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Tammy M Darby Sep 2013
Of woman's strength
Feminine emotion
Novice poet of rhyme
Wandering traveler in time
A skilled hunter

I am an outlaw
Choosing not to embrace conformity
Or integrate into the system
Societies matrix
The definition of normal
Existing uneasily on the fringe

Confederate born
Southern bred
I fly my flag with pride overhead
Not out of hate
To represent the heritage of my birth

A scholar
Obscurity is my chosen environment
Connoisseur of the written word
The yellowed paper soon obsolete  

These are my many attributions
I will not dispute it
Indeed I am a maze of confusion
In the conscious world
I am a strange combination


All Rights [email protected] Tammy M Darby
All Material Stored in Author Base Sept. 2013
ight reserved
False Poets May 8
when you understand my poems perfectly then,

their utility is inutile,
their usefulness is, will. always be, in the

nth  

reinterpretation, a million and still counting,
as long as you must guess at its labyrinth inner wired construct,
be pleasured by the roiled and rolled curves upon your tongue,
a two lives (yours, mine) paired wine tasting, we together believing
in the greatness of joyous frustration

some say, as I do, the world is better for the
utility of thine own struggled understanding,
the truest combination of two way communication,
surpassed only by our at last armed embrace,
when at last we understand our mutuality of need and salve...
Kmary Jul 2018
There is no perfect word,
no adjective or noun
just a combination of
         I hate
         I worry
         I regret
         Am I enough?

It's a moment where my insecurities
are no longer a low hum
and I discover a whole
          new shade of
                  self-doubt
At the writer's congress at the round table
Discussed the beautiful life over the hill.
At the parent's school meeting
Germany was discussed specifically.

In the office of the director
The Caymans and Burma were discussed.
At bus stops
Discussed port wine and pepper *****.
Dead Rose One Mar 2018
I am now, I am now...


for reasons you need not concern yourself,
oft disappear for an hour or two,
making an odd combination of
groans and moans,
that she follows like a crumb trail through the forest,
til she finds me and asks if I’m OK,
and answer-true, same-always, when only she inquires,
smile>gritted teeth, laugh line>worry line,

I am now, I am now
Danna Jun 2015
I fell in love with his mind
Even though it was not romantic
But rather raw and unforgiving
There was nothing sweet in his eyes
Or in the way he looked at me
They weren't filled with honey
But with something rather deep
That kind of resembled whiskey
I could never decide
If it was god on his lips
Or the devil in his smile
I just know I craved it
Unreservedly
His fingertips across my skin
His lips against my neck
And the heart shaped bruises
He left there
Were almost a toxic combination
Like raging fire
Only non consuming

But rather devouring
Stephen E Yocum Aug 2013
Went to the County Fair today,
I have always liked to go,
So many animals,
and things to see,
It's truly quite a show.

The Carnival Games are fun,
But certainly never free,
Most are surely rigged,
You hardly ever succeed.

There are Side Shows galore,
Some bring, right out in the open
******* clad young women for
perusal, to tease men into arousal.
But you need to pay to go inside,
To get a better peek.

Best of all though, for me,
Is the vast array of Junk Food,
Right there on display,
for everyone to see.
Forbidden none healthy stuff,
that the rest of the year,
I never get to eat.

While walking around,
The sights and the sounds,
of these many prohibited treats,
Their enticing smells do so delight,
That my stomach begins to growl.

It does not help, that huge colorfull,
signs, on each food stalls does adorn,
Advertising it's tantalizing offerings,
making them all the harder to ignore.

The combination of these deeds,
of visual, and nose sensory sensations,
Can doubtless render this person,
incredibly weak in the knees.

Next up jumps a big dilemma,
Which one thing should it be?
Pop Corn, with lots of salt and  butter,
Better yet, that fresh corn on the cobb
I see.

Look over there, Oh MY!
It's fried dough Elephant Ears, I spy,
Sprinkled with honey and cinnamon,
I seldom, almost never pass them by.

Oh YES, Bright Red Candy Apples!
A boyhood favorite of mine,
and a sure win.
An apple a day, they say,
Keeps the Doctor away,
The candy is just there for a grin.

Fried Chirreo's and Corn Dogs on a stick,
Both I could do, making that combination,
a bona fide Hat Trick.

Nachos dripping with melted cheese,
Oh sure, that's bound to please.

Pulled Pork on a bun would be kind of fun,
But the Barbeque Sauce gives me gas.

