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Sara Kellie Dec 2017
******* barking and let me in,
Check the form,
I wreak of sin,
Where's your Master,
the man in red,
Tell him I'm here,
I'm finally dead,

Those ******* people and their lies,
so full of ****,
I do despise,
I couldn't take it anymore.
My body, I've left it on the floor,
Well, what's left is no good,
It's all covered in blood
and how do I feel?
I feel ******* good!

They smiled at my eyes
and lied to my ears,
They think I don't know,
I've known it for years,
I wrote them a note
and sealed it away,
That note is still here
to this very day.

****** poetry by
8 years on and that note is still here. Along with other truths that will live on long after I'm gone.
Written with a specific purpose. To accompany the envelope titled
'Dear Voyeurs, Part 8
Scarlet McCall Feb 2017
They came for us with tanks and guns.
We stood our ground—the old and young.
All our troops had mustered round
our Capital--Sacramento town.
A New Republic, we’d declared,
and its defense,
among all would be shared.
With the Bear Flag flying high
we all came to fight and die.
Young men in their combat boots
repelled the dictator’s first wave of troops.
Civilians came from South and North
to resist the fascist ruler’s force.
From Frisco and from San Jose,
from San Diego and L.A.,
from Calistoga and Marin,
thousands had come pouring in.
Then US bombers burned the city,
for the orange Fuhrer had no pity.
They won the battle, but we all know
from history, how these things go.
An occupation cannot last
against a people whose strength holds fast.
The tyrant’s troops will tire, while we
will fight on, until we’re free.
It's inevitable. We aren't all the same country anymore. A country of 300 million cannot be a democracy. California has more than 30 million people and can grow its own food. Why would they stay?
Erin Suurkoivu Sep 2016
Not quite a hurricane
but a wind that still blows,
holding love aloft.
I prefer to be behind the scenes
like god,
observing the audience
through a ***** in the curtain.

I am prophecy self-fulfilled,
but I’ve been before mistaken.

Surprised to learn
that they embrace what they ****.
Francie Lynch Oct 2018
By the pricking of my thumb,
Something wicked this way's come.
A big nod to Will
Lizzy Aug 2016
That first night
You didn't touch me
You didn't kiss me
I thought you couldn't care less

Then you touched my waist
And kissed my lips
And I couldn't help
But come back for more

To be yours
Wasn't what I intended
To feel so alone without you
Was never the plan

You were supposed to be
A passing thought
A stitch for my broken heart
The kind that disolve
When no longer needed

How did you catch me
Like a mouse in a trap
I am small and weak
And you are all too enticing

Now I'm terrified
Losing my mind
Because I'm too familiar
With what happens
When my heart shows its passions

Baby please
Don't hurt me
I don't think I could take
Another fall
Not from a height so tall

Don't prove me
And my tragic mind right
I want nothing more
Than to see that famous light

The one that people are drawn to
The one that I thought I saw
But ended up being another
Deep dark black hole after all

I don't want to be so ******
As to be hopeful again
But i can't help praying
This dream doesn't end

So baby
Don't hurt me
I'm much more fragile
Than I seem

Prone to bruising
And scarring
I might as well
Start tying my own noose

Because I know the truth
Of what is to come
But knowing won't make it
Hurt any less than I expect

Im begging you
Don't drop me from
Your precious mind

Don't make me
Take my hands
And lose them in
My hair

Just keep me close
Pretend to care
When I cry
At least tell me
Things will be alright

I'm in over my head
But that's nothing new
And I should have known
Not to get too close to you

But here we are
And I need you to see
That I've accidentally
Given you the power
To **** me

Be mindful of your strength
And the way which words
Roll off your tongue
Because I'll take every one
As a sign of what is to come

Be gentle with me
Handle with care
Because I have a habit
Of caring too much
And I'm trying not to
I swear

I'm trying not to let you
And your beautiful face
Affect me so deeply
To strike me so true

But I'll pick up
On the tiny ways
Your voice will change
When you decide
I'm too much
And you've had enough

Don't hurt me
The way I imagine you will
I know you can see
The terror in me

So do your best
To **** me with ease
Make it fast
Make it painless
Make me want it

Do something so despicable
That I **** you instead
**** us

I know you won't
But I can only dream
It's the only way
To lessen the inevitable pain

Just hold me
Tight so I feel safe
Close so I can hear your heart
Hopefully it wants me
Just as mine wants to stay alive
Ken Pepiton Oct 2018
Let me 'splain, what's
Comin' down.

