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Regret melts slow,
dripping from the side.
It feels like skin being tugged against,
the impression left from
my hand to yours.
The anticipation of being patient
burns and flickers,
excitedly proud to be included.

Your back, the wick that stands straight,
slowly curving,
stretching, releasing tension.
Your legs wrapped in mine.
If you were to blow too hard,
the flame would whoosh,
leaving nothing but a puddle.
The people we were
staring, looking at the mess.

The rest of my strength
supports your arch,
the curled wick that's grown tired
against my chest.
No matter how you lay,
I am comfortable in your wild stretch.
Sleep surrounding both of us—
I have your back, your heart.
The crisp edges of your hair tangled
On my head

The smoke of desire soots and breathes,
dried in a puddle of wax
Mo Dec 2010
I knew a rogue gardener
who had a peculiar mind
and walked as if
he had never seen a kind
of flowers, fully bloomed,
for the sunshine consumed
was enough to be happy
for the world.
Roots soaked in acid rain
pump sweet life on through veins
faster than the gardener's car,
which couldn't get him very far
from brilliant potent petal potions
bursting plant like a star.
I was a super nova spinning 'round
when a garden knife cut off the sound.
Sitting in vases
in a pool of life
drinking from a filter
and watching you white
your head, shoes, and coat
although you're quite the antidote.
Digging through my secret grave
to **** the roots and fight free slaves,
quiet, growing 'neath the earth
and recognize  what life is worth,
is a duty but few will come to do;
flee the blind or pay the due.
The only difference
lies in soil stains
because for flowers and master,
flowers drink rain, eat sun rays,
and bloom again,
despite the soil on their roots
and sharp edge tools lined in soots
held by seeding hands
and a heart run with moot
points a direction
and plants a firm foot.

Today I ran the other way
and it turned out to be the best day
I've had in my life.
It may not be right,
but I know I'm not wrong,
so I'm leaving tonight,
tuning out the noise,
seeing the sights.
Good bye for
as long as it takes.

Good bye
Bogle Jun 2013
Am I a Man?
Or am I a boy?
Make the ******* choice!
You choose when it soots you.
responsibility!
Or Naive.
You know me as a son.
Not a person.
So you don't know whats right!
I can lawfully move out or have a ****** wife!
You lied and said you wouldn't live through your children's lives!
I will be here when you need me.
but I'm contemplating leaving.
perhaps you would appreciate me more if you couldn't see me.
Yenson Jul 2019
Our Cabral of oiks, hicks, chavs, criminals and Unions of Imbeciles
them professional bullies who gather Momentum with lies
and are conceived in hate as love in hovels do not exist
and pennies do not fall from heaven every mouth is a worry
and the coal mines are closing down and education is one less wage
decides that the Louis the fourteen, with a black face is the enemy
for that sunshine king just shines two ****** much
and his opulence and wealth was food from Scotch Jimmy's mouth
so as one does when soots are even richer than the Chimney-sweep
and live in castle full of earned treasures from the troves of Ivories
the die is cast and we call in the gang for majority rules in Hades
and Chalky and Wally and all chavs and 'Am I bovvereds' unite
that Sun King Soot is human no more, this is revolution as in war
the ******* have taken over and heaven help any traitors.
and I yawned and laughed
and laughed again and again
first world problems of snowflakes
hahaha    hahaha    hahaha....hahaha
they say your Leader ain't fit to rule
they say you hate the jews but why so
Aneurin Bevan and Kerr Hardy are turning in their graves
this wasn't about thugs, Hooligans and Criminals ruling
This was about the rights of decent hard working people
not thieves and charlatans using our party to get laid and
harass and terrorize decent honest hardworking citizen
Touch of a repentant Midas,
Like dearest daughter was,
Turned to stone gold lifeless,
Shocked him to tearful crisis,
Destruct bent wisest humans,
Destroyed for homes n offices,
Wooden decors n furnitures,
Walls from floors to ceilings,
Most of hundred plus storeys,
Tons of timber from forests,
To industries n power thermals,
To steel plants giant furnaces,
To building rail coaches yards,
To building cruisers shipyards,
Endless miles of rich forests,
Consumed to nought or ashes,
By day n night iron hot smelters,
Spewing tons of soots n ashes,
Recover never air index crashes,
Hopes of pure air life vanishes,
Dead forests spell toxic airs,
Touch of a repentant Midas,
Like dearest daughter was,
Turned to stone gold lifeless!
S P S

— The End —