One that I'd almost forgotten,
How 'bout Candy Cotton?
A marvelous Incantation,
Sugar dropped into a machine's
whirring vat, spun like magic,  
Puff, just like that.
No slight of hand required.
Really quite a sweet sensation.

I've spent now over an hour,
Just wandering all around,
Looking at the stalls and signs.
And yet,
Still can't make up my mind.

Racked with indecision,
This perplexing dilemma,
Rests with no other,
This one is all about me.
Yet another half hour,
from the clock has expired,
and still no decision is rendered.

The day is ending,
it's nearly Six,
Not long 'till Supper Time.
Before I left home,
My wife did inform,
"It's *** Roast tonight,
your favorite,
Make sure you're here by seven!"

With a certain hesitation,
And twinge of remorse,
Disappointment etched on my face,
I turn listlessly towards my car,
With slow pace resignation,
Still pondering all those treats,
I might have had,
If it weren't for my procrastination.

Decision making,
I've been slow to admit,
Has never been my forte.

Well perhaps, No for sure.
Maybe, I'll probably come back.
Tomorrow, or even the next day.
It could, or might possibly be,
That by then, I will have thought,
this all through,
And come to some decision.
And we know he won't, poor guy,
his sort never can.
Which of the treats would you have
picked? Bet you can make up your mind.
That's an easy bet. Writers make instant
decisions all the time.
Lizzy Apr 2014
I'm very tired
And it's very late at night
My thoughts keep me up
It's getting harder to fight

I think about my failures
And everything I've done wrong
How I **** everything up
It's all a familiar song

My words are getting literal
I can't disguise my guilt
The hatred for myself
In every direction it's built

Well rhyming gets so hard
When I try to write my mind
Because I'm unable to find the words
That could shed light

Even without a rhyme or a rhythm I find it hard to articulate these dangerous thoughts I have. As many writers do, we have this sense of frustration because no combination of syllables can really portray the emptiness and sadness that lives in us. Styron called it "melancholia", but not even that will suffice.
Adrian Joseph Dec 2018
Her beauty is its own unique disposition
Marvelous symmetry characterized by oneness
Grace proportional to power

Eyes colored with reckless suggestion
Their light reflecting every combination of sublimity  
Sweet violence intertwined  

Blushed cheeks conceal something fairer
A nakedness felt then realized    
Unhinged perfection

Hers is no mere surface beauty
Only the abstract simplicity
Of purest poetry
Lizzy Apr 2015
Pill one was bad,
It made me sick.
Didn't work too well.
The zombie i became,
Drove some away.
It made the monsters multiply.
I spent my days in bed,
Too tired to move.
But lighting would strike my lips,
If I dare stop.

The next was heaven,
God lived in that pill.
Still on number one though,
It only added to my war.
See, number two had other uses.
I could take three and feel like flying.
I could crush it into dust,
And smell it's sweet high.
Pill number two got me really ******* high.

The crash from number two,
Pushed me to number three.
Withdrawal made me twitch,
Sent electricity through my veins.
Number three replaced two.
Still on one,
I hoped it would be the change.
It only made me fear for my life.
It killed my love,
Left me to die.

Doctor number two,
Please fix number one's mess.
He ****** me up bad.
But you listen to me.
You don't just write down symptoms,
And give me drugs when you tell me to leave.
Doctor two knows more about me than I do.

Take away number one,
She gave me number four.
I was a homicidal maniac.
My anger took over,
And violence seemed so lovely.
After some time this was all gone.
It did nothing to save me,
Didn't even try.
Doctor, this doesn't do ****.
It's left me drowning again.

Take away three.
Number four and five,
Now that's a combination.
Pill five stole my sleep,
And all desire to eat.
Food looked disgusting,
My heart beat quickened.
I couldn't stand still.
Now on four and five at the same time,
And starving,
I lost fifteen pounds.

Now add six.
Four, five, and six.
All at the same time.
What's happening to my body?
I've become a science project.
I felt all the chemicals in me.
Might as well have been poison,
Because six did nothing.
Like number four,
It didn't even try.

