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ari Mar 2
something he stole
      was very important to me
                but it’s not the kind of thing
that could ever be returned
         this is no game of
   lost and found
       oh, but the thief
                        the thief―
they couldn’t catch him,
            he’s got
               sly talk and
i think he’s part snake
          they couldn’t catch him because
he left no fingerprints
he took everything from me.
Cece Feb 4
"the stars are so pretty tonight,"
so pretty
i want to drown in them.

i want to be swept up in the current
of a swirling sky,
i want to die up there.
a peaceful death,
a death among the stars,
among the angels before i fall.

i want to see heaven,
just once, then i'll let
the riptide take me and
throw me down with the rain,
with all the falling stars
she rejects every day.

I want to feel each wave
above my head;
i want to drown in stardust,
let the sky fill my lungs,
let it **** me.

I'll take some heaven
down with me.
inspired by van gogh's starry night painting
Carlo C Gomez Jan 26
  And papers
    And fancy erasers

  And soda cans
    And ratty old pairs of Vans

This and that
  Or 'maybe' something
    Equaling all sorts of nothing

And then I met Winona Ryder...
Thank you for the poem title Morrissey.
CautiousRain Oct 2019
three in a row,
he swings hard,
alarm bells go,
a knife and knife
a circular ring
who's got the guts
to come clean?

Slurry of blows,
slurry of speech,
maybe there's more
to being a leech,
a man made of pride
a man made of sorrow
what's a man to do
when he can no longer borrow?
Time for some rhymes. What happens when you're stuck in a situation that forces you to get in even more trouble?
If I give just to receive,
Is my gift worthless?
If I steal only to give,
Are my actions faithless?
Arisa Mar 2019
The ones with blurred faces
Knocked down my door last night
And tugged at my limbs with such desperation
- A rigorous exercise.

Their hands, rattling in a sharp neon glow
Stole away many things as they held me down
And shone the bright lights into my eyes,
Turning my pupils into hollowed colour:


All gone.
All taken.
All dead.
During the break-in.
All I see are faces I could not recognize. The strangers we face today are the people that break our hearts in the morrow.
Arisa Mar 2019
I made this skirt from
Pierre Cardin's spring collection
Where a thief stole a pound, and I paid a nickle.

I made this shirt from
A pretty curtain
That I ripped out of a groovy bungalow

I made this bracelet from
Beads drifting down river Arakawa
A child's beads, probably thrown in a tantrum.

I made this pendant from
A glass marble from a goldfish bowl
In the small classroom of an elementary school

I found my socks in a dumpster.
I found my shoes in a runaway train.
I found my coat on the shoulders of a model.

And so I plead not guilty.
I once dreamed of a Kleptomaniac making excuses to a Jury and their Judge. I listed those excuses in  poetic form.
Redacted Nov 2018
"you know, a thief who has stolen from a queen is typically locked away, never to see the light of day again."
"yes, but perhaps my heart was given, not taken."
Aa Harvey Nov 2018
Grand theft auto

Key in the ignition, let’s begin.
Foot on the pedal, it’s not stealing,
Just borrowing, for an hour or two.
Doing ninety now, no sign of lights of blue.

Music blaring without a care.
Who said peer pressure isn’t fun?
Each of us daring to go out there;
No fear of crashing because we are young.

Still learning to lose control.
Shackles released; let’s see how fast we can go.
Flew past a ton in the blink of an eye.
Touching the sky in our under the influence minds.

(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Nigel Finn Oct 2018
I sometimes take words that were first used by others
(I'm About to admit I'm a bit of a crook)
Re-hash and re-use them, and make my own covers-
Stealing little known lines from an eloquent book.

I've stolen from Shakespeare, yanked words off of Yeats,
And pilfered from Plato and Brown;
I've probably swiped stuff off all of the greats,
And many of zero renown.

There's more to be heard in the wise words of Wilde
Or took from a Tennyson line
Or the thinking out loud of an inquisitive child,
Than could spill forth from this pen of mine.

So if I've stolen from you, and perchance have offended,
(Yes- I'm about to steal Shakespeare again)
Just think but this, and all is mended;
Nothing original came from my pen.

Which means that, eventually, all that I've ever done
Will be lost in the shadows of time,
Skipped over, or lost, and simply outdone
By your works original shine.
For the record- I do try and admit to my word thievery when I'm aware of it. So much of it's unconscious though, that I doubt I'll ever know of all the occassions I've done it.
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