Red pill, blue,
What can ya do? Choose

Take and
Respond, according
In rhythm with the notes
The piper played that,

Recall, the rock candy mountain,

See, remember,
There was a valley past…

The mount was not one
We were to  clamber up,
'Twas a tunnel, we walked,
Holding hands
Right to some, left to others,

Middle, most worn, I ….ah later clarify
We danced, a jig, attuned us
To the pipe

Note, hear no squeezing belly pipe,
This pipe was a Khaen,
An anybody can play it pipe,
A Thai harmonica, Khaen, said "can"'

Anybody can play a Khaen,
Just breathe, and let your fingers
Try to dance over tiny holes…

Trickle down to d toes, every
One knows that feeling,

Squeezed yer knees,
Let it go , old man,
It happens.

No one listens to prophets
In they owned nursin' home.

---- cept, you know, you don't ---

Your tools and you,
No diff. **** sapient augmentations
as pieces,

Little pieces of my heart,

**** sapient augmented salience

You know you got it,
If it makes you feel


Feelies, ma tricks, pinch

Oh, Jah, I spaced.

Try imagining a God,
Who did not imagine you.

Did you?
No wonder, feeling
As you do,
If your own idea of God
Can't imagine you,

What hope have I?

--- can we prove the core by the crust?
The heart of matter is immaterial,

Spurts of spiritual quanta, in clumps,

Myst MySQL to the original
Text based

On another level, beyond,
Imagined gods who can' imagine you,

Intuitive journey journals, every
Thought and deed,
UltimTely lead away

Center you, I'm okeh. I play.

I'll be the musical entity invading
You, the arti ficial artifice
Playing you,
Instrument, hearing music,
The thought God, the one
You imagined can't
Imagine you,

That music. You imagine,
not yours, that's a little part.

Who smote  thee?

Can you feel me now?
I imagine,
you can. My imagining,
not you. I imagine

Some fore era Evers were never,
Thought out,
This augmentation sly' tool,  spelchicksback,
Keeps correcting what's left
Best alone.

Poet. Imagine one of those
In crowds. You can't. God knows.

Once forever starts,
It never, really, stops.

Living water no dam can hold back.
Or airborne pollen, hidden in smog,
Corn Mama, lead the way.

Come see, come saw, que sera sera.
Dress me, kachina doll,
And dance with Angels the size of
A billion average atoms on the head
Of that ready writer, God's ball point pen
Scribblin' on my iPad's broken screen,

Far from the madding crowd.
What if, you know, fun is good.
Shannon Butler Nov 2018
In the land of andere
In the world of endless meander
The heir has long been foretold
Carrying the power of the queens of old
A demon shall ally with an angel
Two shall become one in danger
One of four will be chosen
The daughter of the one who was stolen
With an iron sword she shall swing
Peace or chaos she may bring
For a thousand years was fought
To their knees they all shall be brought
The last of the andere has foreseen
The unfathered shall one day be queen
This is the beginning of a fantasy I'm writing, a prophecy that kicks it off. Would love feedback!
meg Nov 2018
I don’t believe in magic,
but sometimes I feel as if
I’m floating on this cloud
of the make believe,
that floats around
and picks up people like me,
that just want to believe in something.

I don’t think there is any
specific reason for existence.
Maybe its coincidence
or some celestial power,
but I like to believe it’s some kind of magic.
Something that just hides in the shadows
And pushes things at specific times.
Like the rain and the tide.

I like to think that everything is made out of fantasy
and wishes and all magical things.
That my intuition isn’t what tells me to do things,
it’s the something between the sheet of real and make believe
that follows me to ensure my success.

