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T R Wingfield Oct 2022
‘Cause you  never wrote any of the good parts down
You just lived ‘em
and let ‘em

                                               a                    y

You knew better
than to try to capture
the silliness in its hay day
because then you’d have
to face the facts of
the very choices
that you’d made;
and there would be no question -
whether it’s was worth it -
to waste the days by trading them
for nights of frivolity and frolicking -
Of frittering away.
What should have been,
and what is so,
and where it came from,
and who’s to blame
would all be there in Black and white,
instead of vanishing in the haze.

And in your own hand, no less;
your words,
a confession dictated day by day
of what, With your own eyes,
you did see
- All the magic and the wonderment of this tragic comedy -
through foggy lenses, bottle-thick and stained:
dreary ramblings in shadows made,
and heard and said
a many things
in drunken dangling reparteé.
{•:[\|/]:•}no one ******* cares{•:[\|/]:•}

                                          _ -====- _
                                      . + T  [ ^ ] T + .
                                   /  .•^•.    .•^•.   \
                                  |   <(•)  }  {  (•)>   |
                                  (..          /^\          ..)
                                   \* /|'_'_'_'_'|\ */
                                      \\ V         V //
                                        \\ ^----^ //
                                          \ '-''-'-''-' /
                                             * -_'_- *

                                          _ -====- _
                                      . + T  [ ^ ] T + .
                                   /  .•^•.    .•^•.   \
                                  |   <(•)  }  {  (•)>   |
                                  (..          /^\          ..)
                                   \* /|'_'_'_'_'|\ */
                                      \\ V         V //
                                        \\ ^ __ ^ //
                                          \ '-''-'-''-' /
                                             * -_''_- *

(Found beneath the body of the author, who was crushed by the weight of a megalithic stone- his writers block)
p.s. - I spent far too much time on the ascii vampire skull; but isn't it neat?
"Pigeon droppings cited in bridge collapse"
                             —Toronto Star

Behold the ***** birds that felled a bridge
Of concrete, iron, and steel routinely made,
Dropping by dropping, pigeon after pige-
on adding contributions grossly laid.
An engineering feat commercial grade,
The bridge could not withstand the pigeon poo,
And, from the scourge of filth, the bridge decayed,
And fell as all decaying things will doo.
(When not creating mayhem, pigeons coo
And congregate and caper in the park,
Returning to their nests—tu-whit tu-whoo—
Before the owl can hunt them in the dark.)  
And so we see the danger we permit
When pigeons are allowed to give a ****.
Khoisan Aug 2022
through pupillary logs
with disregard and no regret,
I look back
remembering as far as I can
tiny, specks.
i know
the raven quoth
and croaked
himself horse
for Lady Macbeth
while the crow
is an omen
of doom
or a messenger
carrying secrets
for the gods
if i saw
one of these
blackened birds
in solitude
i doubt
i could tell
which it was
Carlo C Gomez Dec 2021
Cold cold heart
Frozen plumage
Like a peacock
Her ladyship
In the campfire light
Skating about the pond
Of her own vanity

birdy Dec 2021
The Sun beams down blessing the white curtains with a holy sort of light,
delicate undulant pristine waves of silk,
frame the green leaves that peek out,
gentle and humble,
commanding the eye to gaze upon them,
aware of their beauty,
manage to give vanity allurement.
I S A A C Nov 2021
you are my forbidden fruit
so sweet until the notes of bitter bubble up
so perfect for me until your other side shows up
duality, inability
to see beyond your own body, beyond your own needs
what am I to you?
what am I if I do or don't?
you tried to tie me down, tried to quiet my own
voice, displeased with my need for reciprocity
to engulfed in your hypocrisy
I almost lost me, in your rapids, distractions
too many factors, actors, and games
too much struggle, rebuttals, and vain
so much vanity you drove me insane
and I have never driven a day in my life
mark soltero Sep 2021
goal oriented affections mean nothing

do i have a problem he asked
ungripped from the idea of desire
slight misunderstandings amongst those present
watch it all unfold

beneficial mistakes led to destiny
beautiful positions fill the space between
pure vanity overtakes love not meant to be

affections without true purpose
lungs spilling the life you have
on the brink of death
all for the misuse of her humility

simply to be with the girl of your dreams
broken hearts between brought you to me he realized
the lives he's taken before was worth it
My Dear Poet Sep 2021
The stories we live
are bound beneath
the covers of land and sky
and the days in between
are the pages
from hello to our goodbye
Each turning sun
brings a new day
closer to the hour
Where all good things
must come to a close
when death holds the power
We scratch our name
in the dirt and dust, till wind
blows away existence
leaving behind
scraps of our mind
and fragments of our presence
To toil much and embed a mark
only in soiled strife
is vanity to have had a name
not etched in the book of life
Nigdaw Sep 2021
I once had vanity
searching for my likeness
in shop windows
looking for my place in the world
a glimpse of what others saw
in shaving mirrors
every morning
willing unwilling hair to grow
prove my manhood
see what I'd become

my gaze is focused earthward now
unshaven face unruly hair
no longer need for bathroom encounters
although reflected in mans shiny surfaces
a vampiric absence is all I witness
I looked too deep into that empty space
I occupied within my race
no longer seeking to fit in
I've become an outlaw mortal sin
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