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Sabika H Nov 24
One step - two stepping me,
Swirling around me in a spiral,
And I twirl,
And orbit in a cycle,
Gaining momentum,
I shine bright
As I try to catch up to your speed
And you run me down!
When did you become so sinister?

Never fixed in a fixture,
Never got the whole picture,
Because you're constantly on the move.
So move!
Are you getting into the groove?

Don't hold your breath
In fear that you'll never breathe again
When the difference between
Reality and a projection
Is the ink in the pen and
The lines in a book
And even then,
You cannot catch up to the speed of his

Finished before you even started,
Cycle after cycle
I am reminded.
Tim Morris Nov 12
i wonder why that group of crows, that ******,
burst forth from the treetops
of that tiny patch of woods
next to the city park -
silent, except for the beating of

sixteen pairs of wings -
an oddity if you know crows and their penchant
for jibber-jabber.
i wonder what it was that frightened them so,
and am unnerved by their silence.

unnerved by the knowledge that something
so sinister could be lurking so close
and not hiding behind a pulpit or badge.
the sun sets earlier and earlier these days,
and the news is always on.

Sadistic, sinister:

              The evil twin sister

I fight, I resist,

              But sometimes I still miss her...

From birth was a friction –

              Affliction – a blister

Now alive, I must die

              Every day and dismiss her

A poem about that ugly shadow of myself that still follows me around everywhere I go...and which only goes away when I consciously make a choice to **** IT - to "die" to it - each day.
eva-mae coffey Sep 2019
Pulsate your peevish pain
through every inch of me,
call it love,
your preposterous purity
pumps in my veins now,
I cannot escape your
Vice, I laugh that I once

That is a part of me now.
That same sickness satiates
Each nerve of mine.
That same slaughterous sin
sounds like the echo of
My bare bones.
That slimy sidekick that
You call sanctimonious
Writhes, sorry in my skin.

Pre-existent Angelface is nothing
But a wistful, naïve miracle!
She is chained with heavy wire,
Remains in my grains.
I believe she weeps, out of sheer
Celebration, for she is a
ferociously forgiving creature
Blind to her nature.
self reflection
John H Dillinger Aug 2019

each pocket has a purpose
church bells shatter through the surface

the worthless circus sunday service
a procession past the pickled mirthless

dispersions of persons pass pews
hoping He accepts the time served, in lieu

and thus this pocket is purposed for you

At the masqurade parade all day
That preys on insecurity

youre sure to see a bargain,
sharking, armed with curiosity

but the cost is often hidden, lost
in a forest of desire, in a silk lined pocket

and this is where they keep your wallet

search for solace in a sound structure
then ruptured synapses, flayed fluster

rebuild it all, regard life's lustre
meander melancholy with what you can muster

place them in a pocket, each respective,
one for your lessons and one for perspective

as the pickpocket of fear plays with the reasoning detective
A bit of rhyming fun here with a few feelings expressed against some aspects of life completely biased and brazen.

Sew up those pockets people.
Muhammad Usama May 2019
Hark, while the wasteland breathes out silent whims,
And see, as night's aura cloaks distant trees;
A sinister echo of ancient hymns,
Floats up, in a creeping midsummer breeze.

As the miles sum up - an anxious bearing,
Rushes a vague fright up the fragile spine;
But with the city lights on watch, nearing,
This unsettling fear slides down the incline.

The unattended anxiety does go,
Which this travel in the dark did arise;
City lights torch a new fret although,
But far less weary, it, in question, lies.

Wearisome measures of the restless nights,
Merit resistance by the city lights.
Based on what traveling away from home to another city feels like to me.
rgz Mar 2019
yester to yonder
the mountains would wander
and ponder on what they should do
"Let's visit the forest." "Let's trek through the desert."
"Let's dip in the cold ocean blue." "Let's travel the poles."
"Let's dig a big hole." "No, let's swim through a river or two."
East, West, North and South, they circled round, never settling down
Until one day they caught sight of you. Not before had there been
a more enveloping scene, they knew at once what they would do.
So they settled their feet, "Let's stay here." they agreed and to this day they still haven't moved
starstrike Mar 2019
Invisible money knows your dream,
An untamed pet with secrets
Carrier of midnight visions
Aboard the bittersweet rain train

Free the child with crackling city skin
Calling water ‘gift’,
Plan death with silver hands
For designated sleep it lives
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