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Cecilie Andersen May 2015
En tom stol, forladt, ensom og itu
ligesom det kys der er blevet gemt ovre i hjørnet
et kys der aldrig vil blive samlet op igen

Du fortalte mig at det føltes som om
at livet glider igennem dine kolde hænder
men det eneste der bør glide gennem dine fingre
er mine fingre

Jeg går rundt med et kort over himlen
ikke én eneste sky at se, ingen syngende fugle
eller hurtige flyvemaskiner
Måske er dit hjerte ikke det eneste der er tomt
Men hvorfor siger man så
at der er mere mellem himmel og jord, spørger du
Grace Pickard May 2015
******* in the life surrounding me through a coffee stirrer
Gulp
Gulp
Gulping up what I can whilst I drift away
i am drowning in my own lungs
Pay attention to my heart beat
Cadum
Cadum
Conundrum- no sleep
I panic
i must be having a heart attack
Close eyes open eyes close eyes
Blink
Blink
Blink I can't sleep
Heavy bags
Heavy mind
****** nose
Headache
Get out of bed
All awake

Lights on
Bzzzz
Bzzz flicker flicker
Lights off

Dog scratch
No time to relax
Awake open gate
Wait
Wait
Wait
Curl up in corner doze off
Dog bark
Sister coughed
Wide eyed
Anxious cries
Door opened
Worry for my life
Grab my mace
Dog runs inside
Lock the door
Crawl on the floor
Lights on
Remain awake
Skim finger tips
Ponder life
Freak out
Pass out
Sad donkey Jan 2015
Keep scrolling down
Don't hide that frown

The red lines we drew on paper as kids
Now cover your wrists

Put a facade up that makes you feel good
But we all know you could if you would

Kick the bucket
Pop the pill
How long till you say
**** it
And sign your last bill
William Waterway Jan 2015
Deflate Gate
By: Tom Brady

When it comes to football
it’s all about the ball
it’s got nothing to do with skill
or giving our fans a thrill

When I cozy up behind the hiker
and give the call to begin the game
he snaps the ball into my hands
as the crowd screams from the stands

Then I make my famous moves
to the left, maybe right, maybe back
either to pass the ball or, to
hand it off to a running back

Where the ball goes, nobody knows
just me – in my moment of glory
whether the ball is soft or hard
I can’t be bothered or give a worry

Seems strange to me about the air  
inside the ball – being such a big crime
they check the pressure when we start
why not each quarter, or, during half time

Whether a ball is soft or hard at game’s end
no difference to me or any team mate
we’re here to play our best on game day
not to deflate ***** or litigate
Poetic T Jan 2015
Farmer Tom,* fell on times hard,
Needing to feed the animals because
Scrawny
Emaciated
Anorexic
Animals wouldn't get much.
So on the black market, cheap feed
"Not For Human Consumption"
That was good enough
For farmer Tom.
He thought he would try it on the
Chickens first,
"Buck, Buck, Buck"
Scratching of fifty little feet,
Breakfast,
Lunch,
Dinner
They looked as before
"Plucky little egg laying machines"
Still hungry
Wait till morning my feathered friends.
Night set upon the surroundings
Farmer Tom
Woke,
Startled,
Confused
What the?? Slippers, dressing gown,
Shotgun loaded,
"Tip toe, tip toe tip toe"
"Bang"
"Mary mother of joseph"
"That dam dog and his toys"
"Ok safety on"
The yard was silent, except for
a noise faint but heard
"Buck, buck Aahhhhh"
Farmer tom curious of this noise
Listening with ears Focused
Came to a sight of horror
Chickens pecking
The eyes out of blue bell
Mooooooooooo,
Then cluck
Mooooooooooooooo,
Then cluck, Aahhhhhhhh,
Then misfortune,
"SNAP, CRUNCH"
As 42 feet turned,
Eyes red as crimson
Feathers matted, and that smell
Decaying cow as bell got up
"Moooooooooooo, Aahhhhhhhh, cluck,"
"Father Jims tunic"
As Bell swayed towards *farmer tom,

