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Nadia Aug 4
She might be beautiful
On the outside

Hair, makeup, false smiles
Perfectly applied

She reflects warmth
Taking credit for stolen heat

She claims to protect
But she welcomes their defeat

A symbol of humanity
Though she possesses none

Propping up evil incarnate
Isn't a job for just anyone

NCL August 2019
Sara Kellie Jul 2018
Look what they've done,
torn you apart.
In the name of fun,
some kind of black art.

I'd been thrown into the lake,
arms and legs tied.
I sunk to the bottom,
they thought I had died.
Out of the depths I arose
wearing a beautiful dress.

Some kind of new magic,
like a good witch.
A white art.
I don't seek revenge
for I have a pure heart.

It's now they'll see
that they could never be
someone like me.
Because I'm the greatest
******* in a dress
they'll ever meet.

Poetry by Kaydee.
The more times you're hurt, the less likely you will retaliate in the same way. Understand the serenity that comes with this, the more immoveable you will become. Covered in blood, bruises, fractures and breaks but . . . . . still stood smiling because *****, you're more than just a ******' witch.
Abby M Dec 2018
I feel small
The world is a laughing giant
Wearing a coat to stop the cold
But all of her coats are too big for me
You don't wear black face.
You'd never do such.
You don't wear white face,
You're no mime.
But every March,
Millions
Dress in green,
Affect terrible brogues,
And get drunk, some must disgracefully:
Because that's what the Irish do, think they.
Is it tasteful to wear a yarmulke for Yom Kippur,
A burka on Eid al-Adha,
And join the parade down Fifth Avenue?
Not.
Slainte
Don't know why the world thinks the Irish are drunkards. I go to Ireland every year, and the only drunks I see are North Americans, whites and blacks, ****, straights and all others not mentioned.  Even the phrase "Paddy Wagon" is an ethnic slur.
B L Jul 2018
Doing a dance,
to wear a mask,
To play a game that you can’t stomach . . .
Just so that the truth doesn’t have to face you,
The way you recoil from reflections of yourself.

You’d forsake your happiness, your health —
                                                  You would burn it all.

To do a dance,
To wear a mask
To play a game you’ll always lose.
                                                  To look in a mirror . . .
             To tell an image, that it’s anything but you.

And it is in that moment, that you'll find
                                you tell the unfamiliar truth
As you bleed and feed your own obliterated youth . . .

To feel, and then
                          to lose —
Just like the loss you always knew

                          You would find in disappointment.
Like an unholy anointment
                          of your least desirable possessions
That retire from the heavens
                          Back to you.


To betray, and to amuse
                                                          A­lone.
The ides of irony rejoice!
               For they’ve found their lamb... or
their ever-dying muse.
                 Forsaking life itself, you clamor
To see others just like you.

And maybe, one day, one will choose
           the path that you can’t leave,
As it reciprocates to thee —
            Two partners in misery, fated to excuse
the waste of each other...
            until they find there’s nothing left.

To feel the flame within its breath consumed.

Wearing a mask,
To live a lie,
                And die a death,
                Whose dance you six-times misstep


                              And on the seventh, betrays you.

Bad Luck: In a Wakeful Contradiction :

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1691941182
Cné Mar 2017
Sitting on a ****
Having a rest
Dreaming of wearing
A beautiful dress

Hair cascading
Red curly locks
Waste of time, who cares
There are no clocks

Awaiting a happening
With nothing in sight
Mischief merriment
Anything, even a fright

Breena, bored to death
'Tis true
Wanting only,
For something to do.
Wrote this for a painting I did of a red headed fairy sitting on a tree ****.
ryn Oct 2014
Collab, collab! Oh thoughtful collabs!
Amalgamation of two unique minds,
Merging of dual thinking labs!
Cerebral workshop of life's diverse grinds!

Collab, collab! Reinforced true!
Melding of minds and honed crafts,
Mounted up with bolt and *****!
Assembled solid in monochromed poetic drafts.