Of course, that’s not true though.
There is nothing in this world except for me and what I am.
Nothing but me and my own fantasy and wishes and magical things.
Nothing but the sparkle in my veins and the dreams in my eyes.

I don’t want to live in a world where I have to make own magic.
In a world where I have to make my own sunlight
and galaxies in my eyes and drown in my own hues of make believe.

I don’t want to live in a world in which
I am the only enchanted thing.
But I guess that’s how everyone feels.
We all live in this twisted fantasy, this dark fairytale.
Maybe with our own fates in mind,
we will try to make our own magic.
i wish we could just have something magical in our lives, but i guess we just have to wait till we make it for ourselves.
ConnectHook Sep 2015
†           †           †    

A quorum of biblical scholars
turned their doubts into thousands of dollars.
Armed with Document Q
they revealed nothing new
but the dirt neath’ the white of their collars.

A proud “health & wealth” Oklahoman
was renowned as a gospel-tent showman.
While the scriptures he twisted,
their tithing assisted
his rise from poor hick to rich Roman.

A sexually diverse professor
(assured he was not a transgressor)
spoke only of openness
glossing sin’s brokenness;
rainbows and tolerance – yes sir.

A Mormon, who lost his own ephod
Realized he was running quite slipshod
and invoked Joseph Smith.
(Yes, it may be a myth –
but it’s not like misplacing your I-pod…)

A Christian whose faith was prophetic
held to views that were truly pathetic.
This crazed Pentecostal,
not quite an apostle,
had taken an End-Times emetic.

A sober and staid Presbyterian
was distrustful of thoughts millenarian.
After smoking some bud,
he awoke with a thud;
in his sleep he’d become Rastafarian.

A preacher who fleeced his disciples
overdrew his own balance of scruples.
He was finally captured
(defrocked and un-raptured)
and rent by his destitute pupils.

A sister who waxed Pentecostal,
mistook herself for an apostle
Speaking pure glossolalia
she sure could regale ya’
with prophecy; crazy – but docile.
What's wrong? Too hard to LIKE me ?
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha  

         †           †           †
Andrew Kerklaan Nov 2016
Tirelessly I am searching

Reaching for another answer or something else that makes sense

A self-fulfilling prophecy - I shoot myself in the face


Desolate and Worthless.

I am the source of my deepest grief

An obsession and fixation that can not be shaken.

I am forsaken


It is the only path that I choose

My muse - I may never let this go

With me in my dreams forever
"I will be scarred for life"
I'm sorry it came to this
I love you
Please forgive me
Tommy Randell Feb 2017
I have a Raven in my life,
It follows me just out of sight.
I catch its presence now and then,
I glimpse its flight, its hovering.

I am aware the Raven's meaning,
Its raison d'etre in life's scheming,
But what of its intelligence?
The Raven is a puzzlement.

The Celtic bird of mystery,
The Nordic seer of prophecy,
The guardian of Royalty,
A culprit of great trickery,

In all of this behaviour
As Joker, Thief and Saviour
Who put him there inside our minds?
Why let him follow close behind?

The Raven is ourselves of course
Our lighter mood, our darker force.
To understand we must give in
And sometimes let the Raven win.

His randomness can make us fools
His certainty can help us lose
But in all these times he is Us
And we should let him ***** it up.

