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Poetria Oct 2016
Through insomniac nights
a fuzzy grey mouse and I
coexist under lamplight.

My sleeping routine,
it's far from a dream
but my buddy and me,
we feel free.

He stays in the shadows
Collecting little bites
of leftover dinner to eat.

He comes out at night
and scuttles in this light;
he's put his trust in me.

I honour my promises,
and mice have their rights
so I vow to tell nobody.

So when I can't sleep-
in secret we meet,
my fuzzy grey friend
and me.
P.S When I wrote this, HE SQUEAKED!
I listen to the words of tv hosts
trying – or maybe just pretending – to analyze
topical issues of the day in depth
on their panels with certified experts on the issue

yet in the end mostly remains a host of possibilities
rarely a clear decision
more seldom even a provocative conclusion
one could at least start arguing about

what happened to well-structured arguments
that did not lend themselves to fuzzy readings
but had a recognizable opinion at their core
challenging viewers to discuss some more?
Griping about the lack of good TV panels seriously discussing topical isses
Brie Pizzi Sep 2018
It's true
as time goes on
our memories start to become more fuzzy
but not all of them

I can't stop thinking about my cousin

how earth shattering it was to get that call that he had died

that the disease he was fighting with for years finally caught him

to this day something that will haunt me is the thought of just how mad my cousin must've been when he woke up in heaven realizing what he had done

how much ******* regret he must feel
how much he must miss us

my family is forever altered by what had happened
we never truly healed
we never will

and I don't think this is something anyone can relate to
unless you have experienced the same heart break first hand

I remember getting the call from my dad the morning after a night out with friends to tell me what had happened.

I remember rushing home to my uncle's house to find my entire family, in tears, unable to comprehend.

I remember spending days where all my family did was become numb in order to get things done and then cry when they were finally finished for the day.

I remember walking into the funeral home thinking it was just a really bad movie.

I remember my one cousin saw the casket and started screaming
she fell to the floor not being able to hold herself up
and kept repeating that she was unable to do this

I remember my father humming songs in his head for hours trying to block out the reality of what was happening to our family.

I remember my family going up to the open casket and kissing my cousin's dead, cold body on the head, repeatedly.

I remember the guilt I felt for not having a stronger relationship with him.

I remember everything
so ******* vividly
even 2 years later

and I don't think it'll ever get fuzzy.
Lena Apr 15
You are my warmth and my light
You are my solace
My summer solstice
I am wrapped in your love
I am undeserving of your grace
Love is the best feeling.
EBTI Jan 2018
I am my mothers daughter
I am no daughter to my father
That ship sailed a long time ago
Driven by my sister that I have right now
She is her mothers mother
She is the soul of all the lovers
She told you, you're a getter
And im a filler, so fill them up with poetry
Get a hold of them, she got a hold of me
“Can you see something?” She asked
No it's all fuzzy
My mom told me, they tried to conceal me
Tried to take a breath but, it's all fuzzy
So she's a killer!
Tried to run but guess what? She's a fast runner.
September Roses May 2018
Thick, warm, fuzzy air
Radiates against your skin, making you want to doze off
You sit on the front of a low red car that looks another era, leaning on the glossy hood.
I want to put your lips on mine
The world feels yellow, and orange.
It's as if clear smoke has filled the air
My eyes are dimmed through thick sunglasses, my body absorbing the warmth through jeans and a small black shirt
I'm in a lucid daze
Looking at you through a curtain of straight black hair, not bothered to move it from my face.
You're eyes the crisp refreshing blue in a world tinted amber
Like fresh water, so cooling as I gaze in them.
Like a spray of water on your back
After hours of sunbathing
We sit there
We say nothing
We take in the sun
   We don't need anything else
Little fuzzy elephant
chasing her first
Do the hot chili pepper dance
Vooooooo Dooooo woman
Bow to HER, clay-man, walker in the day, man
all servants to shay-tan
Cherry cotton blossom killer
slumlord white powder thriller
****** sticks to kids
****** sticks to kids
****** sticks to kids
No god can forgive our sins
There is no life without
an end
Stainless steel I bend
under rail road cars as my
head spins
**** me now, coward
do me that favor
I'm a warrior with flavor,
so like it, life I will savor
Help me God, por favor
nessicito Allah, my soul is pour
My eyes turn to pitchers as
my brothers turn into 1 man martyrs
Victims of every veterans second war,
the war inside & at home
Surah An Nas 100 times tonight
King Panda Sep 2017
I find you
the lappet moth
like slug or bat
with fuzzy ears
stuck dead with
nothing except
the toxins of
my fever
high and

perfect it is
to be under
your legs
or none
my fingers will
do the
crawling for
any insect
in the skin

the nails
bits of flesh
tiny specks
of blood
and your net
words I’ve
never uttered
sophia Jun 2017
it wasn’t chaotic.
it was calm and serene,
like the ocean.
the soft pitter patter
of the rain on the roof,
and the cool air it brought.
it was a sip
of freshly brewed coffee,
natural with no additives,
the gut feeling
of knowing where home was.
and that is how
you came into my life.

