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JL Feb 2018
sometimes i feel like i am in the midwest
sitting in queens
dyslexic
listening to Jessye Norman (who listens to her anymore)

sometimes i am flying over the sea
algae deep,
crashing mountains, ocean green

its the same every night when you are not here

i get home
do dishes
heat rice and dahl
open a beer

wait, wait, something on the weimar republic is on tonight
thats not new
the same questions
why the jews

how could so many
in broad day light die
while He walked the earth?

biblical tales that still
need interpretation

who is the weaker one of the two
before now or after?

Jessye now sings Samson and Delilah,
the announcer announces

the singer sings,

"my heart opens to your voice like a flower

my dearest let your loving words dry my tears

tell me you are returning to Delilah

repeat the vows you made long ago

the vows i used to believe in"

the vows of heaven on earth?

the vows of justice?

who stands to inherit the earth ... the meek?    

c'mon!

by G-d she could sing
stefan badham Nov 2017
we will decide
how you live your life
we will dictate
how you live your life
we will tell you
what to say
what not to say
how to think
what you should think
what you must think
what you must not think
what you can write
what you must not write
what you should laugh at
what you must not laugh at
who you must associate with
and who you must not
we will be your masters
we will be obeyed
we will be respected
we will be believed
*******
who fiddle your expenses
who fiddle with each other
who lick the cream
whilst we drink water
who feather your nests
and line your pockets
you wankers in power
you shower
of ****
left
right
red
blue
yellow
all the ******* same
drag them out of parliament
chuck them in the Thames
we will decide
this bunch of ***** needs no introduction and deserve zero respect. Defy them all
September Roses May 2018
I run myself a bath, I put fluffy bubbles and soothing soaps in it, I light candles and turn down the lights, and make sure it's the perfect temperature
To cry in it

I drag myself out of bed, brush my teeth and get dressed, I tediousely organize my room, alphabetical, by colour, I get out my books, I dust the smooth pages
To cry on them

I pick out a fresh shirt, pants, shoes. I tie my hair and dry my face. I put on a nice jacket
Just to soak it with tears

Just to cry

It's seems most of my time these days, is spent on things that stray to sobs
Stray to crying
Zoie Marie Lynn May 2018
and i don't even know if i want to kiss your lips or just your skin
because i'm
     falling
       falling
         falling
           falling
         falling
       falling
     falling
but i don't want to hit the ground again.
are you sure your arms can hold the weight of my love when it's wrapped in wet clothes?
and are you sure it's the best idea to take this where the wind goes?
i'm not yet sure if love is a real thing
it's just a
   beautiful
  fictional
deadly
play,
and you still kiss me like i'm sane
but i know it's all just another game
so don't be surprised if i refuse to participate.
and you're like a
         cynical
           patronizing
             inconsiderate
           impartial
         callous
song,
but your vicious words still gently drag me along.
and i'm not sure if you're really toxic
or it's just all in my head.
because
i love you
love you
ove you
ve you
e you
you
ou
u
or maybe i love when you're in my bed.
there's a difference between someone telling you they love you and them actually loving you
i haven't figured it out yet though
londin Sep 2013
Prologue
- a party
- a dream
Beginning
- a trip
- a rope swing
- a canteen
- a movie
- a hike
- a 5 of hearts card
- a coffee date
- a 4 a.m. adventure
- a speeding car
- a kiss
- a few good weeks
Iceland
- a wednesday night
- a connection
- a party
- a sparkless kiss
- a leaving me in the dark
- a scared little boy
- a whole three weeks
- a drag
- a drink
- a distraction
- a realization
- a text
- an agreement
- a talk
- an explanation
- an I don't understand
- a hug
Tyrone street
Hadiy Syakir Oct 2017
Kudos to Kaepernick.

I just cannot drown all my beliefs and ideas, even if it contradicts my flesh and soul. When I heard that not standing up to the tune; that has always succeeded on sweeping all of the messes underneath the sad reality, to be deemed as subversive, I know that Rosa would definitely clench onto the seat tighter than ever.

