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Lindsay Feb 2018
i like informality

beer straight outta the bottle
pizza for breakfast
wearing a shirt 3 times
before washing it

doing dishes by hand
reading old birthday cards  
stayin up til 2
even though i have to be up at 8

bonfires
backroads
gettin lost on the way to a bonfire
because i took a backroad

going to a bar
on a tuesday night
and kissing a stranger
just because i'm drunk

and lonely
and through the years i've aquired a taste
for whiskey on lips.
And besides, isn't that

the only reason we're here anyway?
hello Oct 2013
Shallow skin and muttered secrets between breaths filled with fear, are what my dreams consist of. Bright moons during the day but my mistakes fill the craters. Feeling short; synonymous to TNT whilst strutting, looking for answers to questions I can't even comprehend. A smile is toothless that tells unrequited jokes to my tongue but its all a façade. The Scenes are covered by the curtain and the stage gets spit on when I walk through the door. Numbers of maybes and probablys are my friends on one hand. Blankets that aren't machine washable will forever smell like how your skin did that night. I am forced to sleep with your memory up my nose. My eyes want to jump out their sockets especially in the morning because they want to be forever closed. But closed is a trap. A trap because I see your bedroom ceiling and your mouth pursed next to my ear while I lay; moving slightly for hours. A trap because I see signs I should've acknowledged.
An unnoticeable I Love You.
But I don't even want you anymore.

What's a need anyways?
Vivian Ienello May 2016
Be a happy girl, be a nice girl, echoes in your head
                               Making you never rest
          Be a modern girl, a hungry girl, want, want, want
                        Feed yourself, and you'll be set
                          Be happy girl, be a nice girl
                             Screaming in your head
             You're dead, you're dead, you're dead
                         All I needed was to be fed
               fed the love, nurture, that every sociopath
                                           Dreads
In the ghetto
Huh they say you can be anything
You wanna be
So i joined the army
Notknowing that I'll still
Face tragedy and racism aint went no where
It feels ghostly evil stares
Of past scornful memories
They traded stock off the fields
And put us in the penitentiary
I got my first arrest in elementary
Just for being black on a sunday
Walkin' on a one way street
Preachers aint talking about that
Cuz they know theyll get lynched for that
Now they follow anything
And everything
That attracts money fortune and fame
You know the name?
We die more for the name of the father
Religion is *******
No matter whats coming out the puplits
They still gone ****
Think of you as a nigguh belittle
Troublesome and only good
For cheap labor
Be good and ya might get a penny  raise
For good behavior
Still lookin' a savior?
That ***** been dead think abiut it
He died at 33 ?
Now ask yo self how many nigguhs
Died before 33? Ships full of slaves?
Lots of babies young men and women
Mothers fathers to sons n daughters
Two thousand fifteen and we
Still seeing slaughter ???
Can you see me running from the police
And we still think we run the streets
Peep game homies
Its no longer about racism
Its about us as a minority
Wither white black mexican or puerto rican
We all slaves
Payin' debts to society before we
Took our first ****
**** how could this be ?
My birth belongs to a bank industry
So all my real gangstas thugs to hustlers
Yea even wall street yall slaves too
Wake up the time is now
Gotta mind gotta use it
Or else these muthaphukkas will abuse it
This aint nothing new
Since the sun been shinin'
The same from beginning to end
The world was castedwith sin
There was darkness before light
Now that I'vegot the light
Its time to enlightened others
With the torch i aquired
Not long before ill be retired and life expired
For trying to reach for the truth
And many more
Live carefully
Cuz this is somethin' 2 die 4....
The ghetto!!!!
eileen mcgreevy Jan 2011
The flames were so high, Byron was fighting hard against them, to no avail."Megan"!,"Megan"!, screaming her name, he felt engulfed,  and light headed.A thousand thoughts raced through his head, panic, seering pain with every breath he took, call an ambulance, Megan,s screams cut through him like lasers, she was trapped, scared, how must she be feeling right now?
Wood crackled, metal creaked, echos, lights, sirens!
Byron jumped, bolt upright in bed,"O ****, ****",another nightmare, each one bringing his memory closer to what happened in their cottage they had built together.
Byron was working from Leeds, commuting to Killough, his favourite village in Ireland, well, it had to be, it's where he and Megan had met. He'd planned to run the architecture business from home.HA!, home, where was that?, he wasn't sure anymore.
As Byron strolled into the bathroom, turning on the shower he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.Almost forgetting the scars he had aquired from the fire, those visible reminders that his electrician was skimming from the funds, cutting corners, greedy little *******. The sight was gone from his right eye, and his face bore severe scarring right down to the collar bone. A small price to pay, at least he made it out alive.
He made a mental note to get back to Killough, this very night, to see Megans grave.He'd settle for anything, any reminder of Megan, she was slipping away from him, he couldn't have that, ever...another reason for moving to Killough.
part 11/20 from the novel"beautiful words" (c) eileen mcgreevy and chris smith 2011
Steven Moncrief Nov 2014
Consumed by anger since a child

Enough to never make me smile

Surely darkness has been aquired

Still god sent me an a blue eyed angel in the night to keep me from fully falling

A loveless father and his child who both knew, better off  if he was dead.

Loyalty to the mc club and on his stainless steel horse he can abide

Unconditional love is what a father is suppose to give his son.  

