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Monika Feb 23
Give credit where credit is due,
And time will **** it all for you
... But all in good time —
It's patience at its prime

Stop feeding your internal strife,
You've been killing time all your life
Waiting for the world to shift its tide,
Unaware time was always on your side

I finally get it — better late than never,
Now I'll become the game, not just a player
No longer trying to beat the clock,
Ready for action not just cheap—*** talk

Can't turn it back, so I won't look behind
Mistook it for an enemy for never being kind
Believed if I had more of it I'd surely touch the sky
Never waiting for me, I hated that it could fly

But as it goes by I've got less and less to spare
Instead of it getting easier, we learn not to care
They promised I'd get it once I come of age,
But if time's money, I only have loose change

So Ima take some time off while it heals all my wounds,
Gave me a hard time even when I followed the rules
I wonder if I'm just wasting time until I'm all out of it
Guess only time will tell — poetic a bit

Anyway, I promise it's the last time I'll ask
This time, I'll even take off my mask;
Could you find the time,
To make some time
For me to try
And make it in time
This time?
dead poet Dec 2024
brain signals for blood:
a freight of the past revs to life;
generational curses come on board the ride
with their hefty baggage,
and roughneck IDs;

the nervous conductor lets them on -
offers them a ticket, and sighs -
‘this too shall pass.’
dead poet Dec 2024
cut me some slack;
been feeding too long on crackers from the mart.
it takes guts to admit -
the best feeling you've had all day
is letting out a ****.
sorry, i know it stinks. had to let it out.
It’s a doggie dog world so watch where you step
Foot in mouth syndrome is spreading like strep
But a house of prevention is worth more than liqueur
Have a spoon full, a mind full, are you feeling demure?  

Inside effects may include outlaws of vision
But don’t freeze your auntie, make a thawed out decision
Keep on pugging, plugging a way
You will fly like a beagle, as every doc has his day

While thyme keeps on dripping into the tincture
And limericks rhyme everything, except the kitchen sphincter
Now refill your subscription and do as I say
Because a Hornaday keeps the doctor away

And give us this tray, our daily meds
While terrier-ism threatens to Smirnoff our heads
It’s a mystery wrapped in poodle, but misery loves coventry
And it takes a heckuva lot, to go parking up a wrong tree

Just another Shih-Tzu day, making trouble in paradise
Ain’t nothing but a ground hog, gone skating on the nice
Though I wouldn’t herd a fly, or let a wafer stray
Don’t doubt the Roman knows my aroma was built in a day
Norman Crane Aug 2024
july reaching's still to august,
whose days in general be more modest,
and september blowths the future cool,
june's present's past's hot-headed fool.
Tint Apr 2024
I let the sparkle float the air
surrounded yellow, oh so, frail
for it, I could reminisce
for she is, my Everest

I have forgotten how to write,
nothing came to empty mind
darkness always made me rhyme
grief, the anger, and, of spite

but, she, my ever-rest
took me off the scary edge
led me to secure-ity
against all my diverse-ity

Wordplays are beyond me
[create-TV-tea]
but I had it, and it is
so I go back without the rest
and pause,
period,
leave.
It's been a while since I had the chance to write anything.
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