Little feet carried in the hole in bells gut,
"MOooooooooo"
"Cluck"
Mooooooooooo
"Cluck"
Fa­rmer Tom ran for his dear life,
Past the chicken coop
Where blood soaked remains
Of those unlucky chickens, parts rancid
As the head of a chicken looks up as I run past,
Doors locked, windows too,
What the hell is that noise??
As a rancid chicken comes though the dogs door
"Kentucky this mother cluck, cluck err"  
The last thing it did before I sent it too hell
Laid an egg,  green and sour,
"What the hell was in that feed"
Out the back he ran, bag in hand
Zombie
Meat
Danger
Incineration is required,
"Zombie meat?? what the blue blazes"
As he runs to the house
Whoosh, above his head
As the house once home, erupts a fiery death ,
Tom see's Bell surrounded
By gents in suits
Moooo, Aahhhh, Cluck,
"Excuse me sirs"
"What the frigging heck is going on"
They fry bell on the spot, Mmm burger
"Snap out of it man"
As the chickens peck upon a suit
As he screams fallen to the ground
Pecked to death, but death just woke up.
Tom runs in slippers as they set upon the pecked man
"Tom keeps on running"
"Tom  keeps on jogging"
"Tom keeps thinking I'm too old for this"
He hides in the old barn five miles away
Waits there for days too scared to come out
Then on the fifth day he treads carefully not to be seen
He sees a house, see's a coop and chickens
Cluck,
Cluck,
Mooooooo
All around is heard, as he runs a round
Bell is that you, you got more spots
"Interesting"
The house as it was beter some how.
Too this day Farmer
Tom tells tales,
To those who listen,
"The Night of the dead Cow and The Zombie Chickens"
And how the government blew his house up
And then built him a better one, hell I wouldn't moan now.
Zane McHarris Oct 2014
Your sticky and moist on my fingertips,
I pull you apart to push to my lips.
My tongue follows the folds of your skin,
Becoming light as I hold you in.

Dancing with you burns my desire,
Bringing me close as you hold onto fire.
I Taste you as I exhale so slow,
I feel your touch as you come and go.

Rolling my fingers over your paper skin.
Holding you close as I breath you in.
I pull on you for one final kiss,
Searching in you for something I miss.

Returning again and again to **** the pain,
Just me, myself and MaryJane.
A modified sonnet
Pug Rollins Aug 2014
And thus, from his spaceship, the spaceman heads off
Surrounding him nothing but stardust and sun
He just told ground control that he had a cough
From that day on, he was only with one

Years had passed with no sign of him
The ground control declared him dead
But among the inky void he swims
As he was all but one step ahead

Two figures, both wearing white, came close
Their silky gowns flowing like words in a book
He stared, he boggled, he had seen worse
All they did was give him a calming look

Ground control received an epistle soon
Startled look as they saw the ink in blue
A few scribbles of stars surrounded the words:
"I'm happy, hope you're happy too."
Based off of and a sorta sequel to David Bowie's "Major Tom" stories, in his songs "Space oddity" and "Ashes to Ashes."
Martin Narrod Apr 2014
Oakes-photo, hypocrisy and flagrant mirky plateau. Brimming celestial warrants overcrowding public housing systems. North-South lights, sell costly iPhone Apps; and then there are Social Societies of non-verbal delight. Password protected non-profitable and over-costly educations of no reward or biblical synonyms. Catastrophizing hash-tag dot.com. Weary party going poster children with glowing anemone guts, fruity looped cantlings, ravenous scattered supper clubbed coughing up ******* on their strange and central affairs unit. Overcome the candisation and sugary affairs of any of the ***** and pops that erstwhile matter less and less. We are speaking of nomenclatures that don't arise. Promises and by which confession aloof romanticizes every Tom dicking Mary that carries the theory of sustainable energy, prussian blue, and irregular browsing.

— The End —