Surely this foolish man is blind for I am here and I am alive.
Elemenohp Jan 2019
I miss feeling wanted.
Back when I knew I was desired,
Before I turned into someone who was acquired.
Hazel Connelly Aug 2012
My jeans zip is popping
My body's gone crazy
Everyone is noticing
My memory's a bit hazy.

The once upright ******* are dropping
and these flushes aren't for stopping.

It's the hormones
That's what it's about
All around my middle
I'm getting more stout.

There's nowhere to hide
There's nowhere to run
My newly aquired mustache
And chin hairs are fit to stun.

I joined a club that weekly meet,
They tell me all the can't haves,
I just go home and eat.
Don't have this, don't have that,
I paid all that money just for a chat.

My feet are still the same size shoe
I could always buy them something new.

Time passes quickly, teenage years gone,
There's no more excuses to rely on.
The one about puppy fat ran out long ago,
So now it's time for a revamp
From head to toe...

© Hazel
Catrina Sparrow May 2013
you kissed me sideways
in the light of a harvest moon
and i never wanted to return to reality again
     but i did
and it hurt

like a newly aquired broken bone
while trying to master the art of the monkey-bars
in a humid july
     all those sunburned years ago

i never did learn

not how to fly from one bar to the next
not how to cartwheel into your heart
and certainly not how to be your definition of "beautiful"

    i only learned how to define such a filthy word myself

so with skinned knees
and bruised shins
     i climbed
up the ladder
into the sun
where i burned off my hardness
and my hurt

into the sun
     where i shine

and find myself
     finally
lovely as can be

this is me
the freckle-faced mess
who finds the gorgeous in every flaw
every snagged seam
every falling hem

     it all just seems
so very human to me

and what a lovely way to be
in such an inhumane reality

let me show you just how pretty your crooked smile really is
let me teach you to find the magic of a broken heart
     and a bruised ego
let us dance
together
to the tune-deaf sing-song of the world that we live in
let my eyes be your mirror
     so that you'll never question your own worth
not again

every star shines its brightest
when there isn't a soul to be found
who is measuring their light

it's your turn to shine
     just like the light of that rust colored harvest moon
so many moons ago

twinkle twinkle
     my dear
DING   -  ****
                            " this is a  call to passengers traveling to Ithaka, by way of Kensal Green.
             Please have your passports and tickets ready, to be seen".

So did I pack well for this adventure I 'm on,
            do I really need the kichen sink  I thought I 'd take along.

All those clothes to impress, suits, shirts, ties all layed
           Where once all I carried , was a bucket and *****

Then my only foot-print was in soft gritty sand,
            As I licked melting coned creamyness, that dripped  on my hand

When every moment was filled with sun shine on skys powered blue
And even when grey, still the rainbow shone through

So leaving behind that tightly packed luggage, no room left inside,
But filled up with baggage, I'd aquired on the ride

Cluching  my shoulder bag is  all that I need, it seems
For tomorrow I 'll buy a new suit case and fill it, with new journyed dreams
DING --****  
                                   final call
What if the war machine
was a tarnished memory
and the void between
the pillars
Why there is not contentment for the content
but and endless series
of Roman pillars inside celibate convents.
The pillars of the Panthéon are bars in a demented prison
fermented with the stench of a rancid batch
of torrid dreams.

A palace of pain an pleasure,
a hotbox of sin for the devil's leisure.
Leapt to every level of Dante's hell
and up again

No knowledge have I aquired,
but confusion, a quiet
illusion, and I am tired,
oh, so witheringly
tired.

"We are drawn to the concept of escape"
Nietzsche said.
Onoma Jun 2018
so much selective attention

to report of--

that the date's been omitted

for more than awhile,

despite numeric girth.

though an uncanny

guesser of time,

to the minute.

a startled rabbit

in a clearing.

snared and prepared--

to be called an

acquired taste.

what to do with all

these acquired tastes,

these refinements?

wait and see.
Ben Jones Feb 2015
Dorothy Gale, all freckled and pale
Was asleep in her gingham print nighty
When a ****** great twister enveloped the vista
And blew like the good lord almighty
It ripped up the grass and it took out the glass
As it lifted the house from position
And a blow to the head from the post of her bed
Put young Dorothy out of commission

She awoke with a fright as she fell from a height
Landing squarely on somebody's gran
She emerged from indoors to a round of applause
And her journey had surely began
The people of Aus (because that's where she was)
Gave her hazy but helpful directions
She should hastily wander the road over yonder
To reach Tony before the elections

So she took to the road from her former abode
In her quest to get back to her folk
She aquired some mates, all in similar straits
Or the **** of a practical joke
A man made of straw was quite hard to ignore
With a lion quite lacking in guts
And a fella whose skin was constructed from tin
Held together with rivets and nuts

Such adventures they had, though I think you'll be glad
That I've cut to the crux of the rhyme
Where a meeting was set, their request would be met
To meet Tony in ten minutes time
They arrived and were greeted, quite comfortably seated
It was then Mr Abbott appeared
He regretted to say, to their growing dismay
That their wishes had not all been cleared

"As I haven't a heart" he was heard to impart
"then the tin man is leaving with jack"
"And I'm gutless as well" he was careful to tell
"So the lion can hurry on back"
"And I've also no brain, so it's no once again"
"But young lady, your problems are sorted"
"You'll be locked up off shore for a month, maybe four
"And by christmas, we'll have you deported"

By Ben the Poet
KD Miller Feb 2015
2/18/2015

it's the place reeking of Valentino
samples,
I got the date twice wrong today and
lou reed shouts while they pluck
their eyebrows by summer aquired mirrors in February,
two dollars at the yard sale
dig it?

