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DAVID Dec 2014
Y can feel the cold wind
the moon is high , the lion inside
crawls , the helmet stop the metamorfosis
mi tooths are sharp my roar is crawling to
my throat .

in the night , think in licans , mi hearts is with them
mis claws are poping out , the lion is out ,
and y feel pity for the little creep .

mi head is booming and i can't stop , the roar
is stock in my throat , it comes out , is not a howl ,
is not a cry , is the lion in my guts asking for a way out ,
his claws , are my claws his teeths are mine ,

y think in the beauty , and her beasty **** eyes ,
a roar comes out , the bikes speed up , thinking in
gonzo  ,  running his bike ,  touring his lican ,
avoiding the **** , a claim for mercy for the
mortal , while the beast crawls for the skin .

suddenly the beast is out , everything around you sounds
different, night is yours , the claws are out ,
feeling pity and a rush , loews night , the effect is cool .
you keep speeding up , you feel the rage , making your roar ,
put fith , 120 km. are enough , hopefully .


you speed up , the bike don't go faster , the rage is booming
the eco in your head , claims for the blood of fresh **** .
the full moon talks your language the city is your hunting ground ,
thinking in lestat ,  hearing bach under a howling moon  , the claws get to your gloves popping out, full moon again son , carefull says lestat voice .



but the full moon talks your language  ,  she talks to your lion ,
she says in his ears , feed lion feed , take your paws , use the fangs
the city is your hunting ground , the lion is out your eyes are red
the beast took your heart , think in dogs , licans are lucky they have their clans , youre alone  ,  the city is ******* yours to take , the lion's walks alone .


think in nat geo , hoping they show some fresh **** ,
hoping for a lions feast , eating , with ****** faces , and a full
mouth , thinking in
mi lyonnesse . feeling ***** , the beast is out ,
cant stop , looking people like prays , in your hunting
ground ... every one is a pray  , looking for a child molester ,
for an assassin , there's no crime in killing creeps , the lion
makes excuses , for the **** , moon is up , you wait for a while
then speed up , and again thinking in the little creep . you scream impotent , it was your right , little beasty knows , he was lucky  , now they know how lucky they ***** , claws come back in . your  lucky to be live .

the moon is gone the lion is in , waiting to crawl back out , thinking in the running , in the heart of a creep , the feast of eating his creepy little heart , gas is enough , y will make it to the  cave , thinking in beautiful
lionesses , naked lionesses , their skin their softness , thinking in the
beauty that loves you but is too scared to face the music in her chicken **** heart , good tastes  too many wrongs , she  cant handle it .



the lion crawl back in ,  the helmet deed his job and protect mi head ,
the blood taste in my mouth , feels good , the fang is always out , like
a remainder ,  a message to your face , be cool , the bike brakes in the red light , you look the little creep , crawling to you , you see his dog out , he smells you , the roar scares him , his creepy yellow eyes , but he knows better .


the hummingbird of the morning sings , talking to the sun , mi eyes are hurting me . the night was good no one died , only the lion ,  rest in peace , very deep inside my chest .
the blood moon wakes you up , think in the coliseum ,the  loews feasts
the killings , the blood , the roman ladies , in the streets no one , looks at you , beneath the monet sykes , everyone , walks with the certainty , for their  own certainties , the blood moon wakes every cell in my body the lion claims for a way out , y only see prays , in a ****** red moon .
    


the house is quiet , my teeths are in , y bite my lips ,
take the shorts  up for a run  , throwing all the rage , in the ****** moon the creeps knows better ,  but still , thinking in the cowardness of being inside , having a creep , inside a ****** closet with 80 years old , pitty is an excuse , he knows better deep in his creepy little heart knowing he was ,  only a lucky little rat .


the feast in natgeo , is cool thinking in the creepy enemy , getting eaten alive by hyenas , eaten to the bone , screaming for mercy , thats  happy
or wishful thinking , oh the beast is there ,  yet , deep down you know that is there , waiting  , looking the prays , but that is the secret , that everyone have  it , only few knows it , and control it , as y do
screaming and roaring beneath the ****** moon .



