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Keith J Collard Aug 2012
A blue jay with crested plume,
and fierce face,
batters a beetle off the mighty Ash.
Trees of sword and spear contrast,
balanced ****** against maple ax.
Odysseus bravery, and Achilles' hate,
depicted on Ash's underside lanceolate.
even when oak leans in for slash,
with jagged sword serrate,
****** through heart and out the back.
But another tree does wear greaves,
with top heavy slash of bronze cordate,
poplar with xiphos of patina leaves.
speared through brain and cheek plate.
and red bud vaunting behind bossed sheild,
throw of spear,
much red blood on dust congealed.
" Run cowards, back to the forest of fairy's,"
" you are the son's of rock moss,
whereas I am the son of Aries."
But then the Sumac, took from it's quiver,
it's poison tipped arrow and shot thither,
" Trojan, promise my body burial honours,"
but they cut him up, and stripped his armour,
but when Achilles finds out, he will avenge..........{keeeeeith, dinner time}

Sounds and sights, as I watched this bird,
clashing armour, war cries heard.

(this poem is about a boy imagining the Trojan war after reading the Illiad, and learning that the greeks made there spears out of the Ash Tree.  He sees all the leaf shapes of the trees as weopons, which actually were the models for the greek sword and spear.also arrow.)
****, I forgot that Aries supported the Trojans, and Patroclus(achilles main man) died from apollo...maybe " Apollo slapped me on the back, but my father is stacked" might suffice.things that make u go hmmmm.
I've always marveled
at the aptness inherent
in the trivial meaning-making
which coined the term 'four-twenty'.
It speaks to the nature of the stuff.

Here's to 4:20, 4/20, 4.20,
We mark it a holiday In Praise of Idleness.

Who could have known the antics
of a handful of high schoolers
in San Rafael, California
should be the origin of this celebration
of cannabis culture.
Humble beginnings.
JoJo Nguyen Apr 2014
Crickets rub their legs together
at night, chirping. To past
time, we two stridulate.

It's just a myth, but we sing
anyways, every night.

A calling song, loud ***
appealing, before a quiet
chirp ends the courting.

Chirp, chirp, chirp,
who the **** is he?
Chirp, chirp, chirp,
make up, or make it up,
let's ****.

A large vein runs down
the wing, serrate teeth
smiling, gnashing out
dry chirps.

Night songs of entangled legs,
or crossed wings? It doesn't
matter, and we hardly notice
the passing night.

The tumultuous song
of a billion chirps doesn't keep
us up alone in bed at nights
anymore.
Her memories
Envelop me
Popped confetti
Candy from a busted piñata
Weighing me down,
Packing peanuts
Suffocating my heart
Stronger than gravity
Crushing me,
Down into the depths
Of our past
A present unopened
Unlabeled card
Under the biggest bow,
Frilly string
The veins
To my soul
The sharper the scissors
That I can find,
To cut
To severe
To serrate
Samurai blade
Through silk,
Any blood spilt
Like water through rock,
The lightest of rouge
My eyes
Stained glass
Mosaics of her...

APAD13 - 132 © okpoet
Ashley Rodden Jan 2014
How bitter I feel sometimes
It consumes me when it takes a hold
I struggle with this all the time
I'm bitter that you didn't stay
Bitter that I can't let go

I hate what you have done to me
I despise your voice and your phony disguise
I detest your personality
It's the ******* one I've ever seen and
Your attitude ***** even worse
You're just so **** mean!

I'm bitter that I can't even talk to you,
Because all you do is lie
I loath your innate ability to always make me cry
I would love to just break your stupid jaw!
I can't stand how raw you are!

Why did we ever have to meet?
You are definitely my biggest and worse mistake
And that's something I'll always kick my own *** for
I wear the pain and shame like a mask to the ball

I'm jealous of the innocent so
I've tried it all from
cheap *** to *******
Anything to try and disguise this pain.
God, what's it going to take to let this bitterness go?!

If all this pain would just dissipate
maybe I'd quit crying all these black tears
But they just keep falling down one at a time
And my heart feels so serrate

I hate how you can still get to me somewhere deep inside
It's amazing I still have any tears left to cry,
But I can't give into this darkness that consumes me.
I won't let you win!
I will not accept this defeat,
And because of that I will never let anyone really know me again.
© Ashley Rodden. All rights reserved
Ottar Mar 2015
two eyes staring down,
One,  the virtual and the real
One of glass and the other cheese
not a creature
no other features
stand over the city
reflect urgent transparency
if it is visible
it is true
the heavens
secret hold on the moon
one hundred percent
that has split and become
two, the virtual and the real
like life the dream
like living in reality
in sickness and in health
should be fifty/fifty
yet images have blurred
edges that serrate and grate
across a blackboard skin
that is the sound, of giving in
mark soltero Oct 2020
give me ugly
use your words to serrate my soul
paint me bad
lacerate your name into my tongue
whatever you do
do it for fun
because the impression
of your touch
burns like the birth of a star
the pressure from the nebula
collapses my lungs
stifle me with my own emotions
burn me to ash
I’m sry i haven’t been interacting with you guys’ stuff. I’ve been really busy and appreciate everyone taking the time to read over my dramatic feelings. This whole account has been so therapeutic and it means a lot to see that some of this stuff resonates or at least piques your interest
13 May 2013
Like a pin cushion I wait for the next edge to serrate,
it's been months since I've felt such hate
The metal will not yield
It refuses to bend and spill; lashing obscenely, obstinately adamant
The screws which drive this hastened race have failed to open
And the cold is ever vigilant, lurking in the sinuses of apathy