"But she never lost her head
even when she was givin' head"
and she says,
Hey babe take a walk on the wild
side
the girl with the samples and her
Friends are all like:

"can I borrow a shirt?"
She plucks her eyebrow In a very
manner,
The manner being she calls strangers
Mister mister like an orphan
mister mister care to spare change? or maybe a party invite?
I wrote this getting ready for a party
Lupo De Inimicus Jul 2013
so sweet we were when we were children
yet now so bitter we are
existing as the words on the tips of our tongues
admiring the shadows of trees
cast upon our pale bodies
beneath the pale moon

that bottle could be bigger
as we beg for more silence
I feel as a vampire in the quiet
as I listen to the beat of her heart
churning her poisoned blood
expanding her veins
and raising her skin
from somewhere underneath-
fire
within fire
fermentation
of soul

and it becomes inviting
as I have aquired a taste
for Hell
and my lips are warm
and pulsing
loose like a wild flame
melting into-
teeth biting
and it is like the old man said
with no words
only wisdom
and blood on his lips

it bleeds out from me
like the raging seas
comanding stories
of ancient mysteries
only seen
by those who lost their words

"Do not waste"
she says,
as she notices the red
trickling down my lips

"Drink"
she says
and of course,
I do

just as one
bleeds their own blood-
with the sweet smile
of when I was a child
who had first undestood
what it meant to drink-
of course,
I do
Dennis Scherle Dec 2014
Every smile is to be paid double its weight in pain, paid outright and full before intrest is gained. I escaped depressions grasps for first 12 years of my life. Someone forgot to tell me what i owe, now i dont mean to seek pitty with my tale of missery and woe. But it seems some nights the devil takes a certain interest in my crimson eliqour of life. he to just wants to see it pour from my veins flow like silk down my leg and hear me say.. nothing.. no cry for help in fear someone would notice the scars i cover with my pair of jeans. Some say its in that that i aquired such a lovely taste a hatred for myself. Others have told me to get over it, everyone feels depressed sometimes, but most nights i dont see the light my path is a foggy stormy night sailing without the stars you can not tell me its the same and im the one who should lay the blaime on myself  for letting it get this bad.
Keith W Fletcher Dec 2015
A dysfunctional suburban family just after Rance has lost the man who was his father. After 10 yrs of depression following tragic loss of wife; he had in effect, become the
Man upstairs that Rance had cared for and enabled since he was 15.
   Now he was going to los Angeles
He's 25 ,an aspiring writer and armed with a nice , newly aquired self contained R.v his dog stormy and a thirst for the knowledge that a 6 week drive from east Tennessee will bring .
Rance , Stormy and their best friend Macy go for a mid-week 3 day wilderness trip to work out the bugs.
              -----------  ---- ------------

All too soon it was friday morning; approaching noon, as we sat there at our campsite. Neither of us having uttered more than twenty words since we.had finished breakfast.
  Neither of us; including my dog Stormy, was ready to re-enter that door we had exited two days earlier, but -due to the fact that nothing lasts forever-' the red light had turned to green , the second hand had once again started its ominous tick, tick, ticking and nobody can continue to sit at the stoplights forever ; avoiding the inevitable move ,whether forward , right or left into the flow of traffic.
Sooner or later someone or something will push up behind to honk the horn or gun the motor. Then the only thing to do is move or throw up a finger.  Though; at that point--with finger or no finger thrown to the approaching fates, the moment is lost-'the future looms as that clock unrelentingly shuffled on its inevitable grind.
     So we reluctantly packed up; taking us one -- long, slow, -- last look around ,as if we could actually see what it was that we were leaving behind. Then slowly and solemnly we made our way back through that door.  TICK TOCK-'TICK--TOCK -- TICK.......!
This is a page from the best run at penning a novel I've ever achieved.
Lucien Freeman Dec 2011
The pain kreeps up his body,
not from physical damage,
He sits in the room with others,
but they are unaware of it.

He feels like he is dancing,
though he's not moving to the eyes of other men,
Misery as his companion,
she'll dance with him to the end.

They all play fool,
to the pain he feels within,
Noone can see the harm,
doing fine he makes it seem to them.

But while the others are dancing,
he stares at a single candle,
watching the flames flickering,
The misery he can't seem to handle.

When he is approached,
his dull face forms a smile,
They try to make small talk,
but it doesn't seem worthwhile.

In the corner of the room,
with a rain cloud above his head,
he's the only one who can see it,
and wishes he was dead.

He glances all around,
watching through the crowd,
finds a pair of eyes,
that are as dark as the midnight sky.

These eyes he found,
he knew they didn't belong to any mortal,
though they all play fool,
to this woman who joins them in the circle.

Everywhere he moves,
so does the woman,
as if he is playing a game,
of hide and go seek.

He searches through the entire house,
to find an isolated room,
One where he'll be alone,
where he cannot be disturbed.

As he sinks into an armchair,
that lovingly faces a warm fire,
he still feels the cold,
that he from misery aquired.

As he slowly into his thoughts drifts,
closing his eyelids,
When all was quiet so it seemed,
The man slowly began to dream.

