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EdVance Apr 2015
This life I lead
These paths I follow
Sometimes run deep
Sometimes grow shallow

All through the muck
And murky mallow
Reveals a dark
Disturbing hallow

From whence it came
Begins again
Alone   Alone
Not nare a friend

I scream to heavens
Holies past
Who curses thee
Whose fist has wrath

With nare a sound
Or slight response
Again begins
My hellish haunt
g clair Oct 2013
twitters and tweets
pictures are sweets
keeping you hooked
on the tabloid elites

just out of bed, hair on his head
matted and messy, way better than said
your public is waiting and verging on vexed
"stay tuned for more selfies",  you casually text.

stand by the mirror and pose for your followers
leading them into the worship of men
drawn to the sight of your bare naked belly
this bowl full of jelly is quaking, and then
this one, her ***, just after the baby
she's worked out like crazy, perhaps she just clazy
spray-tanned and bare butted
tattooed and nare studded
back in the crack but her tact has been share gutted
no worries, it all comes around

in some hotel bathroom you click at your Iphone
like all of the rest of us, yet so alone
trying to snap one both **** and manly
the wife beater t-shirt, the boxers and phone
we can't really blame you, your business, your life quest
but fashion is funny right down to the jewels
both earlobes sport earrings, just like mommy dearest
whatever your pleasure, some little girl drools
and she scantly clad there, for all of her viewers
could not give a **** about "ahhers" or "ew'ers"
but don't stop, you're on top and making your money
and laughing right back, since we're also quite funny

we once wore our hair all pulled up or with mullet
thought no one was laughing, we knew we were cool
and now all the stuff which we wore gone forever
or passed off as costume, just vintage, old school
where somebody bought it from some smelly thrift shop
and wore it again with a sense of true style
the polaroid pictures we took at the bus stop
that camera is back and will be for a while

Stand at the mirror and smile for your camera
not really getting that folks can be odd
some are perverted, while others disturbed
and still others are cranky and smelling like cod.

Someday you'll grow up, a mommy or daddy or maybe
a granny once shaking her *****
or maybe a pop-pop
and scoff a their moptop
and laugh with your grandkids
it  all comes around.
KorbydAngyle Jul 2020
The totality of a stare, their for changing life's bitter holds
My theory that we all are seekers is an ex-stressor of  unwitting changes
voiceless changing clanging colds
Now a life this life has execrated all of your dreams
You and I cure the ice    to satisfy the demons the night   but it grows warmer I warn thee
Devious power and burning nights.. who is of the dead?
Devious powers all is quite right..  I am inside your head
Uncalled for searing this justice holy tower you're turret nare an arrow sent
And when the future holds  against our bonds untold a world with forms reached out only to allow an ever changing destiny..
Then I shall cry out a theory for them a theory untold
Devious fires powers of the night Don't question the order do as your told
Fleece of the stripeless tiger nears telling all of us of the powers of doom
and your life is speaking slashing shshsh turn to dust soon you'll be through
If again you make this plea don't try to be the same as the one who turned to me
For within you are gone and in your mind we are all keepers but this is not wrong
I am turned putrid and this procures the storm
unworthy yet with this answer land  will fall soon and shed this life for demons and right   hurt eyes skin  lips and all
Devious powers burning in the nights of the undead
You called out the scarring the twist of the unsent
Then I shall cry out a theory for them a theory untold
Devious fires powers of the night Don't question the order do as your told
Played by the fame then went a force of Satans wings ornate of diamonds and led
When the theory of theories is finally told the solving and the puzzle is an ultimate theory untold
Drafting and waning your demeanor a field of wrought with a killing and blight
Into a dark horizon one hand awakens as certainty puts up a fight
Then I shall cry out doubting you'd ever listen to me
Then I'd cry for us as the devout for the theories untold is ever our destiny
Then I shall cry out for a theory for them a theory untold
Devious fires powers of the night Don't question the order do as your told
theory untold is about struggle for might and strength hidden that one should know is a theme all persons can experience or enable
PETTY POET Jun 2020
/NI LIFE/
Sometimes mi hu-wrong nikijaribu ku-correct,na mi si perfect so daily niko  kwa  risklt ya ku-loose vitu ata  nili-collect,so we skiza hii  tune,yeah ofcourse hii tune si  unajua mali safi zi huzinduliwa June.Pingu za maisha nishanunua shoneni vitenge juu nazifunga soon.

Samahani,back then kudish kwa sahani kwangu ilisound kifahari,world yangu ilikuwa so untrue na mauongo ki-kanyari,kupata kwangu then ilisound ka monkey kuonekana kalahari,nyi mkinyonga tai zangu nabaki ni  nyoka nanyonga,ni  saa  nane  usiku nikiexhaust my poetic pen igeuze words ziwe dishi,DJ akiscratch ilikuwa opportunity ya kuflow nayo  na mistari haziishi,mtaa 1960 ndio iliniwai courage ya kusimama mbele ya mahater nikiwashow hii mwaka haiishi meza moja na nyinyi tudishi.