Kneel, my friend, kneel.

To drag our body out there, all over the precious hills and fields, while acting as if the scale has always been set fairly beneath you all this time, will hurt you more than myself. How can a mere matter of things decide our future, our destiny? We shall shape our fate, you shall shape your own fate, and to be judged on the perception biasedly built in the name of order for thousands of years, is a situation that should not be endured by anyone or anything in a tiny dot within this vast universe.

Kneel, my friend, kneel.

And for that, I cannot stand proudly and profess my love to you as of now, even though I will always wear my heart on my sleeve for you to see. To be cheated, to be manipulated, to be deemed as surplus, by those at the tip of the plateau, that cunningly asked us to forget all the tangles and wrangles for the love of this sacred land, while unashamedly distribute everything off the land, off the ocean amongst them, is the last thing that we should allow to happen. I am one of those that can't simply put on the mask on top of our meant-to-be honest faces, to say hail to the thief is worse than the eternal grief. I have never dreamed of burying the hatchet with them, not even for a second and if I ever do it, I shall be condemned and dismissed for forgetting the roots, the fons et origo of mine. To love you does not mean to stand still to the soulless melodies, to love you doesn't mean to bow down to the meaningless piece of cloth that has overseen countless infiltration and bombing over the years.

Kneel, my friend, kneel.

To love you is to fight for the rights of many, by any means, even by not standing up. When black is no longer the symbol of miserable, filth and calamity, we shall then breath with ease, stand on our feet and fully embrace the real meaning behind all those majestic words.

Kudos to Kaepernick.
On my way to Mandalay the pilot dressed in drag

he put me in a pink rose dress then offered me a ***

I took a puff and sure enough a smile lit up his face

tangerine clouds soft not loud were in our flying space


pretty Kings such sweet things were walking down the aisle

they sashayed as they swirled along looking very royal

lipstick hipstick very slick sticks dangling in mid air

the pilot's name was Willie Dame - not that you should care


Up above no push or shove everything's a howl

all the make up all the fake up is loaded with a trowel

every dress I must confess is picked from a hen nights rags

all the brights all the tights look good on all the drags


You might think the plane is pink - well sorry you are wrong

it's a garish hue a soft silk blue it's emblem is a thong

on my way to Mandalay the pilot dressed in drag

When I arrived more than alive I suffered no jet lag


All the Queens and all the Kings and all the things refine

are yours to try when next you fly with royal Drag Queen Airlines
Data Apr 2017
I have girdled myself with illusions
and carved in stone
I have painted statues faux-colour
—colours called equity and justice,
and I have knelt before these in prayer
and imagined that my delusions serve purpose
in an existence of pure circumstance.

I have raised myself up from forest floor
I have set stairs in stone that I may climb higher
and look down upon a subjugated land
bereft of impediment or confrontation.
I find you in the corner shivering, ***** on the floor
whispering as a disquiet ghost…
I examine your desire
to drag me down…

I have heard gestapo on the stairs
and listened to their interrogation,
And it is true, after the second shot
we capitulated
and joined the throng who jostled
in the crowd below

( they dragged us down from our first-floor view )

Out on the plaza
where Socrates lectured Plato,
they have set the gallows high
and we, far too willingly,
walk forward, still protesting innocence
and proclaiming liberty
in foreign lands.


_________________­____________________­_

by Data © 2017
The thin skin of democracy
Natalie Apr 2018
My pupils scatter and drag.
I dream and eat the round, brown beads
In fitful sleep, my tongue pale and sallow.
This consciousness will not float.
The lids clatter shut like a kettle drum cooker,
A thing alive inside, more or less.
There is an echo,
Scuttle, and a cough. Strangers in the cellar.
There is no rightness to this, only sacrilege.
The unjust man chatters in my skull.
"Go home, go home!", I cry.
The sense of it all withers with the passing of the years.
King Panda Jul 2017
a parhelion forms with
the sun’s peaking out,
irradiating your eye
in crown.

there is a sanguine wonder
to your cigarette as
you drag your lungs
across the floor.

