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"slithering" poems
Anger, is the steaming red on her face refusal creates in an instance; jealousy is foaming green profusion of colors in motion takes this dance for them to upward and downward turns, or a sudden dissolution--- an intense ****** in unison. Even in darkness he  can see the spasmodic ebbing waves sleep is the banana plantation where night wears translucent green "nobody would see us here" she whispers in his ears, as if they are thieving sex,eyeing the yellow banana she likes, to play with Purple is the psychedelic color smeared on horizon when dreams repeatedly fly down like night bats and happen the way mind designs we don't want to leave the scene of the dream even when we know well that the show for us is now over we just want to hang around like the dog,  in the place it  got a juicy bone. Yellow is the banana song that's heard as wave after wave, by the blind bat squadron that roams with raw aggression, for raids above the plantations Unripe bananas show green fingers to say "NO! we aren't ripe" like coy underage virgins. Then, they ripen, go yellow some even bright red, inviting who is blue here is the sky and those bats who got the bananas still raw green Night decents on the banana land as the white umbrella of sun is snatched by the dark maiden. Black is the bat's wing extending and folding like lust, umbrella and the like. He finds her shivering fingers like a serpent, on the banana trunk slithering down, as he dreams bats, banana, blue sky and she slithering over him.
0
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 5:50 AM UTC
Bats, Banana, Blue sky
Anger, is the steaming red on her face refusal creates in an instance; jealousy is foaming green profusion of colors in motion takes this dance for them to upward and downward turns, or a sudden dissolution--- an intense ****** in unison. Even in darkness he  can see the spasmodic ebbing waves sleep is the banana plantation where night wears translucent green "nobody would see us here" she whispers in his ears, as if they are thieving sex,eyeing the yellow banana she likes, to play with Purple is the psychedelic color smeared on horizon when dreams repeatedly fly down like night bats and happen the way mind designs we don't want to leave the scene of the dream even when we know well that the show for us is now over we just want to hang around like the dog,  in the place it  got a juicy bone. Yellow is the banana song that's heard as wave after wave, by the blind bat squadron that roams with raw aggression, for raids above the plantations Unripe bananas show green fingers to say "NO! we aren't ripe" like coy underage virgins. Then, they ripen, go yellow some even bright red, inviting who is blue here is the sky and those bats who got the bananas still raw green Night decents on the banana land as the white umbrella of sun is snatched by the dark maiden. Black is the bat's wing extending and folding like lust, umbrella and the like. He finds her shivering fingers like a serpent, on the banana trunk slithering down, as he dreams bats, banana, blue sky and she slithering over him.
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49
Ceramic white, wood richly brown Smooth liquid....touching buds of taste Lips chasing chatter, slithering slogan sentences Arm reaching, lift off, exposing the pit, selecting Combination to the gestured shape, proposing Enlivening, trickling conversation tripping To my left.  A phone, pressing snugly, ear Tuned up, alerted, filtering the microwave Throng.  With welcome warmth, thaw began Icy film packaging a heart temporarily beat Free, playing, fraternising.....roulette with Russia
0
Jan 5, 2013
Jan 5, 2013 at 6:15 PM UTC
A happening by chance
Lips slithering over her ****** tease'd her between her legs. Her nips stiff to the touch, flush with such pleasure she can't get enough as he ***** shocks rush like traffic from her ****** to her ****
0
Mar 18, 2021
Mar 18, 2021 at 9:07 AM UTC
Nips
Fear, It covers me like vines. Dark, crawling vines, That corrupt even your most innocent parts. It will bring me to my knees, And make me question. Nothing is safe, No thought, No emotion, No love. With fear inside, It all burns and turns black then, Blows away like ashes. A wind that will never return.
 With fear, I am in solitude. Vines digging deeper, Slithering into my mind, Finding my deepest darkest secrets. It brings everything to the surface, Saying; ‘You are weak, you are nothing, you are failure.’ And I can’t deny it. I hope this fear won’t dig into my heart, With you gone, Fear will consume.