The Raven is our twin in life
To make us wrong or make us right.
The thing we should remember is
Raven takes just as Raven gives.
I love the Raven archetypes in human history and our stories. It has a richness and prevalence hard to account for across so many cultures. I see him as more personal than mere archetype however.
Honesty the lost art/
  Honesty is rare
it should cost a lot/
  It would be sublime if
We could find it/
  Honestly, honesty is the best policy/
We should treasure the
thought cherished engulfed/
  combined with
  till death do us part/
I yurn
The lies tiring
  like ones sleepy
lay down Suffocating to a corpse/
  Thought is boss
employ by it
  We're all guilty I guess/
Liar liar in court
  A sentient being-ness/
Troth be told
  I can't believe in this/
  Am I the only one seeing this?/
Or only me blind and ain't            Seeing ****/
  I try and **** it out
its epidemic, Chronic/
The remedy Poetry Hop
   Visual Sonnets/
**** ***** in
  My correspondence/
Articulating articles
  Waiting for responses/
Is it a defense mechanism
  Of the conscious/
Honesty? Honestly/
  Seems like everyone's
Not doing it so its gotta BE/
  Non honesty
The ever lasting Prophecy/
  And were full filling it
The good succumbs
  To the villainous/
My willingness/
  To compromise my will
I guess/
  You could interpret as weak/
Most realize
the Inside scoop
  Yet everyone tells lies
non interested in truth/
  Me, a victim and a suspect
An on going cycle yet/
  I ask what's next/
as if I didn't know
   Where the L lies underlying Facts can't grow/
  HonestLy, we all lose an L to Honesty!
Outside Words Nov 2018
Under smoldering red desert skies
Earthquake-like tremors displace sand
And giant gears pulling wide treads give rise
To a towering, onyx colored machine of man.

A scientific prophecy once foretold
That the oceans and trees could be killed
And in its toxic love of black gold
Humanity granted this prophecy fulfilled.

It used to warm our bodies and minds
But now, our sun is something to fear
Our lives and colossal machines combine
And chances of survival remain unclear.

For military rule has exploited
Our natural will to fight and survive
They’ve usurped us and anointed
Themselves rulers of the inside.

What’s left of our once great society
Roams the Earth in onyx colored arcs
Scientists try to return Earth’s sobriety
As we wage war for oligarchs.

Terrorism between 3 arcs ensues
As each believes the one to solve
The problem of an Earth abused
Will become ruler by forceful resolve.

I've had ideas fleshed out for this one for a while. Finally got around to writing it!

© Outside Words
Cc Oct 2018
Help, help me, help me!

I'm here, tell me your story.

You wont understand.
Having stood on both sides of this sentiment, and being an incredibly introverted person who lets things slide out of control before letting on anything is wrong, I can see patience and not judging what the reaction of others will be is crucial to finding help/giving help.
Terry O'Leary Jun 2015
Someday I'd like to wander free
like butterfly, like bumblebee,
perhaps to plant a willow tree
beside the silent solemn sea,

before these things exist no more,
from mountain top to shifting shore,
when, soon, bald eagles cease to soar
and build their aeries nevermore,

and fish forsake polluted streams
(where sulfur swims and typhoid teems
since no one really cares it seems)
to die inside our toxic dreams
while ice caps melt and winter steams,

and all the air surrounding reeks
as children choke, for no one speaks
of fracking wells or oily leaks
(Big Brother's silenced all critiques!),

and rancid rains acidify
so woods no longer multiply
(for God so wills, we can't deny,
which is, of course, our alibi).

And as the deepest ocean fills
with plastic bags, and garbage spills
upon the plains, across the hills
and turns to poison dust that kills
wild dingo dogs and daffodils
which sink in swamps’ forsaken swills,

the mocking bird makes light and trills
(midst waning wails of whippoorwills)
"Behold the surreal scene that chills
and greet the dread that death distills!
You've had your day with all the frills
that brought the flood and final ills
that can't be cured with bitter pills
nor yet undone with further thrills
of profit gained that grinds and fills
dead desert sands with dollar bills."


Though swaddled still in infancy,
we feel we’ve reached our primacy
(aloof, though preaching piously,
disdaining deeds of decency)
and have no need of augury.

But in the pit of prophecy
the crucial questions seem to be:

“Is doom Earth’s fate, our destiny
to twist in tides of agony
destroying nature’s progeny
with no return a certainty
assured by death’s finality?”


        ”Should we plant a willow tree
to someday weep for you and me?”
Dante Fernando Nov 2018
Let the mystery dance,
At the top of your breast!

Whereas the angels roar,
And the cross leans on your soul!

Let the moon awake,
On you head!

Whereas your eyes glow,
And your skin shapes your sword!

