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Trefild Feb 20
some words go US Eng, some go UK Eng
so inside the word-dividing "[ ]" is the chosen sound
also, the stress marks aren't for nothing

‣ KIND OF A WA[ɔ]LKIN'...
‣ EMITTER OF ENDORPHINS
‣ INNER-LIGHT-EVOKIN'
‣ Va̲u̲[ɔ]LT WITH
‣ A FORMi̲DABLY ENORMOUS
‣ UNCEASINGLY & INCREASINGLY GROWIN'
‣ RESERVE OF
‣ THRILLINGLY PO[ɑ]SITIVE EMOTIONS (wA̲[ɒ]nt some?)
‣ THE EPITOME OF DELIGHT & ENJOYMENT
‣ strollin' O̲[ɒ]n some spo[ɑ]ts
‣ sA̲[ɔ]w some gyals
‣ which were dolorous
‣ stO̲le up O̲[ɒ]n 'em
‣ once I'm clO̲se enough
‣ I'm explodin'
‣ with that mind-blO̲win' stuff
‣ nO̲ted 'bove
‣ ba[ɔ]wlin' "lit morning, quit mourning"
‣ so ear-splittingly like my bA̲[ɔ]lls just go[ɑ]t
‣ tO̲rn apart
‣ they, sE̲E̲med to me, wE̲re in
‣ tO̲tal sho[ɑ]ck
‣ unloadin'
‣ givin' 'em A̲[ɔ]ll I've go[ɑ]t
‣ which got 'em a little O̲verpa[ɑ]cked
‣ each of 'em got a lethal 𝒸𝒪̲𝓇 atta[ɑ]ck
‣ overdO̲sed, they dro[ɑ]pped
‣ on the ground like jA̲[ɔ]ws of cha[ɑ]ps
‣ at the sight of gi̲rls that are
‣ smO̲kin' **[ɑ]t
‣ A[ɔ]LSO, TRULY HOPEFUL
‣ Bo̲RN WITH LO[ɑ]TS
‣ OF O[ɒ]FFERS OF EMPLOYMENT
‣ IN Te̲RMS OF MOVIN' FORWARD
‣ I NOTHIN' SHo̲RT OF ****** HURTLE
‣ A[ɔ]LWAYS, EVERY MOMENT
‣ TAKE THE Fi̲RST PLACE
‣ IN A LIST OF POTENTIAL BOYFRIENDS
‣ FOR Gi̲RLS THAT
‣ ARE INDECENTLY GORGEOUS
‣ AND UNBELIEVABLY JOYOUS
‣ lyrically, these wO̲rd-co[ɑ]mbs
‣ come close ta thO̲se a[ɑ]cts
‣ frequently a whO̲re does
[once was told that I have 0 SELF-IRONY]
Trefild Mar 31
hardest party with beauties and saddo
husband's wifey is choosing bolt cutter
**** gets naughty with ****** at brothel
noxious youngin threw toolkit at father
wanton hottie is looking for lover
son is eyeing good-looking step-mother
some ****-dropping is pooping on flower
punk's just gotten caboose-kicked by copper
dumbest blondies are students of Harvard/Oxford
Trump went shopping with Putin for armor [oops, this one is risky]
US Eng
Star Eyes Mar 2019
The phoenix burned, once more returned, from fiery pyre aflame
With wings outstretched, soared o’er land wretch’d, seen, by the bird, as the same
old forests of past, which never could last 'gainst nature's violent outlashes
Yet in dreams surviving, defiant, and thriving; though the air still reeked of ashes

The scorching sunset cast its melting gold net o’er the equally, if not more scorched earth
Night's moon and day's star hung above the earth's scar; two eyes judging the wasteland's worth
They deemed it as decent, though the charring of recent corrupted their judgement in part
And through the cloud's pain, the celestial rain cascaded down to the wood's heart

The tears of the sky rinsed the aching dirt dry, and quenched its desperate dreams
The caked floor, satiated, filled up and inflated with life bursting at its seams
Beneath vanished leaves, under wire canopies, green shoots had begun to grow
The Phoenix, all seeing, saw the passionate being of the young plants below.

The forest will burn as time’s wheels turn, evermore reaching its end
Everything dies, yet The Phoenix still flies, watching all birthed again.
This is sort of a first draft...? I might rewrite the poem and make it better one day but at the moment it's also technically a finished poem.

I guess it's about humanity, sort of- with the Phoenix as humanity, burning the forest down itself and then blaming it on nature; then regaining inspiration as the world is reborn.

I liked the idea of the sun and the moon acting as eyes which weep when it rains, so I kept it in- for now, at least.
Jon Thenes Feb 2019
to the colouring book
and the maddening imagination
the insistence of the scribes
and the glandular power of our missions
of the dome and the species
the turn of the trickster
and the business being
within our clan
in our hand
in the span of our grind
a product of our natters
is there shared scheme in mind ?

                               - an inhabiter
Nikos Kyriazis Jan 2019
There is a lack of coherence
in this universe, a pebble
said to me once

How can I be incorporated
to this forest which the
everlasting ages brought me to?
I'm merely a pebble...

The uniformity somehow
cracks beneath the wheel of Time
A new stimulus shall always appear
for the carriage to continue its course

None shall ever stop
the scheme between
God and Time
Ari White Mar 2017
honey on a lightbulb
in the hopes
for shiny bees

and itsy bitsy blankets
for the bed bugs
just trying to sleep

i feel bad for planets
galaxies and milkshakes
unable to receive

pick up my phone call
sun
pick up the moon
dreams

i am sorry for the things
i don't understand
the soap bubbles and the seams
Meaby Pom May 2018
A hand I reach to the tulip in my
garden
A greet to this life I found new
meaning
A family I want, our love will not be
forgoten
I say forever and mean it, aslong as im
breathing
Regardless of the results, I'll be here
darling
Till we are there we will just be
dreaming
I love you baby, you are absolutely
charming
Sarah Nov 2017
though you and I
have yet to travel
very far on Earth
through the night sky
I’ve lost count
of all the stars traversed
Kyle Fisher Jan 2017
Skewed, and Angled.
Perception of time seems so vulnerable, at least able to be captured.. mangled.
Away it flies, yet draws closer by the second; quilted with its own set of rules and manners.. entangled.. in itself.
Oxymoronic.
The ultimate healer, but kills all, besides itself, "In time." Dividing a fine line between happiness and misery..
Above rides the wind, and below, the waves.
Neither can go back, or skip ahead.
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