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i can
conjurer up words
mix delicate
intricacies of verse
with poetic license
i might defecate
upon scripted genius
   of the past
a scourge
on the eloquence
   of perfected prose
a pariah
with semantics
that hang in the air
like a frequented noose
the rhetoric of
this rhetoric
both dumbfounds
   and delights
the agenda of the learned;
to supress
the syntax spat forth
the phlegm and catarrh
of a gut
of derivatives

i could compose
a verse
for young lovers
   to cherish
if i could
only stop
the rot;
      or ignorance
i couldn't
tell you
David Plantinga Dec 2021
The Wit is nimble, and can skip
The longest distances with ease.  
It flits on an extended trip,
One day, and back from overseas.  
The Wisdom hasn’t cleared the dock, 
A wide, and long, and sluggish ship,
Her cargo a tremendous stock,
And filled as if by faucet drip.  
But such a huge displacement packs,
What takes a flimsy, skimming skiff
More than a hundred there’s and back’s,
A bounty to save Tenerife.
Prachi Oct 2021
Scenaries I have seen many;
But why do you seem like the
sunset on a cold lonely beach.
Symphonies I have heard many;
But why do you sound like
A baby's first cry.
Perfumes I have smelt many ;
But why do you smell like the first rain on a summer day.
Sweets I have tasted many;
But why do you taste like
Cookies that mom makes.
Fabrics I have touched many;
But why do you feel warm
Like the sweaters grandma used to weave.
Have a crush on a guy and wanted to write about him.
Jiali Jan 2021
Light! Ah, light. At last.
The dull grey vanadium
Even burns full blast!
No need to breathe,
Just take the heat
And soon you'll never
Know defeat!
Victory! Victory, at last;
A great pile of ashes-
That is all that will last.
On this meagre battlefield
For all that will not yield.
27/01/21 22:31
anitajehu Oct 2020
The first time they said I was suicidal
It hurt much
Felt like  a lost kid
Thought my last minutes  were seconds to go
It hurt much
Tears couldn't well up
Words couldn't form
Honestly truth hurts

The first time they said I was suicidal
Already saw it coming though
The smile hid much than they could see
Cried on the silent nights
Whispered  wishes to my love
Held onto the pillar he built

The first time they said I was suicidal
Felt like second to me
Plus the nights spend pleading for a new world
A world with a no-human logo
When I held a knife to my dear-chest and thought this is it....

The first time they said I was suicidal
Pinned a key on a kids head
Wasn't scared of the pain caused,
The blood shed reminded of how suicidal I was
Second after my own suicide  thoughts

The first time they said  I was suicidal....
Wasn't that big of word
Wasn't that small of expression
Took the blame
What if I cut my ankle twice just to see red?
What if the smile means keep off?
What if I was really suicidal?

The first time I was suicidal....
I wasn't suicidal
If we could find the 'blame'
Only if we could, then anger would it be?

I heard you say you are an expert at selling anything
Even your body?
Just thought of this today when It dawned on me how much people crave for money and are willing to do anything for it.
Aaron E Sep 2019
So many words.
Which to choose.

Which to use.




Simple smooth ambivalence



Hellenistic rhetoric.


chitragupta Apr 2019
How will the vain
who love the noises of their own voices
gather the patience to listen?
Common sense has gone missing

They wield weapons
blunt and loud like a demagogue's growl
that defiles civil notions
Tools to toy with emotions


Glaring, with nostrils flaring,
at a divorce of nib and ink
My words, forming furiously -
Sharpen them more, rethink!

My words, they will cut deep -
They will pierce the thickest of skins
And find their way into dark hearts
to remind them what it is to bleed.
Feeling quite hateful.
Maybe it's me.
Or maybe it's the world.
Or maybe it's the world I see
on the news channel.
Good fortune to you, friends.
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