Collab, collab! A trend that's trending!
A fad that now seems ever growing...
Each other's style we will be wearing.
Matching ensembles, yours for the liking.

Collab, collab! More of it please!
Ocean of creativity, pearls ripe for picking,
Journey for two across artistic seas.
Wonder who with next I'll be swimming...
Tribute to all collab attempts!
Keep it up people!!! :)
King Panda Jan 2016
I walk through campus wearing
black leggings and those faded, leather
boots. I’m even wearing an
infinity scarf I bought full price at
Anthropologie and a pair of tiger-striped
cat eye sunglasses. ****, I look good.

On top of it, I’m smoking a Parliament
menthol, my red-lined lips whipping
smoke into the dead air, creating
a grey cloud that some would call cancerous and
others, ****.

But no one notices me, and, candidly, I
am okay with that because I notice me, and
I am a big red dance button that demands to
be pushed. So, I push myself and
groove down the brown brick road all the way
to classroom 114 in the science building.
Sara Kellie Jul 2018
Lipstick kisses,
we're both wearing red.
I motion her over and onto our bed.
Blood red smeared across our lips.
I keep her enticed, I straddle her hips.
Seductively playing,
I'm touching my lips.
Long acrylic nails,
for us never fails.
I show her a ***** and
she gently wails.

She's waiting,
my sweetheart,
I lust her so much.
We ****, we're on fire
and I wonder,
which of us holds the power.
I, in all honesty is hoping it's her,
'cause then I'll continue this life
in her beautiful blur.

Poetry by Kaydee.
A girl in love with another girl.
Chris Neilson May 2016
In '87 there was a band on at the Witchwood
called the ****** Surgeons
head surgeon was wearing a surgeon's gown
wearing a surgeon's mask
wearing a surgeon's hair-net
delirium in the audience
the band played thrashing guitars
in front of a psychotic drummer
behind the masked, hair-netted front surgeon
2 songs in, off came the hair-net
3 songs in, off came the mask
4 songs in, off came the gown
a bare chested surgeon
now wearing civilian half nakedness
a huge sofa cushion appeared in the audience
from out of nowhere into my face
my beloved tinted specs flew into the moshing mob
the chaos relented for a moment
I searched the floor for my pride and joy
finding them in multiple smashed, crushed pieces
I could not see the band
I could hardly see my hand
in front of my be-cushioned face
I left the show early
as everything was blurry
how was I to know?
how a ****** Surgeons show would go?
maybe the name was a giveaway.
after a sofa cushion ruined my day.
It's all true.
Sad Boy Jul 2018
I hope I don’t see anyone I know
I need to be high to enjoy the show
It’s wearing off can we please go?
Come back to my place we’ll snort some blow
Inspired by EP
Jordan Rowan Aug 2015
I'm leaving tomorrow
But I'm staying today
Before the dawn
I'll be gone away
No one watches me walk away
I'm leaving tomorrow
But I'm staying today

I've put myself
In the shape I'm in
My head is heavy
And my body's thin
Will someone please let me in?
I'm leaving tomorrow
But I'm staying today

I'm wearing rags
In sleeping bags
I'm drinking coffee
With homeless hags
I don't mean to be a drag
I'll be leaving tomorrow
Can I stay the day?
Please don't throw me away
I turn my gaze in Your direction
Please turn Your gaze in mine
I take one step straight towards You
And suddenly I find
You take three secret steps
Inside my seeking mind
I continue walking toward You
And truly I’m amazed
You run to me with arms outstretched
The Determiner of Days
Tenderly You say to me,
“You were Born to Run always”
This poem is my adaptation of a traditional Sufi saying:

If he turns his gaze in My direction, I turn My gaze in his.  If he takes one step towards Me, I take three steps towards him.  And if he comes to Me walking, I come to him running."
Mark Upright Aug 2017
~~~

write the scriptures,
the Book of Me,
with authorship
exposed on the books cover,
of every word have ever writ

flawed, ignored, rejected,
necessary to self-publish
upon the unpapered internet,
where words are ionized

I take an oath,
self-administered,
oath sworn upon mine own scripture,
testify before a jury of my peers,
me, myself and I

what you read,
is not imaginary,
I am real,
you are realizing

each of us has a truthful name,
in spite of acronymic disguises employed,
and wearing it,
here, upon this.....line dotted,
place my neck,
ready for
the executioner


you
~~~

October 24, 2015
7:20 am
Robin Carretti Aug 2018
Where do we meet
    Oh! No He_*
Getting onto
the next courses
Oh La- La "Cheri"
K>ANSAS>>City

_ Prime spot pretty

 let's >- jump ))) To Love
Please raise the horses

What a skirt steak in her
Petticoat Junction
Going to Kansas City affection
Different tribe or breed
What needs to love me
tender Elvis meet Beavis Buthead
    More  T.L.C  
computer DOC Tick Tock
IRS taking a meat beef
chunk is everybody drunk
IOS what is really the meat
Business Politician Trump

Subscribe well done
Cooked or rare spooked
Taking a Spin City kick
She got canned and licked
The prime meat hot seat

The ******* who arrives
first class steak knifes
Ms. Pork hard chew 
Mr. Beans second rate
Dark pumpernickel
Saloon *******, he
is eating
The young tender
chicken leg

High five thigh? Hands
up Robin Fly
Save the meat "let it be"
  "Let it Be" Beatles
The beat Colonel deep fried
Grade A rare meat slicing

Eating in a board meeting
The pig meat market
of pricing

Doe a deer
he loves
International beer
A very sensitive time
Slaughterhouse no way out
His poker face meets
potato heads beef jerky
Surrender Weds
maple smiles picky
The rich Syrup
Disney Mickey Mouse
Kansas City Wonder
meat house

The beauty of animals
"Moms kettle she is talking
to Parrots" meat
the market for rings riot
Six enemies making
6 rounds
Six servants 666 carats
Robin smiles heartily
"Campbells Chicken" little


He's the Beef Man stew
If you only knew

He's spitting tobacco chew
She peels the potato for the
meathead bad to the
T-bone Dachshund I Bone

Garlic knots heart of the
Sausage wearing the
meat corsage Superbowl
My sweet basil good soul
Grilling your bullhead
Pirate Ribeye steak pupils
Mr. "Billygoat" Bachelorette
Hair flat crepe Suzette

Moms Korean style fuss
coleslaw
what a seesaw
Playing Porgy and Bess
 Scarlet the red rare meat
Rolling stone baking pin
Mississippi one or two
Under my meaty thumb

Comes in three-4-5-6- Lucky 7
-Crazy 8 furries
Nine meat ribs-10 babies
with bibs
Hungry Man meat when!!
Country plaid tablecloth
"Kansas Men" of the cloth
The Pig approval
Kansas City Mayor
new arrival

Family together eating
Don't eat our animals
Why is life so unfair
Feeding the poor
with cans
The bad cut of meat devil
this is not the "Grade A"
This is not a ring
circus trainer Bullseye

Robin coffee animal-friendly
Two peas in a pod I pods
  I tune like Gods
Were the luckiest people to have
animals  

The Floridian with dog murals
Palm trees green thumb
plants sunshine events
The symphony dog tails
of hunts
Whats to compare her twilight
eyes hold the moment stare
Talk to the animal's hearts care
The barbecue all the meat men and the women who love their fruit listen to the Owl lady how she hoots those Kansas city slicker boots and the Hehaw have a good time with family and friends treat the animals with tender loving care
Cné Nov 2017
Lies and deceit, it's all around me
Lies and deceptions, two bad surroundings

I see no point, I see no end
Those are enemies, who I thought were friends.

