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George Krokos Mar 30
Let all the warm sunlight in
and the new day to begin
for the night has now been cast
with our sorrows so to last
in those days lying ahead
that many will only dread
this modern epidemic
which is now a pandemic.

And that long finger of scorn
now points to where it was born
at a country that's growing
much too rapidly knowing
as it tries to beat the rest
in its own ambitious quest
to become a world leader
instead became a *******.

It has happened twice before
on this ancient country's shore
where a bad virus outbreak
by carelessness did so make
with a disastrous effect
for not being circumspect
doing the right thing but caught
and this virus to us brought.

The world is now on its knees
for a new vaccine that frees
man from the deadly disease
that's also spreading with ease
as all the casualties grow
and daily statistics show
called the corona virus
which is out to destroy us.

Unless a vaccine is found
to an early grave we're bound
the fate of most of mankind
a result of being blind;
too much pride and ambition
causing this sad condition
and man's own dire end to be
as foretold in prophesy.
One of my latest poems on the current pandemic that's sweeping the world. I hope and pray that it wont be like this poem depicts at the end. God help us all.
D'Angelo Dec 2019
I feel like I hurt you.
I know I didn't
but it feels like I did.
You're making yourself feel like I did
so now I do too.
You think I feel nothing for you
so you think you're nothing to me
but yet and still,
I feel like I hurt you.

It's not my fault that you forgot
that I'm a risk.
But see you "forgot"
so at one point,
you knew.
Don't act like you're in the dark.
But most importantly,
don't act like I put you there.

You won't see this.
And it wouldn't matter if you did.
After all of myself I've shown you,
you still act like you don't see.
So reading this would be pointless...
for you.
For me,
this is the barrier between
the disdain that I feel
and the "*******" that you'll hear.

I want to love you...
With everything in me.
Enough til it kills me.
I want you to be my prize.
I want it to be you woman
that I meet at the end of this road.
I want,
for you to be the "good" part.
I really want that.

But I can't love you woman.
Not now, not here.
Not yet.
If I tried,
it won't be love.
It'll be scorn.
It'll be resentment.
It'll be the cold and harsh.
It'll be the "*******"s
and "I don't care"s.
And that's one thing I enjoy the most

It'll be everything but ***.
I can dedicate my body to yours,
be your high at day's end
with good, strong and close ***.
Give you my mouth and manhood.
Taste you until you feel delicious...
and "this" still,
wouldn't be ***.

That's not my hunt.
We make it ***
when you make it ***....woman.
You're not a little girl.
You wanted me to know that.
So don't act like one.
I know,
It's easy to forget.
You do it all the time.
But you can't forget this...woman.
You didn't give in to me,
you gave in to yourself.
You just chose me as company.

You invited me in
and I filled you with goodness
and my forsaken seed.
So now,
you feel like this story writes itself...
or atleast you hope it does.
But there you go,
playing "little girl" again.
This story didn't write itself,
these are your words on these pages.

So here I am,
stuck in a story,
that you've written for me.
as the pain you feel.
And even though I didn't want a story,
even though we never needed one,
Im the chapter you just can't wait to close.
You did this,
all of it.
And still I Feel Like I Hurt You.
B D Caissie Sep 2019
If you are bitter you are like a dry leaf that crumbles with the slightest touch and gets blown away by a whirlwind of hate. Only forgiveness can calm the storm raging inside your heart...

Manfred Kriger Aug 2019
When they say love is blind
it is not a euphenism to justify your lover
being aesthetically displeasing.
Most of us dont fall in love with ogre's
who rescue us from barren castles.
What they mean to tell you is that
Prince Charming is who will take away your sight.
Love is synonymous with being blind.

Too caught up in his dreamy eyes
to ever break your gaze.
His lushes hair weaves perfectly in
between your fingers as you tug on it.
You will close your eyes and allow his lips ravish yours.

Closed your eyes shall remain as the bright crimson cloth waves in the wind,
you will mistake the sound for your heart beating faster.

The taste of his lips will linger only for a brief moment on your tongue,
don't be fooled by this taste,
ethylene glycol is a sweet poison.
I know it has been a while since I had posted anything but live has been rather busy lately and it took some time to find inspiration to write again
Breon Jul 2019
Formalist conceit: striving mad
'Til driven mute, the pattern
wraps you up in a
blanket made of shackles.

See the poet Pagliaccio
Suffer muses' scorning laughter,
Bound and stricken witless, dullard.

Sheathe that poison knife you call a tongue,
Leave the pen your gun in its holster.
Cast your bullet words into the gutter.

The formless form: scatter words and
Enjamb your wits against null space.
The water is the container, no buckets,
No brackets. From disorder, order.
George Krokos Jun 2019
Under the cover of darkness people try and get away with many things
and then they may suffer the consequences or scorn this activity brings.
From "Simple Observations" ongoing writings since the early '90's.
CL Fjell Apr 2019
Your betrayal is a knife
Laced with scorn
And idiocy.
Turn your scaly back
On the Sun
And the Sun will burn you,
I wish at least.
I hope for the burn to lasts ages,
So you feel the dull,
Wretched pain of your forked tongue
Spitting venom in my face
And on my back.
Ylzm Apr 2019
Truth denied, Freedom,
spurned Lover's scorn.
Absurdity embraced,
not Despair but Dance.
Music in the Wind,
and Love shall not be denied!
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