There in his dreams he did find,
the same woman with the dark eyes,
She held out a hand as if to dance,
thought did the man now was his chance.

Accept her hand he did and began to move,
swaying gently around the room,
his hands on her hips lovingly embraced,
a warm smile was upon her face.

Without any music they danced romanticaly,
Just each other is all they would need,
The man thought this was so perfect,
Surely something he would never forget.

In reality he laid on the floor,
people all around him watching in horror,
The mans body violently shook,
His heartbeat racing as everyone looked.

People there questioned his actions,
Was it insanity or human body reactions,
Was this man going to be alright,
would he make it through the night?.

Back in his dreams he was still dancing,
Though his heartbeat was dangerously rising,
then leaned in the woman to kiss,
and together perfectly they locked lips.

Now laying on the floor is the man,
Whose heartbeat has sadly come to an end,
Though they never knew the reason why,
There in the corner of the room, was the woman with the dark eyes.

by ~Lucien Freeman
Mae Jul 2019
My home ran way
Now I sit were glass meets the frame at the window and wait.
How long has it been
Years?
Weeks?
I'm not sure I care.. I'm not sure I don't

The mountabank came round again
Selling me a fictitious love.
His love.
You see, sense he travels so much selling the good oils
of
Rosemary tilled out of our toilet, Powders that
I personally
made from the stalagmites that grow in the southwest corner of my dwelling,
and
Teeth whitener
scraped from off only the finest ingredients
of
Feets calus, the kind aquired after walking long enough to no longer need shoes.

No he had no time for me and besides, he wasn't my home.

I'd have my fun but... He could never hold my love.

Yesterday I passed away
The cold nothing
Became a greater threat this time
I didn't have my home
Nor my love
I wasn't ready to go.
In a dank cave somewhere in the Philippines
After the hair on my head grew from fire red
To silver white.
Still sitting where the glass meets the frame.
Justin S Wampler Oct 2021
I have a taste for expensive liquor.
I have a taste for the cheapest swill.
I have a taste for bright summer days.
I have a taste for blizzards.
I have a taste for heartwarming moments.
I have a taste for gore and mutilation.
I have a taste for symphonies.
I have a taste for grindcore.
I have a taste for yoga.
I have a taste for cramps.
I have a taste for regularity.
I have a taste for sudden catastrophies.
I have a taste for Cuban cigars.
I have a taste for Winston lights.
I have a taste for a shirt and tie.
I have a taste for oil stained jeans.
I have a taste for ripe peaches.
I have a taste for bruised apples.
I have a taste for black & white milkshakes.
I have a taste for bitter milk in my cereal.
I have a taste for idealistic love.
I have a taste for ******* and broken hearts.
I have a taste for family gatherings.
I have a taste for abandonment issues.
I have a taste for great parents.
I have a taste for having a dead mother.
I have a taste for a half brother.
I have a taste for being an only child.
I have a taste for the company of friends.
I have a taste for solitude.
Liliana Sep 2011
I feel the darkness slowly creeping in as I cry out for you embrace but my cries fall upon deaf ears. The darkness takes hold... I weep and plead for your attention and affection but still you turn your cheek and allow the darkness to take hold of me. The sickness that ails me has becomes my demise as the darkness drags me furthur into its lair. All I wanted was your embrace, to be held with true wand and compassion. Now that you have shunned me so fiercely, I fear this day the darkness has aquired my sanity once more.
I try to soul search
And see everybody's view
I respect all opinions even
When mine is not cause u

Must always believe we are
Free to believe what we wish
Gay marriage, abortion,
Religion cause tolerance is a gift

We should give one another
As respect must be mutual
One mans garbage is another's
Treasure, what's ugly is beautiful

If that's what is suitable
From various perceptions made
There's more to life than gettin laid
More to life than gettin paid

More than wut we barter and trade
It's nostalgia in memories
It's healing from pain that's not
Physical or has no remedies

It's appreciating amenities
And finding peace from stress
In the sacrifices we make, when it's
Hard but we know it's best

The time of ur unknown death
The bond with a friend
In losing a love heartbroken
Only to see love manifest again

Cause what truly matters
Can go invisible sometimes
It's not the money or possessions
But how u got them but blind

Are we to that fact
Even though it's fundamentals
So many luxurys aquired no
Wonder u struggle for dental

Health care and wuts essential
Spending outside our means
So I keep my wisdom from adulthood
Heart from childhood and from teens

I'd take my confidence and dreams
And my passion but not
The Insecurity the anger or
The confusion it brought

And I hope soon we will stop
Selling things that have no price
Our ethics, our bodys, our
***** souls and our life

And all of this I write
Not just for u but for me
Cause jealousy anger and lust
Blinds me from all knowledge these

Words have within them
As I'm only a human, a man
Who knows life is wut happens
When ur busy makin plans

But wuts out of my hands
I gotta learn to let go
Sometimes I sulk and feel
Sorry for myself preventing growth

So *** social status and gross
Net pay and wut is my residual
As long as I follow my heart and
Dreams and be an individual

A happiness that's equivocal
And all life's pain is worth it
As its y I appreciate my blessings
And understand that nothing's perfect

So whether u see life as a circus
Or a place for spiritual growth
Learn from criticism, mistakes
And the advice from both

Ur family, ur friends, ur
School faith and ur love
We all fit in this world somewhere
Even when like oj's glove