I see and hear it, find it hard to believe
They don't want any good, but only to deceive

I don't know who to trust, everyone's a target
The things they'll do it’s hard to forget

Deceit and deception, over and over
The chances of good friend, like a four leaf clover

Be careful of personas or alters unknown
Hidden behind a profile not wearing perfume but rather cologne
Get your finery on and let the games begin,
Does it look like you'd trust him?
Blackout suit, purple shirt,
Crimson tie, dangerous eyes.
Sly, slick, sardonic and wicked
wearing a gentlemanly disguise.

The dinner was alright
now get ready to fight.
White powder on the counter,
A dusted card and a rolled-up fiver.
Finish up your line
and get out there.

Codine chills, calm is instilled,
Colorful lights, relaxed thrills.

No chats so I'll settle for that.

A while later
and we're back in black. Hometown
beatdown.
Lets get completely smashed;
Go hard or go home.

Messy nights never get old,
River of glass across a broken road.
Tonic wine is best served cold, though
the medicinal properties remain unknown.
A bottle of B from Buckfast Abby, they always
blame it on the buckie, infernal commotion lotion with its cough-syrupy sweet nectar.

Just the end of another debutante night,
Staying classy while we drink and fight.
Making hedonistic debauchery stylish
'cause we're Irish.
Bee Dec 2017
Pathetic parasite
of a woman
perpetuates
love indefinitely,
a plague
upon hopelessly
romantic people.
A performance.
Smiling, always.
Hates
good news and
sleeps around,
sleeps
surrounded
in black light.
Wearing sunglasses.
Her day is
nighttime.
She breathes
aesthetic,
instagram posts
to survive.
But thrives, only.
The numb gummed
princess cries
every day and
yes. She said it,
even
a hundred times
but
language
proves flexible.
Same words mean
different things
and we
obviously don’t
speak the same
language.
I meant mine.
I didn’t know
she’d sell hers
for snow.
Fame.
Attention from strangers.

Welcome home.

Winter came and stayed,
love never lived here.
King Panda Feb 2016
you went sledding
with the kids
while I filed the paperwork
and cried

I used to be your lady boy
shining in green pit-bar light
as you kissed me like
the kids were with my mother
stuck at the bottom of the
treehouse slide in a pile
in mud
laughing
when

in reality they were
just budding inside of you
fertilized with apple liquor
and the perfume smoking
from my chest as you
unbuttoned the first few
revealing the scar left by
my brother's first pocket knife

the skin of my young years
the skin I am wearing now
cut by these ******* papers as
you freeze
tearlessly
in a pom pom hat
teaching our babies how to make
the perfect snowball
kevin hamilton Dec 2018
before i knew it
you were wearing nothing
but your jewels
and the silver moonlight
like artemis in the wild
oh, just kiss me sometime, softly
dream of where we go
when the body dies
thelemonpolice Jul 2018
This love is a scab on my skin
What once was coursing through my veins
Lies flat atop my skin
I keep picking at the edges
I give into the itch
no wonder it won't heal
When everyday it splits
It leaks onto my clothing
It spills from underneath
It stains all that I'm wearing
and makes me grit my teeth
a shower couldn't help me
it stings, I don't feel clean
I wish I could stop picking
But now it's just routine
I wish I would stop scratching
Reopening the wound
Itching just to look at one more
Photograph of you
Itching just to pick up
My phone and speak again
Itching because this skin
wasn't good enough for him.
I have made a song based on this poem, check it out! >>>>> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CkpvmFH3n44
I wear pajamas
when I go to bed,
one button-up shirt
and drawstring pants
both the color of
light blue sky
they're a gift
from my Mom.
I feel complete
wearing them,
I'm ready to
fall asleep.
It's rare in this world
to ever feel so confident.
When I put on these pajamas
I'm a gentleman practicing
the art of
a good night's sleep,
call me Aaron no more,
only Mr. Brown for now on.
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