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Mater wouldn't bother if bother didn't mater so if you bother to mater then I will bother with you😊
Our call might end
Our time together,
Might end
But our tie
Like space and time
Will never end.
Poetic T May 20
This wasn't what he'd expected, since a wee little one,
       contorting the edges of fallen wood made thin.
What was rectangle became a triangle,
           what was just plain became more.

No fingers were used, a mind is a wonderous thing,
                                 Never wasted on this little one.
    
Creation, Imagination, as parchment clean crisp,
contorted to conception. But when it went wrong
            it rained snow flakes of ruptured imaginings,

Jagged and torn, papercutting those close.

Tears fell from his eyes as sorrow for skin bleed
not deep, but any more would have been a torment.

A thousand papercuts from a moment of
            frustration could turn paper crimson.

From that interim, knowing the power paper
had, be it words shapes, meaning.
       Learning that contours have potential and
wording on it was a powerful influence on others.

So began his journey as origami butterflies
             fluttering around him, calmness followed.
            Here child, as he handed a swan, and it swam
upon the innocence of there hand, and he walked onward.
Mrs Timetable May 20
There's an esoteric drug
Called Ciretose
It cures lack of
Neoteric qualities
For side effects
Take Ciretoen
It will reverse them
Don't mix them up
Just kidding they don't exist. BLT challenge causes these weird silly reversable side affects.
Rey Lynch May 19
Once my teacher told me words were a weapon

I understand now

Because they don't bother bruising your skin

They go straight for the heart

And do more damage

Than anything material possibly can cause

Phantom blades stuck in your mind
You haven’t spoken a single letter,
Yet your muted words have told me
A thousand interesting stories full of beauty and mystery.

Hussein Dekmak

Copyright
Timely wrapped
To make a word wrap

Saves a thought
From a word drought

Survival from the swamp
No word ever goes damp
A thought to survive in a swamp of many
Has to be timely worded

I enjoy writing about thoughts, purely words :)
Rey Lynch May 13
My blood is an obsidian color
I bleed words on paper
Prisoner to my mind for eternity
Ink stains branded on my heart
I know a girl who could see my dreams in the mirror
With eyes as surreal as the sunrise
And a smile that could clear the grey sky morning
I know a girl with porcelain skin
Meant for more than just christmas tree ornamentation
She's pure inspiration, unhinged and unheard of
a certain some thing that's got me second guessing stealing glances
feeling anxious every chance I get to sit and be enchanted.

I know a girl who's pretty like poetry and hot like city lights
The spitting image of picture perfect mixed with sunlight through stained glass.
Beautiful on a bad day
Like classical music through radio static.
And my quick witted well written verse
Couldn't come close to describing those curves
I know a girl that truth be told this poets heart's already sold too
The light house and shore line when I'm sure I'm lost at sea.
An ice pack and life jacket through Hell and high water

I know a girl who asked me what I had to say so here it is.
I never meant to spit a flow to which there's no contemporary
I just want to let you know your anything but ordinary
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