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David Hilburn Mar 28
Wholeness and suicide
Straight from misery
The salute of comparison, to pride...
And it's stare at a simple wivery

Fruit's of the future, in league
With a solemn taste to essentialize
A running chaste, with silence for egis...
Seem the tradition, seek the dance of the wise

Fires of tomorrow, if not its humanity
Shown to worth, the past of sincerity
Days share, a dream of paces duality
Both form love? the rose of mercy and virginity...

Character's to haste, a harmony...?
In the defense of prestige, a capable sensitivity
Adding the now, is need ours for longing?
A hatred in lore, to establish a realer nativity?

Call of a waiting husband
Through the smile we keep for austerity, a shame
Is a requiem to adjust to a shadow in the sun?
When tired eyes example a change of season's, a name...

Right, the voice of curiosity with a patience's problem
About, a hill of deference, an act of powers that is kind
Majesty, to the rage of summation that is a weary living
Meant, and met in the fame of substitution of chance's mind

Money, the odd ordeal of liberty...
To which, in the voice of introspection
A callous ghost or curious host, has me by the simplicity
Of worldly asking and fating, an inheritance of how's intuition?
did I just die for a reason found in an angel's prayers, when I saw God take seven days to create an eternal fame?
David Hilburn Mar 23
Vampires with flowers
Don't notice me with when
Hero, I came for you, before it sours
Like-wise, with anarchy's cowl, I don't sin...

Happy, is a dire field?
Here is my moon, my first more
Does a ******, increase the yield...?
Naivete; is this moon the beginning of a war?

Woe be a seemly world...
Of the same house of prayer...
As a wholesome lip, that, becomes a cherub
Ask me now, if vampire's share...?

When flowers earn a smile...
A shared essence, a lethal ball
Has rolled and rolled, ruling a while
In front of a noble season, for which I have invented a wall...

With me, there is altogether...
Without me, there is a pride in a rage
Withheld from me, is your kindness to bother
With a bared flower, have I seen patience, age?
What if I told you vampires own a crush of existence,
David Hilburn Jan 22
Awe, sweeter vestige
Few's care at home:
Hellraiser...?
By the more, meld unto done

Angry beginnings
To a rhyme of sate, voices
That have life in its lending
Savagery; do we keep simply, our echoes?

Frequency of a noble God
Six among love, seven might song
Rise, avarice, we see the nod
Of a portent, of a heart, so strong...

Deal me the, care...
Sophistication, in a game of chance?
Set on a mystic table, earning a hasty stare
Meant in our hands, a draw of substance...

For a meagerness
To dry a tear, in a humanity's wish
Spice, suspicion, and ***
Power in the name of salt; we began for liberty, this?

The day the professing came
Worth in the reach of promises, a mayhem of justice, salt
Silence broken but not strong, until a wisdom by same
To me, the mention of a wish in sunshine; is girl altruism?
Asking a woman for a smile during a hungry eyes cry, is a role in a dragon's sigh, good news? go give the mail man, his holiday card...
rick Dec 2024
I was barely 21
when I ran with this older crowd,
(they were between the ages of 30-35,)
and I thought it was something cool,
something special,
I thought I was someone
real grown up and mature,
I thought age had something to do
with sophistication
so, I tried to impress them with Bach & Beethoven & Mozart
while drinking rotgut whiskey out of cheap tumbler glasses
because that’s what I thought grownups
were suppose to do
but instead they’d say,
“this isn’t that kind of party,”
and then they’d exercise their drinking prowess by guzzling down a whole bottle
of Rumplemintz and chasing it with a case
of Icehouse while blasting Screeching Weasel so loud that my neighbors couldn’t exist.
my forethoughts of adulthood had been marred by the stench of reality
and despite the headaches and hangovers
that paired with the morning sun,
I continued on anyhow,
matching them drink for drink
like it didn’t phase me
because I had something to prove;
I wanted to show them
that I was cultivated,
that I could hang,
that I was tough,
that I could run with the big dogs,
that I was all that was man,
(whatever that means)
all I wanted was their approval
that I was something
after so many years of being told
that I was nothing
and I wanted it to be known that I had endurance and stamina
but those addlepated simpletons were too vapid and clueless to notice the ****-stains
in their pants let alone what I was doing.
we were an odd pair, different yet the same;
we shared the same desirous need for intoxication yet our levels of class
were on a parallel universe.
but as time went on,
the framework of realization took shape
and I began to see they were just a gang
of losers with no place to go.
they used up my living quarters
as their party sanctuary:
people getting tattooed in my kitchen
people snorting coke in my bathroom
people ******* in my laundry room
people throwing up in my closets
people ******* in my living room
and it grew tiresome after a while.
so, I had to kick them out of not only my house but out of my life for good.
decades went on, I reached my 40’s,
they reached their 50’s,
and most of them are dead
but the few still living are more dead
than those buried in the ground.
they’re out there now,
enduring a midlife crisis
with bed-wetting regression;
peering down from the hills of nostalgia,
sprinting towards their
social media platforms,
losing their minds over
things they can not control,
smearing opinions around
like **** as if you asked for it
and gnawing away at the bars
of their enclosures for one last taste
of the honey, the pleasure, the folly, the glory
because they’ve become
embittered with world;
a world they hadn’t envisioned
a world they weren’t ready for
a world that’s changed forever
and after all the wild and lawless nights
and after all the rebellion against authority
and after all the broken glass & cigarette holes
they’ve became like everybody else:
unable to face the inevitable.
Kundai N Dec 2024
Sophistication stems from subtle simplicity
So stop sophisticating simplicity