Take away four,
Give me number seven.
Now we have seven, five, and six.
It's too early to tell,
How seven will **** me up.
I don't feel human anymore,
Just chemicals with feet.
Seven, please save me.
devante moore Sep 2018
My only regret
I didn’t stick it out with you
Promised I’d fight
But when things got congested and tight
I walked out
Wish I never did
Wish we didn’t live on two different soils but we did

My only regret
I didn’t leave you when I had the chance
I couldn’t eat
Nights without sleep
Never thought something like this would happen to me
I was faithful since day one
But that still didn’t stop you from cheating  

My only regret
Falling in love
Again
Despite the thoughts in my head
Warning me
Don’t do it
Falling in love is stupid
And when it’s over your going to feel useless
Realizing love is a combination best served without you
Emeka Mokeme Jul 2018
You are not average,
or mediocre placed.
Your fingerprints
are different
from anyone else's
on this earth.
You are a unique
combination of DNA
that has never been,
and will never be seen
again in the world.
While you're here,
i want you to find out
what you love to do most,
and do it.
If you do that,
it will literally shower
you in prosperity.
If you don't know
what that is yet, 
You will never happen again.
Let's make the most of it.
That thing about showering
you in prosperity?
It's true.
But it's also true that
if you don't do what you're
meant to be doing here on earth,
you're going to mysteriously
find it very tough going.
So what are you going to do about it.
You are created to live a glorious life
of abundance.
Arise now today like an eagle,
and fly higher beyond the limits,
beyond the ordinary,
soar with grace in the world of actuality
and your reality will manifest.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
False Poets Apr 3
words conveyed with a mutual clarity parity for communication
will end only when the world ends first
and the communitas is no more,and words, exist purposelessly  
for there is no left with whom to communicate, precisely

but now, of this moment,
write words, sentences multiplied but circumscribed,
verses with mystical aura,
whose utility so suspect and multiple meanings hidden within,
taken by you for the specific utility you uncover and create

ah, to write of things clearly visible to all,
but possessed differently, by each reader, this is the greatest commonsensical commonwealth useful
for and of humans indexed by unique word tendons tenderly

when this passes, when literature no longer
can be messengered to 127 Persian provinces,
each the message same,
yet given up in 127 different languages^

when you understand my poems perfectly then,
their utility is inutile,
the usefulness is in the
nth reinterpretation,
a million and still counting,
as long as you must guess at its labyrinth wired inner construct,
being pleasured by the roiled and rolled curves upon your tongue,
a lives paired wine tasting, together believing
in the greatness of joyous frustration

some say, I do, the world is better for the
utility of thine own struggled understanding,
the truest combination of two way communication,
surpassed only by our armed embrace at last




p.s. Pradip, be careful what you wish for....a poet false...


9:15am  April 3, 2019
^ Book of Esther 1:22 For he (the King) sent letters into all the king's 127 provinces, into every province according to the writing thereof, and to every people after their language, that every man should bear rule in his own house, and that it should be published according to the language of every people.
Kara Jean May 2016
Hold my hand
I still like the feel of cliche
Even though I know the secrecy of being married
Flawed, we still love the chaos
The tears of pregnancy, holding a combination of both me and you
The long nights wiping my tears in your drunken stumbles
I still loved you
I stopped seeing the cute in your impossible eyes
Persuasive, I slowly became the alcoholic
I switched the looking glass
Where do we go from here
No fancy words or metaphors
Is it time to sign the papers
You tell me
Keep it sincere
Nat Lipstadt May 1
check in at the library, my card scanned,
per the terms of my sentencing agreement

to the poetry shelves dispatched.
row after row, book after book,
all blank awaiting my affections,
all demanding my sensei sensations,
seeking a creme filling of honorations,
words of all shape, roots and origins,
the occasional new combination

some, never heard before, timelessly awaiting expulsion
from the birth-vocal canal where comes origination,
but for me, death by enforced creativity,
that’s what the judgers desired,
a punishment that fits the crime

my misdeed record unsealed, intended for
world envisioning, the ego audacity to imagine
I could write a single good poem,
thus the punishment fits the crime


may1 9:19am ‘19
this for CJ
Carter Ginter Sep 2017
You speak of *******
And I just want to make love
Our first time was more the latter
Our second the former
What an interesting combination
Love and lust
I've never felt as connected to someone emotionally
As I do when having *** with you
Because I can usually disconnect the two
Except with you
Except with you
Elemenohp Jul 2016
Sometimes written word is not enough,
Maybe it never really has been.

A feverish dark feeling has encased my soul and heart,
Some days it hides, while others it longs for.. something.

I have thus far been unable to tap into it,
Maybe because I am not supposed to
Or maybe because I fear the outcome,
But most likely of all, a combination of the two.
So I hesitate.

The feeling invokes desire
To both create and destroy,
To love and to hate,
To give and to take.