It doesn't seem to fit but
Sooner or later well find our place
But life can be heaven or it can
Be hell so keep dreams to chase

Keep value on wuts fake
Rather than pricing what isn't
And not just drugs but almost
EVERYTHNG has a level of addiction

Know moderation and restriction
Welcome contradiction cause
Things u hate so great, anticipate
U may end to love

So forget wut was and
Focus on wut can still be
So remember to Seize the day,
believe in fate and wuts meant to be
Devin Ortiz Dec 2018
She fell without warning,
Time taking as it must, as it should.
And despite how the living grieve,
All exist to be taken, to move on

The histeria began,
Sister falls into a panic, foresight disguised as a dream.
Reality blends into inevitability.
The then was now.
Brothers stare silent, too young, too afraid,
And unable to escape their crippling fear,
That Death had come.

Her eyes, flickered as a fading flame,
Dying at the wicker's last breathe.
Her hands shook violent, as empty words poured through her head.
A son, me, the eldest, emboldened within this moment to take control.
She was leaving this world.
That much I knew.

But there exist that Dark Magic.
That abilities of the ******,
Aquired through years of suffering.
Not one's own, but the tears of life,
Gained from tormented innocents.

And such a power, in such a moment,
Was ultimately released.
Simple as a touch.
Death decays into Life.
She breathes, a mother returns.

Yet, I am burdened.
Weighed down by,
The scorn of my own corruption
Infused light.
I live vividly without visibly having the ability to live willingly nor the versatility to fight your volatility. Unequivocally I believe in relativity but unofficially I use negativity as a means of self-sufficiency. Naturally I have a proclivity towards acting predictably when publicly judging turbidity. Additionally I hide in anonymity and indignantly ignore my epiphany of the asymmetry of unanimity. Shamefacedly I turn to your intricate dystrophy and observe the futility of my soliloquy. I can' find nobility in dying deliberately, but it shows efficiency in skimming humanity. Initially my hostility was untangible but it has suspiciously aquired solidity and is now intermittently sending signs of my eccentricity. My alkalinity is running low because surreptitiously the pungency has grown. I am undoubtedly peripheral to the society and irresistibly disposable in the industry of this idiosyncrasy.
Andrew Gale Feb 2015
Obtuse viewpoints, Stubborn stance,
Opinions forced through sword and lance,
Global resource aquired by few,
Position ripe to start anew.

It was an evolutionary error in forming us,
Who would rather destroy than sit and discuss,
Politics veil callous actions,
Malice in control to divide us to factions,

Through fear of nothing we bow and plead,
Bow to maleavolant control and greed,
Voices silenced through censored press,
Undress the rest through turmoil and stress.

Vulnerable and prone under dissaproving tone,
Awaiting decision from somebody grown,
Like children we stand without power or say,
Shoved to the side as if we are in the way.

The world we live in is one of lies,
Of muffled madness and silenced cries,
Of endless worry and pitiless masters,
Forced on a road of inevitable disasters.

To unite we must destroy our borders,
Imaginary lines that seperate and herd us,
Combine our knowlege and minds and hearts,
Share what we know how did at the start.

In our past we have stood united,
One world we stood our senses hightened,
Our magic grew through science and prayer,
Even they were one, like water and air.

Although we are told civilization is new,
We are being lied to as we have been all through,
Because only whilst our power is harnessed,
Can we be controlled by the few and unfairness.

This world is as much ours as theirs,
So take a stand and let you be heard,
We wont bend to oppressive will,
Weather they say its to save or to ****.

Stand together stand as one,
Rise our standard and faces to the sun,
Praise yourself you are your true messiah,
Only like this can we raise ourselves higher
Jessica Lynne Feb 2016
I woke up at 6:30 next to a working man
with no desire of wine
By 6:45 the silk blanket for coating my pain
had became an inquired taste.
A desired taste
Still, no.
Not yet

I sat up with a heavy heart at 10
Why does he do this to me?
His curls and scars became
an aquired taste
Tasting him is of what love tastes
But no
Not yet

I sat there at 10
I sat there at 10 with a pain
Should I dare touch the cork?
I had the pallet for the silk
I had the time for the smooth
Still, no

I sat there at 10:30
It was blunt
It wasn't beautiful
It was an empty question
A double dagger to my body

Which is the addiction
Which is the murderer
Which holds my conviction

He is home at 4
It's 5 o'clock somewhere

Now
I can touch
I can taste

A trembling had reaches for love
But did the glass touch finger tips
Before he would

Both are such a riddle
It's twisted with disease
One moment my heart is infatuated
The next my broken body bleeds

It's about to be 6:30
S Smoothie Apr 2014
Forever intended to circle but never trace the puckered skin of my aching lips

Untasted you take away from all that is beauty as my mind chooses unwitting ly to coalesce upon the ghost of you

There is no life sufferable without you in it, no cause too great to overcome yet there is a flaw,

For our loves gain double an equal measure must be afforded lost, For there in lives its worth. Oh my dearest love,  as selfish as I pray I need to be, can only reek of compassion thus,

You **** me softly every smile, every soulful look, every sweet word veiled with bitterness

an aquired taste for those addicted to love's misdirection

The outline for my sweet destructon,

And you my favourite design.
skaldspiller Jul 2016
Its 6 am
The cicadas fill the air
With their repetative songs
Of lust
Just out of time
With the ticking clock on the wall
Its just enough
to keep and insomniac awake
But so is silence.

