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L Jun 2019
My babe is so sweet, My lover sings soft.
He sings soft to me, can turn water to wine
with his honeyed voice.
He sings his nigh notes loud,
and I catch a glimpse of it- what hides just under his tongue,
What he unleashes only under God’s tired eye.

There is a lake in the wood.
He crawls to it some nights, in secret, my Singing Babe
And when he growls his consonants into the water,
The ripples travel the mud, and creatures twitch their ears
to my lover’s noise.

Hide from me, baby.
I know you pray, my soft-sung lover,
sin’s reckoning won’t find you there.
I’ll hope you come to me one night, wet with some untamed fear.
The roar of my dark thing’s heart
would be so sweet to hear.

The water’s moon is a halo all around him,
As water dances to my boy’s rumbling, like crocodile song,
Like the bellowing of a woman wrapped in euphoric sin.

In my dreams I hear a wounded Lion
misplaced in some wood, and when I find it lying there,
a lamb turns to me slowly
with a mouth full of blood.



-
Karijinbba Jun 2019
//∆\
$^_^$
π
lol
// H.P \
// "I dreamt \
√∆∆∆∆// that I was a song,\∆∆∆∆√
   ∆∆// astounding tune \∆∆
// and every one \
// was \
// singing me \
// off-key for \
// way too long \
/ /until they got \
// the Gist of me \
// and then the music \
// was fine" \
////[][]\\
[][]
[][]
%%
~~~~~~~
By: Karijinbba.
inspured by PC
my first ever teacher
The Art of Comedy
my other muse
LOL
Ah i hope i dont get sunk!
You tell me to keep singing,
I am. 'Without words, there’d be no songs.'  I made that.
Listen to my sweet, sweet blues,
my high, high reds, and my low, low browns.
I am singing.  I’ve never stopped.
You’ve just stopped listening.

You tell me to keep singing,
And I tell you, I am.  Tell me, what would you like to hear?
Do you want to turn my blues into red, my red into blues,
and for me to have no colours in-between?
To turn me into you?

You tell me to keep singing,
I am singing.  I’ve never stopped.
You’ve just stopped listening.
JT Nelson Jun 2019
I basked in the joy of the chord
In the vibrations of the perfection
Of harmonies that reverberated to my core
That sang deep to my soul

Those notes were familiar
The dynamics lowered and lifted
Me through the air in the lofted church
Ceiling and stained glass reflections

As my daughter sang from the mass of robes
I remembered singing from that same stage
On that same white marble stage where
I stood with my mom so many years ago

A smile and a tear leapt up from my heart
As I remember those chords with my mom
So happy she was to be looking down
At her granddaughter singing so sweet
violetstarlights Jun 2019
lullabies are counterproductive
do not bother to sing
for i will wake up,
and stay up-
to hear you finish the entire thing
Colm May 2019
You sing your Iris and I’ll sing my Creep
Hum Yellow to my Yellow Lights
So that all the night can see
Such unchained, unchanged, melodies
So what should I do in the darkness of you
When you light up my moon from July until June
What would I do if there wasn't a you
Would you sing about me like I sing about you

https://youtu.be/w7kjFVvgiDY
Casey May 2019
Sing a little song of rain,
to wash away the heartache.
To scrub clean your skin, clench your teeth and take the pain.
"Flush out your mind, it's all fake."

Sing a little song of sun,
to crush your chest into your ribs.
To change your name, lower your head and know that respect can't be won.
"No one will believe you, you're telling fibs."

Sing a little song of wind,
to ride the kites into the sky.
To hang on tight, 'cause this tempest tears silks and requires fears to be tinned.
"Everyone watching from below had waved their goodbye."

I can no longer sing the little songs from my jaws,
my throat is swollen and raw.
The rain has flooded my thoughts,
The sun is what I have become,
From the wind, to a better place I'll be brought.
Hang in there guys :)
Ed C Apr 2019
Sunday is for birds to sing
and to swing among vines of bedsheets,
for moving hair out of your eyes, to cry
in sadness and joy and feel the warmth of your body.
Sunday is for birds to sing
while we string ourselves into knots
and leave the windows open for spring
to carry the sounds of singing along
I LOVE SPRING
Mya Jan 2019
He hides in my closet
he has a scary look
with ridged nails
and pointy sharp white teeth

But he is shy and doesn't come out
till nightfall
when no one can see him
because he is insecure
and he doesn't want to be made fun of
by the other monsters who wander around

Every time I hear him come out
he is humming a tune
I would softly request him to sing
because I cannot sleep
when he would open his mouth

Wonderful words would come out
sounding excellently in tune
even though there was no background music
in my head, his singing sounded like a symphony
was playing the most lovely melody

If I could I would stay up all night
till dawn
when he would retreat back into the closet
I would listen to him all night

But as he sings
the melody floods me
and my eyes can not stay open
as I slip into a deep slumber
I would still hear him singing

When I wake up
my room is soundless
I would look in my closet to see if he is there
but he is hidden
where I cannot find him
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