Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"brigaded" poems
Gusto affairs spiraled to marooned stairs!! Amphibious angel, Where art thou own wings? Apparent your sanctioning is, Appointee of marital status!!! Anthropologist of creations new madness, Armful arousist!! Arrogant aspirant!!!! We are all baggage carriers of used goods, Bestowed to thy own selves thou ******** of crud!!!!! Very few bonuses this time around, For the metropolis hath gone broke and choked!!! For oil runneth this deliveranth!!! Bind thy own, You biggot of brigaded quarters!!! None to coincide with , No cognac love to filleth me with cocoa nestled swifts!!! Engrossment of shufflers, greasers to seventies sneakers, Esteemed of high retailer goods!!! Distinction between euphemisms blame!!! Highed tops to spindle games, Atrocious calibrations!!!! Such tiredness flees the crime felt page, Who's enraged? Refute novelties of javahouse breaks, Wherein assemblers are all members of cafe corner states!!!! Paxilheads to axlehead drinkers, Some material like, Some medicinal thinkers!!! How much shalt one taketh before his psyche leaves reclusiveness all behind the robust tower!!!!
0
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 6:28 PM UTC
combinational thinking
Your self sabotage is a transient orchestration in soft pursuit of a potent vexation, juggling vices as a decade old one trick pony circling pastures to meet itself in the middle of an argument; You’ll dawdle in the toy aisle, linger in the doorway, and parse the wounds of a family member standing afield; It could end when you let it, yet the turmoils have you rattled like a baby shower gift presented in glass, refracting sandy memories that turned to pleas by a roadside marquee; Lone hotel escapades with uncertainties set sights on useful youthful hastenings brigaded into shoe boxes, skipped lunches, and a forgotten birthday and ripple harm into a harmful world while we reel at the second hand trauma which announces your presence; The countless open-minded scars that set you apart can consume all but echoes, reminiscent of muddy punk tunes appearing out of thick air and plucked with the vengeance of a forsaken child who never had enough candles to blow out, who conceded happiness to pollinate fall out, who branched into nothing to escape burn out and who stitched longings into trials that all end with the conviction of a jealous ghost
0
Jan 14, 2025
Jan 14, 2025 at 12:12 AM UTC
Predestined Indiscretions