now i'm calm waiting for a day sleep , having the certainty that my beast is controlled , and the blood feast , are just my wishful thinking .
in the nigth ride , think in blake , tiger tiger in the night .
why your eyes shine so bright , that's my line , your eyes shine , the night is your day , the creep is everywhere , here i am  scream some creep defender , thanks the lord , for your life , and dont scream at me defending that crap . the lion talks to people , don't defend **** ,
luckily i'm used to hold on and hold back , in the ****** night , someone says here we are ,  y say , so what , nothing works for you ,
, whats the point , of being there , illogical and creepy , think again your lucky to be alive . y hear knives out by radiohead and  y think in destroy that creepy evil little rat , that almost destroy mi life , and y say to the rat your ******* lucky to be alive .

       c'est tout, je adore.
temporary not finished , lack of sleep , ***** and beneath that same ****** moon ,
Lee Oct 2018
It is sweet like the middle of May
Moldable like Taino clay
Its juices stick to my skin because it knows about sweet tooths
The cravings crash into my body like waves do the sandy shores that harbor its trees
Shake shake shake
Till 10 fall from the tall tree
I try to grab them all but people weren’t meant to hold that much greatness
My small hands grab the biggest and the smallest
Peeling off its green and orange skin
Letting the sweet juices create art on my body
My teeth sink into sweet orange flesh
Reminding my body that this taste goes back for generations
Who knew fruit could time travel
An ode to my favorite fruit
Harry J Baxter May 2013
Sitting in that cafe
was like sitting atop the tower of Babel
a cacophony of language
like a hurricane was going on all around him
the homeless black men
who spoke with their own jive and jib
he knew some of the language
but was far from fluent
there were the Arabian men
talking into blue tooths on their ears
or into cellphones
or arguing with each other
outside over cigarette after endless cigarette
nothing but harsh blunt sounds,
it was beautiful in a way
and there is the Russian couple
bombshell athletic blondes
it was hard to determine whether the relationship was
Mother and Daughter
or coach and athlete
they were seemingly
all business
broken with interspersed bouts of laughter
and their were the Asian boys and girls
coming from Korea or Japan or China, or some other place
talking fast and easy
gesticulating wildly with their hands
and of course their was English
thick and arrogant in its tone
it was a language for movers and shakers
money makers and deal breakers
it sounded nowhere near as special
as the other languages
And there was him
sitting silently in the corner of the cafe
his language
the chitter chatter of the keyboard
Wrenderlust Oct 2013
The café rumbles like the belly of a fasting saint,
voices competing with the clanks of silverware.
In the tearoom a boy with a tangle of wires
leaking from an unzipped backpack
struts between tables, billing himself as a "human hotspot".
He wears the same glasses you do;
they slip down his nose as he leans over to flirt with the waitress
in the red apron, who taps her nails against the cash register
and laughs at his bad jokes, she tells me, because
he wears his pants too high, just like her brother used to.

A man with a soup-stained button down and a bald spot
introduces himself as Peter Ling, proprietor,
oracle of the inner city rummage sale,
advisor to the lost and hungry.
He doles out pithy wisdom and lentils into mismatched bowls-
"You want therapy? Try your ex boyfriend."
The four of us hide our grins, and flee
to his cavernous basement. As we go spelunking
through the puddles left by a burst pipe,
clambering past bloated books and warped furniture,
Emma Miller swears that she slept here once-
on a moldy brown sofa crouched like a hibernating bear
among empty Heineken bottles.

The expedition yields four boxes of acupuncturist leaflets
and a damp antique suitcase filled with seeds,
who seized the opportunity to germinate,
their tiny roots searching fruitlessly
in the mildewed silk lining.
Ling says he's going to try gardening this year,
serve up spaghetti squash grown out back by the garage.

We sowed pea shoots and salad greens
in glass jars pilfered from a claw-footed armoire
that lay on its side, defeated, like the last of the saber-tooths.
I named one for you, tucked Eruca vesicaria sativa
into potting soil, and set it on the balcony railing-
tempting fate and gravity, because you always liked a little excitement
with your afternoon cup of rooibos.
I didn't see the girl who knocked you off your perch,
saw only the sun's sharp gleam off the glass
as the jar plunged, graceful as a slow-motion train wreck
on its arc toward the concrete,
and Peter Ling reached up with his big, calloused hand
to break your fall.
Sharde' Fultz Mar 2017
Ill go Stacey Dash on you
Blastin you
Actin like my daddy ain't black
Attackin You
With these alternative facts
Hate the "fake news"
So I can fool wypipo into havin ME on they team
Low self esteem has made me green with envy for the machine
There's no in between
I don't support you
I hate your black support groups
Why don't you just pull YOURself up
By YOUR bootstraps while I deport you
Cause I'll resort to a white face
And paint my own race
As lame
My claim to fame
Clueless
To the truth
I Maintain this
Self-hate
My lips stay lyin' through my tooths
I don't mind being their puppet
Long as they keep my noose loose