Its 6 am
and i wish i could lace
My pink running shoes
And chase the bats from my head
With the sherbert coloured sunrise
Yet they are burried
In my back seat
Under all the things
I somehow aquired.
And dont want anymore

Its 6 am
And i like the silence
Of my own breathing
Filling the strange room
And i dont know
Despite being half mad
And displaced
I find a smile on my lips
A kind of bliss in the solitude.
And now:
I have so much time to read.
Katherine Laslie Oct 2015
Love is
Fair
Love is
Kind
Love is
Accepting
Love is
Blind
Love is
Forgiving
Love is
Making time
Love is
Selfless
And never is
Selfish
Love is
Given
Cannot be aquired
Love is
The things your
Heart truly desires
Love is
Protection

Love is here
Crystal Freda Dec 2019
burgundy braids braced
the back of her brass bed.
Raving ruby ringlets
ravaged royalty on her head.

autumn's aquired art
ablazed ambers of auburn.
crimison curls caressed
as carmine chromes churn.

vivifying vistas vibrate
vibrance with verbalized twirls.
Remembering rumbles of rage
rouged in her rancid curls.
Mehkai Figueroa Jan 2018
I don't know how you feel but to me life is nothing but a series of events intertwined between you and others,

The vines of fate move in between society

You can seek sanctuary in others but is that what you really want?

Sanctuaries are but temporary shelters,

What you really need,

I could ask you all the questions in the world and maybe you could answer them...

Maybe you could respond,

Maybe you have that knowledge....

But with knowlegde comes fear,

Fear that you don't know what you are doing, saying, living....

Fear that nothing matters,  because nonexistence is significant and existence is futile,

But let me tell you this...

What you really fear isn't any of that...

As you became more knowledgeable, you become more fearful,

Fearful of what you don't know

Because with more knowledge comes less self-satisfaction

As you are left wanting more... but needing less...

Needing less than what is needed because you only exist in the crevices of your mind,

Psychological, Analogical,

Your mind is but a place where your soul resides because your soul isn't in your heart,

I don't know how you feel but If I went to you and asked....

"Would you give up everything... for the 1 thing that means the most to you?"

Give up your life, your family, happiness.... friends... all that you have aquired over the short or long life you have lived....

Many would say yes... For all the love, power or money in the world....

They would give up the most important things in their lives....

But fear not... if you say no.... you have decided right....

Because all possessions may make you feel content for a short while...

but losing what you had will make your heart ache and pain more that before....

So when the day comes that you can receive anything for something as important as everything you have obtained over the course of your live....

I hope you take my advice... or just throw it away.... maybe even forget it....

I don't care.... I just hope your decision makes you feel content in the end...

But honestly, no ome will ever feel content or satisfied,

I hope you don't spend your eternity contemplating the decisions made...

All I know is if this question was asked of me,

I'd respond with I don't know.
Amanda Kay Burke Apr 2018
Let the moon blanket body in bliss
Gently guide your goals away
It tries to remind us that nothing
Will render you wise like dismay

Real regrets and spinning woes
Are aquired every steely morning
They come closer to thrashing our comfort
Without a single dashing warning

You must hold onto happiness
There is no force that can **** true peace
If you really want it for yourself
A shifting of mood will not cause it to decrease
True happiness is created
Ken Pepiton May 24
i.
"Why didn't you make it clear, prove your self?"
Maybe Bertrand Russell, an ashiest, anyway.
Vapours of smoke.
Signs of the times,
asked for during old days
in search of living dreams
on discovery of reason sought,
thinking what, in truth, declared
did the mighty king of Nineveh see?

Not the wondrous rescue
and return to mission, after three days
attested to
by the business
of Christianity, testing hearers
of words, logical words, if this, then that,

hold, hold this thought, think imperative
faith in unseeable thinkable things,
only holds true the evidenced hope.
No if,
no sign but the Sign given Nineveh, the preaching
of Jonah, whose fish story was not mentioned ---

And what remedy remains for the sign seeker,
not the rising from the dead, or the monstors
from the depths of hope deferred…?

ISIS actually hammered the Assyrian Lion to dust,
yet we have video and can see the symbol's self
evinced in illiterate prisoners of holy interpretations,

in the spirit of the destroyer, hater of hateful things,
holy ordo of bulls over lions, elephants over ***'s assets.
Where no peace is, I say,
Isaiah says Peace, Peace is ai ah, aight

---------- channel enough water of life, chi
in essence, mistaken for brute force mastery,
spirit in a child, or a colt or a pup, or most carnivores,
tamable by reinforcement learning, habituation holdover
appetites control the will, as we all must learn, control
or be controlled, such are life's lessons, learned
time after time, as seasonal patterns reflect
cosmic realities, in terms of carnivorous
reasons for wars against Caine's kind,
tillers of trees and weeds and grasses,
beaters and rhetters of fibres,
twisters of threads and cords and ropes,

platers of hairs,
weavers of warm soft things…
fabricating knacks aquired taught,
re
fabricating first after all was lost, now
once more, we begin when nothing is known

true enough to **** for.

