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Mark Penfold Sep 2018
The Pigeon Gent,
He woos and coos around the river bent.
Pursues his muse with artful dance and skillful prance,
With inflated neck and ruffled plumage, until his energy or luck is spent.
He then resides by ebbing tides to ponder on his next advance.

"Now Now", "Whats This" the gent exclaims,
A shadow looming from the skies.
With ***** and claps he glides and lands with  full surprise,
He spies the intruder, "A fellow Brooder".
Pigeon gent cant believe his eyes.

Pigeon Gent cannot believe the sauce,
The scurge seems intent on taking his prize by force.
At once he knows he must respond,
And force this illbread vagabond to abscond.

At once chest puffed and muscles flexed,
With wild eyes he jabs and pecks.
To teach this ruffian respect,
So on his actions he may later reflect.
He stands his ground both large and proud,
To make example of this foul winged burglar from the clouds.

"You insult me sir" he shouts aloud,
To make his intentions clear for all the crowd.
For several rounds they fight and scuffle.
With intruder retreating, feathers ruffled.

Then bested suiter fairly parted,
The quarrel ends as fast as started.
The vanquished victor displays and grooms,
As peace and honour now resumes.

Soon the ripples upset the green,
An armada of ducks come on the scene.
Alerted by the heightend coos,
They race to see what act insues.

The mighty mallards, Kings of the river,
None contest their right of way.
Their ways of conduct such generous givers.
Majestic river royalty, the law is always what they say.

On bank or shallow pebbled river they have always been,
They love to feed and breed amongst the river scene.
There royal cape made up of browny reds and shimmering greens,
reflects and intejects on mirrored water skies and evergreens.

To their mates for life and lady lovers,
The mallard gent is like no others.
Such loyalties are seldom seen,
In modern times and different dreams.
Fine and lean with striking features,
Best examples of river teachers.

But at any moment no matter how abrubt,
A river duel may easily erupt.
Battle can ensue and rage,
As both apponents approach and engage.
For they mate for life as duck and wife,
A rarity in any age or life.
Alaina Moore Jan 2019
Eye lashes brase my brow with a flash of awareness.
Of gravity, of heart rate, with fading memories of mental images and sinking in reality.  
Argument insues among the self
"why do I have to get up?"
"I don't know the ******* answer, just get up."
It goes on repeat.
Get up, get up, get up.
Frozen in the warm sheets and safe feeling that just barely lets the pressure fade.
"Why can't I stay in the twilight of REM and awake where my body is light doesn't hurt and my mind has solace?"
"I don't know, just get up."
Get up, get up, get up.
This feeling has lost me GPA points
and this feeling has cost me jobs.
Place my hands on my chest and streach out my legs.
Rip away from the fetal position and complement myself relentlessly.
Get up, get up, get up.
"You're okay" I wisper as though the echo will ensure it's truth.  
Deep breathing to irratic breathing to controled breathing.
Rise, wash, repeat.
Get up, get up, GET UP.
Rip the sheets off like a bandaid and immediately stand.
Run to the warm shower.
Pretend it's rain and back to deep breathing.
Complement what a great job I'm doing, getting out of bed, not even crying.
How proud I should be I'm taking care of myself - by taking a shower.
A basic Target pattern, fortress of solitude.
Consumed in the hot artificial rain drops I find another fleeting moment of solace.
Deep breathing, "you're okay."
Let the water run over my shoulders until it turns cold.
Dry off in the shower, take advantage of the ignored greenhouse gas - bask in the humidity.
Look into my dark eyes in the mirror, and ask questions. And hope they are good that day.
When the rain comes rushn in
the deceivers will drown in
a pool of their own festuring sin

Crushed and hushed of true emotion
watching the brainwash box of vision
dictating life void of confusion

Conditioned eyes judge then pry with ego pride
emotionally faceless lost in the timelessness
of deep dark spaceness

Chase this
Pace this
Hit this
Miss this
Kiss this
Think of this
Love this and
Embrace this

The path X comes once every 36
when the Nephilim return for their brew
youd better know what to do when chaos insues
Luna Marie Jun 2017
Your calloused fingertips
Carresed the inside of my thighs.
They navigated around my hips,
As pleasure was signified by drawn out sighs.

The room was covered in dark hues
As you land soft kisses unto my skin.
Heavy breathing insues,
Inflaming the desire within.