citrine is your smoke
crawling across
the bed.

light moves.

a nanosecond passes by.
Elizabeth Zenk Jul 2018
A tightness in my lungs pulls me under in a spell of forced muteness.
I slide my view up out of the rattling car.
The starry sky lighting up my irises and dazzling my brain.
Meanwhile the glops of tears forming in my eye drag the streetlights across my visible world.
Light torn away from its source
for only me.
Me, a crying passenger.
Tommy Randell Dec 2014
Be from the barren sea a cormorant rising
To the blind cliffs an echo of rich tidings

Let loose your ******* world-whirling storm
Brave these conditions risking all harm

Under disconnected stars an encircling dance
Not a poem merely telling such truths as enchant

Flow in the flesh you have made your preserve
From strange and deep intensify thirsts

Best ridden hard these potential abrupt seconds
Drag forth your wings while being lightness beckons

Draw on your bones in marvellous appetite
Be the dream of the harlot  whetting her life

Only then kindle freedom only then fly
Cutting the **** that makes cliffs out of whys

Exist that fall dancing being the Mother means
Survive prosperity       Quiver brilliantly      Sing  !
Kateasz Oct 2018
I just want someone to grab my *** and tell me I’m pretty.
Actual words I saw on instagram.
Let’s break that statement down.
Someone to grab my ***
And by that I mean
Someone to love me so much they can’t keep their hands off of me
And by that I mean
Someone to want me or at least tell me that they do
And by that I mean
Someone to make me believe that I am worth a *****
Even if that is all I am worth.
We break girls down into pretty girls and smart girls as if they are mutually exclusive.
Movies brandish the before and after of makeovers so much we can’t help
Glancing in the mirror and only ever seeing ourselves as a before.
So I will drag myself out of bed
Thirty minutes earlier
So I can paint concealer under my eyes (to hide the purple circles)
And onto my chin (to eliminate that red shine that makes it stick out)
And all over my nose (so I don’t look like rudolf when I scratch it and my sensitive skin acts up)
To coat my blonde lashes with layer after layer of ebony paint (to keep me from looking like a sick victorian child)
I will drag myself out of bed
Ten minutes earlier
To try on one outfit (But not that one, it makes my stomach look huge)
To try on two outfits (But not that one, it makes my ***** look smaller than they already are)
To try on three outfits (But not that one, six people told me it looks slutty)
To try on four outfits (Just throw on a hoodie, but that’s the only time you can wear it this week.)
And sometimes?
Three hours earlier
To cry over that assignment I can’t figure out
And to comb through the pages of my backbreaking book for an answer to a problem I’ll never need
To wonder if maybe gagging myself until bile rises in my throat
Until an empty stomach burns in my nose and the nausea hits me like a punch in the everywhere.
Would be easier than going to school
But no one sees that.
They only see me
Fixing my makeup up in bathroom mirror before lunch
And so they throw words as hard as they can
They aim for my heart, using every colorful hallway adjective they’ve heard
Or maybe the words the voice inside calls them
I’d be lying if I said that these words that didn’t haunt me
and follow me
And effect my every action
But I refuse to let them know that
I refuse to let them drag me down simply because they cannot fly
If I’m going to be an Icarus, ******* that’s a good way to go.
*******, that’s a way to be remembered.
Even if I’m a cautionary tale, at least I got to see the sun.
If  you call me a try hard I will say maybe you’re just not trying hard enough
If you call me high maintenance, I will say that it’s better than looking like you.
But when I express how much this hurts to my friend, he pulls a movie Ron Weasley and says
“Well, it’s kinda right.” and proceeds to make fun of me for doing my best
For those sleepless nights kept awake by the light of my laptop.
For shoving a toothbrush up my throat and hating myself for not being able to go through with it.
For raising my hand when the teacher holds up the tightrope I teetered along.
For trying.
I just want someone to tell me I’m pretty.
I just wish I didn’t need someone to tell me I’m pretty.
Wolf Jan 9
A day can drag on for a year
While a year can fly by in a day
Time itself
Is quite the anomaly
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