Even if I could, I don't know what I'd do.
I don't know how I'd do it.
Adron E Dozat Feb 2015
Some men have a recipe-
It is like a combination
That makes up their ideal
Which says she is gorgeous.
Such things they may itemize;
A face that is angelic,
With eyes that are lustrous          
Full lips of pure seduction,
A voice that is musical,
And hair that falls pleasingly,
It is a child's attitude
That says things make somebody.
I need no such formula
For in you I discovered
A heart that was beautiful;
Which the made me realize
That your face is radiant,
Your eyes are dark mystery,
Your voice is a symphony,
Your hair flows down gracefully,
And your lips are perfection.
I found your heart wonderful
And then I found everything
That a man could desire.
To order my book of inspirational poems at Amazon, https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07HMFML2D
elizabeth Feb 2018
there will be days where getting out of bed 
is the most daunting challenge you have ever faced.

days where pouring a cup of tea hurts you to the core,

because it somehow reminds you of him.

days where you wake up at 3 PM
 and hope that sleep will take over your mind again soon, as being awake is too much for you.



there will be days 
where your fears and your pain feel unconquerable and overwhelming.

days where the pit in your stomach seems so immense, almost like it is eating you from the inside out.

days where you can barely look at yourself in the mirror, out of fear that the person staring back at you will be changed from the pain. 



there will be days that hurt.



but, there will be also be days

where you sit in the passengers seat, 
wind blowing through your hair,
the sound of your friends’ singing playing in your ears.

days where you feel brighter than you have in months.

days where you wake up early, and, for the first time, 
he’s not on your mind.



there will be days
 where you feel loved in ways you’ve never felt before.

days where you clink glasses filled to the brim with bubbling champagne and cheer to your success in getting through the agony.

days where the person in the mirror is entirely changed, but for the better. 



there will be days that are better than anything you ever imagined. 



your life is a combination of the good and bad,

the sorrowful nights full of missed sunsets, tear-stained t-shirts, and hour long showers that burn your skin,
and the sunny days made up of stacks of takeout boxes, laughter that makes your sides hurt, and popsicle tinted mouths. 

you can only recognize sweet moments if you’ve known bitter ones too.

your pain is teaching you how to see the beauty in times that are otherwise miserable.

your pain is helping you grow.
Francie Lynch Feb 2018
I have this friend
          (it's really me)
Who has this girlfriend
          (who's really she)
Who has this quirk
          (really several)
Which she'd deny
          (which is another)
She's not anti-***,
Sees right past color, creed and ethnicity;
Sees women for being women,
Men for men,
And any combination thereof,
And vice versa.
No, she can see right past bigotry,
Is blind to prejudice,
But has an innate drive that goes straight for wardrobe.
From the gowns of celebs,
To the color of Alex Trebek's tie.
A sartorist, that's what she is.
          
          I heard that.
          And I am not.


          (contrary too)
sartor: clothing
Nassif Younes Nov 2016
That Donald Trump?
He's thicker than a whale's ****!
Nope,
That didn't work
He's still becoming president.
Activists around the world must continue searching
For that perfect combination of words to highlight
How stupid he is
How stupid his supporters are
And thus bring them over to our side.

You fools!
These people are working two jobs one week
And getting fired from both jobs the next
And all you could offer was memes and social experiment videos?
People don't want your memes!
Nor do they want your veganism
Your Eastern philosophy
Your meditation
Your glittered faces
Your acid induced self discovery
Your fat bass drops
Your hashtag lookatmeimsuchagoodperson statuses
Or your white reggae revival projects.
They want money
They want power
And they're right to want it.
They wanted it so bad that a talking tangerine's promise would suffice.

And where were you?
You were a thousand feet up in the cultural clouds
You did this.
You just let a president get away with pushing drone strikes in the morning
Because he did comedy skits with celebrities in the afternoon.

Your craft beers and independent cafés
Have booted the poor out of town centres
All over the world.

When they needed socialism
You sympathised but were too unique to call yourself one.

When they broke out in riots
You were there at the front
With your polaroid
Photographing the blood and broken glass.

You hide yourselves in safe spaces
Delete people who disagree with you
And condemn others for building walls.

None of you are hipsters
It's always someone else
Who is the hipster.

But you all have the brains and the hearts
To turn the world around.
Because for every ***** grabbing racist
There is someone too tired and too desperate
To accept anything short of extreme.
The only madness now is moderacy
And if you speak for something real
Conversation is all it will take.
The day we became too cool for movements
Was the day we lost.