Mi hu-acknoledge power ya sir God jo juu ya kuniblessia creativity tangu pre-unit,usitafte amani  bila unity certificate ya kugraduate from petty poet to plenty of poems nikailaminate na case ya glass,after kuchoma kuna wasee nilianza nao na siko nao  si  zao ziliwashow wako "high" class,hii  dunia ni ya God so ka unaplan downfall yangu jua success naiwai a thousand times plus.

Hii sanaa  mi hufanya si  rahisi,ata ka Nadia na kalikuwa kashaa tamba ilibidi ameitisha maombi,ka si Sunday siogi,mi nimezoea kula jasho yangu that's why unaskia nikiongea sh*t that is stinky.

So ukihustle na biz ya kuuza charcoal jua ***** hands zi hukuwa sign ya clean money,na since muka aende silent mi ndio nimekuwa nikiwasha nare kwa stage bila lyta,mi ndio nimekuwa nikijua mbona mapema ye hurauka.Hii time short nimekuwa hapa nilikuwa na blessings za mama no wonder sijastammer,ka nimekubamba scratch kwa tenje uniseti...stage ndio home na sijaplan kuhama.
-P€TT¥PO€T ✍️
©2020.
Michael King Apr 2018
When I was just a little lad,
with nare a scratch on me.
I climbed up high but lost my grip,
and fell out of the tree.

I fell so long, and so **** hard,
I bust my head up good.
I landed in a thorny bush,
and lay there in the blood.

The neighbour she rushed to me quick,
and grabbed me in her arms.
She called her man to start the car,
to save me from the harm.

She drove the road, like kings of old,
within her bent up car.
Her husband looking back at me,
and at the future scar.

They drove me to the A and E,
the nurses rushing round.
The doctor came and checked me out,
and this is what he found.

'This lad is fine', said he to they,
'Just stop him climbing trees.
He's barely bruised his noggin there,
and slightly scratched his knees'

The neighbours they looked so relieved,
they took me to my place.
My ma and pa were happy then,
to see my broken face.
PMc May 2019
At the risk of overdoing it, I find myself thinking about you again
Summers are gone, and as days fly by
soft evenings, curtains drawn
won’t give way to fireplace warmth
time and distance are the nare-sayer yet again.

At the risk of losing my sanity, I find a quiet coffee corner that hasn’t given way to gas station convenience.
The wifi-lessness forces pen to page in hopes of finding
the inner me to reach out
to upper you, when headspace gives way to life-changing, life-long decisions
about the kids, the car, the commute, the kitchen cupboards, the commitment
the chaos

At the risk of underdoing it, you plan with military precision every last detail of your move
Each fateful false move joined and re-joined
as you would lose puzzle pieces

At the risk of losing it all, you won’t have the time to work on a proverbial “we”
There is no “we” to re-join
so it can’t be overdone
you deny the “we” never was.

At the risk of losing what might be “we” entirely, my pen and paper dictate that
now is not the time to pursue such matters,
whatever “we” is or will be, will have to wait

as will your puzzle.
HSH Mar 2018
A~
A sky view tells of the infinite, our place is nare what we expect it.
A new creation revealed beyond, far from earth
each sector doesn't seem as big, even hovering beneath you,
everything fits like pieces to pieces.
Above the clouds it feels natural to be,
fortelling where you land.
I knew i never wanted to settle
when the view amid looked as so.
Not missing another moment to miss out on this.
Why stay in one place?
KorbydAngyle Sep 2022
Dancing and singing , on crystal toes
The fears are not gaudy the denials are not nare' aired by foes
Inside closest wheels of times spent and thoughts amalgamate
The spinning of virtues and the reclamation of virtue against hate
Dearest royalty these years we have shared in Sovreign disguise
For the valiant effort to live for betterment of all was posed as yours and mine
Together we acquired photos losing never a wonderous wealth of  thoughts to pass beyond our surface perimeters
As the vast driving honor passed between us, betwixt our souls and was made uncalloused for all to hear
Give me this notion to bless the day
As all dwell on the Heavens forthwith
That our eternal queen shall ascend and together her and I stay
What grandeur she represented, yet in passing her memory remains!
Daan Jul 14
Wat is het nu dan, brein?
Waarvoor wil je gewaarschuwd zijn?
Andermans oordeel, iets vergeten?
Iets niet kunnen? Iets niet weten?

Soms is het de drukte die te parten speelt
en ons idee erover, dat het teveel zou kunnen zijn
terwijl grenzen dun en met iets minder je jezelf
al rap verveelt.

Hoofd, ik versta wel waar de alarmen van blijven komen.
Maar blijven alarmeren op zichzelf, bluste nooit
het vlamgewelf uit je nare dromen.
en gesproken.
Ik hoef niet naar die bange wezel te luisteren.
30/04/24
Dennis Willis Sep 2020
Can I sustain
what do we want to sustain
in lyrical
s machina s

A death or a deep
love i've been taught
are necessary to the nare
narrative the money

of threads  i'm grasping
am i part of the weave
ing am i part of the weave
not to repeat myself am i

— The End —