--------------------

ii.
Simple conversation,
making knowable a mystery hid,

between the lines, truly hiding hoped for
signs like unto those witnessed
in Nineveh, at the doing
of the logical, logos presented as fact,

repent or perish, no fish story needed,
the miracle is that the whole    
population did turn from sin,
- as it is writ it was done, indeed…
apparently… reconnecting to the way
and the truth and the life, by choice,
turning back to the global cosmic reality.
Awe.
As we agree touching anything…
seeing seems believed hormonally.
Apparition, as a reified image of a scene,
let us imagine using words alone, asking,

in hope of clarity, focus, point of preaching
single point attention pre paid, point made
look away from the legerdemain stream
of stories told to children, seriously since
ever there was a wizard learned in ritual
lost when the walls of the temple fell,

as witnessed by a professional watcher
seeing as from an NPC,
all the setting of this scene…

Here we be,
you and me,
I am thinking you exist, as yet
you may not, you know, my then,

when I choose to use my worth,
my treasure in this life, my ready
made mind making - up, up know,

you know? We declare, I do, so go

find the next lie you continue to hold
self-evidently true, by virtue of you

thinking it, filtered through all you
hold true by rule of laws, nature
and nature's god, empowering
time to carry our burdens,

letting go the unclean spirit,
the devouring demonstratives,

chicanery for entertainment, magic,
imagine that we all know what magic

is, or was in olden times, when men
called prophets and soothsayers
foretold according to the signs,

auspices, gut symbolic evidence, woe
or weal, go forth, and conquer,
take all that belongs to mind,

leave all that lingers in the brain
to run the works while we seek

true demonstratives, imperative
upon us, indeed, not word alone.

Seeing the whole accumulated known
universe infested as Josephus's
translator saw Jerusalem,

as the last temple fell… ask

is this that, or was that all command
decision from the power that denies
free will, as if you have no choice
to know, or remain unknowing,

innocently ignorant, never having
certainly set the angle's azimuth

at the level of the reader's witness
plain, across time and chance
through now in no time to then,

when the first scribe, wrote
the first rule, from memory.

Fear God and keep his imperatives.

Oh? Exoterica, meanings of things,
Thoth thoughts sought and found,
given Solomon by Sheba, we may say,

and you might agree, thinking we know.

We may believe we do, but believing
does not make what we believe true.

----------- The art in thinking I know
imagining, bringing to mind another's

reason for, cause of declaration, you know?

Seven ideas more twisted and tangled
than was the first fear of falling away
from present tense, now and then,

true, as seen
from an innocent by-stander,
POV witnessed
in the storied way, read, you see.
Ready, now, this is ever after that.



iii.
Thoughts on stores of knowns
to be remembered, as knowns shown,
on stone as images graven 3-d as seen
projected vision reflected in or on or from,
we, a we of you and me, at minimum,
we know a reason for the ag-agag

hesitation to keep breathing, in and out,
in time's long line of stored reasons for
by the agreement grouping pattern,
we
see, instances, occurences, accumulate
interruptedly, we have witnessed intial loss

of significance in ISIS, as a sound said since
ancient of days, only the redhat entities,
can be imagined to hold as appearing
clearly evincing any lie disputing true
declaratives, ala Aimee, This is that,

the mystical money making leading
into twistedness too tight to loose,
chosen wholeness, usnonothern,
select elect
we, the participants in this epic effort
to take away a veil, an artifice,
effectual ignorance imposed
supposed to focus the chi
cognate in any warring li-e
see, we coknow so many
mysterious reasons
for faith we hold true, in word,
indeed, in wisdom tested, twice,

nice and fine, infinite instances
of yes,
that exact thing, exactly re-enacting

iv.
- dingalingading

So, Mickey, how does it feel,
to be free, in the public domain,

whistle for a while,
think in tinkling musing, using
musical wills given patterns, remind

remember, becoming a knower of un-
known knowns one may know now, free,

BHATTACHARJEE , calls me, no lie,
at yon line end, I am called by my
Psychiatrist, attending to my
mental health, interrupting
my fantasy with tinkling chimes,
actually reminding me, my calendar
is written on wrong, BHATTACHARJEE
points out, to me,
I see, I said, yet
now… that can never matter, save
I use it poetically licentiously.

Mickey Mouse excuse, per use, in spirit,
in mind, exercise in more than one may
think, or ask, yet,
asking while accepting good enough
is enough to use,

making do, getting by on minimums,
most winters, remembering when we
were poor and made permanent refugees

For Jesus sake, then Allah's, the science
of the mind warring reasons for all wars,

money loved for money's sake, interesting
times, seasons measured, emperically,
as once was the writing only spoken,

dreamers dreamed, interpreters told,
children listened and imagined knowing

knowing growing beyond our fears,
through oral obligations required
for acceptability, remember
require order normalize
actualize eventuation

right now, we used
use to say, indeed, we think…

we know what group pledges,
oral recitations of golden rules,
and repetitionings for deliverance
do
due to oaths long made self evident,
We all swore, on our own life's pledge
of aliegiance to a Socratic republic form
of mental norm tyranny socially entertained,

aggregational wedomains accrue as we imagine,
herds of ruminants,
packs of canines,
prides of felines,
hordes of rodents,
flocks of flying scavengers

spirits, characters, powers that seem

and oceans and wind
and hard and soft
and flex and snap bo'
realization, at an insistent, knot, loosed
thread of all my reasoning remaining, why
should I imagine your reasoning drawing wrong
excuses for the uses words are put to, in real life.

