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Anais Vionet Nov 2020
I visit you in dreams,
and my visit is always unexpected.
I’m always excited and more
than a little apprehensive.

In dream variations, your reactions shuffle
like poker cards - you’re surprised and pleased,
or wary, or even politely disappointed.

Dreams can be a harsh mirror and as in real life,
my emotions are poorly protected.

Brushstrokes of truth hide behind the
tricksy falsehoods of dream-scapes. After all,
I’m an unworthy suitor in practically every way.

In the real world, I’m sure early, favorable
impressions would fade to inevitable boredom.
I have that effect on adults - I’ve seen it
- a quick nod my way and I become invisible.

I should be a bank robber - “What did the
robber look like?” the police would ask.
“Well... the teller would say,” fading off to vagueness.

I could stand right there looking at my phone.

“Did YOU see anything?” The cop would ask me.
“I was playing candy crush...” I’d begin,
but the cop would walk distractedly away.

By the time they got the video evidence, I’d be long gone.
teens can be invisible to the adult world - which isn't necessarily a bad thing - we have little in common.
Steve Page May 2020
Look lady, do I look bovver'd it's botched?
You wanted bespoke and that’s just what you got.  
I alreddy told ya, I’m chock-a-block with jobs,
so this the best of a very bad job.

Now, fair enough, it might look bog standard,
but you must remember, it was already cack-‘anded,
so I'd thank you for shutting your gob
with all your talk of you bein' robbed.  

Look, your ladyship, you might well be miffed,
but I’m sure you can make do with a little skew-wiffed,
so ‘and over the readies and make it swift -
I’ll walk away and we’ll call it quits.  

You know me and my rep round this manor,
if you don’t cough up I know a right tasty geezer
who will breeze over ‘ere and wrap each of his fingers
round a whole lot more than your French wind-ders.

- That’s a lot better, you’ve got a nice gaff
and I’m sure neither of us want all of the faff
that goes with ‘ard feelings and still ‘arder stares
through broken front wind-ders and costly repairs.

You know what I mean?
I was channeling Bob Hoskins for this one.   I'm from south east London - and some of it rubbed off on me.
Graff1980 Mar 2019
There is a fresh hole
on the threshold
of our property,
a perfectly
proper spot
where they
buried me.

Safe distance
from the old quarry,
so my corpse
doesn’t have to worry
about being
by the bigger

What a figure
I make,
and undressed
before death.

Nothing there that
would impress
other then
the danger
of smelling
my rotting flesh.

So, I am safely stowed
in a small hole
in the property
that I owned
while my killers
ransack my home
in the middle of the night.
Red Jan 2019
I live with a tumour of paranoia
haunting my social life
flaring up with small annoyance
in a world of violence and strife
my cautiousness turns to avoidance
and my irrational fear is rationalised
I fear my old demons and yet have a reason to.
Isaac Spencer Dec 2018
It was on the train-
When I saw her,
My love, stolen from me,

Broken glass sprinkled,
Like salt in a wound,
And red hot light danced to and fro,

As time crashed down-
With not a pin drop of sound,
I took a step toward her,

She was already dead,
A case of poisoning; lead-
Dark rain for a crinkled dollar or three.
Megan Parson Sep 2018
I once robbed a post-box,
      & looked through letters, small & scented.
Of someone's aunt with chickenpox,
And bills handsome, from the rented.

Love letters, I had to read!
Which in boredom, my mind would feed.
Some which made my heart bleed,
An urge to send, a nervous need.

A good doctor's prescription pill,
& injections, with dread did me fill.
Thankfully illegible, so not my joy to ****.

But now, I must stop,
For reasons purely confidential.
As I catch the Postmans' beaming top,
His light bag filled only with what's essential!
A poem on a crazy idea....
Denny May 2018
I'm shooting for her heart with my finger on the trigger.
Put your heart in the air
Balkus Feb 2018
has robbed me yesterday,
has stolen my dream
of living in a world
where nothing is fake.

And I can see him,
he is everywhere,
all over the papers,
on the Internet.

I recognize
his innocent face.
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