As you were kissing my neck,
You gave a quick bite.
Smiling, you said sorry,
I was gifted Love's mark that night.
Thank you for taking care of me through everything and being someone who loves me for being me. You've given me something to smile about everyday, but you don't even know it J:)
Brynn S Nov 2018
Set
Death is my decision
Not theirs

They act oblivious to what I scream
Each words spun in reverse to the next morning

Silence
It slithers down halls
Devouring my mind
Slowly consumes
Rage insues
Chanting the same words
Barely breaching the skin
Each voice a hum
Rotted of sin

Take my life
Do not give it back
Signal the archways
Mask the stone crack

Hopefully hopeless
Nothing will last
Each word a distant
Each promise resistant
As mourning rises
The sun sweeps a day
Returning to rain
Wash the blood away
Heavy Hearted Mar 29
Three
chests heave-
in the dark,
Breathing throughout
Each exhale.
The soundscape
adopts
a sleepers tone;
As
the clock's
      Tick tock,
Counting each second;
Becomes infinite-
The midnight's
metronome
Insues...
"What we've become is the price we've paid to get what we used to want".
Raven M Coulter Aug 2013
They lie there,
Still,
Never moving.
Nothing is said from either side,
And even though the world,
Stops,
The silence is so loud.
So many conversations are taking place,
Theirs, their peers, and so many judgements.
Questions arraise and fear sets in,
The "what if's?",
The "What to do's?",
The "Hows?" and the "Whys?"
Especially the "What will happen's?"
All fill the one room and the bed they share.
They don't stray from each other,
Because they know that now they only can depend on one another.
When the silence breaks.
The only words spoken,
"I'm sorry",
Then "I love you",
And finally "Are you going to leave me?"
So many possible options and back up plans
The tears begin and the seriousness insues.
They're both equally at fault,
Both needing more than they have.
And for some reason and no reason at all,
The love is enough.
It makes the fear and the judgements seem elementary.
Love sheds light and a whole new situation,
Not an issue but the love of a new perspective.
Family,
One of their own.
But are they ready?
No one thinks so.
Too soon, too young
Naiive and dumb.
But who are people to judge what they don't understand.
It's love not lust,
It's a whole new plan.
Nick Jan 2019
The rage that swills,
The calm that falters,
Ever do the emotions alter,
Mad one minute,
Sad the next,
Daring to be vexed,
Depression rolls in,
On a stormy cloud,
Making it hate the crowd,
Petty problems all around,
Nobody's love to be found,
Chaos insues,
Emotions misused,
The mind strains,
Inner conflict reigns,
Clouds of doubt circle high,
While you just stand by,
Looking in,
Wishing I could be out,
Heard enough of this clout,
Need to feel,
But I rant,
They say let go,
But, I can't
Let me know what you think.
One nut bob Jan 2018
Head on, it's what we're told in the face of disaster. But I'm cold with hate and it's directed at her. My brain. Its I’m not sane It'ts not plane  I can't explain, I'm not a master. It's indiscretion in concept, but I have fears that bring me tears, and I'm innept. I try cut it out with shears. I know it's wierd, but a ***** came loose, though I'm not made of gears. I've been Stuck here for years. I'm a puppet of emotions I can't choose, taking drugs to confuse my nervous system blues. I need warmer colors and soon before this depression insues.
If I could do only delay they hatred to accomplish a sort of holy idea of what love was to be
Sin Nov 2015
The clatter of hoofs upon the cobble streets
Fog hanging in the air bitter sweet
Another night a good time girl
Lays down with organs out

Screams of panic hit the air
London town is now aware
That he is on the prowl again
Who is next to be slain

Is it Mary Anne, or Mary Jane
He knows the others died in pain
At the hands he weilds his butcher tools
Sawing cutting that insues

Darkest cloak is worn with glee
And shadows hide the misery
Of ****** of old London town
Butchered by a devilish sound

But who is this Jack of deaths trade
Who sneaks about with his blade
Hungry for another taste
Of girls that make love in haste
Colm Mar 2019
When the inevitably of the morning wakes
And anger insues
At the realization that life did take
Just to catch yourself on another day
That is when you need most to praise
Since all has being has been created
Thorns and all
In a beautiful way
Perspective

— The End —