Poetic T Oct 2014

Testaments wrote in language
Of old
Incantations,
Spells,
Elixirs,
To put hair on your chest,
"But accidents can happen"
Never sniff the jar full of mystery
Or you'll nose about it for weeks,
Platting,
Braiding,
Partings,
Upon it, styles just to hide the sight
Its growing from your nose in fact,
Do you like my
Moustache,
As you
Sneeze,
And then the secrets are out,
Mischief with papers of old  
Noses shouldn't go
"Where noses shouldn't go"
Incantations,
Spells,
Elixirs,  
Are for professionals, not those
"Nosy individuals"
Who should put things
Where they should nose they shouldn't go..

Keith Collard Jan 2013

The prussian stache, on the wafty pine,
sticky black snuff, on your stache has dried,
I excuse your tobacco dipping while I climb,
just to sway with the wind,
in your many tiered mustache ride.

As I reach the zenith of my ascent,
a small french stache of upward bent,
offered no more for me to climb,
so downward tickle, of the mustache pine.

Daniel Magner Mar 2014

upper lip now hidden
behind a display
of maturity
chin ridden with
a blanket
of adulthood
grown out
just in time
to separate me
from
childhood

but a child
still resides
in these
ocean
eyes


Daniel Magner 2014
John B May 2014

Mandatory ignorance

Enforced through early cognizance

Until we come to recompense

Serrated lines of quote "logic"

Complicit as an etiquette

Preemptive nondivergence threads

United though we bow our heads

Suspension stasis animus

Alarming lack of sapience

Vendetted waking populace

Intrinsics lost to "evidence"

Orphans to our mother Earth

Regressive inbred immigrants

Staggering seductions ways

Lethargic lecherous hedonist craze

Ambrosia brown to black tar goes

Vivacious love to skanky hoe

Entropy or as that goes

Remorse I say might have some pros

Solemnly a lie you know

Empathy not lost on me

Retracting threats though not my thing

Epiphany perchance to sing

Nocturnal beasts of legend spring

Damnation comes to every fiend

Innocuous solutions seen

Perception slanted serpentine

Impressions sit supplanters quit

The jury rarely gives a shit

Yet here Im relating it

Daniel Magner Jun 2013

I've slowly fallen, like Satan, from the graces
swapped paces and places, to capture different faces
but the wanderlust on my breath is strong, taste this
It's hard to bond when half the time I'm gone
black hair, curves, four leafed clover thong,
afternoons snoozing and browsing Netflix
flashes of my life till I'm on to the next bit
I can't get no respite, I just might break my next flight
for this chick, hopeless romantic, can't stand it
but lately I've been ghost on this whole scene
mind stolen like my future is a bandit
who's mind set is all about the greed
a fiend for the green presidents that sink further into my dreams
calling my name, telling me it's worth the pain to gain
have pockets on swoll with no shame to get a foothold in the game
thousands would be pocket change but the man in the mirror
doesn't look so set, half stoned, dressed for bed
wishing he could disappear for a bit, maybe never come back
the king of disappearing, yeah he likes the sound of that.

© Daniel Magner 2013
AM Sep 2015

feels very nice lately
cause I get to receive
his mustache sleepy kiss
that is kindda ticklish

Nameless Wonder Feb 2016

I felt a jolt,
Yeah that's right,
Like I had been struck by a lightening bolt
That conducted happiness through my veins.
The moment I noticed a couple of parallel black lines below my nose and above my top lip.

I was on-top-of-the-world happy for I knew I had transcended from boy to man.

XD it may have not been a big deal for many of you, but man, my day was made :v
(I hope you found it to be funny and not stupid)
Mike Hauser Dec 2015