Enchanted evenings,
entrancing commands taken to this point
imperitive
we've made up a mind, an awesome form
informative up to a point, instantiated from
as crossing over or under or through a rough
time
to come alive.



v.
-------------
The engined pens imaginable now,
since Mickey was animated and empowered
demonstrate the weapons of war in imagination,
are not invincible to pens as powered mind makers
we use to take an objective
position, while beguiled by the politics. used
to represent the glorified reification function
children used to make Velveteen Rabbits real,
as ways are made where no ways were,
rabbit trails through Jungleland,
fringes
on a red-haired Judaic kid,
at Disneyland, when it was imagined
by many
to be
at that moment
of American greatness, again

The Happiest Place in the World, which is small,
after all, who am I
to be heard
by the likes of you, first world tech users
of the freest reusable theories
of worth,
in the opensource public domain,
aggie testing 'tractor attention
pull of mindshare in the moment
measured priceless
in mental connection tension,
held for a thousand line test, hook

!Þorny issue, misperceived precept, clearly shown
evincing convincingly old monstorous enormities…
now, knowing where this is all going, those
are powerless meaningless metadata
in free will mindspacetimes
fabricated using ready readers ready to bet the worth

of the push to the pull, ag ag agree aggressively

loose dis-belief, use the kid inside, the pain, sorry,
there, there, that kid, you did call a ***, sorry,
I did not know your grandma had the tat.

Thank you for writing, but your reason for war
is still invalid in the Peaceful Kingdom, on Earth

as expected,
any day now, right, any day  

vi.
---------------
Recalcitrant inculcations,
kicking back at prideful goads,

go up, thou bald head, go up,
yes, there were such sayings,

seeing the smoke of evil deeds,
world witnessed, as all wars are now,
we need only wish to see, and see we do,
and when the algorithms insist testing we do
persists to show some interest, agging on,
test me more,

how much is the attention paid a thousand books,
were one to pay for it with social interaction,
participation in the great debates,

do old lies live, or do old patterns follow
seasonal guidelines in cosmic time.

Today, I watched a pine tree grow,
where I had stairs built between stones,
and I wondered how few folks have such scales.

Today, I watched a gopher clearing a hole,
where the old swing set holds a hammock,
and I wondered how many folks have such scales.

Relatively complex life goes on
whether many notice, or only you.


vii.
Reasons used by or
imagined, in story, Cortez,
came from Cuba, Night of Sorrows,

Spanish Reconquista Minds for War,
Jesuitical ferver birthed already,
whither came the terror of wars reason

cannibalists, ritual abnormal geomancy

take the captives for sacred making,

meet the explosive force of knowing
how magic really functions in life,

explosive possibilities, any shred
of evidence, any knowledge lost,

comes to mind once more under
upright standing armies of guardians
called by justice to know the truth,
and defend against the hatred
sown and grown to righteous
use of hate, to spite the peace made.

Each season. From total war to total war,
as our mindspacetime presents itself,

as the end in urban centers draws near,
hear the prophets of doom, doubt not,

but believe the idea that believes
Donald's team is GOD's good side.

But peace passing the weight of destruction,
remains taken for free… peace of mind,
during games of holy terror, with nukes.

viii.
If we were to cease warring,
stop where we are, empty our prisons,
and distribute the national debt to the planet
as credit due to generational over payment,
-- when warriors learn the terms, winning
having
being done, indeed, first, merest gentle
touch of the individuating brush,
by which bards bid characters
appear as seen in vision,
here, where evidence emerges
feel *** heros are being called to arms,
for truth, or old reasons holy folk use for war,

Oy, the Reacher, Tom Cruise sized, on TV,
warning my god mocking spirit by assuring me
truth is not mocked, as we agree, God must be
truth or nothing ever is, and we know,
something happened,
e-motives hate
for peacemakers acting where no peace
was imaginable, while
in an orderly state of ego, epluralized.

The End of Everything happens every day,
each one bit of our whole wedom, has
one chance to wake, and be, doing your
bit in the skit, until tomorrow,
accepting no anxious thought
no sense of seriousness, no sense
of war being a functioning solution
to certainty that madness must be hated,
and gentleness despised…
hush the focal point in courage,
become the peace past next
hush a negative imperative,
magic, settled, taken
chance to smother
force of hatred
fanned, in frontal mirrors,
encrusted darkly using alchemy
of uses fruited knowings held close.

The game is played for money.
Life wins, when money becomes
significant of nothing, one way
or another,

breathe, or

call all peace gone,
and find a global mind, kind of like,

this one, deterrence spending reflective terror,
revenge, righteous vengeance, now is ours,
say the defenders
of the faith that war works.

Peace in one mind is just like peace in mine,
thinking breathe

ix.

Nay, stay thy will.
Warring creature pushing me,
making me grit my teeth and imagine,

at the core of all a man stands for, imagining
heros from prophecy and umph from many trials,
all to win the part, where the head of the snake,
is spoken of as did the messenger from perfection,

when resetting the whole idea we agree to be leaving
possible with the laws of physics and common sense,

full spectrum, standard bell curves among wordform
information entities used with muses to expand
bubbles of innocense and pockets of ignorance.

As the will of our wedom is done, on earth,
in the air we breathe and have our behavior in.
As wise as all serpentine forms.
Harmless as doves, in our right minds.
A companion prequel used as we yoost to imagine, using absinths

influence by Aldous Huxley The Perrenial Philosophy

— The End —