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Ian Cairns Dec 2016
We would sneak on your rooftop during every thunderstorm
Watch raindrops kiss our flannels closer  together before we knew just how powerful the clouds could be

Lightning cracked
And just like that
It's Wednesday morning
This ceiling fan drowns out that wet pitter patter as I sit up in bed
Estimating how much water these bodies can hold
I tell myself the rain here settles down better than I do

I close my eyes
Pretend every droplet becomes another letter you sent for me
Pretend my silence now is just as deafening as my silence then
And the skies rip open
Your voice drips down my window pane onto my carpet
Asks me one last time for an answer

So I just want you to know
When we grabbed our hearts and became the flood
I thought we would be free
This nefarious rubble is all that's left
And now you're gone

I haven't slept much since I left
Most nights I stand at my window and wait for the wind to greet me
If I stand close enough, I can spot the stream behind my bedroom here
The sound it makes at night frightens me
Andrew Nov 2017
I'm a fan of Vontaze Burfict
Though he may not be perfect
For he gives players concussions
To continue the daily discussions
Of the power of his percussion
To receive a hall of fame induction
That is where his value is derived
So what do these penalties imply?
That the referees have a preconceived notion of him
And are preemptively looking to treat him grim
Which gives his team a lesser chance to win
Which makes the biased referees grin

We are a country that idolizes quarterbacks
Every other position we're quick to attack
We only care about who has the ball
And laughing at others when they fall
We worship that which is shiny
And view everything else as grimy
Quarterbacks become celebrities incredulously
While everyone else is treated impetuously

The NFL is like America
Politics makes it harder to watch
The Patriots are boring and plain
They win constantly
The Bengals are entertaining and rough around the edges
They show promise and potential that is never realized
In a nation
Of provocation
I'd rather proudly call myself a bengal
I know that seems an idealistic angle
But Cincinnati provides no coziness or protection
You must always avoid discriminate detection
Of those that call themselves patriots
That drive blue and white chariots
And penalize players unnecessarily
For African Americanning

We really fumbled the ball
Because of the ref's call
That treats us unequally
How they have fun evilly
They can arbitrarily treat whoever however
But a concussion will make them less clever
I was the one
that came undone
At the very first signs of strife

I twisted
upon my cross
Praying for another chance at life

I tried and failed
then I wailed
please make me into another exemption

But the shadows cast
by the time
now have turned into perdition

So cast the sins
and the stems
Watch as they go up in smoke

I fan the flames
of burning ice
life is such a joke
At my Age, to gaze at this Crumbling Glass
Must content me to say when to let-go
Of my Battles, that of Mum's Great Compass
Swore her Tears to what I already know
I guess that Vision, mirage as it is
And bake the Dough whose Bread I un-consume
With your Dust - suave - charm the Summer Belles since
Fan Frosted Wings faster than I could fume
What happens now? In this doomed, ****** Script
Must force me to tear-off my Snowy Mask
Painful my pores feel; My Heart goes to crypt
Then deny the Tender I so Long ask.
When Right is Wrong and Wrong seems all but Right,
Throw punches to a Face I could not fight.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
Tea Dec 2013
I start to answer her question,
She seems taken aback.
I rattle off my list.
“Witty comments,
An easy found laughter…
I like competitiveness
That’s wraps itself around playfulness,
Like I want to wrap myself around
His big found epiphanies.
Symphony of intellectual connecting’s and
Good intuition.
A quick reaction time, helping you step away
Before **** has had time to hit the fan.
Eagerness to help other human beings…
Taking advantages of opportunities instead of people
Charisma that is unselfish in its tendency to be noticed.
Awareness of one’s self.
a knack for insightful observing.”
These a list of things I find attractive
But yes he also has a nice jaw line
It traces lovely underneath a finger tip
But it’s a faraway line on a map
That has eloquently plotted out his most beautiful parts
It’s faded and dim in comparison to the additional obvious existing’s
It is so far from those parts of him I find to be most beautiful
That I hardly understand how out of all of it
That was the only thing you really responded to.
The only part of the map you related enough to
To point to and say I have been there.
avalon Aug 2017
white noise. a fan.
the wind, curling around red sand.
clinging to your memories, your hands,
dripping like lost leaves in a lost land,
the scratching of time on mortal man,

can you feel it
in the back of your mind?
these are the sounds
we wash
and leave behind.
Piyush Gahlot Jun 12
We were never together,
not in relationship,
whatever it was,
casual, no strings attached.
But, we decided to break it up.