"As If" -Sharde' Fultz 3.2.17
Jabber Alexander Oct 2015
general t'so what the ****'s this meat made of?
the fluorescent room gleans
off the sheen of fake food,
***** this weak pay stub,
this buffet too
and living off food court food.
hors derves served to
a bunch of augustus gloops
who'll soon sport tubes.

I hope the line short fuses.

I'll be giggling,  
at these wiggling
greedy,
feeding
frenzies
still feeling empty
with stomachs of drains
they feign being friendly
not a morsel of moral thought,
their brain's busy picking
food from the troth
pointing with pickeled pig feet
ruder than all hell
marvelously stinky
laid back in booths
soothing their sweet tooths
mouths oozing drool
drippin onto bibs
turning solids into goo
From the life of a food court operator on a college campus.
SøułSurvivør May 2017
etched on ecru
tooth or tusk
born of boredom
and bloodlust
sailors scrape
the ships at sea
fabulous frigates
fast and free
ever sailing
n'er to sink
pipe ash used
they had no ink
whales weren't wasted
their tooths a part
of this great
seafaring

art.
I have done skrimshaw.
I never used illegal ivory.
But if I did it today,
I'd use ivory nuts!
(A seed that is large
and has all the properties
of real ivory)
Del Maximo Mar 2016
for a Lovely Lady

we're growing old and things have changed
our health ain't what it used to be
at times my eyes can't really see
fine print can be tough for me
my ears can buzz, snap and ring
flattening the notes I sing
my strength has gone the way of youth
and dentures now replace my tooths
my knees may creak and fingers ache
but emu oil works, for goodness' sake
I've earned my stripes and can't complain
we still enjoy walks in the rain
we may no longer be so young
but, Lord, we still have lots of fun
our time together is not over
as far as I can tell
we've plenty of moments for picnics in clover
and so many roses yet to smell
© 03/28/16
Ford Prefect Jan 2018
how to steal a soul:

blow three kisses to the mailman
two to the dean of admissions
and one to yourself
because you'll always be queen
of your own heart

three days later
drown yourself in sugar,
the hooves of lovesick pigs,
and the chipped tooths
of the bodies from
one-way-loves past

hug your cats goodbye
remember to turn off the heater
(it's hot enough inside you)
don't forget a brain-melting
smile

and jump
Roberta Day Mar 2015
Laying down truths handpicked for the youths
Don't pass judgements between tooths
Stay all about the sooth-saying
We're all screaming instead of praying
That's why we lose so quickly what were steadily gaining
Don't assume I'm playing when I trip you up
With unexpected grease too slick for a slipper
Servers appreciate a big tipper
But don't break your bank to eat and pay no thanks
Don't knock a gender when you knockin boots with someone who's dead at the roots
Don't go down the wrong way on a one way street
If you're gonna shuffle gotta lift up your feet
If you're cold go out in the heat
If you're old get ready for what you're about to meet
I've stayed silent for so long
Speak up before the moment's gone
And you're reaching for something intangible
Because you felt it was intelligible
Don't suppress what makes you you
Cause there's no one else who can fill your shoes
Don't overthink your thought
You only end up killing that truth you sought
Don't detach yourself, just rewrap yourself
Around peace and harmony, it's good for your health
I'm delirious but are you hearing this?
Sleep's for the weak when all you want to do is weep
Sometimes it's all you need to treat the disease
An escape from your predetermined reality
When you're unable to comprehend what it all means
Remember, loving one another is loving You and Me
MyCrumbledCookie Nov 2021
when i was younger i’d ask the tooth fairy y el raton for a book rather than money
id place my perfect pearly yellow tooth on my nightstand with the flowers engraved on the sides
and i’d keep the letter containing shaky writing close by so they don’t miss my request and leave a quarter by accident
they’d work together to get me a book,
diary of a wimpy kid, if you give a mouse a cookie, the boxcar children.
a book costs a lot more than the teeth-takers make from taking a single smelly tooth,
so they weren’t making quite a profit off of me
but oh my brown eyes would wake and lids would spread wide
as I see the new book that i’d get to read
to my second grade classroom of troublemakers
that would only calm down if i read them a book before they left to go home at three
i’d tap the heel of my flat shoe the same way my teacher did
and stumble over words i wasn’t taught to read yet
i know every kid asked for money
but i asked for words that contained more value than Abraham Lincoln did on a piece of wrinkled paper
if you give a child a book,
they will plant their seed and rise.
and even knowledge can disguise itself as a fun little book
given in exchange for a single smelly tooth
Jamie F Nugent Mar 2016
You can't wind back the clock
When it has melted in your hands;
And to sizzle the hollow hearts of starving artists,
Feed them riddles you kept
In the empty space behind your cheek.

