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Spenser Bennett Apr 2016
O' Miss Fortune, mother of joy
Daughter of Ol' Sorrow
Won't you be my savior?
Won't you call me your boy?

O' Miss Fortune, lover of happenstance
Murderer of Good Father Time
Would you come out to play?
Would you join with Decadence?

O' Mr. Misery, keeper of delights
Warrior of Love's Lost Heart
What could be your destiny?
What could you know of fair fights?

O' Mr. Misery, follower of my shadow
Burden of my shoulders
Won't you let me go home alone?
Won't you let me go?

O' Mother, O' Father
Please can't you see?
Fortune and Misery
Have made a mess of me.
SOLDIER OF FORTUNE
Book down both my idleness and memories,
Come the 52nd summer, through ship to ship
The last sail from city to city, the perturb To Contempt
Thy will at time remain snub, hath my time being
Hoaxed with an irony to bare my dream, for my family,
my slug Hit the deepest of my wish, with an arm to an
Armor, though my gentle verse never indulge volitionary,
What’s Worth in me hath grown, neither my dream
Extant, to whom shall I sell? Thy portrait reckon without
understanding The captivity my dreams, to whom
shall I cry My bootless fate?, Hast thee forsaken  me?
Thou art trouble me not , Thee Succeed  anyone
In an unflagging quest for a word, though art’s will
For sinners, saint and believers never change
Umi Apr 2018
The wind blows on a restless night
No fright, sight or cloud creep around in the tranquility of darkness,
A drizzle, brought by a softer breeze from seemingly nowhere drives near, dispersing the light brought by the sweet waning gibbous moon
And so, a grand rainbow, yet dim has been cast across the dark sky, filling it with both hope and glamour and blessed optimistic tender,
Impulisive shooting stars, racing across the sky and illuminating it,
In great numbers, one would think someone let the stars rain down instead, as they shine, then shoot across the horizon, never to bee seen again, each wishing, leaving their bright trails behind as travelers,
Appearing like a cosmic chess board, the flare stars dance in a festival of pure energy in the light of a white nights eternal moon, beaming,
The legend of a first wish, travelers which bring infinite fortune, brought to those whom believe in a shooting stars power and might,
The legend of the second wish, simply infinite power brought in light
And the last wish is carried by the realisation of transience, right before the night has come to its end, a last traveler shoots across the sky, it is the wish of immortality, an eternal life which cannot vanish.
But, the last wish, is a greater curse than hell or death itself.

~ Umi
Evan Stephens Apr 18
I will make us coffee,
& you will make us tea -
in leaves and grounds
our fortunes found,
& and what is meant to be.
Skaidrum Jun 18
———"that familiar boiling yolk of a sunrise—comas richer than russian dark chocolate— & saturn smoking a cigar while playing chess with gravity... i have been here before."

ocean dove, pardon my excuses for not writing as of late; been busy fulfilling a prophecy that can't even look me in the eye and ask me to change.  in the june wreckage of two thousand and sixteen;  i retired my tongue with the dormant volcanoes  before the world could end in my mouth.  and yet my poetry informs me that there are some wounds too sophisticated to even flower into scars—kind of like how my words will never feel like honey again, (but vinegar nonetheless.)

how cruel of me it was; to condemn you to a death without one final cigarette slow dancing with your lungs.  i miss the shadows of you most: the belt of venus caged like a wild animal in your eyes, your rusty guitar silky voice dripping off the haunted house we called home, countless a.m. drives kicking up filthy moonlight in the rearview mirror, but most of all—the way you said 'i love you' like it was nothing dressed up in something fashionable.

it is now the june of two thousand and nineteen. this wreckage sat on a throne and filled into the moon's shoes. a crown crawled it's way home to my head and kissed me with knowledge drenched in your name.  this queen started from lesson no. 1: broken instruments, will preach broken sounds—  and how lovely it has been, planting a world war in my soul only to raise eden in it's stead.  i will miss your company, but your ghost is no longer a requirement for me to be complete.

i have learned to stop loving falsehoods.  i have learned to start loving the leftovers of who i am becoming.  we would have been star crossed lovers had you not tried to swallow that bottle of pills that famous night where we fought like madonnas— but it looks like you got to death's fortune cookie before i did.

"and one day, you will have lived long enough to taste your grief turn bittersweet too"
———
my alibi still tosses in it's sleep at night thinking of you.
© Copywrite Skaidrum
Erin Suurkoivu Jan 2017
How
Forests were torn down and
cities built because of surety.