the star that shines the brightest
amongst the pitch black sky.
it’s the white cloud that outshines
all the gray and gloomy ones.
the perfect fit of the last piece
to the unfinished puzzle.
it's the warm, fuzzy feeling
of getting into bed
early on a Friday night.
and that is how it was
when I started loving you.

it’s like a deeply cut wound,
one that’s inundating
with crimson colored blood,
having a tinge of maroon.
it induces pain
with every inbreathe
and exhalation.
it manages to have
the appearance of a scar,
yet it still feels so fresh
like a bruise.
and that is how it felt
when you left.

it was filled with haze
and suffocation.
the uncontrollable fast paced beat
of your heart.
Mona Lisa's enigmatic smile,
one that is hardly understood
by majority of the world.
a bite of dark chocolate,
bitter and sweet.
and this is my survival.
stuck in the third season,
but i'll make it to the fourth
Alan S Bailey Feb 27
To the tune of Five For Fighting's "100 Years to Live"

From "Frogs For Fighting"
Kermit Sings:

I'm just a simple green Muppet,
Good old friends with Scooter and Fuzzy,
And I'm small and skinny,
A quiet frog that's on the roam.

Animal's clearing out the whole fridge,
There's a Muppet chef inside the kitchen,
Making gibberish sounds,
Boiling a goose or baking rolls.

Piggy I'm alright with you,
No other Muppet pig will do,
MRS. PIGGY-there's never a wish better than this,
When you've got a hundred Muppet Tears TO GIVE...

I'm searching stars at the moment,
Still the frog-I'm just in love with a pig,
Dream of a connection,
A constellation for a sign,

Count goes "AH AH AH" when counting,
Cookie Monster's nomming on the cookies,
Snuffleupagus sounds like he just might have a cold...

But Piggy I'm alright with you,
You've got much might-no one can kick **** quite like you...

But piggy I'm OK with you,
MRS. PIGGY-there's never a wish better than this,
When you've got a hundred Muppet Tears TO GIVE...

Through a small Muppet's eyes
Can tell you no lies,
Bunson's Lab-a surprise,
Madness, havoc explode,
Beaker's running to hide,
We're moving on...

I'm feeling light at the moment,
Small as can be-the sky-all I view,
And I'm just reeling,
High up in the clouds-a message in blue,  
...Mrs. Piggy I'm alright with you,
You're black belt in Karate and Kung Fu,
Super Grover's on his way,
Every Muppet has their dog day...


Piggy I'm alright with you,
There's no other Muppet pig like you,
MRS. PIGGY, there's never a wish-better than this...

When you've got a hundred Muppet Tears TO GIVE...
Sang to the tune of 100 Years to Live by Five For Fighting.

Frog's For Fighting, 100 Muppet Tears To Give.

"Well, no KIDDING Mrs. PIGGING!"
flower child Jun 13
There’s something not right
I can feel it in my heart
My head is fuzzy
I can’t think straight
What’s happening
Please help me
I’m scared
L Maughan Apr 17
shy April
sloped  in the morning sun
reconciled to soapy trees
washing up in the moon
pantaloons of clouds
quibbling over rain
in half tones of
somber jesus
tails of night mares
wet skin wet
fuzzy May
I touch
Tin Mar 2018
Her vision becomes blur
She sees grievous from fuzzy departure
She keeps her eyes dry
And her feelings shut
She lived with fulfillment
And waggish moment that brings glee
She despises loathful dramas and griefs
She rests her calm sight
Until her river oozes
The anguish gently flows down from its depth
And its core trembles that keeps her melting
Her notion was unlocked
When she set into a tragic retention picture.


Third Eye Candy Mar 2013
Barbarians At The Bill Gates

Kings in a Nutshell of Plots,
Machiavellian; made Lords Of Infinite Beige.
a Workspace now a  Dead-Space in The Heart of an Artist... Scaling, Mount Dew, at a snail's pace.
Behemoth Logarithms,
Jammed in a hot box. with cigarette soot blocking die-cut vents
The cousin with the soft-spot.
Hair, Nobly Re-Disheveled  by Hit and Miss ads, like
crow's feet dancing on insomniac spines, in and around, the Yawning Cathode D-Rez
Of all Villages, M. Night. Ramadan, forged, into Code Soldiers
With No Code to reverse Schrodinger's Black Cat, Back in The Bag...
The Genie, from a corner apartment in Manhattan, to a bedroom in a Bottle of Lightning.
Only Reactive Jazz
Cosmonauts, embedding feathers in " White Hats "
A Moral Avatar.

