting lover...?
Known for mutual live and lets give the moment...
With but a song to share, are we a sallow order to those?
With a realm to touch and mendacity in the eaves, is again a lament...?

The shyness of veracity, in your hand for ourselves?
That knew the day of your haunt of justice, wantonness
Courage in the affront of thunderous drama, to acquire a force
Of silence and reason in a marvel of distance, as if the name of our blessing...?

A halting dream with shall to swallow, and the instinct...
Of curiosity with a bridge to essential mere, the times are a changing covenant...?
With the shadow of youth, the honor of what was a method succinct...
Tales of sour chance in the good nature of fear, today is a lovers love...?
Contrary and stone deaf in love?, try a spaghetti on a table with God (come from the war we made with prayers demonstration to youth) Beth, we found the socks you left in the religion...
Barnaby Atkins Dec 2022
There are buckets made of plastic
There are buckets made of wood
The former are fantastic
The latter not so good.

There are buckets made of metal
And canvas buckets too
But metal for durability
I'd choose if I were you.

There's a bucket on a digger
And buckets made of leather
The former are the bigger
And the latter not so clever.

There are buckets made of tin
And with a little ***** in hand
Kids can build sand castles
When playing on the sand.

There are buckets made of rubber
Or with a wringer for a mop
And some in white enamel
With a blue ring round the top.

There are so many buckets
And some I may have missed
But if anyone should ask me
That's my bucket list.
A poem by Ray Pattenden
I S A A C Jul 2022
goon in love
too soon to trust
that's my inner dialogue, just a fire moving along
gazing above
wondering what watches over me as I repeat the mistakes set out forth for me
generational trauma, nature works in cycles
generational drama, focus on plastic idols
daydreams in the white room
unfaithful to the divine fruit
The gen-z,
Opposition to plastic,
But in their social media sea, see,
The bombastic
amount of plastic people,
Floating and chanting against climate change,
The movement is only steeple,
To acclaim more turtle followers. In exchange
they don’t nothing but say hoaxes,
Let the environment die with a pretty pose.
There’s a difference between activism and PRing
lucidwaking Apr 2021
Brilliant cherry reds
Scattered like stars across the tile floor.
Their sheen is alluring -
A bright dollar store sparkle;
A candied shimmer to disguise triviality.

All it takes is a jagged nail
To scratch away the lie,
Thinly veiled by a coat of paint and acrylic.
"A person's true colors will always show in time,"
Or so the saying goes.

The deceit is lovely.
It carries an aromatic falsehood
With promises of



                                                    and beauty,

All pretending to glimmer in your plastic ruby eyes.
I gladly welcome critiques. Thanks!
Ylzm Apr 2021
I've walked and savoured
Seen the magic and ate the food
Sight and hearing may deceive
But taste, fragrance and touch
Directly speaks and to you alone
And by same measure I know
The liars, the blind, and the fools
For their fruits are without taste
Even as plastic fruits are for eyes only
wizmorrison Dec 2020
Becareful from the people in front of you,
They are nice but secretly hiding a poison behind.
Beware of the people in your back,
They might push you straight to the graveyard.
Wattpad's Coffin Of Thoughts.
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