We won't die of thirst, if we are
Standing in puddles filled by crocodile's tears,
Softly soaking our shins,
We dissolve.
Like sugar in steaming sweet tea,
We dissolve,
But we leave a tease
For sweet tooths.

-Jamie F. Nugent
JaxSpade Oct 2018
Boy cried wolf!

    He said could you help me sir

The wolf said,
                        I'm a wolf

I would rather eat you instead

Oh goody!

I've just peppered my
Skin with a little salt
It taste just like you want!

The wolf cried boy!
Have you lost your mind

I'm supposed to hunt
For my tooths grind

You offer me skin
Free to dine
This must be a trick
            To trap mine

The boy cried Wolf!

   I'm willing to die
      I would rather be eaten
        Than to stay alive

Oh  please believe me !
       I wouldn't lie

Couldn't you have a bite?

The wolf cried boy!
You're a fox real sly
I dare not eat your
Temptous hide

For I do not trust
in the words you cry
And this time
I must pass you by

The boy cried!

wolf!
         wolf!

But no one heard

The wolf cried boy that was absurd!
A bit  poetry

small fingers
handle a bit of beauty
a bohemian evening
a beautiful summer
to smell the sublime blue iodine !
O happy soul, do you feel?
the exquisite perfume of the wonderful kingdom
who dances a musette waltz
a fairy with a white rose complexion
inspires luminous grace
in a milky tooths smile
far back from another time
with green mother my eyes
to link the words with my gaiety
a little joy  the cheerfulness of heart
child love simply
the fine summer a beautiful novel
Italy in her fairy eyes
like a Magnani with  her eyes
oh my god my heart throbs
the big  fear is here
i see now his fatal black eyes
to love a divine lady the queen of charm
the beautiful case before the end of the drama
to love the inaccessible star
I Don Quixote a dulcinea
without Rossinante only the words
for an evening song!
the animalian love is
a metaphysical war game of  heart
a chemical secretion a balm of joy
for the  soul child  actor of the drama love
here are the words a little bit poem
oh my love like Cesare Pavese, I am
waiting for a beautiful Gloria " death will come "
and the rain  falls in the midsummer
a counter-time in the film,
the drama is always  black and white
to die in Rome a Lacrimosa Requiem
the Sublime voices ring the end  
the glamor of the divinity  in tears that charms
the end of the drama the film on the white of linen
with beautiful black words like his eyes!
To be the goat, ya gotta learn, to take the *******, from the magazine's throat,
Miswrote ya **** quotes, now everybody gotta pitch, in on a note,
I say **** it, *** lucked it, now I got fan mails, from the corporate,
They don't want me, to talk that real ****, instead they want me, to embrace that fake ****,
Sorry my Pops, ain't made me, to be no fool, live by the golden rules,
Others undo to you, see if they had a clue, they could peep the puzzle,
It ain't hard to solved, every day new scandals, at the job, now ya money's rob, from the publishing leasing mobs,
Dont matter if you one or top ten, the weakest get put in position,
I peep the game since when, age of ten when, I got my first stab of a pen,
Scribbles a few words, showed my family and they said word,
Boy you gotta lotta skillz, to ****, but to yaself always keep it real,
Cuz the soul will feel, always let you know when it's time to spill,
Out the truth, I'm tryna reach the souls of the youth, but they stuck to the booths,
Tooths, of many been chipped, society saying they smart, must be a slip,
Teach em *******, from classes to the pulpits, now everybody pull hits,
From synthetic weeds, with no seeds, guess that's how, the new breeds feed,




