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MJL Feb 23
Diseased turnip
Rooting in the dirt
Rotting fodder
Unpicked
Untapped
Gnarled and bitter
Lying under your bridge
When you are gone
No-one will miss your rancid rag


© 2019 MJL
Mara W Kayh Mar 18
Bitterness is the taste of fiery love grown cold
On a lover's breath

Putrid is the smell of a well worn out fantasy
left hanging in your secret closet

Rancid is the look of unrequited love
On once vibrant lovers' lips

Hardened are the veins of a
desperate old fool
Longing for love

Cursed was the day I let you inside
The exquisite warmth
that is my beating heart
Getting more mileage out of that brief affair.. Because  it was preceded by an over decade long distance friendship , which I miss. Plus, I really really like the guy.. As in love like. . And I don't easily find myself so taken with anyone in that way.....
Andrew Jun 2017
Somewhere in the forest
There is a paradise
Hidden in a circus tent
Blocked by a bramble thicket

There are ways we want to live
And ways we must live
But a spectrum is discovered
When the way we must live
Diminishes the way we want to live
And the way we want to live
Dictates the way we must live

We eat and then ****
Life tastes adequate when we're dining
So we keep feeding
Our appetite becomes insatiable
We devour what opportunity grants us
Ignoring the rumbling in our stomachs
Until we must face the unpleasantness of our waste
Even when we're wise enough to know the effects of eating
We continue eating
Learning minor methods of mitigating damage to digestion
It becomes hard to swallow
That this is all it takes to be human
As humanity's power becomes planetary
Meals turn to feasts
And **** piles up
As the rancid fumes plague us with mental monsters
We yearn for a simpler time
When rations were the size of a sunflower seed
And excrement exited as ethereal gas
An age that never existed

The way I wanted to live became the way I had to live
But now that I'm living the way I have to
I can't tell the difference between what I want and what I need
I guess that could be a good thing
Because the space between what I want and what I got
Is where fulfillment is found
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."

              EPILOGUE

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?”

and

        ”Should we plant a willow tree
to someday weep for you and me?”
Carter Ginter Oct 2017
It's 3:09am
I'm im the library
Desperately trying to write a research paper:
'LGBT Familes'
How fitting.
Caffeine courses through my veins
Coffee overloads my bladder
Bathroom.
I hate bathrooms.

When you have no gender
The simple act of relieving yourself becomes a chore
The heavy weight of that key decision
Chokes your lungs as you stand outside the doors
Two doors.
Men.
Women.
Not me.

The choice becomes simplified:
While I sometimes pass as a man
I often do not.
I can choose the men's bathroom
The consequence of which could end in physical violence
The same hate I explain through my essay.
The same fear that plagues my community.

The women's restroom is also an option
The consequences likely less dire than the former:
Heavy side eye and the potential of yelling.
A much safer choice.
Obviously.

Per usual, I walk into the women's room.
I take three strides inside.
Then I stop.

I've never used the men's room.
My fear of violent reactions has always won.
Yet at a time like this
How likely is it that someone is inside the men's room?

Now is my chance to face my fears.
Now I have a safe chance at peeing in peace.
In a bathroom potentially more suiting
Of my gender identity
So I turn around.
Let the door slam behind me.

Half a step into the men's room
The smell of rancid ***** hits my senses
Toilet paper liters the stalls
I have missed absolutely nothing in my years in the women's room

Women have nicer facilities
A significantly more advanced hand dryer
Cleanliness
Air freshener
Men do not have these luxuries

Now I question,
Do men not take as good of care of their bathrooms as women do?
Do the workers intentionally prioritize women's sanitation?
What causes this undeniable divide?
Is the messiness of the men's room a result of their conscious decisions?
Or simply a response to societal expectation?

Regardless,
I think I'll stick to the women's room
While I add bathrooms to my compilation
Of more discrete gender inequality
Harriet Cleve May 25
The world is full of odious vermin

today a eulogy; not a sermon

know your swine in all their guises

wisen up, avoid surprises

the biggest pig and here's the twist

a smiling face; narcissist

many words describe the beast

parasite is not the least

the following list is not complete

rancid, rotten, pure deceit

stinking, ******, rancid, ****

malicious, vicious, outright ***

monstrous, ghoulish, foulest ****

slimy, crawly, insect, slug

know you pigs and know their smell

putrid, pungent, stench of hell

the world is full of odious vermin

that concludes this lengthy sermon
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