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Haydn Swan Jul 2016
Screaming midnight chimes,  
hidden alibis illuminate your crimes,  
ferule moonlit beams of light,  
recoil in the shadows, glowing in white,  
shaking soul in the twilight zone,  
kicking up dust as you run for home,  
emotions take you by the hand,  
scatter away like the desert sand,  
cold trip in a purple haze,
eaten away in the last of these days,
haunted,  we are all haunted,  
ghosts of the past gnaw at our thoughts,  
searching in vane for safer ports .
we can all run but we can't hide
Skaidrum Jun 2015
.
He had ascending eyes
                   of sapphire,
the kind in which angels sloshed in their
royal chalices,
the kind of blue Poseidon gnashed
                       his teeth for.


                                   Born in the 25th dying date,
Septembers’ autumn bleached scent flows along
his bloodstream.


A smile that belonged in the crooks of these sapphire seas,
a soul unholy as Adam
                          & Eve’s.

His love was not fierce enough
             to contain this poet's heart
my pitiful phoenix can be ripped asunder
by the wrath of
a dandelion.


He couldn't swallow the sun
                 so silver fire rained
                                     anytime it pleased.

We are the skylines
             not gallows
and yet we hang ourselves upon the night skin


                       and collect
the stars as if they were
                            our alibis.

If you love me,
                        let me go?

                         My silver eyes don't see you in color anymore.
.
Phoenix Boy can only live so long before he falls to ashes, right Wolf Girl?

© Copywrited..
Compound theories appear in the sky
We are awakened to the sound of lullabies
Alibis drift into our skylines
We are mindful of a decline
Lions roar underneath the covers
We are uncovered in our clutter
Punctual demigods sit on their thrones
While other people suffer
We just wander all alone
Phone calls on Sundays
You return them all collect
Yet the edges of discovery
Are sometimes harder to suspect
badtaste May 6
~
-Prologue-
god thinks I've ran away
perhaps I've been lost all these days

but I don't deserve paradise
can't even count all my alibis
and here she lies in a story which we all shall begin
of tragedy and victory of passion and sin

~
all the petty past jealously
wasting your pretty present time with me
are you ready to turn and go the other way?
I wanted to wast alone
soon I wanted to live with you
I'm alive and all the music sounds so much better
I even can cry when I watch things die in dead of winter
when are skin touches it feels like our first hit of electricity
more than a brush or a rush of newly past memories
it seems we cannot hush our passion or bliss
when we've been longing for so long our very first kiss
is it wrong to sing a song about running away from time with you
dancing like it's prom dying in your arms
saying my last true words
"I love you."
mercy party Jan 16
he rolled his fingers like he had a rifle in his hand
down the dirt he was kicking at a can
always looking for a fight
his father would say he was brought up right
and showed him a true measure of a man
he made friends to provide alibis
and really nothing more
one time he robbed the liquor store
he sped off in his old nova
with his Sancho Panza
in the dust were the flashing lights
meanwhile down that county highway
a girl was on the side
she got a flat tire on her way home that night

and a pull off by the S curves isn't the greatest place
to be broken down during a high speed chase
Notes dressed by intonation
Remarkably beautiful,
Articulatingg the heart's strings
Bound unbreakable, affixed
Noose-like fashion to dreams
Those, that you manipulate
Sweet siren at last returned
Turning up for this performance
Sing Love, your lovely songs
Foolishly I can't but listen
As words, you choose blanket me
settling over soft and smooth
Heavenly as fresh linen,
Traces of you fill my senses
How I've missed this, You
Listening in awe, completely lost
Lullaby alibis, tall tales stolen
no doubt, no betrayal, no hurt
as thought and logic,
Memories scared over or recent fall
Off and again away, Love only
your voice, your warmth against Me
you, close once more. 
 Singing softly, practiced and angelic.  
Lyrics with your judgments hidden
guiding the rhythm mastering a fool,
to forget what surely awaits
come the morning, as those before
How brutal truth will be given
Our song, foolishly I listen.
sunshine mimosa Sep 2018
she’s wide awake, saturday morning
cold sheets and purple skies
unadorned wall and a coffered ceiling
four corners hiding in disguise
shadows through the jailed metal windows
curtains flowing with alibis
an empty chair, a messy table
a piece of paper full of lies
01/06/18
kirk Oct 2018
Who owns Jack Jones, is he part of your clan?
Does Mr Jones actually exist, is he a real live man
Why does he resemble Boyd, is this part of his plan
Jack is such a manly name, but so is Phil and Stan