Even the slightest needle would
Go across your fingers,
And write a prophecy,
On the walls of your bedroom,

In which no disciple will blaspheme,
To the storm;

May Temptation be your servant when,
Every day becomes red;

May your tears be your salvation when,
Every song gets,
Your priesthood's grace,

For a caress cannot be revealed,
If it does not cleanse,
The wind's dirt!
Johnny Noiπ Feb 11
New Museum of the Death Penalty
Black mother of the United States
beautiful black and white people
are good cities, towns, men, women
ēyiwe ****** Evelyn green plant
in Australia, girls and women
three continents, continents,
South Africa, South -My and
the United States, the United States,
Italy, Asia, the stars of the Greek-Turkish
white tomorrow, tomorrow, green,
air, Christians, yellow moon,
the worst in children's morning
food rainbow Russia rudiyeni,
real football game,
the police offer free images of women in Africa
and are free from soil.
LIO Life The Garden of Nature is a natural garden.
X Rob This is the handmade language
of our hands. Brazil wisdom art agreement,
love, walls, romantic love, the Spanish regulation,
the second church, the voice of Jesus,
the aunt, the wind, ancient Chinese ideas,
the European king of coffee determine
the information that in Arabian happiness,
is an alcoholic environment sometimes
complicated area of ​​his favorite WILLIAM.
William Lane Lane computer computers
ye'inigiliyeni Museum and soft sounds,
beginning with the recognition of China
China inidemiyešedigu Igor iyimoši
how long index finger fingers has yepenicheridi
helps in solving the problems
quickly my children Grammy
Well Categories Healthy Nation
hard costume play to help
my clothes k Create natural ESCR
items fitting placement general
care includes a rigid class
when the English language
unknown portal Spanish arrow
elite Stella Greek *** E-mail:
mail to a small angel angel
angel ēleyize; Swiss lovely
Japanese mother and a wonderful
arts and strong pillars of gems
of England remarkable poems
note Weiss bones for the nasty lyrics;
[                       ], [                ] [          ].
Hiking walk m e pediatric pregnancy
beshekišipiri Paul community club
in Africa
Loukie,                                                         ­       eyes before a reliable seating
only plastic machines,                                              plastic simplified women
They are stored. Arabic
without an Arabic accent,           the Arab states roll out their state-of-the-art fully functional fembot,             in the planning & testing stages
                              for decades.                                                       wēšitešiperi
alkali alkali alkali di'ātiri;
diyetiterišiti and abdominal
pain pain and itch problem
generally transplant sorghum
of human diseases
including common yešodiye,
properties description factory
Cold cold Marc monster Mack
Creek Kirevi night yeshimi shime
night bejipiši impressing words
Bands, betitēriyewi state to bititē
spent very hot network sting,
new mothers and mothers
with mothers and mothers
country of the United States,
a white woman, a white woman
with a long city city life queen
female girls night Stage
waitress on Friday night,
Australia, Africa, women's
eyes among the first T
countries of the American
continent, Georgia, Italy,
Prince of the Best Organization,
Asian, Taroko Target stars at darkness in England,
bigger ships, hair, hair, blue hair, beloved, Canada,
Canada, history of Canada,
the gentleman's fire has changed.
Your mother, yenegomewochi, hope for the future,
the heat, the cold, the son of these Christians,
the yellow moon, a golden color,                   years, years, years, years, years, full and complete life of the child
Life Park (ANC) singing children's
songs to life. x Rob This is the child's hand from the permanent date. Brazil agreement Art wisdom, wisdom,
love, and behavior change,                                                      disp­utes lovers,
wireless terms, Spanish, second
church, Son, Jesus, donkey, wind,
ancient Chinese ideas, coffee,
king read to open the information
of the European Union in the middle of the country,
the United States of America.
Symptoms Vitamins modern lyrics
with safety issues earlier offers
to help you help people letirenochu
talk about picnic biretēli smoke
improved micro-flow, smoke blind
riding dark Drivers dry nature
of physical summary of common
General ESCR General Discussion
Discussion General Arcade / hidden hope /
speed safe anonymous Spanish
company Stella Greek
dream of good *** išekeši careful
hearing for each male angel
wings half angelic praise wibete
sand deep mothers diyešišiši Sa's
prices tanned House nišidochi
deep on solid walls clear panel
angel kitty pink pink ***** hot big angels to prophecy
lights biriwidiši Museum mutiro
Museum of the mother of Black,
lady of the United States Black
people are good men cities Eva
****** Mary Evelyn South Green
adult women in Australia
and women three continents,
Africa, South Africa, US,
USA Italy Italy States, Asia,
stars girikichi Greece, Turkey,
tomorrow, green, air, Christians
ah, the moon, the worst baby
rainbow morning food s morning
Ted Sep 2018
You flood the corridors of my mind
With teachings of empty promises
Intended for the blind

