Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
DAF Mar 2019
you had me at hello                                           didn’t get to say goodbye
                          the greatest magic trick I’ve ever seen
                    don’t wonder how but why
Danielle Apr 2018
That day the goose feathers went ****,
The Sun blamed the Wind.
The Stars blamed the Clouds,
And Cause blamed the Effect in the confusion.
But truly Cause was to blame,
And shame that he was able to fool all,
By meddling with the details
And suggesting cures to mask the symptoms,
Or the feathers would have been returned
And not a goose would go cold.
The amount of dislike I have for people who ignore the cause of problems or situations and focus on the effects is enormous. Band-aids don't heal bullet wounds.
Have you lost your favorite toy?
She failed you, disappoint you?
So now you stare.
So, now you don't care.
Hurt travels through tears like bombs,
Ruptures the landscape of loss.
Loss of trust,
Loss of dreams,
Loss like books in the Bible
You are tossed,
Across a Sea of Galilee,
A direction home.
Dry the well of deserved tears
Til they choke on brambles in the hills.
Murdered by descent.
Murdered by laments.
Ground to dust
They muddy
In the quick fire up there
As it slow burns your life
Down here.
****!
Like milkweed in the breeze
Gone.
So many personal metaphors, excuse my indulgence...loss like books in the Bible, missing chapters but also from The Pretenders song title escapes me she says like a break in the battle. I heard either book in the Bible or brick in the Bible and before internet info I sang those words for years, for pay lol. Brambles from another song i sing Bramble and the Rose.  Quick fire up there from my Appalachian lover who demonstrated mountain speak as thar's a fur up thar...and how they all disappear in the wind...
Edna Sweetlove Sep 2015
Nobody loves a fairy when's he's fifty
Nobody likes a fairy, old and grey;
And no one loves a bumboy when he's sixty
Wanking in a toilet, fat and gay.

And when a fairy gets as old as seventy
He can't get rough trade any more
And if he finally makes it through to eighty
His dilated **** will be very sore.
Vincent Jun 2014
***** people: us and them
Slippery, dark and warm, like *** lips, kissed on midnight beaches.

She weighed less than air.
Smells like wet blossom.
No kissing, only you can touch.

Hard dollars in my hard. Harder now.

Door closed. Back out, I don’t look at the others, they know of course.
I washed my skin and look at me in the mirror. Funny how old you can get.

— The End —