Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Demonatachick Mar 2017
Wastes of space, we the scapegrace, blank expressions, poker face.

You're my ace, ahead in the race, they're second place, a futile chase.

Stakes growing higher like an untamed fire, their inevitable pyre, situations dire.

Those who were bold, i watched their hands fold, those who seemed braver, i watched as they waivered, as they fretted and regretted, i watched their faces fall, like a delicate house of cards, gingerly balanced, standing tall.

But i have nout to fear, for my secret ace is here, hidden up my sleeve, to which i dearly cleave, they all want to believe, as losing's what they fear, but losing's all they'll get, while my secret ace is near.
Scapegrace- a mischievous or wayward person, especially a young person or child; a rascal.
Only those with the wisest minds -the oldest eyes, remember the days of love truly lost.
The woman with the rage speckled iris, the man with the world-heavy curved spine,
Holding aloft thy heads as the wisping breaths of each memory tortures and threatens to crack.
Like mere puppets dangled on a string are they. The heavy ambiguity collapses the lungs,
the heart torn from the cavity from such pure and sheer anguish

that one would think thine eyes had seen many a scorned sky.
But nay.
this is neither scalding storm nor bloodcurling encounter
tis nout but mere consequence
Consequence that comes from tasting the sweet nectar of thy goddess affection;
The honeycombed effect of forged kisses under the stars;
The rippling shudder of the pulses as skin meets skin.
Eyes caressing over mounds and peaks of soft flesh and pray!
My sweet, sweet maria the smell of youngling dew
As one awakens from the deep, soothing slumber that follows
Each blissful frolicking under the devious eye of the tangent sun.
Aye.
Thy beauty is but a hideous monster scarring the vessels of the ventricles as they lay.
But as sure as day and as righteous as the gods are we addicted,
Like fresh salt in a wound after the ****** high.
Pain crashes blindly against the unravelling ribbons of sobriety
Lustfulness takes under like the crash of the star spangled wing on the wave;
And you my wistful lover! My dear maria;
Are the amphetamine to my warped and harrowed heart.
Jemimah Apr 2019
Imagine a world where the volume button was muted,
Where sound had been wiped out,
Where people spoke quieter than a whisper,
Where all you heard was nout.

Imagine a world where birds flew without a sound,
Where dogs didn't growl or bark,
Where the **** didn't ****-a-doodle in the morning,
Where foxes didn't scream in the dark.

Imagine a world where babies cried in silence,
Their tiny giggles went unheard,
Where the first words uttered from a baby,
Was nothing but a written word.

Imagine a world where music didn't exist,
Where dancing and singing's not there,
Nor the tune played on a piano,
Or a merry-go-round at a fair.

A lesson's to be learned within these lines,
It's not a nice one but it's true,
You must always remember, don't ever forget,
This world, one day, may happen to you.
Rhiannon Apr 2016
This unimportant information,
That you seem spread.
You're just like a duck,
Constantly quacking for bread.

You seem to think you're lovely,
But that doesn't seem true.
When I hear the lies you spread,
And all the evil you do.

Other people life's are not your business,
So I think it's best you say nout.
Because your serpent like tongue is causing problems,
So sort yourself out.
Chris Slade Aug 2021
He shares my house…
the mouse.
It’s not the way I planned it.
It’s indiscriminate about where it *****
he eats the corners of all the packaging
all polite protocol he’ll ignore…
I’m afraid from now on it’s down to rodent WAR!

I’ve tried the humane ways
a friendly, humane trap that sits there days
and catches, zero, nothing, zilch, nout
so now we’re getting the big guns out.
I’ve got a set of Little Nippers
So powerful that when they go off
they fly and spin but sometimes
that’s often before they get their snout in or leg off!

He’s skilful, wilful, sneaky… But he does like Peanut butter
so I smear the hair-trigger of the trap with the stuff
and leave it where I’ve witnessed his faeces trail
So I know he’s been around when he’s nicked the bait
the trap still left active… So I’ll put that down as a fail!

Next time you little *******!

— The End —