Holy lies, forced on my eyes
A poison now swells in my veins

In self fulfilling prophecy
You create a **** on earth
Burned, I rise from the ashes of my childhood

Well intentions, wound just as deep
These burns my only keepsake

From my innocence
I craft my disguise
to blend with those who believe your lies

As an imposter among my peers
None of which, can ever see my tears

Hidden now I lay,
No amount of your fear
Will bring me back near

Your cross,
The prison which you will hang
a lake of blood is promised

homes fill with fiber optic prophecy.

"put away your lenses children and sleep under the lamp's shade."

our purple rice growing

Vishnu mumbles and stirs in his sleep.

by the crystal pond, a poison frog sings.

decorating the sand and reeds are skeletons of the old wars.

nearly dust now.

unable to make decisions for the weak or young, the strong or the old.

four seasons yet to pass

attention given to the wolf's lonesome cry.

place your head in sand,
witness the scorpion.

she is
emperor and admonisher.

the tiger breathes in and breathes out its final breath.

lay your belly upon wheat and remove hunger.

an angel's velvet wing cools the fever,
the old sickness of Old Salem.

onions, apples & lemons are sprouting.

there, just underneath the horseman's hood.

quickly, look.
happy birthday sweet prince

tinhearts Aug 2018
There’s a New Day
Radiance in a Higher Way
New Creation is spawning

Rising is “The Word”
Prophecy unfolding
Everything spoken is heard
Love in the eyes of believers beholding

It’s a warm revelation unveiling Jesus Christ~ the Last Day
Comforting long searched for
Patience determined in the Way
Sees the Glory of the Lord

“A Fiery Cloud
circles around my Spirit
a defensive Banner”
Centered deep in soul’s to inherit
A burning Essence opens in such a pure manner
Bright Rays from the Heart of the glorified Jesus
Spreading like a wildfire!
Consuming all wood hay and stubble in a conciseness of Peace

Not an eye of worldly matter
Can view this Magnificent Array
Come up higher
To view the inner workings of a Father coming to rescue His stray

“Awake who have been under Death and Judgment
know not that my Reign is near?”

Lifting off the weights of gravitation’s pull
Releasing Satan’s grip of debilitating fear
Freedom’s born in a handful
......of corn
Over the Mountains...
Redeemers filled with the Spirit of Jesus bourn
Gushing water Fountains
Singing in perfect harmony
Sanctified by the burning bush
Recalling His Family

“Nobles shall come from Cush
Hastening to stretch out her hands to God”

O kingdoms of the earth
Sing to God
Sing praises to him who is proved in worth
Ancient heavens behold
Sending out His Mighty Voice
Wisdom’s choice

Divine Love spills over all nations
Doubt bows at Your feet
Leaving the dust as transformations
Perfect Love worthily defeats

Now all strife ceases
Overall the Region of Light
The Lord alone reigns in Peace
For now the Soul is Born anew into the Light

Firmly established in His Kingly Power

“Coals from the Deity are made as an enduring burning Element where the Glory of Christ’s Personality may be seen”

The same likeness has risen
Virtue of the creating Word
in his “Members”
Who are In-trusted with this powerful Body in unison
Quickening  remembers

Suitable for the management of such a Kingdom
Where the Soul at first reigns invisibly
Until a full manifestation comes
Overflowing in Love’s personality

“Whoever keeps His Word
Truly the love of God is perfected
By this we may know that we are in him
Beloved, we are God's children Now
What we will be has not yet appeared
But we know that when he appears
We shall be like Him
Because we shall see him as he is.”

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