0
Jan 23, 2012
Jan 23, 2012 at 10:45 PM UTC
Corruption
I argue To harm you The protective computer screen Allows me to be rude or mean Without feeling your pain So it becomes a game Or a simulation of fame If I can ignore the shame The tread is wearing off the tire After the internet stripped The rubber off the telephone wire And we lost our loose grip After being shocked By the rest of the flock Their existence Shows a difference That is hard to accept We're not what we expect We push the boundaries of communication But we can't handle the technology I feel it gives me social immunization But I feel the darkness follow me And swallow me Until I'm wallowing Yet I don't know why I try to ignore it Only if it gets me high Will I be for it This utilitarian keyboard Should help me see more Instead it transcribes my anger As I turn into an electric stranger The words on my pixelated screen Do not reflect my childhood dreams But the bitterness of dreams being crushed My petulant reactions are thoughtlessly rushed And I represent my views in a negative way Until I'd be more useful with nothing to say There is a need for empathy In the electronic discourse Right now there is only entropy And words without remorse Spoken from a high horse That looks down on peasants who own it It's also a slave but doesn't even know it So it arrogantly trots along Never admitting that it's wrong Until it hears the slithering snakes rattle Then it doesn't mind wearing a saddle But the venom has already been injected And its mind becomes hopelessly infected We argue without blinking We argue without thinking We argue with poor logic Our ignorance we flaunt it Until the internet is haunted
0
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 4:36 AM UTC
Haunted
I argue To harm you The protective computer screen Allows me to be rude or mean Without feeling your pain So it becomes a game Or a simulation of fame If I can ignore the shame The tread is wearing off the tire After the internet stripped The rubber off the telephone wire And we lost our loose grip After being shocked By the rest of the flock Their existence Shows a difference That is hard to accept We're not what we expect We push the boundaries of communication But we can't handle the technology I feel it gives me social immunization But I feel the darkness follow me And swallow me Until I'm wallowing Yet I don't know why I try to ignore it Only if it gets me high Will I be for it This utilitarian keyboard Should help me see more Instead it transcribes my anger As I turn into an electric stranger The words on my pixelated screen Do not reflect my childhood dreams But the bitterness of dreams being crushed My petulant reactions are thoughtlessly rushed And I represent my views in a negative way Until I'd be more useful with nothing to say There is a need for empathy In the electronic discourse Right now there is only entropy And words without remorse Spoken from a high horse That looks down on peasants who own it It's also a slave but doesn't even know it So it arrogantly trots along Never admitting that it's wrong Until it hears the slithering snakes rattle Then it doesn't mind wearing a saddle But the venom has already been injected And its mind becomes hopelessly infected We argue without blinking We argue without thinking We argue with poor logic Our ignorance we flaunt it Until the internet is haunted
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56
Angry apes arguing Odd owls ogling Extravagant emus eloping Slimy slugs slithering Wandering worms wriggling Jaunty jays jumping Testy tigers thundering Grumpy giraffes grazing All animals amazing
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Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 7:54 AM UTC
Animal Antics
Web caught trembling prey, blistering sadness in a shallow grave Repulsive, rotten ***** stench, locked box of putrid sorrow Blood clot hidden trench, vile secretion burrow Wolf-dressed goblin ***** muttering incantations Teetering on a broken fence, seething hatred regurgitation Greedy, evil, spineless, ***** Cunning, patient, ***** One head desire, two face succubus Speech craft, forked tongue. Slithering witch, foul gargoyle Rebuke the venomous. Castrate the young. Stoke the funeral pyre Incubate the serpent fetus. Demon, devil, liar Nevermore, sinister toil. Bone-covered soil I smite her without a flicker of remorse Death to the succubus. Death to Venus
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Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 6:20 AM UTC
Death to Venus
On the bank of a rushing brook I sat for hours watching its course. Peered into the clear gurgling mass That cascaded down from a mountainous source Like a slithering snake, it slinks and slips It babbles downhill night and day Rolling and gliding through plains and dales It winds its way to the wider bay. Dipping my fingers in its icy chill How my hand got repelled as from a shock! In its ripples stirred by the kissing breeze, I saw trees, clouds and the jutting rock- All floating in queer, fanciful shapes, Shuddering, trembling and standing still And the fishes leaving zigzag trails, Swishing and swimming in the winding rill. As I quietly watched her speedy flight With her ***** rising in mournful heaves, In my ears fell her whispering soft Orchestrated by the rustle of quivering leaves I hardly knew the time speeding by Nor noticed the birds’ homeward flight Or the Sun moving to the west end side And the Sky reddening at his sight As the brook thus continued her headlong ride To be mingled finally with the ocean wide I walked, brooding over man’s relentless stride To be merged eventually with the Cosmic Guide.