We lay there in complete silence,
feeling her cold skin,
Air conditioner was howlin',
the fan on its full spin.
difficult to put an end
for we have so much tunin'.

Both realising that its the last time we are doing it.
Wondering if I could ever find a girl,
who will love me just like her.

Sure I do have some affection,
it never tranformed to love,
but it did for her, she admits.
Just as in 'love and the other drugs' and
'friends with benefits'.
Ma Cherie Sep 2017
it's hard to predict
the course of coming
wide or narrow
I ponder the future path
as waters
will always find a way
my father said,
if she's angry in her wrath,

see the ones
that had never
breached their banks
that swell up
surging ***** water
fast within,
just a few brief minutes
it comes
in such
high waters again,

all is flooded quickly

everything in sight,
then just...
all is just
gone without a fight,

yes including,
my dear old parents
sweet abode

in the terrible flood
of that ***** Irene

an if anyone had been there
that day at their home
they likely would have died
it's like nothing I have ever
really seen,

an today, as
the worst storm
in the history
of what we know
is bearing down
on our lovely crying planet?

so I ask- what do you think
you can do
when the fire comes raging,
will you put it out or fan it?

I think,
to myself
I am seeing
many new animals
especially the birds,
rare ones,
insects and plants,
an some look just quite absurd
it is exciting but scary
but seriously different weather
i say why are you not wary?
if you don't believe
in climate change
or global warming

well God please help us all.

Ma Cherie © 2017
ryn Aug 2014
We can only afford to contain our fires
Turning to... Soothsaying waters

Soothsaying rain, empty out your bottles
Irrigate from our heart puddles
Let flow into a singular well
An oasis where our hearts would kiss and silently tell

Submerge us as one being
The water milling and licking
Kissing our warm skins
Wash away as it purges and cleans

Cleansing waters, wash and give birth
Rid of the sadness to reveal the earth

Of this earth, you and I are one
Looking up to idolise the same sun
Wedged between... This expanse of redundant land
Pining for the mixing of our sands

We... We are made of the same
Earth, dirt and gravel placed in different games
Bearing similar stones that beat
Beating away the seconds that flit

Earth biding time... Stay on ground
Let wind take your souls to realms unbound

Casting our souls into the wind
Carved hearts on flags we pinned
Kites of love set to catch the air
Wind be kind... Carry us easy with care

Gift us your gentle airy fingers
As you would the sails of hopeful seafarers
Together we would dance and billow
Frolic upon your light feathered pillow

Ride the wind, on wings that never tire
Tiny bites that keep us afire

Never needing a flint to set alive the flame
Stoking the fire that burns on the same
Rhymes and reasons be our fuel
Combat logic and sense in a cerebral duel

Fight in our eyes, subdued are the blazes
Embers dormant behind glassy tearful gazes
Spark them to life with passionate heat
Fan them to rage till the time our hearts meet

But still... We must contain our fires
With nothing but soothsaying waters
Raymond F Bell Feb 2016
the feel of your warm hands
exploring my very being
like Columbus with a plan

the knowledge that you care enough
to ask me about my day
and will register the answer

I don't think I need much
but I need it often
because your comfort is my life force

tell me it's gonna be okay
even though we both know it's a lie
but it gets me to my next night

when you're here
my thoughts are clear
and again I have 20-20 sight

we don't have to be an item
we don't have to be lovers
and no one wants a divorce

