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the Sandman Jul 2014
Words belong to everyone
but you could put some together
in the order that you wish
like no one else could
and they become yours

Words belong to everyone
these mystical, magical things
they can be twisted and turned
to the way your tongue talks
and they are your own

Words belong to everyone
*but some of them are mine
I've always found it amusing how a group of words can be put together by a person the way that nobody else would be able to and that just becomes *their* way- and then those words in that sequence become theirs.

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Martin Narrod Jun 2014
Most peculiarly of most things was that I thought all of this very fishy, daudry, drab, and boresome. This is where I turn on the second table lamp...

In a muster I arrived to the home of my aunt, where at once she drew me into the back of the house, down a flight of stairs made of tusk and bone into a catacomb where she kept a alive collection of wooly mammoths. She said the upkeep wasn't awfully horrendous as she had an invisible backdrop which led to a lion, a witch, and a wardrobe sort of thing. I stood in the gangway behind 10 foot high thigh bones waiting for one of the monstrous red beasts to come greet me, but what arrived was a very large elephant with longer tusks than usual. None of the red sillyness which I had dreamt of seeing in my previous years.

She could see I was not that impressed, and so I was led to another part of her home. Around the corner walked in my uncle in is superb and luxurious dress, reminiscent of 18th century British military fatigues. He said, "I bought the E.T. ride from Universal Studios, but as bringing the whole ride to my home I had them adapt a more suitable version to fit the property. A hangar opened and inside there were four chariots of orange and blue, diamond shaped school buses with their undersides aimed at withholding a V-shaped street. Then in two and two single file order all the classmates of my K-12 years arrived and took seat into the strappings of this 'ride' we were to take. Music played, John Williams even was produced by hologram, and after the ups and downs for several minutes we arrived to what I thought would inevitably be the forest, but rather was what I perceived was a Finnish town. The chariot I was in was stuck in the street, mud, rain, and soot entrenched us. I unbuckled the polyester straps and when I stood I realized that though the seats had built in urinals and toilets they were utterly noiseome to the senses. I followed a local girl to a food mart where I asked how I could find where I was but no one spoke a drop of English.

I corraled the group and told them to wait for me. I followed this girl who seemed quite younger than I to a small apartment in the uppermost floor of a very unsturdy chapel-like home several suburban blocks from our ride. She immediately removed her pants and I saw with my very own eyes that she was hairless and nubile. She insisted that we have a ****, and after I caressed her and complained too that she was far too young, she insisted that the age of consent in Germany was actually 13 yet she was 16. I remember it clearly. The most gigantuous feelings of pleasure as I mended a studio closet for my dining room furniture inside her ripening channel. Eventually after an hour we finished, she offered me a towel and some biscuits, which I consumed joyously.

Upon leaving her home I remembered that she had said we were in Germany, and so I produced a measure of Deutsch that I had been saving in my repetoir for the right moment. As Finnish is not my strongest language I was pleased of this and became instantly popular among the other candidates of our journey. This  E.T. ride is far different than  I remember it having been. Moments later I awoke quickly, a tuft of her black hair on my eiderdown comforter and a veil of tears from the merriment of glee shrouded over my face. After I rolled and balled into the soft feathers of my bedding, I twisted myself again into a knot, and allowed myself to rejoin the soporific treatice I was aiming for.

This is now where I turn off both lamps and go on watching films of a similar style.

Wishing You The Very Best,

Sir Martin Narrod

I keep my family of conscience
I shred my folly of heir
In case of torment or fondness
I never wear underwear.
sanjana goel May 2014
What do I have to do to get you to notice me?
Change my hair, the way I walk.
My clothes, the way I talk.
We've known each other for some time now  yet I'm still invisible to you.  My feelings run deep and how I wish you only knew.
I see your face every time I close my eyes
To me you just seem so different from the other guys.
To you I'm just a friend
Nothing more, nothing less I settle for friendship in the end
Because I don't want to make a mess.
Instead I'll keep my secret to myself  
And take my pride back off the shelf.
Until one day you finally see  
That you and I were meant to be.
I'll wait for now but not too long
Because sooner or later I'll be gone.
So when will you notice me?
With gestures increasingly erratic with every strike
And punts as constant as ink gliding across ivory
Our vigilant artisan gathers his wisdom on combat's eve.
This is a little Sijo that I wrote to reflect my long-term love for Eastern culture. I felt inspired to write this after watching too much of "Two Best Friends Play Yakuza 4."

---

© Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude
Dougie Simps May 2014
Don't take a lot to get this person inspired
As his arms grow weak and tired
Hoping to god he doesn't expire
As passes on through the fire
And chases what he admires
Angel kisses that put faith in all he so desires
But this ain't the same man who remember who wrote confessions
Passed up selling his soul to gain a few more blessings
People, anymore questions?
I choose to plead the fifth
Your antagonist ways slowly **** me like an active cyst
As I clinch both my fist and prepare for hopeless battle
With friends, family I love and those who truly matter
A spoonful of pure disaster
Mind bursting with thoughts...
The hardest battle in my life is the one internally fought
To think twice with gun while the devil dares you to pull the trigger and growing as an outcast a half Caucasian  ni@@a who strikes with pure aggression, ignored but received the message
Push every good woman away who probably could of gave him leverage
To rise high to the sky, Jesus god me oh my
A half empty glass full of broken dreams and tears from his eyes
But denies it and just lies cause weakness is pain leaving the body
He won't lower his guard for a single person, NOT NOBODY!
But even a lion gotta know when to drop his pride and say sorry...so
Sorry for all the issues, all I've ever put you through
The truth is you was my biggest fan and I didn't wanna wish on you
Father you are forgiven, It's times for me to start living
Slaving my internal freedom, overworking them in my Hell's Kitchen
Listen...cause I'm disappearing and placing my world in disguise
Thank you Hello Poetry
Im calling it quits but it's been a great ride...alotta wishes inside...no longer feel the need to write...I'm done but
I leave you with final piece "Lookin through his eyes"
live for every moment, love yourself
Actually...don't take my advice
(Do you)
It's been real Hello Poetry. Writing and I have met a breakup and I've truly enjoyed all ya and this "dream" I attempted but I seems reality sets and plays a role in any persons life. While alotta ya only like depressing **** (it's whatever) I respected all your writing and support (you know who you are) and truly loved my rapid growth and success here. I will hopefully be bak in the future. A.$.O.F|| -- LostLove WRITE ON PEOPLE
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