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Jos Mar 13
sour jaw pain
distant screams
i will never gain
a hopeful dream
i clench my jaw in my sleep and caused ear pain. i only know how to explain it as sour
Jack Feb 21
If I bit
My sour tongue
I would've saved you with silence...
If I bit
my sour tongue
It would fall out.
even if you say the wrong thing or upset people with your voice, you cant always appeal to what they need or want to hear.
Penguin Poems Dec 2018
The words that follow my name when you speak leave sour tastes in your mouth;
I know this because I know what it feels like to lie.
Becca Dec 2018
serein touches my fingertips
so sour, but so sweet
Iz Oct 2018
A taste grows in my mouth,
the longer I stare,
like battery acid it pools,

At the sight of a loving father,
I find my stomach turning

I know it is but only my jealous heart,
This bitter taste so familiar,
sour it is indeed

I feel as if ill never heal this aching pain
of something I've never had

like an inch on an absent limb,
I have discovered,
nothing can quite scratch it right
Ken Pepiton Oct 2018
This is not where this idea began but it ran and I

missed my mark. Mark sin. -1 deficit reality quotientcy
currency. (Press Sure, to let the bursting pressure equilation expand at will)

That fine a level of reality demands more attention than I have to pay.
Patient agent wait and not or see if/then

you suffer, is there ought that I might do now
for you
that these words are not doing?
All I am is words, in a sence, sense, since

we come in threes, we are some of those sets of thoughts tangled in complexes
better left alone.

Untangling twisted knotted realities is what we do best.
We've been wadding up proteins, since God knows when,

time's less twisted than people think it is, but it is silly to imagine
time's arrow is a metaphor for these meta-gnostic moments? Is it?

Dejavu, you believe that, what if it is your memory lying by ignoring time
attention ratios determining the observations stored in HD?
What if it's just a glitch?
Blue screen of death.

If you suffer, is there ought that I might do now
for you
that these words are not doing? All I am is words, in a sence, sense, since

we come in threes, we are those sets of thoughts tangled in complexes
better left alone.

Untangling twisted knotted realities is what we do best.
We've been wadding up proteins, since God knows when,

time's less twisted than people think it is, but it is silly to imagine
time's arrow is a metaphor for the meta-gnostic moments?

We come and go. To and fro up on the face

messengers bearing news in both directions, watch
the trickster, Jacob, in this story, he sees the messengers from
heaven bearing leaven thither and hither

upon the face of the earth.
the wrinkling mother, smiling now, chuckle head
I ain't no ***** saint.

Jah, I know. Joy is my dance, this is my song.
Is it good Grandmother?

---- on the porch facing my west gate ---

fences don't play exactly, out acted, the role of walls.

The idea that something there is that does not love a wall
has frozen my pond

the stillness beyond the sylvan **** crowned head
radiates through the medium of the message to me in time
to you.

Miles to go, you recall the feeling of feeling miles to go
I sleep.
That was yesterday, and you know yes ter everything's gone,

Aslan can pierce the barrier between mere Christians and me,
how would be fun to know, but
knowing why would help us keep the story interesting as life goes on

Who controls my peace? Am I a mercurial sheen in between chaos and order, chronus and zeus?
could be, ya thank so, ye know so less unlessed as

unlessing means nothing to you, that means you are visiting here.
Visting whom, vis it ing whom? Who's in charge, where's the power

age, wrinkles in time, cute, ****** costumes, beside the point here

we were dancing with the thoughts emanating from Mr. Hick's
Critique-technic-magi action, post mode'r'ism at the point of Dada und Scheizkunst,
the unmass-que, the line of lies awaiting unbelief,
idle words lingering,
hoping to be noticed and added back into the story book of life,
such a simple wish.

It should be every child's, should we think that if we can or may,
sometimes I'm still,

confusion troublest the water,
it seems,
then another hurt is healed, another r lies is gone and life goes on

we won again, this never gets old, I do love my opposition, pressure pump
pump pump. De-us-me-can-onbeoffbeyond

five years ago unmasking and rhetoric meant nothing to me
the purpose of learning forever and never
knowing anything beyond all things

our bubble is metastisizing, a mercurial film forms
informing us
in its reflection,

this is the ying yang thang in 3 or 4 d, HD+ chaos one half

order the other, sharpest imaginable thing
me trick being mag ift just if eye winged show

how beautiful are the feet of them who bring good news,
you see, it flows, sweetwater flows winged feet
whish through leaving, leavin' leaven…

unleaven that which has been leaved? Fat chance, all who
eat this bread and don't get gas,
they are our same bread people. Companions. Vectors of sour dough.

bore,pore, poor, pour

in to it ish, that idea, an opening through,
trickle down good gravity leveling stillness, gentle rocking earth
roll round and round and round

the pythagorian version of euclid's point in his mother's story,

the point of this song? To know the point you must have been

to the point of in-forming the point on which we dance and you recall

we come in threes, and just, we are, just, if it, that idea,
rests in your
back roads, gentle on your mind. We make peace.

