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#fantastical
when you make learning the goal the world opens up into a fantastic phase of color and light light's not quite the weight though and color bleeds through cause they don't pay the rent they don't keep the gas so a lot of us close the books putting the pen down with faux intent to one day, pick it back up but that day's never coming the years, they draw in on you and responsibility bears down on you the person you thought you'd become is replaced with the one you did but you can always make a change
0
Jan 28, 2021
Jan 28, 2021 at 2:10 PM UTC
Public Storage
Ancient Seat of Versailles Sweet shimmering palace Place of majestic mirrors Reflect the grand beauty you store So that each vision Is distorted and deformed Yet still retains the brilliance Of picturesque perfection Like Capitalism unsoiled Or Socialism Unspoiled A duet of ideas Promising the good life The great life Heaven, before it was hardened By revolutionaries of reality
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Jan 28, 2019
Jan 28, 2019 at 6:37 PM UTC
Kingdom For the Loftiest Royals
Brave And shaking And strong And quaking I fool myself Late at night that is With fantastical scenoirios Of what may be Yes Yes I see Late at night Who I want to be A version of myself Trapped inside My head A fantastical version A prototype A clone An upgrade Trapped Picturing confident conversation Loose chest breathing easily Fantastical It feels fantastical Then I wake up The feeling gone The fantastical locked up again In my tight chest Anxious and hard to breath My tight chest and immovable mind A constant cage For that fantastical me All day I think How different every situation Would be With fantastical me She screams from inside The tight chest, running mind cage I hear her scream She is me Well a version of me No one will ever see We argue all day But she never wins the fight She's only allowed to dream at night.
0
Apr 13, 2018
Apr 13, 2018 at 2:42 PM UTC
Fantastical version of me
The knowledge of her death kills a piece of me. I sit, light blaring at the page, hoping for her to wake up. I sit, hoping this is all just some terrible hallucination she is having. My stomach twists as I see his face in my head. Him, the one that learned how to love her, then lost her. Sadness, guilt and pity swirl through my body. I can only imagine the deep pain and loss he is feeling. All of it is to savior for me to bear I laugh whipping away my tears This is silly. I have watched them from a far this entire time. Their faces are made up, Constructed, sculpted, from the words that burn into my eyes. Yet I feel this pain, This pain I feel in my being must be the same pain that he feels now, Staring at her life less body Limp, Gone. I want to lunge at the paper I want to scream, cry, and laugh. This is twisted I hate it for sending me to this emotional place, But I can’t help but continue, Loving the action and thrills it sends along the ride. Her death kills a piece of me. -ALC
0
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 2:35 AM UTC
Death of a Character
I’m sitting in a lawn chair At the edge of the moon’s well cratered chest I’m facing a woman whose company is pricy and measured by rounded hours She sits full lotus Supple legs twist in a curving swirl Seated on the glass surface of the coffee table Young and slight enough to have no rational fear of it shattering beneath her I ask to ask her something She simpers Anything So I begin my slurred inquiry If there was a God And And it told you that Today was the day you would die But it would spare you and let you live on well Well Into old age if you could give a good reason why It should let you live then What would your reason be I belch a pig’s roar What would your reason be She simpers again Ooooh **** that’s a good question She toys with the starched mass of her hair Flailing to be remembered by me and gain another loyal customer I guess I guess I’d say that I had a daughter and Do You have a daughter She’s nineteen at the oldest Yesss I do I blink What’s her name Her name is Nelly So So you’d say you had a daughter and And that she needs me She loves me I love her I can’t leave her alone In the center of the dark and lashed ellipses that halo her hazel eyes I’m finally seeing a woman She tilts her face Her bangs silk to her jawbone What would your reason be I unscrew my flask I wouldn’t give one I deserve to die However Luckily for me This life is unfair and unjust In reality You can plead to God all you want but even if it hears you It won’t stop what it’s already made And what it’s made is death We’re both still facing each other But we’re not looking at each other anymore We’re both staring at space’s unfathomable darkness The all consuming black I know from where she is She can see the Earth She can see the spins of white puff The emerald and umber chunks The deep sapphire that coats the planet’s skin Maybe she’s thinking of Nelly From where I sit All I can see are the tiny scabs of distant stars Moth bites In an all swallowing cloak I check my watch My current bill is approximately 1,600USD I hear her voice For the first time today Her voice is genuine and entirely naked Are you saying that God doesn’t save anyone The weight of the knife in my pocket Feels heavier than it should be Especially here The craters of the moon are yawning wide They’ve always made perfect graves I drink the last gulp of bourbon from my flask Before I answer her I wonder if her question is also asked by the others The high piled and shallow buried Crisscrossing one another Overlapped like piles of pottery pieces Or shards of shale They lie Trapped on the sun’s mirror Lifelessly embracing and lying upon each other Coincidently kissing each others wounds Stuffed in the stony rings of the craters of the graying moon Some I left floating in lakes Both here And back on Earth Are they all wordlessly asking each other Screaming through sunken faces Won’t God save us Doesn’t God save anyone I toss my flask to the side It takes forever to fall Well Charlotte As far as I’m concerned He hasn’t saved anyone yet
