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K Lupus Sep 2019
Whenever the dark curtain of my eyes
fails to serve me right

or whenever the numbness
felt from rubbing my hands
against my lap no longer
ease the tremors

sometimes
I lose myself
in thought

wondering
how much more
must I endure

how many more times
must they
steal the minuscule grit
I had pondered

- the person that will
always be
my breather
I guess I kinda liked the way how you became my breather
tremors, take over me
with this falling feather head,
control me

breathing
one
two
three
my blood pumps
as i drown in reverie

fire, take a hold of me
embrace my body
consume me

and as i float in this ocean
in these waters, this serenity
i dream of you,
lover,
to hold me
10/17/18
The Coffee Table
Malignant gangrenous political cancer
     corrupts, festers, and poisons United States,
     thus opposition cannot wait,
especially since Gospel in accordance

     with feeble minded Donald Trump
     implemented wrought ugly trait,
particularly obliteration, sans progressive
     human rights legislation

     more or less pronounced positive
     in every L ionized Nittany or cotton bowl state
and ratiocination inherent within
     mine Democrat oriented mind doth rate

this forty fifth president (defect)
     with sawdust packing
     his noodle oven egotistical pate
trophy wife (spouse number three),

     a Slovenia mate
donning "I don't care anymore"
     t-shirt rousing media firestorm of late
essentially silently corroborating,

     fostering, and illuminating hate
mutely bolstering the Trump anthem,
     viz make America great
again, which pathless,

     pithless, and pointless aim
     roars like an earsplitting runaway freight
     train oblivious of wailing soul asylum,
     that no era meets said criteria

     backtracking time machine before
     rightful indigenous occupants of this land
     got decimated as one after another
     exploiter did inundate

(comprising a multitude
     of indigenous variety of village people
indignantly subjected to Genocide,
     when first "discoverer"

     of new land didst promulgate
activation wrought deliberate sealed fate
vis a vis capitulation, demolition,
     and extirpation, cuz

     a scathing rebuke aye attest,
     those murderers didst equate
worthlessness of
     so called "Indians" on 1492 date,

and still remnants of storied tribes,
     now attempt to create
historical documentation operate
ting with limited resources to adjudicate.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Food methinks doth buzzfeed drumbeat agog
at pyrotechnics July 4th, 2018 shared as blog
posts, a falsehood prevails which dog
gone “FAKE” brewed watered down grog
posits that the majority of Colonialists stay hog

tied to strict task masters, and mainly the scant
upperclass experienced autonomy,
     no matter the under class didst futilely rant
and rave with the occasional
     uprisings over time did grant
minimal appeasement to stifle violent kant!
4 | Heartbreak in Hatfield

I had you constantly coming down a few minutes after breaking down.
In the presence of clumsy hands, fragile hearts break like porcelain does.
It is summer time somewhere but it is currently autumn right here in Pretoria.
Sometimes I wish that you’d never ask about my love life because I could never love or be loved right.
Love is the highest vibration and that’s why I always feel tremors every time I step out of my comfort zone.
You remind me of the month of August, you always remind me of the calmness of the colour blue.
Like a painter admiring the presence of his exquisite muse, I can’t stop looking at every colour of you.
Love is the highest vibration and that’s why I always feel tremors every time I step out of my comfort zone.
We cannot survive in the world with all these secrets that we have if all that we have is a lie.
Love is the result of all the vibrations of tremors that shook a long time ago.
Vexren4000 Mar 2018
Shaking hands,
Reverberating buildings,
Shattering glass,
And panicked peoples,
Quaking earth,
Exposing new land,
And shifting plates,
Of old eras rising again.

©BAS
Moissa Nov 2016
With manly aggravations he strums-

Strums the rust and the anguish away from the strings.

I saw them, floating away from him; vibrating in midair

Those compositions from his melancholy days,

Echoing...

The notes have, somehow, reverberated through my cathedral soul-

I can feel them.

I could still locate the ringing at the ceiling of my skull.

And if I wish to
I could even feel the faint tremors in my heart-

And realize it's actually pulsating...

But surely, it's just an after shock from the sounds resonating

It would fade away.

Of course it will just fade away.

It would fade away the moment he
stops playing.
I taste like heaven and hell.

Like the nightmares you had where you were left in the middle of the ocean.
Drowning
You woke up crying.

Or the one where you watched everyone you loved die.
But
It was you shooting.

I taste like the hidden corners of your closet where you keep your diaries.
With pages filled with how you’d touch me.

I am the burnt sugar on the edge of the pan.
The drops of ice cream that leave your fingers sticky.
Lying on my stomach I remember the way your fingers felt unbuttoning my flesh.
The way your teeth left cursive along my spine
Beckoning me to open like a book that you were never allowed to read.
I will unfold for you with the promise that you will only sign your name in blood
Along the edge of my sanity and only if you take me out of my mind.
I am not looking to lay anywhere except six feet under
Where I can feel your fire without fear of burning myself with your flame.
So I beg you-
Cover me in gasoline
Strike me where you please
And leave your sigil in my ashes.
2ndBest Nov 2015
the leaves all left

you went west again

i know you can't stand

to see all that death


i don't blame you

those feet belong on the beach

not between frozen lakes

or forming paths over concrete


please don't mind me trembling

my palms are becoming mistakes

you must've felt their fault lines

so here's hoping san andreas keeps you safe


safe and out of the cold


safe from the quakes in my bones

— The End —