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May 24, 2017
May 24, 2017 at 9:10 AM UTC
By the Side of a Brook
On the land molded by footsteps and ruled by obnoxiously bleached clowns, Visited by swarms of neighborhood guttersnipes and the opulent from uptown. Allured by the traditional Irish circus music and the grinding of rusted gears, To arrive at dawn and to leave only when the night sky is tired of fireworks and flares. Skittish and gleaming eyes would roll on the floor, struck by daze and lost in wonderment, At the marvel of giant steel rides and god forsaken and socially foretoken genetic mutants. The word of a woman with two faces and the boy with a tail would make any catholic priest run. Amusing the rational ones, alongside the man with elastic skin and the girl with the forked tongue. The opera lady with outlandish proportions and tumorous lips sings to break a piece of cheap glassware. Little do people know,that the magician’s red gloves are actually stained with blood of rabbit that disappeared. Their noses get caught in the medley of fragrances from the exotic perfumes shop, Blended with the saccharine tang from the stall that sells candy floss and soda pops. Indulging over the overly priced confectioneries at the stall of the baker with the forbidding grin. Try it a hundred times,try it a thousand,you’ll never get the fifth one right in the game of rings. People will come out screaming from the haunted house,only to laugh about it later, Little do they know,that skeletons that drove them pale and white couldn't get any realer. They’ll jostle and struggle to make their way through the crowd to various rides and attractions. Hustling to navigate through the maze the carnival is, encountered by countless illusions. And once your body wears out and senses give in,that’s when you've truly entered the carnival state of mind. Your ears stinging ,nose stifled,tongue baffled, eyes exhausted,and your sense of judgment blinded. That’s when my masked act begins,the most profitable act at the carnival, Diving into the heart of the crowd,to draw an act of brilliance lasting an ephemeral. Slithering across the crowd in a different disguise every hour,concealed by stealth. Sneaking into every nook and corner and slipping my furtive hands into your pockets for a little bit of wealth. Only to dine with the clowns and the carnival family at the haunted house at the end of the day. And of course, rabbits for dinner,if the baker may
0
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 3:13 AM UTC
Carnival
On the land molded by footsteps and ruled by obnoxiously bleached clowns, Visited by swarms of neighborhood guttersnipes and the opulent from uptown. Allured by the traditional Irish circus music and the grinding of rusted gears, To arrive at dawn and to leave only when the night sky is tired of fireworks and flares. Skittish and gleaming eyes would roll on the floor, struck by daze and lost in wonderment, At the marvel of giant steel rides and god forsaken and socially foretoken genetic mutants. The word of a woman with two faces and the boy with a tail would make any catholic priest run. Amusing the rational ones, alongside the man with elastic skin and the girl with the forked tongue. The opera lady with outlandish proportions and tumorous lips sings to break a piece of cheap glassware. Little do people know,that the magician’s red gloves are actually stained with blood of rabbit that disappeared. Their noses get caught in the medley of fragrances from the exotic perfumes shop, Blended with the saccharine tang from the stall that sells candy floss and soda pops. Indulging over the overly priced confectioneries at the stall of the baker with the forbidding grin. Try it a hundred times,try it a thousand,you’ll never get the fifth one right in the game of rings. People will come out screaming from the haunted house,only to laugh about it later, Little do they know,that skeletons that drove them pale and white couldn't get any realer. They’ll jostle and struggle to make their way through the crowd to various rides and attractions. Hustling to navigate through the maze the carnival is, encountered by countless illusions. And once your body wears out and senses give in,that’s when you've truly entered the carnival state of mind. Your ears stinging ,nose stifled,tongue baffled, eyes exhausted,and your sense of judgment blinded. That’s when my masked act begins,the most profitable act at the carnival, Diving into the heart of the crowd,to draw an act of brilliance lasting an ephemeral. Slithering across the crowd in a different disguise every hour,concealed by stealth. Sneaking into every nook and corner and slipping my furtive hands into your pockets for a little bit of wealth. Only to dine with the clowns and the carnival family at the haunted house at the end of the day. And of course, rabbits for dinner,if the baker may
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Sunshine! Sickly yellow slow-light colored streaks slithering worse than sweat down my body. That golden ball stares down at me like a haughty goddess, her duality shallow and hot. She cares not for the freedoms of humans. She's a two-faced coin, purgatory masked by the promise of freedom from pained brains and scholarly shackles. The sun laughs at her own trickery, gargling through melting teeth as she collects suppressed confessions from weakened teens. When her crescent counterpart offers solace from her torment, the moonlit darkness only serves to drown us and we splutter in our own self-taught year-round lies. And the sun rears her tattered, flaming mane at daybreak, belly-laughing at idle minds now unrefined, gleefully adding her own scorch to already inflamed brains.