0
Jan 4, 2017
Jan 4, 2017 at 4:31 PM UTC
The Lunar Graves
I’m sitting in a lawn chair At the edge of the moon’s well cratered chest I’m facing a woman whose company is pricy and measured by rounded hours She sits full lotus Supple legs twist in a curving swirl Seated on the glass surface of the coffee table Young and slight enough to have no rational fear of it shattering beneath her I ask to ask her something She simpers Anything So I begin my slurred inquiry If there was a God And And it told you that Today was the day you would die But it would spare you and let you live on well Well Into old age if you could give a good reason why It should let you live then What would your reason be I belch a pig’s roar What would your reason be She simpers again Ooooh **** that’s a good question She toys with the starched mass of her hair Flailing to be remembered by me and gain another loyal customer I guess I guess I’d say that I had a daughter and Do You have a daughter She’s nineteen at the oldest Yesss I do I blink What’s her name Her name is Nelly So So you’d say you had a daughter and And that she needs me She loves me I love her I can’t leave her alone In the center of the dark and lashed ellipses that halo her hazel eyes I’m finally seeing a woman She tilts her face Her bangs silk to her jawbone What would your reason be I unscrew my flask I wouldn’t give one I deserve to die However Luckily for me This life is unfair and unjust In reality You can plead to God all you want but even if it hears you It won’t stop what it’s already made And what it’s made is death We’re both still facing each other But we’re not looking at each other anymore We’re both staring at space’s unfathomable darkness The all consuming black I know from where she is She can see the Earth She can see the spins of white puff The emerald and umber chunks The deep sapphire that coats the planet’s skin Maybe she’s thinking of Nelly From where I sit All I can see are the tiny scabs of distant stars Moth bites In an all swallowing cloak I check my watch My current bill is approximately 1,600USD I hear her voice For the first time today Her voice is genuine and entirely naked Are you saying that God doesn’t save anyone The weight of the knife in my pocket Feels heavier than it should be Especially here The craters of the moon are yawning wide They’ve always made perfect graves I drink the last gulp of bourbon from my flask Before I answer her I wonder if her question is also asked by the others The high piled and shallow buried Crisscrossing one another Overlapped like piles of pottery pieces Or shards of shale They lie Trapped on the sun’s mirror Lifelessly embracing and lying upon each other Coincidently kissing each others wounds Stuffed in the stony rings of the craters of the graying moon Some I left floating in lakes Both here And back on Earth Are they all wordlessly asking each other Screaming through sunken faces Won’t God save us Doesn’t God save anyone I toss my flask to the side It takes forever to fall Well Charlotte As far as I’m concerned He hasn’t saved anyone yet
Continue reading...
106
dark hair light eyes tone fit body he’s a perfect guy smart with wit this is it I can say please take me away to this man with a freckling tan he’s beautiful and says what’s right he’s wonderful take me away for the night *…sometimes I’m taken over in butterflies for a perfect guy with light green eyes*
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Dec 18, 2016
Dec 18, 2016 at 11:49 AM UTC
Fantastical Thoughts
the butterflies bubble, dawdle, build up homes underneath the skin, as she looks at him as he looks at him as she looks at her as they look to each other cocooning between blood vessels and pulses their wings spread as intoxication, renovation hands reach up for him for her and stars are plucked and presented they are the stars that first looked around the space and came to rest, upon the ignorant, beautiful breast of him, of her from his eyes from her eyes and they glitter, and flutter the chemical pours through the muscles and the butterfly blooms, takes wing at hill-start, straight to heart physical spiritual infinitely wonderful for him, for her, for them, and for forever
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Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 6:15 AM UTC
butterflies
Years later Bathsheba's psychiatrist Was analysing the tryst Between King David And her. It was no tryst Said she. What a slur. He was a ****** And an opportunist. An amoeba would concur Said the psychiatrist That a shower screen And being more demure Would have been Quite spiritually enterprising. You cannot expect Kind David to desist From objectifying your femurs And a cracking pair of amethysts. Don't treat me Like some calculating Hormone Exchange Unit You sexist misogynist. You are not fit To analyse me. You say your name's Freud But you're wholly devoid Of any insight Of what is amiss Or my troubles might be. Not one piece of grit Have you put in my oyster. You obsequious churl I'm a girl you don't mess with. I could have you hung. But instead she dismissed him and booked an appointment With a certain professor Who went by the name of Carl Gustav Jung.