Silken streams of sense swirl silver shadows deep
Simplifying the sophisticated, in slumbering silence keep
David Hilburn Jul 2024
Day to day
Lips of values; simpler eyes
Wishes so profound, asking if intellect may?
Deciding upon sharing, a whetted appetite for why...

Is a humanity seen, the better voice to lead?
Quiet bother, the serious
If not the scurrilous; a wish so alive in said...
Solace and virtue, a place for each seldom of hope, curious...

Wet eyes, with a moment to tell?
Why the tear of valor, to make a realm in each, a patience?
Having come and went to wisdom for a word, with hell...
Which has become a raging stir, of what was a heart of vanity, with terror for ages?

Your strength, if not the storm of perseverance
I've seen to be; a dance in the sunlight...
Where a sigh of requite, is no requiem, of vehement chance
A voice of change, that has become only better in insight's mind

An obvious example, comes to mine...
If the twain is to be a champion, of what we know for truth
Isn't a wish the future, as if a premonition was forever kind...
Every spirit of determination, asking what is a light to risen youth?
So further, for a mightier word there...
David Hilburn Jun 2024
How is yet, our soul purpose?
Aged reciprocation, a queue of wrath
Since apt, is a war with no host...
Places of passion, set to a music to never add

Odd, the taste
Of vehemence's flower
Set to sweeter haste
Implied ordeals have a certain power...

Mercy, no more...
A mirror of lewd fantasy
Seeing me step forward
Has harbored, my indignity...

Salt, I know you
Quiet, when fingers of the sun
Arrange the day, for a wind to blow
An image saving not, from a seldom, so cunning...

Professed voices
With a moment, to look and see...
A curse so sweet, presence of a choice
That has a hand, for each blindness we be...
Can't promiscuity actually get you laid?
David Hilburn Feb 2024
River accepts; reasons and done...
Sweet exception, in the needs we fare
Are the told, the toiling west of money?
Taken for sincerer times, the opus of care?

Think allure...
Is a wealthy shoe, the only way to dance?
And to imagination in the same, a rolling curiosity
With the times of decency, hopefully avidity's moments...

Think composure...
So waited, if not weighted to advance
The notion of simplicity, as a spare continue, of open worth
Order and chaos, with misogyny as arduous a stance?

Think despondency...
Letting worth, keep the better of common assumption
A halt of silence, in the name of rendering immediacy
A stoic habit, of a quiet question:

Thank dependency...?
Reality to venture forth, with seldom's catch
I am the patience of virtue, the vote of leniency?
Like appetites of justice, in the our of stirring cope, I have seen silence's legend...
David Hilburn Apr 2023
Himself, in a crying shame
Spoil me with a door, a fury too overt...
Excuse a jaded court, mellifluent by name?
A rosey future, a mission to earn the word...?

Worlds to weigh, a happier conscience
Ruses and voiced rage, particular to winds
Of times trying, the boot of legends
With the turn of somewhere simple into lent minds...

Fists in the air, a fight will remember remorse...
Sides of same and days rue, to collect a heaven
Is such a fickle repose, the dawn of a new force?
Worth one spare moment, to tell the difference as leavened

Throw after throw - to tell a characters tale
With the gaunt terror of risen voices and deeds
That calmly collected a house, that secluded with what will
A house of reaches of tomorrow, has the sense of entirety of needs...?

A piece of cake, a dread to eat it...
There in an uncertain stare, with a rolling hiccough
The total of vice to share, the challenge of a chosen wit
That has seen the truth, a course to new causes that knew the tough

For a new land, the barriers of meagerness's echo
To a chastity in round eyes, and the curiosity of a waiting hour
Let with the light of opportunity, in these steps we hold
A mind at bay, that knew one thing more than patience, a salt so sour...
Tale of the ship, that treads the world for something greater than might...
ilias Oct 2020
„The prose you read is
not even that intriguing“
He said with a pejorative glance
But I just kept on listening
To the sound of words
I found between the lines
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