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Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 8:24 PM UTC
Idle Summer
I saw her I saw her smile Focus out through the sparkle Reflecting from her danglers And the ones in the atmosphere. Turquoise sequinned with beige Crackers, all around her Our first new year Where she took me by My hand, entangling fingers Lacing, when she thought she'd Lost me,skipping between White walls and brown floors Finding a way out Through the maze. Low hung ceiling lamps. Dragging me back through my memory doors Remains the same White walls and brown floors While I wait outside. Inside you're having your chemo. Crackers Inside my heart Slithering through my mouth I see her in between Those flinging and swinging Prayer flags, I recollect Hanging them in the backyard Of our home, you Bargained them out A flea market, before That year's Diwali You had inside of you A life that would bless us In three months. A tangerine Georgette Saree And rhyming with it, Rani colored bangles Sneaking up on the roof. Crackers White walls, wooden floors You lie quiet, unmoved. A skyrocket ups in a distance As I light you up in flames. Crackers You'd always come back Focusing, defocusing My memories' pitaara Sparkling, dangling Skipping and lacing Through all those crackers Lighting me up
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May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 4:21 AM UTC
Crackers.
Lie beneath the galaxy in a cathedral silence, Stay up till the moon dives behind the beige mountains. Rest on your beast, let the valves take a break, Treat yourself with a feast, its the only time in your fate. Slithering into my sack I rest under the canvas, How peaceful it is far away from all the ruckus. The monk's prayers bid me with good luck, I'm off riding in the sparse cold desert. I stop with the view of a disputed lake, Miles long the jade blue reflects the golden tops. In refuge at a monastery, fuel is a luxury, I'd give up everything for a piece of this little heaven.
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Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 8:19 AM UTC
Ladakh
Lurking in the shadows Street lights not touching your face Hood up Knife gripped tight As you stalk her every move Like a snake Slithering into position Coiled and ready to strike Aiming for the purse Willing to take more You stalked her for weeks Watching her walk Her daily routine Learning how many steps She makes a day As your moment draws near Adrenaline rushing Stalking her for this moment To **** and **** her Just because she broke your heart You creep closer Closer and closer Not wanting to do this But if you can't have her No one shall
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Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 8:49 PM UTC
Stalker
A bed we knew very little of, the history was a mystery. My skin smiled when it met yours, Radiating peace and security. My bud blossomed into small roses that were pressed close to your heart. Between us, a dance Unlike any other I had ever known. A twist and pull, a push and shout, Breath intertwined like branches in a cold winter forest. Your hands fell down my hips, slithering to the beat we had made. A grin, I felt, behind your curled lips, and a kiss they delivered unto me. The deep pulse of love entered my stomach and my heart. It filled my soul with the feeling of you. And we We are a drug so powerful that you can never forget the taste we left upon your thoughts.