Hack Lads in The Boonies of Way Ahead of The Curve.
An Unsound lack of Judgment, echoing by Proxy, like Mr. Hyde;
Passing for a binary Schizophrenic. Swallowing Blackberries, Seeds of Anarchy and All.
Crowd-Sourcing the wisdom of Crowds of People
With cup-holders, the Elite call CD-Rom
A Quest For Firewire. A billion portals,, huddled in chaos.
In the lens of  The Camera-Obscura, hidden in the USB Port
In the Fuzzy Logic of Our Narcissism.
SQL that Ends Well \ with a Backlash To Pi Charts
Of Privileged  Information,
Cooling, only in The Windows, Facing a Social Network
Resting, on a sill of Approval by Market Share and -
Ad *******

An eye of  a needle, peeling onions in a brave new world, weeping for the pure, post-ironic
Joy, Of Threading a Nano-Camel
Through The Eye of a Needles' Parable.  To Aesop the gravy of grave doubt
and reasonable suspicions off
Teutonic Plates

To an Atheist. The Heavyside Layer of Bricked Phones
and Dissonance,
May Find a Contract, 'Comes with Astroglide.
And a toaster.

Floppy Disc-Figurements of Our Right To Privacy.  
Resurfaced By The Naivete
Of a Target Audience, With a Heads-up Display,
A 4D Hologram  
Of Steve Jobs,  
Exported over dark fiber optics;  
Silicons of Prosaic non-Existence
Overclocking the Swatch
On  a wrist

Banning Calligraphy

Ward of the State
Of the Economy
With a Cult

A Hologram of Steve Jobs
To sharpen the bleeding edge
with a moon rock from The OtherSide of Billions of Dollars.
The After-Accolades with the Spanish moss From Taiwan
Where Dragons Of  Technology
Shed limits, that metastasize rapid growth
Of Personal Stock by -
adding a Touch Screen Feature to an App For Clout.
To Out-Monopoly with a Walled-Garden
Designed by Stanley Kubrick's 2001 [ Available Space Odyssey  ]
A Terabyte
leaving Half a Worm
In your Apple.

A Difference Engine, differently Desired

On a Corner in
Your Circle
Of Confirmed

rocking XP like an OG on Food Stamps and The Fringe.
Centered Better And Re-Posted.

You know that you are, *******, crazy?

Think up a new grand goal to meet,
then drop the blotter, -to compete.

Are you movin' on up?
to the top, to a deluxe compartment in your mi-ind?


Saul admired David...



dissolved him in, David.

You know that you are, *******, crazy?

Look at the hands, -they swirl in, ceiling paint...
Thinking like this the world is NO constraint.


Pick a pickle Whitley Streiber.

Gasp, rinse and repeat.

Then Devil for the Heaven's seat,
and find a tiny child to eat,
for tasty things water mouth with treat,
nothing stained by water's meet or tendered strangely as complete.


Carpet fibers tickle my neck.

I am a house.

Household item.

Bleach feels funny on the fingers,
they still won't change color back?

Think up a new grand goal to meet,
then drop the blotter, -to compete.
Then Devil for the Heaven's seat,
and find a tiny child to eat,
for tasty things water mouth with treat,
nothing stained by water's meet or tendered strangely incomplete.

Crazy you know that you are... that wall supposed to be flashing?

You cannot just dip a finger in the dark because darkness will not let you go. Are you sexually attracted to circumstance? Then I have something for you. Life is easily hardened....those that know, know me.
patty m Jan 2018
Beautiful poet, your lines pristine as new fallen snow,
drift now in hazy sky.  Posture not but sleep and dream
What was isn't, what is will change in future days. Scurry not rat-like forsaken; sip sweet nectar and breathe in the silken breeze. 
 Often told, thy enemy is self.  Plagued deep in sentiment, one can drown in the swill of depression.  Fear not, for the sun will shine again, Spring thaw releasing the land from Winter's hoary hand.  Dream on to budding flowers and the greenery that surrounds you along with bird sounds and the song of the babbling brook.  Leap high as golden carp chasing red umbrellas, deep down a smile is waiting to kiss your lips.  Spread your arms to all you see, embrace the glorious.  Be a child again chasing  sunbeams as horsetail clouds race across the sky.  Enjoy the magic of metamorphosis, that fuzzy caterpillar friend you talked to on a leaf, is someone else entirely, ethereal as it wings by.   We too change, learning from exposure the lessons of life.  How to overcome, and battle on, and when to rest, heaven blest.  We're not Gods, though made in the image of one, yet how much we accomplish.  One could lay down and die, thrash and cry, and what would that accomplish?  When wearied and beaten down I often wondered what I would miss if I were to give up.   Night is always the harbinger of fear, that looks less horrible in morning light.
What might you miss?  
I can't answer for you my friend, only for me.  I would have missed years and hours and minutes with my precious loved ones, three now gone, but never forgotten.  I'd have missed so much time with my beautiful daughter and I would never have learned that I could raise myself upon life's ladder.  Most of all I would  have missed the joy of my precious granddaughter Abby, now 23 months old, who is the hope of all my tomorrows.  None of this would have come to pass if I had given in when I felt forsaken.  
Each day is a beautiful gift, not to be taken for granted. 
Open the strings, experience the surprise.
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