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preston Oct 2020

.. and most definitely,  shaken
there is a transformation  

at the moment of  excitation;

And the dead  is  once again
brought back to life,
as previously stored energy
from   even   these  very   stones,
becomes  released  in varying forms of light

Poetry is not all fun and games
(or the incestuous pursuit  of one another)
you self-centered *******--
it is originally meant to be  the very place
where darkness itself,  becomes lit

    or in your case..
    it laughingly carries in its arms
    its mega-vat of sand--

the very sand many here,  so very much  love
to stick their heads in to.

Lapsis Solaris,  in HP terms:

The very sand will glow--  
every single grain of it
and your 'jovial', self-aggrandizing
little heads will burn..

or you will burrow in,  even deeper--
laughing,  laughing,  la--...

the world's getting awfully big in the window..

its no small wonder that I don't have many friends.  xo
onlylovepoetry Jul 2020
this word love,
heavy with import, alternatively,
falsely called out too breezily,
diminished by over-usage,
till you admit it doesn’t fit
like your formerly fav pair of jeans

stretched, too many stains,
cut for a different body,
a different soul,
a different existence,
a former you

so when the mind and mouth
glimpse a synchronized synapse,
and just ‘bout ready to let the “L”
bomb slip past the guardians of
your own galaxy, you nick time,
modify it to a moderate, but yet
fulfill your need with a differentiated
four letters.

(“Cariño para ti.”)
Care for you.”
2:34 PM
Fri Jul 17
crybaby Apr 2020
gloomy sentiments flood my sea
nostalgic remembrance lingers
solo pienso en ti

deception camouflaged by roses
intimidated my sight, but
aun me acuerdo de los poses

ninguno lo ase como tu
I weep as I listen to the
phonograph that spins the blues

— The End —