Until we do, our next liberal hero
Will be a Rasta president
Bent over for Wall Street with a lust for war
Loved by all after his first act in the oval office
Was to take a selfie whilst sparking a joint.
Not cool man,
Not cool.
Ciel Dec 2018
Let me tell you a tale.

A tale passed down
From mother to son
Father to Daughter.
The tale of Chaos.

Chaos is the beginning and the end.
It was there before and it will be here after.
This is not a story about the Chaos you know,
Not the man-made synonym of mayhem.
This is a tale of Chaos in its purest form
It is everything and nothing at once
Both darkness and light
Pain and bliss
Sanity and madness
Past and future.
A senseless contradiction and the perfect combination.

This tale is one that we all seek,
For it is the answer to all our questions.
And once we finally rejoin the stars,
Greeting death with a smile,
We all become part of it.
So maybe you do not need me to tell the tale,
For you will soon be living it.
for the ladies who liquid lunch

<>

the finest young women of the wild west,
(the best of course just might be in Texas)
don’t always get educated in the things best,
no private schools, so somethings sometimes,
like the upscale training of the taste buds,
must be learned on the job, training the palate,
by growing up, self+taught, thank god, yes!

<>

your salty taste
reminds me of ruffled potato chips, bugles, beef jerky
and
your very own brand of
loving tears

it’s true you know,
impossible to eat
just one, which is
why my tonguing
of your body parts,
is unceasingly seizing

I will always be found
attached unbreakably,
to your moving image,
moving inside of me

so sweet your salt,
it’s your story,
your flavored lives living on
in poems unnamed, to disguise
but the authorship of whom,
in body, in mind, so obvious,
cause in all your poems is a tangy
salty

impossible to eat just one

****
<>
p.s. you tease me mean,
cowman,

bbq and béarnaise,
sassafras and edible petals,
molasses and kosher salt,
ingredient combination
which of course
you just made up,
so I show my appreciation
biting your arm so my permanent
teeth marks,
will remind me,
and you too,
just how salty
biting Texas heifers who
can or cannot be salt cured
when
it’s their turn to write some
real good tasting
poetry

****

back for more already?

****
Joel A Doetsch Mar 2014
I'm looking deep into her eyes

Looking into her eyes...
is like opening a door that leads...
to another door


Wait..really?  OK...I open the door.

This door leads to a long, winding path,
like the winding path of your love.  
The path leads to a third door


O...K. I open the door.

This door leads to a spiral staircase
descending down, down, down,  deep
into her soul.
At the bottom of the staircase is--


A door?

A door.

I open the door

The door is locked.  The key might be under the mat

Seriously?  I check under the mat

Nope, not there.  Maybe try under the small rock next to the door

Oh for the love of...I check the rock

There is a key

Wonderful...I unlock and open the door

Inside this door is a large atrium
the glass ceiling giving way to a
beautiful summer night, the stars
twinkling in the distance.  At the
far end of the Atrium, there is a curtain


Sigh I pull aside the curtain

There is a door

Come on!  I open the ruddy door.

You find yourself in a long hallway,
with fine art hanging along the walls.
Crimson carpet lines the floor.
At the end of the hall is a door  locked
with a combination biometric
fingerprint scanner/retinal scanner


What.

You have 10 seconds to unlock the door
before the hunter-bots de-atomize you


What!?  Ok! I try my fingerprints and eye!

The door unlocks and the hunter-bots stand down.
In the next room are three vials.  Two of them contain
terrible neuro-toxins that will lead to an excruciatingly
painful death.  The third will allow you to continue on
to the next room.  You have 30 seconds to choose before
you are terminated


What the hell is this!?

This is the path to true love hidden deep in her eyes

No, this is insanity!

15 seconds

OK!  Geez!  Umm..Vial Number 2!

You're totally dead

Oh god!

Just kidding.  None of them had poison...was just messing with you

THAT'S IT!  I'M DONE WITH THIS

Really?  There's only one more door.  I swear

...Fine.  What ridiculous thing do I need to do to open it.

It's already open.  You find yourself in a circular room
with a pedestal in the center.  On the pedestal is a hand
written note.  On that note is the key to everlasting happiness


I pick up the note

You smell sweet hints of your beloved's perfume and
notice the care that each word of the note was written.


What does the note say?

My love:

Next Tuesday Only --  Buy One-Get One Free at J.J's Pizza.  Cannot be combined with any other offers/coupons.  Must present coupon upon purchase.  Expires 1/14/14


...An expired coupon for Pizza?

Such a wonderful expression of love!

How do I get out of here...

You see a door
.
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