Don't use "Boy" within your name, you'll impose an adult ban
Boyish names are not much good, there not like John or Dan
You wouldn't call grandfathers boys, or say girl to your nan
Stop abusing ol' Jack Jones, and avoid Boyd if you can

Boyd is easy to avoid, its easier than we thought
An alteration has took place, but that's what Boyd has sought
Elusiveness is not too smart, because already you've been caught
We've worked out who Jack Jones is, and it accounts to nought

Your lacking iron clad alibis, nothing is set in wrought
It's criminal to own Jack Jones, so please would you abort
No rights to use another name, your being a bad sport
Is Boyd considered as a name, or is it "boy" for short

Intellect is not too strong, that's only what you think
Using an alias is unwise, if you show a photo link
Why bother changing to Jack Jones, how low you gonna sink
Your mother's been kept in the dark, about releasing your white ink

Is Jack Jones the one, who's been sinking in the pink?
Wasn't it Boyd's low ***** count, that went inside the mink?
You are skating on thin ice, when there's cracks in the rink
Just who owns Jack Jones, when Boyd's back from the brink

Identities are broken, just what did you think you'd gain
Your just a ******* imbecile, to think you'd relieve the strain
You can't hide yourself away, you must be quite insane
It's not as though your mother lives, in germany or Spain

Everyone knows who you are, it's in your face and plain
It is just pathetic to make Jack Jones the main
Jack Jones is just too common, you should try a name like shane
Just don't **** about with names, or Jack Jones will be jocks Jane

Your ashamed of what you've done, you try to skulk and hide
You didn't mind the ******, or having your fun ride
Be a man and not a "Boyd", it's time to turn the tide
Come on Boyd you did not avoid, legs that were astride

Morality is in pursuit, but you have no sense of pride
Who's Jack Jones supposed to be, now  sperms slid down the slide
Other aliases may exist, do you have bits on the side
Or are you only interested, when things are open wide

Is Jack Jones the father, or is he born from rubber clones
Boyd is the spitting image, he's been seen on mobile phones
Hostile namesake takeovers, do you have *** slaves and drones
There's no sense in your deception, because this isn't Game of Thrones

We don't want identities stolen, you borrow names like loans
Jack's already being used, it's a name that someone owns
Maybe names can hurt you, as well as sticks and stones
So cease in your activities , you don't know who owns Jack Jones
This poem is dedicated to Mandy who influenced its writing
jul Mar 12
my body aches from my soul trying to rip itself out of my shattered skin
for it does not love the error-ridden body it is in.
scratching away at the wires of a bomb in my head like a drug addict
im trying to save myself from a bad habit.
in a cycle of repeating worthless words to people who see me as worthless
im trying to find love where love has been lost for it fought with no purpose.
self love has no meaning in desolate eyes only found in a desperate high;
getting high off of desperate lies and fooled with desolate alibis.
my body aches from a love that has burdened my bones
breaking apart a mind that cannot even hold its own.
the night holds our secrets which are closely kept underneath facades we fake
hold me closer to your chest so i can hear the silence break.
fabricated beauty used to bewitch a young heart
its an art, really. lets see who next will tear me apart.
**
Tiana Lloyd Feb 4
Because you're in Hell,
Suffocating in Degradation...
Lost, Stolen, Swallowed--
Taken.

Breathe in Acceptance,
There's no Room
For Lies...
God Does Not Atone
False Alibis.


Alas, The Devil will Welcome all
His Ripened Fruits,
The Darkest of (His) Children
With the Blackest Roots.

To Rot in Primal Horrors
Of the Great Below
Where Truculence is Transcendent--
You.
Must.
Reap.
What.
You.
Sow.

"Human morality (tsk), it's so fragile--
so frail.
Such hubris--to have free will
yet still fail.
Such folly, the notion
of tipping Death's Scale.

Abandon All Hope,
Here no Souls Prevail.
Silence your Pleads--
I wont be compelled.
Stifle your Prayers...
They never leave
Hell.


And Between your
crescendo of cries,
shrill shrieks--
lamented wails...
Remember to breathe in
Child
Breathe
in
and
InHale."

— The End —