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Shofi Ahmed Oct 2017
The first light,
painted time and again
by thousand and one sunrises.
Still vanishes in one twilight.

Millions of stars witnessed
it was pitch black.
But one doesn't
lose the sight.

Still, the night hooks
the Moon in the dark.
Bryce Jun 27
Gliding deftly along the city street
rolling quick and constantly
onward to some unknown scene,
some backward park in the nighttime
smoke curling from these
parted lips, moist and inviting
calling me somewhere I've never seen.

New day, new night
new feelings, rage in delight
fill me with your hilarious entropy,
knock my quarks into the next century,
will you please?

Now you're smoking the pipe and all at once you are free
between you and me, this smoke is thicker and sticks
like glue,
wispy and dreamy and the world spins and calls Toltec
telephone company can't pay me for all those calls collected
and rendered obsolete
Sun god dead as that silly calendar meme

Amaterasu,
and Imma tell you
these ladies in the picnic table
buried alive for boxed lunch and god's brunch
Jesus fucking Christ
and a indelible roster of good guys,
to which we all must strive to live and die
behind,
never moving forward
chasing our tails like a sick dog
under the jasmine runner between the decades-old tanbark
imported from overseas
dead trees
dead canine
and oh isn't it just divine?

You see it, pretty lady.
I can see it hiding behind your eyes
the things you don't tell the others because you're afraid
if they found out,
you'd be crucified.

Well honey I hate to inform,
With KGB efficiency that these love-a-dumbs
aint Methuselah,
they'll be dead!
long before your flood of tears tears me from the land
ballistas me across the great expanse to some strange Ararat
of the eastern seaboard,
or maybe wash me deep along the 80
into the desert sands and tiles
on a leaky cell phone screen
desperately trying to dial home on low battery,
realizing all this was one big deferred dream,
baking in the sun and shriveling
oh well, back to the grindstone-- all those lies plucked your nose,
gotta cut it back to size,
'else your soul it'll outgrow

Don't worry honey bee
It hasn't happened to me,
and We know with calcuable mathematical truth
that it'll never happen to you.
Chris Neilson Apr 2016
Longing for the taste of a new lover's lips
gazing upon their silhouette as they undress
craving the scent of their freshly showered skin
aching for the touch of their gentle caress

Hearing their partner's key in the door
I hope you didn't expect that!
For a while now things have seemed
A very certain way
But recently
There seems to be
Thoughts leading me astray
I'm very used to the worn trail path that I thought was forever true
But of New
All I can do
Is change my mind of you
It's as if I've been awakened to life on the other side of the grass
For so long now I've looked ahead and let the rest just pass
I thought that what's in front of me must be the best it was
But I've seen the other futures
And now it's all I want
I had this picture
In my mind
Of how perfect you would be
But it seems
just an inch to the right
Was what was really right for me
You are the light within my dark skies,
As you are the star of my every night,
With you being the spark within my heart,
And as your smile is the reason I have light,
I feel myself falling apart piece by piece while looking into your eyes,
Wherein realization–you are the reason why all of my nights have been ever so bright,
And you are the reason why–
I'm no longer wandering through life blind
meGaThOr Feb 25
Did not have Dante laugh deeper,
to see dead bones
 in front of hell "While pride taught ,
to step on the skulls of food,
When in the shade raised condemned,
From a worm-eaten skull to a filthy bacon
And he wiped it on his bleeding hair:
shouted, the billions of villains in hell;
while they  stepped in front of them!
And he told the lively vengeance,
In the mansion of eternal hopelessness!

Goodbye! ... is to renounce in an agony
The hope that still palpitate;
Feeling that the eyes are blind, that it cools,
The heart in the damn tear!
That make hands, and the soul afflicta
Like Agar in the desert, pray gloomy! !

Is it a ghastly sight of the skulls in hell?
Do not tremble with dread, lift it from its loins.
It was the burning head of a poet,
Once in the shadow of the fair hair.
When the reflection of fiery living
This forehead was beautiful. There are
the shadow s
pallor covered their shadow s in agony;
In these orbits - hollow, denigrated! -
Pagan Paul May 2017
I slip the straps and release the clasp
of your over-the-shoulder boulder holder.
Gravity asserts itself, and you sigh as
I wonder if I should get even bolder

because

The jaws of love masquerade
as petals of a flower

so

Did you know
I'll get a hard on
if I go
to your front garden

and

Just say if you want me to stop.
We are, after all, in the middle of a shop.
I was attracted when I saw you smile.
As we passed in the frozen food aisle.
Now people are staring though the window.
Shocked at my nonchalant innuendo.
And if your purse metaphor extends to this.
We can go to the Bank for a little kiss

though

I may not be able to afford
nine feather mattresses and a golden pea.
But if you could make do
with a lilo and a marble
then …
You've pulled Princess.

© Pagan Paul (30/05/17)
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Prequel to Even Poets Screw Up A Date (Mar 31)
The 3rd, Even Poets Screw Up A Night Of Sex, to be published at some point.
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