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zebra Mar 17
in a kink clutch
breaking a twisted angel
on the rack of
onward Christian solders
in ecstatic flagellations
for ***** saliva  cliterature
with a mouth black window widows bite
in a white lie light  
of cruel dark night
while jazz ****
layonaise spatters
where its soft and hurts good  
and fossil **** *******
drive down the armageddon highway
in a bright burn
with ***** feet on clean sheets
and drooling tongues
Floo Jan 2
Your words are a bad cliché
Written by an overdramatic teen- in his thirties
With imaginary issues,
Mass grown, like spores, in the mushroom farm of your mind
Fed a sucrose solution of sardonicism and sadness

A parasite you nurture, your mind is a mess
But I know you mean every word you type
Swallow all the poison you grow
Feed yourself on the self hatred you generate through delusion
I hate your delusions

I ordered incorrectly
My bowl is filled to the brim,but I don't want to share, and I don't want to report an error
Let me keep your incorrigible and unpleasant nature to myself
My Mr Mushroom Man
Croiyon Sep 2018
Felling rusty  crusty spoons
And nettles upon my *******
I speak to my cohort
Hubert cumberdale
It's almost ******* I say
Salmabanu Hatim Jun 2018
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Which fruit is the juiciest of all.
Round and oval,
With a green crown and a red mantle,
A rainbow of colours! Red,
orange, yellow,green  and purple,
Big and small,
Tomatoes are juiciest of all.
The redder, the better,
More healthier.
Full of tiny seeds,
What, a delicious curry needs.
Used as veggies,
A fruit it is.
Tomatoes a day,
Keeps the risk of heart disease away.
Full of vitamins C and K,potassium and folate,
Helps against cancer like prostrate.
Pick them fresh at a go,
Have a feast on this tomato,
Barbeque chicken and chips with salad and sauce of tomatoes,
Dissipates all your woes.
Sean Murray Dec 2013
The beginning of this
At its foundation
Fulfilling and self-reflective, and
Rousing and neurotic and bright
And perilous
–a fever-dream
Shadows that have stopped forming,
The mornings are dead
The passion is dead
The feeling of the back of my neck –tiny hairs

That human side has halted
The “I-feel-like-a-*****-but-” thoughts, gone

All dreams
All barren, with less than profound meaning
******* dead, behind the wheel.
Car trapped
Inside of a sad self-absorption

A frozen-inlet, a fissure in the glass-jar
Road paved with the litter of the late
Night, bug-eyed witless carbon copy Phish fan
Grave yard shift –stick worn-down-brain
Lazily-littered, empty-shell of a
Bottle flung, down to the pavement

Down, into the gutter

Down, into sewer

Which sweeps, down into the **** Heavens
And sits
Down, endlessly
Dreaming only to return
Into life

The insanity
The heartbreak
The fears
The passions
The talent
The jokes
The sickness
The *******

Where it all starts
Where it all eventually sleeps
Where all of this **** came full circle
Where the mind can return
Where the body can lay,

At the beginning of this.
This is old
Seanathon Jan 2017
I close my eyes above my salad
Nobody here can see
Praying that God would keep her well
And take care of her
Be it well away from me
Ceasar... Treacherous.
Brent Kincaid Nov 2016
His mother was suicidal
His father was patricidal
His siblings all fratricidal
They fractured his parietal.
His acumen was impractical
While his mien was didactical
His morals were retractible
And his religion was heretical.

He longed to be a celebrity
And wished for its celerity
To skip the serendipity
And fork over his luminosity.
But it seems that synchronicity
Paired up with idiosyncrasy
In a natural form of complicity
And waylaid him with complicity.

He moaned that he was qualified
And not the least bit mollified
To be so soundly criticized
That they could not recognize
By those who were so glassy eyed
A plenipotentiary, very wise
Who appears before their very eyes
Who they would gladly plagiarize
Even while they ostracize.

He can’t achieve equanimity
When so many hold their enmity
And treat him so outrageously
In ignoring his magnanimity.
After all, is there anyone living
Who is so astoundingly forgiving
Than he by the simple act of giving
And letting them go on living?
I can't see you.
I can't protect you.
Burning in your curiosity.
Huffing another smoke, unrelenting.
You don't understand the dream sugar.

What you want, is something important.
Something covered in whipped cream and bbq sauce.
Exactly, me.
Or not.

You see, I'm just a voice in my head.
Burning brownies baked with bread.
You don't like brownies and bread? Well go to hell.
They're my brownies.
Mine, something you can't claim because you have nothing.
No one, No idea and no value to anything.

You value your brain and **** it for not being enough.
Poison your body for not being able to take the strain of life.
Burn your cigarette to take away the pain of being alone.
Striking your soul, praying you never have to atone.

Cologne rhymes with alone you know. Funny coincidence right?
Brain power. Stained flower.
Hope and happiness. Dope and sadness.
Perception. Deception.
Search for
Not whats on the

Oh my elusive friend, trying to take the pain away.
The point of life is not to avoid but to minimize.
Like the Japanese!
A child looks for purpose.
An adult works towards it.
Avcoado mashed mixed with a little salad cream
Topped on wholemeal toast
With sliced tomatoes
add a little salad
And ganish with dressing

No butter on the toast ....
My very own receipe  really healthy the avcoado
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