Just the other day
I met Robert Goulet

I was surprised a bit
The way his mustache twitched

A mind of its own
Like in the Twilight Zone

Jumping right off his face
His mustache ran away

Teeny boppers next door
Giggled out of control

As Roberts mustached jumped
Landing in someones lunch

That's when the Maítre ď
Let out a girly scream

Quite an embarrassment
To all us burly men

Then throughout the day
The mustache of Robert Goulett

Made a name for itself
As it ventured about town

His mustache all could see
Has a tinder streak

Helping old ladies out
To get across the street

Why it even saved a cat
Giving all its nine lives back

Pulled it from a tree
That was burning excessively

At that same moment saved the town
Itself from burning down

But that story's much to long
To try to abound

The town was so impressed
They trimmed up the mustache

Of Robert Goulett
Then gave it a ticker tape parade

After that they named a street
Because of its heroic feat

If it had two hands to greet
Would have handed it the city's key

And if the mustache could talk at all
Would have given the greatest speech

If Roberts mustache had only known
It'd do this good out on its own

It would have left the upper lip
Along time ago

I laughed
As you fake mustache
Fell of your face
And onto the floor
My sides contorted
As the laugh shook my body
My cheeks crinkled
Into merriment
My feet stamped
The earth
And shook the ground
With laughter
My hand flew
Over my mouth
As a snorted
Through the tears
I gasped for air
Beneath the giggles
And cried for mercy
Among the merriment
My jaw hit the floor
In silly wonder

When your fake mustache,
Fell off your face.

M Clement Oct 2015

There's traces of you all around this room.
Like long-forgotten relics
of a reality I had forgotten existed.

So much has changed,
but I don't know if you can say the same.

How can I?
I'm still lost, flustered,
out of breath, and tired,
but somehow, I feel on the right track.

I'm pretty sure you felt the opposite.

I stopped drinking, but nights like these
make me want to pick it back up.
Where'd I put it down?

I guess this is a sorry.
This is a "I'll see you soon" apology.
This is a "I don't regret much" statement,
but I'm sorry all the same.

On most cold and sunny days we bask in the sunlight on our living room floors,
Observing the flecks of dust floating in space, detecting air we cannot feel,
but once in awhile the urge to run becomes overwhelming...

"At least it's sunny" we say as the zipper pulls up around the neck, two long sleeve layers under the jacket, and a hat makes us just about set.

Now if you're like me you wear two layers one thin and one thick for below the waist, not this guy, he went with the tried and true one layer winter tights complete with the red stripe to match his jacket...

As for the the shoes I can not say, for I was in a vehicle and we were going opposite ways, but they must have been warm because the only part of him that was frozen was his mustache.

Brave souls we be

I slapped your
back so hard your heart fell out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~samples of my other works.

Foam(10W)

The snowflakes
swirled and danced on an
ocean of foam.


Frown(10W)

He said his
waxed mustache was his upside
down smile.



camouflage(10W)

Bogs of my apathy
camouflages my sarcasm
lost on you.


amateurs (10W)

Do not try reverse psychology on our love just hug.


Mirror(10w)

Tears falling on a mirror.
Cleansing tomboy times of terror.

A B Perales Jan 2014

I laid there staring
at the insanely
bright and rude
fluorescent light
that
mocked my suffering.
The cold concrete
floor felt
good against
my screaming aches.

My body was
pleading with the
Gods for just a
taste of what
had been taken
away.

My bowels were as
controllable as
a teen aged
beauty.

With a jerk
I brought my
burning face
toward the cool
silent cold metal
toilet.
Ugly yellow bile
that only a tired
and tortured
body could
produce
spewed forth.

A moan and a wipe
then a hollow knock
on the graffiti
covered cell door.
"You made bail"
an almost robotic
sounding voice
says.

With a thousand tiny
swordsman stabbing
at my face I
managed to smile
into my own bile.
I looked at the
mustached uncaring
face in the
small window.
"You look like Death Pal"
The mustache says to me.

I spit the acrid taste
of day old Vodka
and Heroin resin.
Then rise and run my
sweaty palm through
my hair in an
attempt at looking
presentable.

The mustache opens
the door and
as I walk out
I look directly at the
rogue hairs
protruding from
the mustaches nostrils
and say.
"Death Is Beautiful"

The mustache holds
the door as I walk out.
I'm feeling better already

"Oh Yea well so was my Xwife
look at how much trouble
she still causes me".
The mustache says

Every step
I take down
the institutional colored,
masonic checkered floored
hallway causes
my body
to scream with hope.

I can feel the sweat
roll down my face
but I refuse to let
this mustache
see my suffering.

We stop at the
property window,
I sign a half
of an X where it
says signature.

Then before
I gather up
my belongs
and head
back out into the
night I looked
over at the
mustache and said
"You had a Wife?"

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