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Sky Aug 2018
i love you, i told him
he stared back at me with those lovely
brown eyes

marry me, i said to him and
although he stayed quiet i could sense

the answer
from behind his smiling lips

i smiled and in one
swift motion

smacked the poster of him onto my bedroom wall

ugh
its crooked
its difficult being a fangirl...
K Balachandran Jun 2018
Lush tree sways in wind,
Sun ☀️ sends cryptograms through it;
I am in their plot!
Though unaware one figures in the ever extending cosmic narrative
Lizzie May 2018
I get this feeling
This feeling inside
Whenever I see you
I want you to die

I want to break you
Into so many pieces
Just like my heart
When you ate my Reese's

You knew it was mine
I saved it many days
But you just took it
And ate it anyways

I'll hate you forever
To your final breath
I hope you suffer
A terrible death

RIP Reese's PB Cup 2018
A comedic love song with a twist.
All in good humour :)
sunflower Mar 2018
We are like trees.
Growing tall with greenery.
Dusty brown soil,
dry cracked leaves.

Wrapped with vines.
Climbed by twisted plant.
They crept along the ground,
they clung onto our skin.

The tree is us.
We grow old with emotions.
Dark ugly hatred,
beautiful fragile heart.

Embraced with thoughts.
Trailed by twisted world's plot.
They followed along our life.
They stuck in our mind.

A poet is a tree.
Watered with tears.
Sunned with laughter,
Cut down by harmful words.

A tree is a poet.
Being called a home.
By birds and humans,
who always come and go.
For when I thought of nothing else but myself whenever I see a tree.

ㅡn.s
They echo through our dreams
clear as church bells
on a crisp Sunday morning
'from that direction
where everyone is looking...
don't you see?'
smoke continues to rise
some 50 years later
from a fire still burning
of greed and hate
the bitter taste remains
the nightmare of truth
keeps it veiled in shadows and silence
hiding in the blinding light
of paradise
Oldie
the partition was posted
almost two years ago
and it stated that a super pair
of creators had to go

lots of folks signed it
lending their ample backing
for he who wanted
the upper echelon's racking

those who aided him have
all been well forgot
yet at the time they were
so expedient to his plot

once he'd achieved
the cardinal's goal
no longer was there a purpose
for a little fish shoal

taking advantage of others
is his kind of game
using they who are wet behind
the ears tame

everyone of them summoned
to do his bidding
and in this salient narration
there's no kidding
z Feb 2018
our life is a story
plot unclear
path winding
so for a moment

would you stop walking by the passageway
and lay with me?
— for it is heaven in your arms, and in this world my soul is dying
Seema Feb 2018


I feel the poison flowing in my veins...

   The upcoming darkness shall never prevail...

       My hunt will begin soon, once I recall the trail...

              With shut eyes I picture my enemies fail...


*
©sim
Spilling imagination. Fictional.
RLG Jan 2017
There is a sweet
scented place
where all the Earth
melts into air
and I float,
weightless, in bliss,
liassez-faire.

If I could lay my head
on this spot
for all my life,
I'd ****** that deal
and swap for nothing
the peace I feel
as I sense your breath's
rise and fall,
and hear your heart's call.

That is the place
I value most.
and no one knows
the secret of  
this priceless plot
upon your chest.
spaghetti Oct 2016
Erasers, they erase words on paper,
I'm a smoker not a vaper,
saw a bug,
so i sprayed her,
while writing a story of a caper.
Writing words,
made a mistake.
The eraser erases the mistake.
Now the mistake is gone,
time to mow the lawn.
The lawn is green,
which is the grass.
Upon my riding mower,
I place my fat ***.
I then realize that I should go to a gym.
Maybe even go for a swim.
Or visit my friend Jim.
I heard he broke a limb.
I think I will go and visit him.
I hop in my car,
a Dodge Monaco Sedan,
cause I am a really big Blues Brothers fan.
Arrived at Jim's house,
hope I'm not too late,
I made a stop for a burger,
which I then ate.
I ringed the doorbell,
the door opens up,
Jim walks out,
and I hear a "Pop!".
Jim is dead,
he lays on the ground,
I see a bullet shell,
a .45 ACP round.
I soon realized,
my mistake,
for that's the same ammunition,
that my gun takes.
I look down at my hand,
and see my 1911,
I killed Jim,
and sent him to heaven.
I walked home that very day,
underneath the skyscrapers,
Erasers erase words on paper.
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