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May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 11:27 AM UTC
Bathsheba's Psychiatrists
Jack and Jill Went up the hill With Bill And Ted To buy two bottles Of mineral water. Jack and Jill Came tumbling down Fatally cracking their heads open And the local council was done For corporate manslaughter. But Bill and Ted Came down on their mountain bikes With the mineral water towed on a skateboard. And having buried Jack and Jill At an environmentally friendly funeral They headed for the Amazon On solar powered surfboards. Thus they concurred This was yet again As vinegar Bed and Brown paper-free As there ever could be Excellent Adventure.
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May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 8:49 AM UTC
Jack And Jill And Bill And Ted
Medusa's juicer Used to confuse her - The instructions She said Were obtuse. By the snakes for hair round my petrifying face I swear that This juicer's no use.
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May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 4:47 PM UTC
Medusa Blames Her Utensil
Sat on a sedan Spiderman took her hand. Went down on one knee And said Will you marry me? I cannot face The rest of eternity With each generation's Take on modernity. It's old fashioned values I look for and see - Your confidence, Common sense, Your honesty, Sincerity, Your quirkiness And peacableness. But most of all Your peerless take on life Is what does it for me. Will you be my wife? Spiderman, Spiderman, How you do woo! And you have such qualities That draw me to you - Your patience, Respect, Your considerable intellect, Your gentleness, Strength of mind - I could go on at length and find You could be my cobweb? I could be your fly? Could you be the man for me Until the day I die? What more can I say than You may have concurred That I do things my own way. So can you guess? Little Miss Muffet Said Yes! And do you know what? As they lay there On that Le Corbusier chair Without a care in the world - And you know it's not novel To be graphic - They were not afraid at all.
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May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 4:31 PM UTC
Spiderman Proposes To Little Miss Muffet
Katie Price Had a collection Of last season's Brassieres Which she indexed With the help Of a sincere Bilingual reindeer Dressed in spandex Who for some reason Was single. Taxonomy Is so important to me Said Katie. So they were labelled And kept in taxis At disused angle grinder factories Near the Tower of Babel So posterity Would be able To analyse The finer points Of her physiognomy. Quite an unusual praxis And something of an anomaly For someone like me Wouldn't you agree? Cross my heart And hope to die I agree.
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May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 2:42 PM UTC
Katie Price And Her Bilingual Reindeer
Salvador Dali Rode a Harley-Davidson All the way from Bali To Abu Dhabi With Charley the Cat Riding pillion. Said Charley to Dali All weathered and gnarly I get quite incensed By children's lack of road sense. When I get back to Britain I think I'll start A Road Safety Campaign. Good idea Said Dali To Charley Who replied Thanks a million.
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Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 3:15 PM UTC
Salvador Dali And Charley The Cat
Samantha Fox Was a panther In a previous life As well as an ox. Not to mention The wife of a 17th century cobbler On the outskirts Of Gillingham. Which is unusual As those who remember Past incarnations Are usually the wives Of Heads of Nations Or helped build pyramids. Actually said Samantha I forgot to mention I was also the transistor In Euclid's protractor. Can you get anachronisticer? Oh reincarnation The rebirthing Mother of invention.
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Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
Samantha Fox And Euclid's Protractor
Captain Marryat's chariot Was hijacked by Judas Iscariot But with the aid of a lariat He got it back.
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Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 3:08 PM UTC
Captain Marryat's Chariot
Little Miss Muffet Sits on her knees Eschews cottage cheese Does as she pleases. No cobwebs Or flies on her. Life does not frighten her Either side or during Any meal. And do you know what? I am not afraid to say I could write A graphic novel About my ideal New Millennial Girl.
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Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 6:43 PM UTC
An Omega Male's Graphic And Novel Ode to Little Miss Muffet
In his monochrome home Postman Pat Has a black and white television To colour co-ordinate With his black and white cat. As well as Secret love children Who also match. He christened them all Foam. As befits an autodictat With a comprehensive Collection of Black and white combs
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Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 6:37 PM UTC
Postman Pat In His Monochrome Home
Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary, How does your Hydroponic Garden grow? To be honest, Said Mary, I'm fairly airy-fairy now And that's as contrary As i know how to be - I've mellowed with age And grow lots of sage As I'm perimenopausal And have grown a Dorsal fin between My cleavage. Sorry.
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Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 2:46 PM UTC
21st Century Contrary Mary