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Max May 2019
Your words are like the tail of a scorpion,
Your deeds like the fangs of a snake,
Your touch like the sting of a bullet ant,
Your presence like being surrounded by hellfire.

You're satan's little helper.
Somebody is trying to sabotage something that's very precious to me.
Gale L Mccoy May 2019
you poisoned the tree
now eat its rotting fruit
the maggots in your stomach
must eat
Quinn Apr 2019
Sweet poison
Glazes thy lips, making them bittersweet
Those lips once warm and tender on mine
Now lifeless and cold to the touch
Oh what ill timing, for him to die as I awake
His breaths to shallow as mine deepen
His dagger lays upon the floor
Bloodied from my betrothed
How shall I live without my Romeo
Oh I cannot
Sweet dagger end this pitiful life
So I can be with my Romeo once more.
Had to write poems for my English class so why not post them?
Empire Apr 2019
I've made myself a mess
I pretend to be a victim
While I throw myself
Into the heart of disaster

I swallow poison
Then wonder why I stumble
I cloud my mind with noise
Then scream out in confusion

I tell myself it's their fault
They caused me all this pain
While wallowing in my pity
Opening up old wounds
So I can convince myself
I'll never heal

There's nothing good left
So twisted, plagued by myself
Except the one spot
The place I've left untouched
In all my self-destruction
Where you reside within
My solitary hope, my haven
The only reason I keep breathing
Emma Apr 2019
She is a girl who is webbed in her own lies
Lies that inflict stringed poison deep into her heart
Heart to the bad and dark, hate to the good and light,
Light loses all fire in her hurt and lost eyes
Eyes closed to continue to dwell in delusions
Delusions that serenade a tune of death to her ears
Ears that flutter with pink liquid that falls
Falls down with the same pink shade of her mouth
Mouth says no evil but embraces all evil
Evil she believes gives love to her soul and mind
Mind forever tangled up for she is a pitiful Persephone
A poem based on another artwork. Link to artwork:  
https://www.deviantart.com/silvia-giuli/art/d-o-f-e-e-l-556215593
Kenji King Apr 2019
With a shadow creeping behind me, making every promise empty.
Intoxicating my nerves, I am being chased.
Stalking my forecast, I run at ten speed.
No stopping, I turn around to see a shadow so empty, its mere whispers have demolished into misty ash.
It haunts my every being and stalks my rotten prey.
It displeases my humanity and consumes my lost soul.
I run, run so fast, the lights hit bloom.
Scared, fearful of what it can do, I look down, I see the shadow
...
The shadow was you.

The ghost I'm trying to escape, just keeps coming back.
The feeling is poison, but beautiful at the same time.
The feeling is toxic, but fills my void of loss and emptiness.
You're a bad guy, playing with my emotions and unleashing my toxic tears.
Confusing my feelings and handling me like a puppet.
Why do I love you?
Since you're the master of puppets, you've dominated and learnt to control me.
Let me go.
Or I will turn around, and leave.
Leave you empty, till you lose control.
Metallica - Master of puppets
Ken Pepiton Apr 2019
things I know nothing of
things I know little of
things I know more of
things I know all of

where should I wander?
where should I linger

seriously?

lighten up. time I know, little
enough,
now is, then was, soon

we see
we note
we mark the place on this horizon
that big star rises
or seems to rise
from, but now we know,

some how that star is moving in
time, same as me

how can any knower know
the sweet influences of pleides?

look closely,

------------------

this time, this generation

here,
we're smart, we can do math in poems
12800 years ago, 1280 decades,
128 centruien measures in each

of which, lay remnants of four generations
of **** sapiens,
of **** sapiens sapiens, and
of **** sapiens sapiens augmenticious,
all mixed up and tangle tongued.

Now, 512 generations of beings of our genus
since the
speciation of we, the people of earth;

this time, this generation

now,
we're smarter, more able to know and use
the knowing, than any
we imagine real
before us
in these past five hundred and twelve steps,
from mitomom,

to you. Individuatible you.
to you, thinker of thought things,

to you, thinker of thought things augmented
by with for through witty

inventions, for instance, example gratis, et al

the Vitruvian man made the Vitruvian wheel,

tapping the flow of rain returning to the sea, pulling, nicely, with thanks, at first,
to the river,
power at a rate of two kilo watts per hour,

The old mill stone groaned as it ground seed
that could'a' been boiled
and chewed, but for the lack of knowing

how a fire could be started,
after all the ashes have grown cold.

Oops, time skip. Now, then back

Gen one, post all hell breaking loose

who knew how to start a fire?
was it a secret kept for the few who knew?

Was prometheus as real as jesus,
had we any evidence of things unseen,
had we any substance of things hoped for?
-- why?
-- because there is a liar on the loose. And now nothing hidden remains, save what you never knew anyone could know. Or so it seems, to me,
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