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Dec 12, 2018
Dec 12, 2018 at 10:05 PM UTC
Not Mine To Hold
how sad to be misunderstood to be evicted from life to have the full tenure of a torrid human existence gesture horribly at you in faultless reputation like that of a rancid rage over a lost trinket or to be quarantined while fingerless skin scolds and noiseless voices are raised in a donated generosity of savage ignorance striving to make copious amends in vain efforts to regrettable slow acting poison that boils the mind oh how sad to be misunderstood such varicose viciousness oh it’s sad quite sad to be misunderstood to live through and inoculated hour glass giving limitless time to a wildfire of idiocy and when your breath speaks they laugh black laughter that shatters wet umbilical truths shudders knowledge gestures to smoking nostrils oh how sad, how sad it is to be misunderstood to be drenched in the rain but not get wet in which antiquity rests with its mythologised stupendous ill effects getting vivid shadows massed all around oh how sad it is to be misunderstood until dactylic, hexameter, elegance completes and slithering syllables by their antiquity focus a shuddering shriek that sends an exploding heart through your chest
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Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 4:56 PM UTC
how sad to be misunderstood
Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair, as her golden locks came slithering down, a secret hidden. Razor wire underneath, as it wrapped around. Controlled from above, it cut and shredded poor Flyn surrounded by blonde blades, a smile from above. A look of fear as her hair twisted tighter, a thousand cuts, tortured by the girl in the tower. Never was it to keep love out, because all that love has been a mirage of beauty, hidden was her sin. She preferred to unleash pain and death to those who thought she was a prisoner within. The girl in the tower not as fair as the tale had once said. Hidden from those that she wishes to do harm, the bushes fed by the blood and bodies buried in shallow graves around. She was beauty that hid a darkness within, her hair of blonde hiding death within, nourished by the blood of those lacerated, with the blades within. Rapunzel, Rapunzel in a tower so high, to keep you hidden from the world, for inside the beauty is a secret, that is locked in this tower, forever hidden protecting those from the fairy tale lie. .
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Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 9:22 AM UTC
Twisted Princesses (Rapunzel)
stars hang out at night linen left to dry red geraniums along the balconies nodding, nodding willing to agree to anything just to keep their color a gang of kids running through the streets faceless pranksters the moon a plate held before each face who am i? saying who am i running through the streets saying who am i the shadows of the buildings becoming cats that move away the trees immobilized left to stand alone in the dark rubbing their bark from regret like cicadas oranges have more delicacy softly falling, falling in the groves on the hills softly eaten, eaten by the earth swallowed whole as if by a snake not earth as if by millions slithering in the groves at night millions stalking the oranges that fall softly softly to the earth hunting there in the groves that form a ring around each town
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5.7k
oranges from the south of spain
Violating a placid spirit Memories transgress   desecrating the sacred. Memories are the dark side of a full moon. Memories are unsatiated desires couched on sorrow   entangled in time a perennial wrinkle on the soul. Memories are trespassers possessing neural atrium wading saline sockets slithering in to throbbing veins tiptoeing to hollow spaces burying all under their eerie weight, Memories are an inescapable affliction. In fragmented mindscape Memories are violent winds littering the past. Lurking behind aches   in ethereal garbs, Memories are assassins. Or sema of a swirling dervish. Hurtling within, Memories is an avalanche pounding the abyss choking the void one gasp at a time. Memories are nameless apparitions fused as shadows to the very being. Memories are an assault on identity and belonging.
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Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 6:23 AM UTC
Memories are trespassers
"How does a flower move" When wind does not blow, Stalk Petals Pollen Released, sprinkled Upon the ground below, Does it dance for the sun Energy Food Nourishment From above and below People ask "How does a flower move" "When wind does not blow" "Simple" Its worms tickling its Gentle roots, many tickling in one go, Its pollen falling is its laughter Seeding the floor below So when you see Trees Bushes Flowers Gyrating, moving with out wind, Know its those naughty playful worms Slithering, tickling there sensitive roots below..
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Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 11:10 AM UTC
Natures Tickle Spot
I see apes walking on ice, I see snakes slithering on snow, lively eyes indulge my dream, and it haunts me. worry, worry, worry. marked drips on a stained walkway catch my stare so often I forgot I was looking by two levels, I drop. the ground awaits me. today, I am sure-footed; I will not buckle. an enigma passes: I wrest free my heart, but too late! all that is left... a cold afternoon, a quiet memory, a regretful encounter. and countless others who, in unfortunate confidence might turn away in disdain... they won't know a flower's scent. if I were one of them, I would stand up and say, "Advance, Collingchance! Attach your legions to mine, and together we will conquer!" or I would approach you like a highwayman and make demands of you.... but since I am not, my only demand is that you accept me for what I am.