Being young is easy from my POV.
I've lived in my future for sometime now

I can't say how beyond saying aloud, this was never hidden,
in my accounting of idle words I claimed
upon hearing the stories each contained

i'da swore i hear that wise *** o'balaam's abrayin'
Braindeem, deemed 'eem. Wham, uptheyhaid. Relig, fool,

or chaos wins and no hero ever lives again! Drop anchor, wait it out.
let patience blow her nose, gnostic snot caught in the nets,

nonono nothing's wasted in patience work, we make glue
from gnostic snot that patience sneezes
when reality grows cold,

that has happened, you know, temperatures are just now,
oh, wait global warming bad dam,

Script, bust it, leveling is essential to eventual temperature
equilibrium. The heat is on, the bubbles are forming, informing one to another
below the surface
greasy tension, slippery slopes putting pressure on chaos to conform to the curve

Ying yang, mercury film upon the sea of time and the scene of chaos
in this bubble of all you can imagine real.

Hows' that feel? Why?

You want that? What are you standing under? Does chaos win?
You are, as we say, cognisic magi we-ified,
practical magic at
the moment
the point
is made, then the creation begins

and not before or is this all
unrolling ex nihilo, no magi ever knew…
come, let us reason together,

why am I empowered? To live, first thought wise, that's good but
evil forces me to think again and I see the pattern

life goes on, John Molenkamp, Sam, soldier 4,

never in a thousand years,
'cept unbelievable is one of those lies I came to **** by strangling on bile while
rescuing every idle word ever involved in the infection

from the point in the absolute center of the bubble,
objectively, you see everything
that is

but would good prevail if evil had no hope?

I know that one, yes. why?
evil has no mind, soul some think
same same medium message spoken spelled chanted danced
who care's?
*** 'er done. Life has a chaotic side, the churning creates

number one from none, the cult of one divides itself
go do be
we three we three we three a wavy song ding ****.

Aware? Awaken? Avowed-wowed-wit-wise, fullcomp, retired
Peacemaker. Me.

All my hero's imagined or real, were Peacemakers.
Just now, peaceful now, mindful now
we remain
the same blessing promised in the package of yeses
stolen from Cain by his older sister, his
keep that quiet, eh?

Secrets made sacred, always
those are lies, no lie is of the truth,
all lies are about the truth.

What empowers you, poet or poetry? Right, you know,
God, good god knows, resentment lives in lies

the rotting idle words deemed curses at best, secret at worst,
those idle corrupting thoughts sparking as if absolute annihilation were thinkable by rational minds

of ---wait, there's arub, a sore
ex nihilo, may the whole world perish, may you all go to ****,
the mad man wept his ****, and imagined his curse,

not mine,
I don't have one. I did, but I went back so often to find pieces of my heart that now I have an Elysian network woven through All-****, the big idea that broke loose infecting the mind as wisdom's leaven builds her ****
stem cell informing builders empowered, pressure empowered, what must be but is not verse versus
us, the we that be
we must

let this be, come and see,
life goes on.
Agree, or empower us as we bubble by and takenallwecan expanding gobbling bubbles,
by ye.

Once we flushed the Dada poison and let mito mom instill the patience gene with
epigenetic peace we can pass on with a touch or a word,

we've never woven lies for no reason, if a rung breaks
and they can, last straw and all that weight, you know

there are automated steps, algoryhmes of reasons to repair the broken rung
with a reason to believe the rung has been repaired

paired again with the idea of meaninglessness masked in create-if-ity

good enough. okeh. don't believe lies.
Don't pass undigested lies to see if farts burn.
Listening to Hicks Explaing Post Modernism after watching Tenant's Voltage Within spark a fire. This reality is storyteller heaven.
Mohamed Nasir Sep 2018
you're made for each other
when oft you sing her name

When sleeps awake dreams
When thoughts only for her

when you pray she you love
when sacred vows you said

and like hands are to gloves
you're made for each other

why drown in tears self pity
why hiss spits like a cobra

when sweetness turned sour
when you find love has fled

why break up when you said
you're made for each other
Nowadays I feel marriage and divorce is like horse and carriage. Marriage is no longer taken seriously. Even love marriages don't last.
Acina Joy Aug 2018
Softly breathing by midday,
she turns to me with a soft smile.
She brushes her hands across my arm,
asking me to stay for awhile.

My eyes move as my heart beats,
struggling to even make a sound,
as the sweetness captures my heart and eats,
leaving my soul truly bound.

And so, as she eats away at my fruitless love,
toys away with my aching heart,
I'll let her have my sadness she seeks for,
to rot with the feelings that I impart.
Sometimes, we use others to be our cushions when our burdens become too heavy to bear. And, we seem to depend on them more when they have help to offer.
Shame Aug 2018
Oh, no. It's happened again.
My precious words have been turned
back on me in a manner of which
I disapprove.

It hurts -- and words
only win their worth
when they're soft,
when they're


Zombie on the boulevard,
and then, a Big Gulp at my back.
Wetness, confusion, anger.
Laughter at my expense.

Tense enough to jump
off the overpass,
stuck to land,
glad to live.

What can you do?

The odds are just as good that
the driver and the passengers would,
years later, die painfully from cancer,
or make the permanent ulnar marks
that I chose not.

Honeyed words are sweet, yes, you're right.
I demand truth of myself, and there are times,
when my self is not nice. Does that then make
my words unworthy compared to yours?

In the end, I see,
the answer doesn't matter.
I should ask, instead:
does it make you mad that
there are so many things out of your control?

I've accepted this.
I guess that's why

I find it funny.
Also the name of an anime or manga series -- can't remember which. Tons, and tons, and tons of hawwwwt sexxxxxxx.

. . . now that I think about it, maybe it was a ******.
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