How can your child's face
assure me of my future?
Featured along with other fine poems in my poetry collection, "Witch", available on Amazon or through Lulu.
Carlo C Gomez Nov 13
Winning at all costs
Usually means
Losing everything in the process
Danielle L Cook Jul 2018
If you always do what you've always done
you'll always get what you've always gotten
spitting harsh truths since 2018
MJL Mar 24
You survived and learned how it ends
Death's breathy review still warms your nose
Your first draft in ashes
“Twice upon a time”
The short story begins
Enter The Gift
Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall
No blustering drama here at all
Simply still, on stage
Alive
In every scene
Playhouse to Broadway
Overnight
A hit
My Fair Life
Mike Oct 2018
i would gladly trade you a today
for a tomorrow - and a tomorrow, for yesterday -
i would give you a share of my stock
for a slice of wedding cake - a gold bar
for a plane ticket - and
i would
grab you a cloud, from the ocean's breeze
i would
give you the air, right off of the palm trees -
- and i would
let the rain, rinse against your cheeks, and
and i would let days, somehow turn into weeks -
i let days, turn into weeks
just moments we'll remember in years
fear of what might happen, fear of what won't
fear of what will happen, fear of what won't
when they call your name,
what will you be known for?
when they call my name,
what will i be known for?
Hisham Alshaikh Jul 2018
Was it love? or was it an arrow?
My heart, you took, left me in sorrow
Your heart, may I borrow?
Till death, I will keep, not returned by tomorrow
My fortune is narrow
That what left my heart hollow
And my face sallow
Your secret, I revealed, left me feeling shallow
Running in agony in the furrow
Towards the nearest tree, willow
With no one fellow
Sitting on the branch lonely with my shadow
What a blue life! Thought it would be yellow!
Memories of you are my softest pillow
Such emotions, I shall not allow
Your fingerprints, your footprints, your trail I will follow
With all of my might, we become the lovers of the morrow
The pill of hope, I will swallow

--Hisham Alshaikh
Was it Love? Or Was it an Arrow?
Semihten5 May 11
you will know soon
real colour of sky
darkness ready
for your life

you will hear soon
bad sound of sky
thunderclap waits
for your life

I did not said
fortune so
King Panda Jun 2017
sundog—small and incomplete
half-***** rainbow.
light.
at least once a week for
the clever dreamer,
the girls with no eyes,
the men with small *******.
there is

fortune in the river—it swims
away when I take you breath
down to it in a bucket. and my hands
quilt flawless wade of
nighttime water.

*where is the colored light?

nowhere, sundog.
nowhere.
annh Dec 2018
O rapturous heart! O blighted spirit!
Content and malcontent, the same.
Seize not upon thy hapless circumstance to ponder,
But on Fortune’s fickle favour renew thy claim.

For love is best served when least remembered,
An inclination immediate and true.
No rank aftertaste of bitter bile for me,
‘Tis sweet Aphrodite I petition: ‘Grant me my due!’
A parody of the Romantic poetry of the late eighteenth- and early nineteenth centuries. Watched “Mary Shelley” last night - great flick and a bad influence. Up late faffing around with this rather than prepping for the holidays. :)
Wai Phyo Win Dec 2018
Whatsapp

I heard viberation out of the blue
just two minutes talk really like
"game over"
on screen in amusement park fool
a bit more than a missed
call stranger

Have to swim cross night
long and lonely
no energy to sleep back tight, in this
coldest night
literally surviving one and the only!
listening "Learn to be lonely" till
morning light

Wishing not to trigger another
stretched night
hoping for a good paper of
fortune cookie
anyway, a heart full of
thoughtful delight
You're always over my head like a
warm hooie
Based on true story
It's that Stubborn Fever which keeps the Mood
And forced your Jewels to croak a relapse
Since a Year's Half-Pie you hoarded the Good
And denied some Peers your Fortune, perhaps
Are these the Charges we must Debate
And defend the Truth of such Falsity
It is a Blessing. That the Watchman was late
To keep him from salting your Dignity
Never again. Will this Harper reject
And cut the Strings which Truth comes to rely
To re-wire each String and play Respect
Then tie on turtle-shells before it dies.
Long-Distance Friend. The Black-Knobbed Swan's voice mute
Flies away bleeding; And left out my Flute.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
King Panda Oct 2017
The birth of our sun wrote megalithic,
two-word bursts of observable heat to life.

It pounded the density of a billion
squealing animals and thought itself
star—a pencil

being lifted by an oven-mitted hand
somehow deft, fortune-telling
witch.

sun—which will, in time,
bow out to a goodnight city
where every light is eaten

by dark-spelled window—no reflection
of flame,
no kiss of magnet—no

just cold death to
the bones—a molded meatball
dancing in a spiral once believed

to be beautiful.
july hearne Oct 2018
mighty mighty miners  
mining for a heart of cryptocurrency  
mighty mighty houses  
might end up empty  

for fake fortune  
your drop of wine  
your speck of grain  
for fake fortune  

nec·ro·man·cers quick with answers
will you be their broke financiers  
will you be their paraplegic dancers  

you've got nothing to lose  
just a shield of children  
wielding weapons  
no one knows how to use  

mighty mighty miners  
mine on empty  
too much vacancy  
in a heart of cryptocurrency  

all one person  
all one horsemen  
all fake fortune  
all one horsemen  

wish NPC weren't too dumb to understand
mighty mighty houses built upon sand
because every time jeff eats an iguana,  
he's got the whole free market in his hands.
*Roky Erickson - I Think of Demons

Micah 2:2
They covet fields and seize them, and houses, and take them. They defraud people of their homes, they rob them of their inheritance.



ISAIAH 5:8 (MSG Version)
"Doom to you who buy up all the houses and grab all the land for yourselves— Evicting the old owners, posting no trespassing signs, Taking over the country, leaving everyone homeless and landless. I overheard God-of-the-Angel-Armies say: “Those mighty houses will end up empty. Those extravagant estates will be deserted. A ten-acre vineyard will produce a pint of wine, a fifty-pound sack of seed, a quart of grain.
n-khrennikov Aug 2018
A melancholy and a fortune charm
The tale of history I love you
Forest every conversation, eyelids closed.
The wind burns in flame to medium.
However, everything is still secretly spinning,
a guard, thorn in the heart ..
It checks the story opens the truth.
H.хренников
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