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the great bard and Elizabethan play wright
begetting complete dramaturgy
     explaining fate hollowly airtight
succor starved, riddled smitten tattered
     sir real body politik blight
under whelming enthusiasm
     witnessed blank quarto copyright
more tragedy than comedy

     visited mine biography to date
     expressed as dearth decayed delight
devoid absent audience
     hip...hip...hooray three chairs to excite
zero non-exhaustive effort
     summoning stagecraft
     imagining hardened faced spectators
     muted nonexistent ovation,

     sans anticlimactic action
     superfluous stage fright,
thus retrospective stance taken
     billeted envisioned anachronistic gunfight
signifying emotional crisis,
     especially high anxiety pained height
incorporating mine every birthday
     newly aged since

     LIX January thirteenth orbitz insight
oppressive ominous gloomy glum
     obscuring highland dale light
whereby substantial sole action
     asper arrival of midnight
celestial curtain call enclosing
     somber static theatrical night
hoop fully explaining deadening

     copious heavy breathing
     followed by extended lapses
     of utter silence outright
spartan mise en scene absent props
     nsync with holographic thespians
     staid theatrics displaying plight
uneventful sleepy representation quite
leaving entire cast

     (singular char actor his shun
     of myself) remaining
     soporific steadfastly right
lee measure for measure
     much ado about nothing
hermetically sealed, NON GMO

     vacuum packed no sight
worth seeing on the twelfth night
starkly barren aimless
     padlocked mortal soul asylum
     no, not even Romeo and Juliet
     love's labor's lost passion

a comedy of errors, viz unbridled trothplight
mock king lear ring alls well that ends well
     where me crushed psyche doth unite
with death vis a vis
     as demise of Julius Caesar
     et tu Brutus I in vite.
Garry Jan 2018
What's the point?
a nice house,
a conservatory,
a 4K television,
a loft conversion,
a beautiful bathroom,
a pretty garden,
a garden-grill ten feet from
a fully-fitted kitchen,
organic box deliveries every week,
holidays abroad every year,
a shiny car with heated seats

It's all just ******* ****
that you'll spend the best hours
of the best days
of your ONLY life,
Bent double over
a desk or
a machine or
a counter
to earn the money
to pay for it all
before you die
What's the point?
Yeah I was in a bit of bad mood, I guess, but **** it - this is what came out for better or worse...
Anton Jan 2018
UNFULFILLED

Maybe meeting you was fate,
But loving you was too late,
Being loved by you it just a dream,
But I think we aren't destined so it seems,

I thought we can be together,
I thought that you'll be mine forever,
I thought you could become my only,
But now you just made me lonely,

Wish i could wash away the pain,
All the heartaches that still remain,
No matter how much tears I cry,
It still won't fill up your feelings so dry,

I still keep on wishing we can be together,
Still want to spend life with you forever,
But you leave me out here and the cold,
Leave me to choke on the tears and pain,

How can this broken heart mend,
When all you did is just pretend,
My shattered heart can never be healed,
For my dream of you will just remain UNFULFILLED.
My 2nd Poem Back in 2015 submitted on the school poem writing Contest.
Solitary Sac Dec 2017
If I had one wish,

You would stay forever!
If only I had one wish, that could come true

If I really had one wish, to rewrite our story
Only one wish, to hold on to you for ever.
CrookedMantis Dec 2017
I won a trophy!
It has my name on its plaque!
…what do I do now?
Bibek Oct 2017
I have been alone,
How alone you ask?

So alone,
Even the tears flowed away,
Bearing disapproval to my state

So alone,
That my lungs haven't been polished for years,
With breath shared by a beautiful soul

The windows, they stare at their own scars
The old doors, go either way to closure,
The torn roofs welcome the rain
But the drops fill spaces,
   Not hearts
Suicidal thoughts on being alone and feeling the non living
Isaac Middleton Jun 2017
your desire since you were a child was to be a singer,
The world gave you cigarettes.
You also wanted to be an astronaut,
The world gave you gravity,

Eventually you grew content enough to lay down on the grass, smoke your mind away, and stare at the stars.
It's never too late to quit.
If I was at the outside looking in,
I would see that this is a sin,
I'm not true to myself,
just true to everyone else.

The clock is ticking away,
as I'm wasting my life day after day,
scared to state my opinion,
open my mind
and fly to the sky.
Broken Oct 2016
Without her life is to me
Music to a deaf man
A crimson sky to a man born blind
Spoken words to a mute
Unfulfilled longing
The undying desire for the unattainable
Feeling the wind in your hair as you sprint to the lame
Beautiful poetry to an illiterate
The desire to gather the stars in my hand
And set them in the blackness of my heart
To breathe in the peace of the ocean
And hold it in my troubled soul for but a moment
Life to a dead man
Without her life is to me
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