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mike dm Jan 2017
Not here. Not there. Not anywhere. Not anywhy. Not caring pennywise above my lotto-won unslant brow. I simply cannot who this town anymore.

Wut? It's not that i "jus can't;"
it's that.. well, it's that....

---- It all sidepath whirr spins too much, resulting in me being in it too kneedeeply, as my limbs brim over the finely-tuned ledge of what we think we can potentially know, where it grins up at the space stolid, like a thing imagined real - plus my poor machete has (in a torrid blink of the winkers) turned; or, more accurately, transmogrified into sudden feted befridged leftovers, which, aren't exactly untaciturn in their ways.

(understatement of the eon, iknowiknow)..

---- worse still, -forgotten- leftovers, hidden away in the crisper drawer under the rest of the things spoken for: half due to lazy; the other half, to the fact it won't slide nicely anymore :/

it, turning
and smirking.

Oh! the its
and things.

And those three anthropomorphic hands always pushing n prodding the fated its and things. It's all so.. meh.

So, of c, we decorate it w meta imps and wings above them. Methinks the neon signs of the new rind output axon doth protest too much.

Yet, the gray area is nigh.
Autocorrect, be ******.

Me: I, now, know your tricks. Your abstruse, purely theoretical storms which appeal with chartreuse arms elongated into lawnorder - I can see you've been drawn out. I can see around the bend. You don't scare me anymore with your elegant renderings. I am too much in the dying whitehot.

That voice inside: nothing

Me: ...

Chicken, *****.

Don't you see? It's all getting crunched down. God is in the box marked "fragile," sexting n taking dog selfies doing a Miley tongue wag in the ***** bathroom mirror w an awk ttfn postscript n kissy face discursive.

I won't flinch.

my pockets turned inside-out aboutfacedly, knowingly staring that stare right back up at me, reflexively, interrogating and adjudicating, highchaired n bewigged n gavel-swinging n self-righteous spittle-wingin n all - cuffs hugging the curly q sloughed off set-o-symbols once hung like rare priceless lace above that (over)hyped brand new skull muscle (geologically speaking, of c). but the ***** have all been given, and i, finally, with arms reaching forward and backward, am here.

the haste the haste
the grammar head at the wake
let rigormortis do it's worst,
because there is more behind its door

0100111101010000 bars
hug the star's start
stripping them away,

Denuded, they

corrall it
adn things

white-knuckled,
I grip these two
and win back
the abysmal.

I am OK with breaking down,
with being hurt. Vulnerable as ****.
These tears are me
and mine.
Z Gulliver May 2010
the theme is green
and there are stars in your eyes
as you vindictively plot restlessness

there are eyes in your stars
as you contemplate
the heavenly spread of deceased dust

hey small thing, you’re shedding
and all these dropped DNA samples
will clutter a multiverse
that has already forgotten
what toothpaste you use
where you slept
or that you slept
when you slept
if you slept

the theme is a clock
in your grandmother’s house
ticking like a bomb in the desert

and all the sun from all the days
of chlorine-drenched reminiscences
is wiped away by a single stroke of time

a moment slides home stretched
like the cover over an over-fluffed pillow
and this is unquantifiable reverie
an array of star-soaked ideals
things you will never grow up to be
knowing you will never grow up
even once you grow up
and even after

double-spaced reports on
summer vacation and tax returns
are geologically arranged

the theme is maybe
and it is cumbersome to think
that the stars in your eyes
are made of something much older
than purple
copyright. copy/share with permission.
more rent them
more wrecked than
a car
geologically stopped short
no fear whatsoever
holding corners
into the grey
behind the truth
where the veil
is
ripped
reality
Robin Carretti May 2018
Are we in_
((Hell))
This is no
((Liberty Bell))

We are the high water
War below and what's up
Will you never know?

