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Laokos Apr 24
~every distance is a long shot
within reach of a fool
~
                          Prv. 𝑓:𝑦

bleed your heart out in dripping
poetic pretense―slip
that inky salamander some silk:

         "the wilting waiting flora
bequeathed their busting bouquets and
     bountiful bosoms unto the world
              in all of its prescient
                       violence"


then read it back to yourself
later and be
absolutely disgusted.

throw it away with all the other
things you've done in your
life.

now reach back in your closet
and rattle the skeletons
lingering there.

finger your dreams in the
dark under pressure
from the mind
to find yourself.

the lightning severance
will sing and
anxiety will
harmonize with the knife.

you've done it again...
****** it all up
and everyone
knows it.

you could eat all the erasers
in the world
and your **** still
wouldn't come out correct.

a lifetime of valleys and
seawalls has made you
an avatar of
effortless blunder.

and you can't stop bleeding
all over the page; white
is red again
cause
you blue it.

bleed in―breathe out
breathe in―bleed out
bleed in―breathe out
breathe in―
bleed out...

welcome to the creative
process.
Ash Dec 2020
Called out your name
For just a couple of moments,
You were still here
Stared into the quiet
Conversations in our minds
Laughter in our souls
Then the world turned
And the sun set
The seconds are over
And so, you left us.
wrote this on the day after my grandfather passed. for a few seconds i forgot he was gone, and called for him from my desk, thinking he would answer from his rocking chair. for the quickest of the second before i remembered, i could swear he was still there.
NAL Nov 2020
you may pretend/have innocence,
but we both know that you're mind
is far from virginal, honey

N.A.L
yesterday's draft 11/10/20
Vanessa Goyal Aug 2020
Frightened of the way,
The volume of burden piles higher.
Scraping the skies;
Reaching into the underground.
Trying to fit the position,
Of the needle inside me.
Growing smaller with each bend in its body,
That sacrifices the human behind the machine.
Submerged under the surface;
Hidden beneath the facade,
Of the critters that sculpt honor
Into the frame of my face.
Harvesting acceptance and pride from others,
Who define one look as the truth of pretense.
Blinding eyes from the girl that once lived.
Lulu Sarmiento Jul 2020
Broken glass.
Shattered dreams.
Defeated game.
Crumbling inside.
Yet you smile—
And say “I’m okay.”
Pretense.
Lulu Sarmiento Jun 2020
Life is either—
A game of pretense,
An arena of mockery,
Or a gift of eccentricity.
What choices do we have?
Aaron E Jan 2020
Ivy prying sickly little patterns
Over weathered marble

Drying into autumn
Soured clover spitting flower fodder

Power living deeper
Seething stranger towers clouding water

River founding cities
Plowing fitting visions vowing honor

Dying in the streets
Among the leaf appearing from a gutter

Under marching clutter singing arbor into many others

****** if a murmur isn’t echoed further outing fathers

Bound to pass a burden
Surgeon scalpel serving hallowed daughters

Hours over eons
Over galaxies or galant parents

Drowning in a sea of turning time
Below the grinding planets

Finding little moments
Here and there
To stir the brewing panic

Signing every letter
Leather binding
Solemn coward banished

Given up already
Dreading answers only getting silence

Searching furrowed forest
Lurking treasures forming learned guidance

Breathy whispers egging
Empty guesses  pouring from the pious

Crying over constellations
Craven paper tiger liars.
Jenny Gordon Nov 2018
II Pet 1:9 coming to mind as I finished, lo, the complexity of this piece, and this:  "...lacketh these things is blind and cannot see afar off--"



(sonnet #MMMMMMMCDXCIX)


How Shakespeare's lines 'non haunt the flag's detail
As't waves to bitter winds' capricious sense
Of play, with memries of late rallies thence
In tow, as all we'd grandly strut through'd pale
Before the empty eye of hours that scale
Down what we said was living, as pretense
Leers through the smoky limelight fading hence
Where leaves pile up too thickly for aught bail.
Is't cuz I've tried 'gain to be stylish fer
What fashion and say Vogue mag swore was due,
Tae learn my peers yet scorn attempts in tour?
Cuz even when I did succeed and do
All that "they" said should be, or called too poor
What we thought tops, Death mocks as ere we knew?

07Nov18a
Should I have divided up the rather lengthy intro for this portion, or?
Salmabanu Hatim Nov 2018
I like me,
Yes,I like me,
I really like me
I really, really like me.
I am no pretense,
I am what I can be.
I am a candy that children love,
I am a nutty chocolate that some die for,
While others are allergic to it.
I am a savoury snack you find in youngsters backpack,
Or you take for picnics.
I am a roast turkey or Biryani  for family feasts,
I am a mild soup for the aged.
I laugh and make others laugh,
I cry, but wipe others tears,
I am gentle but can be tough when need arises.
I try to be soft but rough to those who dare cross my path,
I am a friend indeed.
Yes, I like me,
As I am, as I can be.
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