I just need you around
to turn my frown upside down
an explosion of emotion like a dancer

can you just stay the night
so that everything will be alright
we both want a devoted fan

but at the end of the day,
i just want to be held
Trying a new style. Tell me what you think.
Would love to hear some feedback. Thanks
Addison René Apr 2017
i know i am
a little entity,
can sometimes be
a lot of work,
but doesn't require
much energy

i aspire a peaceful serenity,
not a fan of small talk,
i like my mornings spent
still and endlessly

i like your hands;
where I can feel them

this life is just so:

and so, so
Kara Jean Jul 2016
Patio umbrella waving like a fan
Beer numbing my face, nightly planned
I hear broken music from an ice cream truck
I hear the thunder as it struck
Almost like a demented fairytale plucked from my imagination
God's ****** up creation
A gorgeous mess with a yellow and pink sunset dress
Slowly, we watch night
The look lies as the heat hugs tight
The smell of peppermint suffocating memories
You take another sip and try to remind yourself to live
To bad your kindergarten ambitiousness ended in a bottle with lipstick stuck to the rim
Sebastian Macias May 2016
There is a wild, mad bull
scars scattered over his body
calm and fearlessness in his eyes

a young painter captivated,
is sitting on broken stairs painting it
an older woman gently watches
the young boy, as he paints
this bull in the distance, with desire
the desire to live once again

and from his house, the man
who raises the herd from which
the bull was raised in
looks over at the woman,
observing with lust
perversely drawing out mentally
her laying naked on his bed sheets
spreading herself for him, only him

there is a haunting violin stroking away
the spinning ceiling fan is about to break
anxiety is eating away at my finger tips
and we all just want to know,

How's it going to end?
Herselfher Feb 12
She was a worker
After all she had demands
She didn’t like to ask for help
She didn’t need a man
Yet, she suffered every day
Longing for a hand
To guide her
And make her understand
Maybe, even be her biggest fan
Motivate her, man!
zebra May 31
slash, ***, romance, grind house, love, boyxboy, ****, fanfiction, angst, horror, death, ******, fantasy, race play ****** sadist ladies friendship, lesbian, school, fanfic, hate, lgbt, music, sad, adventure, alex, boys, cut, emo, harry, humor, hurt, lgbtq, magic, mental, anorexia, aris, axl, blood, blue, boy, boy love, boyfriend, ******* ******* boy on **** spank me daddy burn, cute, dark, drama, edward, fan fiction, pom pom **** dance, femslash, fiction, fluff, *** ***** fun love, toilet slave, hula hooping hula
Because you're worth it
Corey Oct 2017
Dancing circles in the low morning sunlight
Approach, and the hum crescendos and livens
like Bolero.
At first, you barely hear it; then your skin ripples, ears buzz, and hairs stand on end;
Until finally, your vision is blurred with a swarm of black, and your skin feels more alive than ever.

Retreating back to the hive as the sun rises, and heat settles, the bees fan their golden palace; working hard to keep it cool inside
Like the applause after the final notes, thousands of wings flutter out of sight creating the softest, yet loudest of whirs;
The bees drum their sound into the air.
“The bees drummed their sound into the air” -Sue Monk Kidd, from The Secret Life of Bees
jul Jul 2018
What am I writing for?
Who am I writing for?
I'd like to say that I'm writing for myself to obtain purpose, but yet i think of those that will read this, and think of what they think.

The lights strung around my mirror are beginning to sleep.
The fan never seems to be exhausted despite constantly running in circles.
My skin becomes irritated by the nagging of my fingernails.

I've become tired of my mind, and it has become tired of me.
3 am thoughts
By: Cedric McClester

He isn’t a fan of
John McCain
But the fact of the matter
Will remain
Despite the hurtful
Words he said
John McCain
Is no less dead

John McCain
Was a prisoner of war
The same war
Trump chose to ignore
Yet he is still
Keeping score
Against a dead war hero
Because Trump is a bore

I believe what
Will Shakespeare said
The evil men do
Lives on when they’re dead
From the play Julius Caesar
Which Trump never read
Makes one wonder what goes on
Inside his small head

He’ll never be the man
That John McCain was
You only have to look at
What that narcissist does
To know that he’s sick
Because, because
No one makes more faux pas

Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2019.  All rights reserved.
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