Green mudfish
alligators
Decomposed
no growth

Never Oh!
My sweet Lord

Never produce
a broken
family cord
_

Electricity

The procreation
Oh! God

To raise the
waterbed
floating

Producing_ babies
crying
detention
Troubled
abortion_ tears fears
Beer pockets
Most valuable
Moms locket
Let's never forget
Eternity of lifetimes
I am frightened
Be ready set
The bad
impressions

Never to be belittled
infractions
Presidential
Re-produced
Its all in our genes
a bad temper
fuse
((Rose))
I suppose
I am smelling
Gucky
******, Icky, Too picky
Up to my neck long
hickey play Stuckey
Never dull moment
The player of hockey


The streets foul
smell putrid

Ever or never
Can we all do better
It darkens's our spirit
Bitter smile Egyptian

The Nile or God sake
The Northern star
All greased Southerner
Fried Chicken
There's never
A smile day his
Mom deceased

Her bad haircut
Rotted beams
Red devil NJ
dreams
Never be
miserable or
?
What! The weaker
The prey of all weeks

They go in three's
Turned into rotten
One Apple
computer

Unsatisfactory
No sweat of
the factory
The composer

Squirrels and
Comedy Will Ferrell

Will Smith
got locked
Bad report
Movie card
Geologically
Rotten
The poem
almost got
hidden
Robin wanted
everyone
To be happy
in this
rotten
unforgiving
world

To Produce
Spiritual blessing
He smiles with
that Kraft
: Rotten Greens:
His Witch
dressing
_

Never
produce
Dead boring-set
producer
Under-cut  
pay riot
Never act
like
idiots
thrown
inside
a fruit bin

Never
Fruit loops
to be priced
I got stuck
by ((Cactus))
pin
Take it from me
Brooklyn girl
((Canarsie))
Never the
Tootsie
roll
Taking a ride
inside
my soul
Hello to all
my family
So forever loyal*


But the Disloyal
Dangerous
earth
Morally corrupt
everyone
feels so rotten
Someone got to you
what nerves
to interrupt

What we interpret
on the internet
Mr. Mcintosh
Overly friendly Josh
The pink lady
Let's never
produce
anything shady
Let's produce something in our minds like no other human can. Writing a poem is hard enough. But when we do the homework We are Gods tough enough
David Zavala Dec 2018
it's not you, it's the room.
I don't know, but I want to know.
you're an oh, I'm a well,
I'm more than likely,
'I just want to get home safely'
style is Jazz at 6:46am in the morning
what else is on the way?

New love be kind,
when you need to be quick
or be quiet, be kind

Leaf-eater be mottled and grey,
In the age of anxiety,
two mice together
formed an English man who taught an unusual instant
Mirror me,
We want the word brown to completely surround us.
La la la, it's funny,
Line 4 of page 112 stands with time on page 146 but you have to pay close attention,
the sick and hopeless,
breaths, and the hole in the sky is a
Nurse-Manager,
Numerous Immigrations change.
Where are you? I miss you. I just miss you. Where are you Emmy?
and close-fittingly
It's cold. I am short sighted.
My heart, another story, no, this time it's stable and balanced,
what is implicit is that it's not that it
reminds me of principals and friends,
instead it's a song
                 to the sky.
And gladly we'll lift their bodies
And gladly they'll lift their bodies
And gladly you'll soon comply,
you know, with them,
Polymorphic, anyways,
is an amazing lake?? And Your passion is
tree, agree? Mother's rejoice! tonight The apron was removed
it does
evil, what does evil?
Whose evil?
The bottom left of the page of Kerouac's hymns and poems
wholly
see grey Denmark, America, Sweden
and Berlin
is my character on action?
shade select geologically, "truer,"
specifically, college sweater. Blue scattered dots.
Orange and black, color is a fight for different
two environments, where the mouse together forms another several
lovers, "An act on every internal *****"
to joke,
while we use orange and yellow to engulf us and scatter more blue along
the lives of
Curculio.
Isn't it a Romantic Roman candle?
doesn't matter
Possible nature? More intelligence?
I'm so sorry Emmy.

December 9th 2018
CharlesC May 2020
There is a
Seeming permanence in
Pikes Peak..we see photos
From a century past and
What stood then stands now..
Yet..geologically we are told
The Peak is doomed to crumble
Rendering it's permanency
As temporary..and taking a
Place beside the Lilac..
Readily known as short-lived..
But Nature Herself stands
Proclaiming Her Silence
Within which Peak and Lilac
Enter and depart..

— The End —