Followed the steps of jesus, praise us but, at the same time, quick to bleed us,
Trust us, they love to see us in ruckus, death the only thing, that could knock us,
But I ain't gone stop, till I reach the top, the top of the pyramid, only to fall down,
To get back up, again and again why was we born in, a world full of sins,
I count my blessing, of stressing to everyday chips, the money was guessing,
Cant trust nobody, they quick to get you lifted, like John Gotti, somebody,
Call 911 there's another ****** done, I feel kin to the fallen son, a done,
33 summers I had a few runs, thought positive more pros than cons,
They said it couldn't be done, but my will he done, baby precious pushing a lexus,
I'm in the passenger seats, with a few Grant's to Franklin's to meet,
Pass time middle fingers to crooked one time, turned up the bassline,
Hit the barber up, draw lines in my head, that look like spiritual signs,
Only the wise speak wise, gritty folks only speak jives, new ways to just hide,
From they real self, I self checked my self, gotta stay up on my health,
Juice up, no steroids dont be a busta, or get dusted, by the blazers of Dan Aykroyd,
Suckas turning paranoid, never had a check that was void, hands like Lloyd,
Every day is like may weather, a true go getter, no time for playing sitters,
To a baby, money is grown still puffin home grown, lay it out my shallow bones,
Lord forgive me, for all of my sins, and playin with the evil, spirits within,
I was just a lost soul, now that I let go, I feel the stings, of a new death blow,
Sumitra Nair Jul 2018
Red angles dressed in silk hood who has been victimized to wolves. Don’t be afraid of disguised demons. Be a wolf and master your demons. Little survivors you have been cut, torn apart. But still you rose high as a survivors of the dark.

Don’t befriend a stranger there are Wolves in every guise. Tripped into the shaddy woods taking a friendly warning of the criminalized surroundings.

Wolves plunged on to a red damsel ,she didn fear the wolves in darkest day and brightest night. She ran free beneath the moon pale nights.

Sharp tooths never heard her cries.she was a red Hunter who survived with a crimson smile.

Dripped in red blood, soul was beast in disguise.

#Stopchildabuse#
Stopchildabuse
Mitchell Mar 2018
Canned black beans
Line the brick walls
Underneath a tragic sun
Berating the bald heads
Of the cigar smoking dice throwers
Valuing nothing
But the smoke in their lungs
The fat ***** trucking by in their eyes
And the love for their kids
They work all day for
So they can study things they
Wouldn't even waste time trying to spell

Spinning guilefully in the corner
Of the repressed two bedroom apartment
Two grayed broken down dogs
One with a back left leg that's short
The second blind
Sit biting at each other's butts
Like Ouroboros
Screeching whenever one of their tooths
Would cross to deep
Into the skin

The tiles of the ceiling
Are browned from the dust
Whipping in from the wind
From outside
There was little anyone could do
Seeing there were no blinds,
No shutters, or windows.

Hooligans vagrant rocks
As well as being poor
Had a way of holding back repairs
Sooraz Apr 2020
Flaming hot Cheetos and fairly easy cheat
codes on the PS2. Keep your memory simple
like fresh Nike shoes on the first day of school;
a shortcut to cool.

That always lasts too short a time, like before
scampering small paws of a lifelong friend start to travel slowly
across rooms. He just needs more rest,
now he can’t climb down steps— I start to smile less.

Pause.
He’s still here but I’ll instead wander;
may so it goes soon but I’ll instead
ponder.

When did yogurt start needing spoons?
When did sweet things start rotting tooths?
How come it seems like no one treats me better
than long naps in November?

My smoldering body in space heated by space
heater, under a blanket thrown over
to keep the warm together.
Try to keep it together.

No, I’ll wonder if tomorrow knows how to hold
my heart in it’s hands. If rose-tinted lenses will
continue to be in style. It’ll surely
be a while till I figure it out

but until then I’ll try to learn
that a moment always collapses
under not yet existing futures
and no longer existing pasts.

— The End —