Forlorn attempts to reconciliate have piled consistently
And further ones will also fail inevitably
The need for a past is much greater than the search for a future
Knowing what has been matters more than what will come
For dying knowing what could have been is easier,
than to die not knowing what was.
Having bad days... hence bad poetry. this is my latest work... as opposed to all my other posted poems. 13th may '13
DC raw love Apr 2015
Originate
Meditate
Hallucinate
Dessegregate
Mediate
Alleviate
Try­ not to hate

Love your mate
Deliberate
Opinionate
Don't procrastinate
Appreciate
one's own fate

Love is fate
A one world state
Human freight
The number eight
A white & black state

Never hate
The human race
Proliferate
Communicate
A gentle trait
The broken crate
A heavy weight
Or just too late
Now devastate
Appreciate
Depreciate
Fabricate
Emulate

The truth dilate
Special date
The animals we ate
Guilt debate
The edge serrate
A better rate
Deliberate

Fascinate
Deviate
Reinstate
Liberate
To moderate
Recreate
Detonate
Annihiliate
Atomic fate

Mediate
Clear the slate
Activate
Now radiate
Food on plate
Gravitate
Now simulate
A perfect place

A heavy weight
Is it too late
Racial debate
Participate
Love & Hate
Just create
Never break

A firm had shake
The State's on the take
The girl is late
A baby to take
A mother aches
A heart breaks
Alleviate
Just fornicate

Now devastate
Appreciate
Depreciate
Fabricate
Emulate

A ******* child
The youth's irate
A mind to take
Facilitate
Deliberate
Fascinate
Deviate
Reinstate

It's getting late
The Earth's own weight
Designate your love as fate
At ninety-eight we all rotate

To Liberate
Ryan Bowdish Aug 2013
Serrate your eyes with a saw tooth wave
Beads of sweat do not a woman make
Tie me to the swirling clouds
Watch it rain my pieces down

I'd love to see you in a beehive
Dying to breathe in a new light
The sky's the limit and I've got a minute
To drain myself into the infinite
Nathan Young Sep 2017
What is the purpose that I was born for?
Please, give me some sort of metaphysical clue
that shall enlighten my fading sanity.
I'm tired from drinking an endless brew,
I'm exhausted from all the venom I spew,
and above all else, this rings true:
I ache from being viewed as ultimately shrew.

All that I can fathom is being a martyr;
a gift to a bleeding world to which us humans caused.
There is so much greed and little to no sacrifice
that eventually, humanity will die out, that's the price.
So, pull my arm, shatter my heart, and crack my ribs.
Don't worry, you've already forsaken that; my life will suffice.
If I were to give a semblance of advice, do be precise
when you slice, for I don't want to ask twice
to be buried six feet under, in earthly paradise.

Pain has long walked away, you needn't be concerned.
Continue your quest to dig your claws to that which I hold dear,
for I don't know how much there is left to give,
but your ravenous thirst has reached a new frontier.
I don't understand how one is never quenched,
but what I can muster is even after I perish, I'll still forgive.
Though I throw around the word loosely, I don't hate.
Humanity must succeed; life's fate to inflate,
to transcend all misery and greed that seems to dictate.
This isn't up for debate, I'm ready for my blind date.
My fate awaits, for a blade that'll serrate and mutilate,
but please, one last thing: don't forget that my love
wasn't something you could just calculate or replicate.
Laokos Oct 2020
stars align in
a blanket of
        future snow
dusting time's
plateau with
        a smear of
red paint across
the fallen angel's
        face shedding
tears in the naked
light from the
        hollow of a
mirrored heart
playing shadows
        like a work
of art

it's an expansive
drama of forgotten
         leagues keeping
memories in silence
between the ravines
         of what has and
what has yet. digital
ridges serrate the
         landscape of quiet
burdens borne by the
beings of beastly
         countenance
counting seven in
perpetuity in honor
        of the bell that
tolled so long ago now.

there is a low roar
bellowing from the
         womb of novelty
coming to upset the
balance bristling with
         charged particles
of transmutation and
flashing in a dance of
         lightning from
the void. born from
eternity to create in
         time those wildest
dreams from the
darkness of God's mind.
Damien Ko Feb 2020
syncopate a sentence succinctly
take that thought and
slice and serrate across lines
synth steady and stolid syntax
stitch surrealism to sanity symphonically
scatter sadness, sow sunny spirit
slather language with excess
dole diction in dearth
depose dialectical dogma
dredge dreary dreams and not so drearies
foment formidably
froth and fracture finalities
syllogise spectacular speculation
simplify abtruse abnormalities
whet words wonderfully
Andrew Crawford May 2020
The forecast called for sunny skies
but it’s been raining for days;
humid afternoons smother
and in foggy morning haze,
then again tomorrow
overcast crushes in waves.

Skies, grey, accumulate,
burden of their thoughts precipitates;
an army of soft blades penetrating, drains,
desiccating stamina and strength,
exsanguinating blood in puddles from veins;
weeks are dragging teeth, serrate
as I’m crawling through the month of May
and all I have to say is
every dawn that I awake
is just another chance to be afraid
when I am already struggling to tow
this great nameless weight, in pain;
I’ll be lucky if I make it through the day okay
or if something of myself still remains.
Ethel Osas Jun 2020
Smile, and never mind the flaws
Reveal the broke, serrate egdes
Of your finely buttered teeth
You don't need a perfect sphere
Before you can truly smile

What is perfect but curved lips
That bears down on tongue divide
And the glow in star-spangled eyes
The issue is not in the defects
But that many forget to smile

— The End —