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Dec 24, 2017
Dec 24, 2017 at 11:52 AM UTC
worry, worry, worry
I Go on, high ship, since now, upon the shore, The snake has left its skin upon the floor. Key West sank downward under massive clouds And silvers and greens spread over the sea. The moon Is at the mast-head and the past is dead. Her mind will never speak to me again. I am free. High above the mast the moon Rides clear of her mind and the waves make a refrain Of this: that the snake has shed its skin upon The floor. Go on through the darkness. The waves. fly back II Her mind had bound me round. The palms were hot As if I lived in ashen ground, as if The leaves in which the wind kept up its sound From my North of cold whistled in a sepulchral South, Her South of pine and coral and coraline sea, Her home, not mine, in the ever-freshened Keys, Her days, her oceanic nights, calling For music, for whisperings from the reefs. How content I shall be in the North to which I sail And to feel sure and to forget the bleaching sand ... III I hated the weathery yawl from which the pools Disclosed the sea floor and the wilderness Of waving weeds. I hated the vivid blooms Curled over the shadowless hut, the rust and bones, The trees likes bones and the leaves half sand, half sun. To stand here on the deck in the dark and say Farewell and to know that that land is forever gone And that she will not follow in any word Or look, nor ever again in thought, except That I loved her once ... Farewell. Go on, high ship. IV My North is leafless and lies in a wintry slime Both of men and clouds, a slime of men in crowds. The men are moving as the water moves, This darkened water cloven by sullen swells Against your sides, then shoving and slithering, The darkness shattered, turbulent with foam. To be free again, to return to the violent mind That is their mind, these men, and that will bind Me round, carry me, misty deck, carry me To the cold, go on, high ship, go on, plunge on.
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5k
Farewell to Florida
I Go on, high ship, since now, upon the shore, The snake has left its skin upon the floor. Key West sank downward under massive clouds And silvers and greens spread over the sea. The moon Is at the mast-head and the past is dead. Her mind will never speak to me again. I am free. High above the mast the moon Rides clear of her mind and the waves make a refrain Of this: that the snake has shed its skin upon The floor. Go on through the darkness. The waves. fly back II Her mind had bound me round. The palms were hot As if I lived in ashen ground, as if The leaves in which the wind kept up its sound From my North of cold whistled in a sepulchral South, Her South of pine and coral and coraline sea, Her home, not mine, in the ever-freshened Keys, Her days, her oceanic nights, calling For music, for whisperings from the reefs. How content I shall be in the North to which I sail And to feel sure and to forget the bleaching sand ... III I hated the weathery yawl from which the pools Disclosed the sea floor and the wilderness Of waving weeds. I hated the vivid blooms Curled over the shadowless hut, the rust and bones, The trees likes bones and the leaves half sand, half sun. To stand here on the deck in the dark and say Farewell and to know that that land is forever gone And that she will not follow in any word Or look, nor ever again in thought, except That I loved her once ... Farewell. Go on, high ship. IV My North is leafless and lies in a wintry slime Both of men and clouds, a slime of men in crowds. The men are moving as the water moves, This darkened water cloven by sullen swells Against your sides, then shoving and slithering, The darkness shattered, turbulent with foam. To be free again, to return to the violent mind That is their mind, these men, and that will bind Me round, carry me, misty deck, carry me To the cold, go on, high ship, go on, plunge on.
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the rat ******* has been re-purposed (conscripted in a somewhat fodder task) brandishing irons and quarter lines coiled and unwavering insidious and cunning pent up and fired in  his dripping shoes and peel back skin wheel bug and hookworm are stolid in his wake (all bursting grossly at the buckle!) the heel on task; slithering and rogue merciless and coy resolute and contemptuous with his cotton mat and quick ready quill pungi and clapper raise the clever snake (croker sacks and wicker backs dot the gasoline rainbow) carnival barkers and kraken (lewd in the distance) taunting and vile with their red beakers and deep purple hearts cicada and louse high on alert (ready to wreak havoc in the hog wallows) the perverse cornered rat snapping and soiled foaming and inflamed lurking and primed inside his carefully crafted plan easels and cover alls suit this jackal well (keefer’s little helper or so they'd say) pickers running rough shod all stirring up the stench ***** and conkeys poised and ready to lime this cornered slug
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May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 10:57 PM UTC
Rat *******
Snake in the Grass…by Jessie 6/06 Be weary of where you put your feet There's a snake hiding in the grass Slithering in and out of holes Waiting to attack Although, unseen, his agenda sure His plan set into motion One false move, he will strike you Without a trace of emotion He has a way of getting close Manipulating along the way Just as you think all is safe He’ll cut back the other way Many are fearful, encountering the snake It’s the position that he holds Using it to paralyze And make your blood run cold But he’s just a snake, like any snake A tail and a head Separate the two of them You’ll find that he is dead
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Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 11:11 AM UTC
Snake in the Grass