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i feel tired and spent
just like a fangless serpent
wanting to attack
thwarted by its own frailty
a mind full of thoughts to convey
spirit disobeys

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
   24.09.2012

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
NoislessShackles Aug 2014
Define Pink Panther
I say they wanted something shy.
pink fits the description just fine.

Cat's on the hold are sly,
and never back out of a fight.
The pink panther usually runs and hides,
sometimes even takes flight.

This domestic upright
walking panther,
is no wild cat.

He's a pink furred,
scene boy,
big dreamer,
Fangless stranger
full of joy.
A growless feline.
calm breed,
Real life fiction, wanted toy.

It's not in his nature,
to eat you,
Instead will lend a hand.
I saw how he,
a cat,
helped out a feathered
friend.

© J-d S. J
Miss Clofullia May 2016
‘t was nice till now.
I’d be a sad fool to complain.
There are others that deal with
much more **** then I can ever imagine.
There are happy homeless chums
that don’t give a **** about sadness but, unfortunately,
their madness is voiceless
and, sadly, our ears get numb after 3-4 minutes of elevator music.

It was cool and everything but now it seems that you’re only
showing the back of your head, as you’re kneeling down in front
of everybody.

No spine. No dime. No nothing.

Death lies hidden in your breast pocket,
just waiting to bite your hand or that of your loved ones,
in a blink of a blind eye.

My inner black dog chased away the black and white cats
and all that jazz is just not enough for
a healthy restart of the brain membrane.

Get closer and hear me out.
I’m speaking through my heart – this yellow bellow fella’s almost done.
I’ll whisper and you’ll understand my stubbornness,
like an unlit candle in the wind,
like a simple quiet rocket/piano man,
like the unlikely event of crashing in a brick wall.

‘t was nice.
All the dreaming
and drinking
and smiling
and crying
and cringing inside my head.
Oooooooh, what a match!
The crowd goes wild and that’s so unlike them to do – clawless, fangless, white tigers.

You might not recognize this day as being amazing and wonderful and all,
but trust me when I say that you’re in a blind spot right now and
as soon as it will be over, you’ll see it.
You’ll understand.
Those were not drops of desperation but exquisite fine wine left unattended.

Hear the echo inside this caveman’s body.
Look in this broken mirror and admit that you cannot see the eyes.

This generation of morons will stay put and eat macarons all day long.
It’s just a burning house, as Robin nicely put it in his song.
There is still hope for this silly antelope.
There is time for the timeless universe that we live in.

You’ll eventually get tired of seeing everything backwards,
of going against the stream, like a red herring in a Quentin T. dark alley.
You’ll get tired and admit that
you’re the ******* queen of everything wrong in this world.

Stop complaining.
Get over it.
For now.
I heard the splashes spilt sore words in the market of falsehood for personal gains
Let the grabbled grains of your intents germinate in your own life-garden
Let it grow and not wither like a drought resistant crop
I have always known you were never fangless yet I always fall prey to you as a suppose friend
Thanks for the kisses
they were more loquaciously loud than the dark domestic Paraguayan parrot
Now that my ear is dang deaf
let your venom venting mouth continually bite.

— The End —