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Karijinbba May 21
Cold twisted and icy
meandering slides.
are my enemies alone
on their down and out,
this my poetesses domain.
Enjoy your own slippery
slimy ***** cliff ride down.

Lately a very confused entity
paid to keep me busy writing
back while being intimately
intrusive has failed.
A snake in my old flame's
paradise or my kid's world.
Arranged to distract me again
from my true love's path
agreed upon eons prior.

I can intuit a fools intentions
and did cut that naga off soon.
I love on free will alone.
not fooled to play games
In the name of love.
I don't care for pimps lures.
By Karijinbba
All rights reserved 1954-2021-
I return to you all
your arrows ball of fire
you sent me with undying
unending deadly force.
Give you back only
your eye for an eye
as company
for your new boom trips
Scarlett Dec 2018
I still feel your ghost
haunting my weaken lungs
who can avoid each other the most
suffocating when I see you swapping tongues
that mouth used to be mine but now I pour my pain into rhymes
B Sonia K Dec 2018
Careless with their lives
They slog in infested slimy waters
In rubber shoes covered in holes
Merging bodies with all the inhabitants of the world beneath their feet
They trudge on

They’re deceptive
Picking up dirts to throw it back in
In those times they’re not seen
Or so they believe

They’ve reduced themselves
To the dirt they feed themselves
And they care not
Their pores clogged with infested slimy waters

Exhibiting animalistic behaviors
They’ve now become barbarians
“Buy us water”,
They cry together.
He who is living a deceptive life
Trudging around in the slimy waters
A place no one has sent them

They feed themselves with those slimy hands?
It’s no wonder their mate died
I stamp my feet in anger!
Do they not see the danger?

I do not feel pity for them
Their state of being
Though perplexing it seems
They chose this.
Their families I weep for
Bodies coated with infested slimy waters
They go home.
******* are itches like skin conditions
forget the admissions and feelings and visions
find yourself in a position where decisions
are void, because there's no choice,
no recognition, my voice is an imposition

With no occupation, or real reason to function
I'll spend my money on medication 'til
I'm believing what I'm seeing
Something is weighing on my mind heavy,
roll up another blunt-skin,
crack open another bevy,
Something is playing with my mind lately,
just write a couple bars
Yeah, that'll tell them nothing maybe

My hopes were up, but they have come down
It's too often we carve a smile out of a frown
just to fit in
           when we were born to stand out
So as a rule tell others how you feel,
not let em figure out
Honesty's my policy, unless I think they're on to me
and now I've lied again
I better turn my life around
In a short life, I've been much, I've been proud
I've been up, I've been down,
I've been chewed and spat out
Left out in the sun, left out to dry up on the ground

But all the aspirations that I'll never meet,
can be recycled to ambition if I get back on my feet,
But all the things I was promised, that's deceit
the act or practice of deceiving,
concealment or distortion of the truth,
for the purpose of misleading, so they got me bleedin'
and everything I want, I'm not receiving
and everything I need, I know they're keeping
stopdoopy Oct 2018
The air, saturated with a putrid smell.

Foul, like a dumpster in summertime.

They're monsters, skulking around in the Dead of Night.

Leaving, a sickness in their wake.

You're revolting.

The way you take.

Gnashing your teeth.

Trying, to pluck out little hearts.

Attempting, to creep up thighs.

Don't touch me, with those slimy fingers.

Go before you die, rotting beast.

We are not a cemetery.
A piece about how horrible men can be, also partially based off the Depeche Mode song "The Dead of Night" because I absolutely love it and thought it was about something completely different than what it's actually about.
Pauline Morris Apr 2016
Black slimy books, black slimy words
Black slimy fingers cramed them into a black slimy worlds

In my cracked up mind those slimy black words sunk in
This is how the end will begain

Blackbird sitting on my windowsill
Wait for me to seal the deal

Those black slimy words soon accumulates
They become black slimy books, my imagination stimulates

The black goat waits outside my window patiently
As the black sheep walks around aimlessly

The black slimy books have now become blood slimy pictures
Seen through my mind's eye with stricter
It was all becoming the perfect blood slimy mixture

The black goat has now donned his crown
He beckons me to come on down
To stand beside him on the earths ground

The blood slimy pictures are now a blood soaked movie in my head
That plays over and over and over, till I'm filled with blood soaked dread

So I seal the deal with the blackbirds blood
Emotions overwhelms me like a torrential raging flood
Then the emotions are suddenly gone with a thud

So if you are reading this you might see why
I left with the black goat, so dont you cry
Maybe I'll be back as time goes by
Hannah Holliday Jun 2014
She was so sweet and innocent
Good and gracious
She sat in the pew behind me every Sunday
She sang every word to the hyms I could only read off of pages, I was lost for words

Then he showed up
He was so slimy and sneaky
Scary and creepy
He stole her from Church every
Every word he spoke was like a thorn in my side piercing the only organs that made me feel alive. He was a dagger in my heart.

That was the last time a pretty girl sat in the pew behind me. And that was the last time that I believed that God could change people.

— The End —