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lavender Jan 2018
wow i have a crush on someone i barely know

he'll probably never even like me back though.
Renée Casey Feb 15
i exposed myself
opened wide the curtains
showed you my body
my desire
and, accidentally
my heart
somberbean Sep 7
I am drunk.
Drunk surrounded by my four walls that have never even heard talk of sin.
crickets scream, and my candle fills the room with the smells of autumn.

i feel surprisingly calm,
or maybe that's just the wine.

Cheers to finally getting some sleep
Felix Sladal Aug 2018
The streets are paved with ***** sticky sweet on bare feet
I made Lemy laugh over a light, under the over cast sky
Broken bones stab through coble stone scales towers old as time
Where's the crime?
Ha, cops don't have guns if you can out run them your in the clear

I’ll drag those cases, it pays yah.
Lawrence Hall Aug 21
Messages and pictures suddenly appear

And others then are made to go away

And here - oh, my! - delete (goodbye, my dear!)

And is all this how we should pass each day?
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:

It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Steve Sep 2017
A little Spanish lass
Joined the Scottish class
But when asked to roll her r's
She was met with whoops and ah's
Then scored an A plus pass

*For which she was thrilled to bits
So she also rolled her ****.
From Barcelona
L B Feb 2017
She let the tape go—
on record
one evening for an ordinary hour
Five years later, we play it back
for laughs after dinner—then as now

“Remember how the stove door screeched
at the house on Olive Street?”
And our voices!
Phoeb’s, lighter–tired
wrapping the nine’s tables in elastic yawns
like flash cards in a rubber band
“Phoeb, your pitch changed so—
while  I turned...”
to run water in the tub
lamenting the **** of Two
in frenetic escape of hands
Running rebel taunts in Time’s strict face
who would not dare disturb her dawns
only mine—
Roused by the first round of another day’s
ring of twelve
digits that insist
like uniform with apron waiting
on ironing board that’s never folded

Now the **** of Two cries out
of success in *****
Then, Oratorio for Soap!
The splashy version
with endless bubblings of “Rocky Baby!”
and obbligato of “Where’s Shampoo?”
in jubilant glissadal plunge
an octave through vocal whoops!

…I had not thought
she hardly talked
but sang and squealed or whined in tunes
Her voice lay open to her soul
a roost of piercing humming birds
small of words
but filled with sweet and want
incessant wings and things to say....

How could we have forgotten?

“Are these your boots?
Your clothes laid out?”
From sound and talk, we still can hear
frost phantoms
in winter window rattles—then as now
And Phoebe remarks how one voice
didn’t change though—
“Still talking to herself”

We laugh
and let the tape go....
This is one of those poems I'm so glad I wrote because no photo or recording could ever capture this memory as well.
James Floss Aug 2018
I know some folks
Some new most old
Keeping logs swirling

It’s a balancing act
Lots of plates spinning
Whoops! Stretch right!

***** fall
Plates crash
Notes fall flat

Oh! Look over there!
Thank you, magicians!

Take a bow,
Sis, bro, boom!
You got the room!
elle jaxsun Apr 3
if my head weren't attached
i'd lose it in seconds.

no. milliseconds.

my head is more like
a beautiful bouquet of balloons
i hold tightly with both hands

when i'm doing too good
i get so excited that


i let them all go.

and then i'm jumping
like a ******* idiot
trying to gather them all.

but they float away fast
and i'm still jumping
while others tell me,
"it's okay, they always come back...
well, after you f i n a l l y calm down."

but i can't calm down
i lost my balloons.

of course, eventually, they do come down.
deflated and strings tangled
(or missing)

i gather them
try to untangle and repair them
and hold on tightly
with both hands
once again.
NaPoWriMo day 3 - 040319

ya know, when you frequently lose your **** it takes a minute to come back down to Earth, regroup and try again.
A Sad Alex Oct 2018
I made a mistake,
Whoops thats on me
I made a mistake
Sorry, I didn´t see
I made a mistake
It won´t happen again
I made a mistake
It´s my fault, I confess
I made a mistake
I know I messed up
I made a mistake
I´m trying my best
I made a mistake
You make them too
I made a mistake
There is no excuse
I made a mistake
You should know better
I made a mistake
What? Can´t handle the pressure?
I made a mistake
You still do?
I made a mistake
Jesus, go get a clue...
I made a mistake
I just can´t help it
I made a mistake
Either fix it, or quit
I made a mistake
My patience is running thin
I made a mistake
Yes, yes you did...

You made a mistake
When you rose from your bed

You made a mistake
Thinking you can have faith

You made a mistake
Thinking you can change

You made a mistake
Thinking you can mend your ways

You made a mistake
Thinking you can escape

You made a mistake
Not wanting to die before

But you sure did good

When you hung from your noose...
Reader discretion is adviced, if you suffer from depression, anxiety or are just easy unnerved then you might want to skip this one.

No I´m not suicidal, I just wanted to write something with a little more bite and edge to it
Mary Gay Kearns Jan 2018

Wimbledon common
Was always the place to go,
Catching the train from Streatham
The family all aglow,
Sandwiches in a paper bag
Thermos in a sack,
Plastic sandels and tennis racket
Not forgetting the cricket bat.

Everyone was skippy
The sun high in the sky,
Dad had his umbrella
But the rain was shy,
Jumping from the platform
Down a row of steps,
Brother took a tumble
And that was that.

Plasters in a pocket
All was mended soon,
Finally recovered
Felt over the moon,
Reached the grassy stretches
Whoops mind the dogs,
Come away from the lovers
They're out for a jog.

Find a shiny tree trunk
Horizontal on the ground,
Four happy people
Tuck in to raspberry jam,
Now for the thermos
Plastic cups ahead,
Here come the wasps
To eat our jam and bread.

Later penguin biscuits
And a trip behind the bin,
Dad puts out the wickets
Let's see who wins,
After a quiet session
Brother looses his cool,
Slings the bat skyward
You should see it go,
Mother looked upwards
Covering her head,
Just managed to miss it
Landing on the hedge.

I went off walking
To gather pretty flowers,
Dad hid under the paper
We had a quiet hour,
Clouds gathering slowly
The sun going down,
What a lovely day in the country
We're now homeward bound.

In memory and gratitude to my lovely mum and dad
Grace and Eric Ayton- Robinson who always did their best.
Love Mary **
Ive been to the dentist

She gave ma a happy pill ME a happy pill, not Ma a happy pill

Tree frogs are my favotire amphibians there so cute ya wanna buy them an ice cream but there aint no bug ice scream

Yes I’m fine than k you

Gosh this is still fun

And they gave me a new toothbrush although I use the super-golly-gee-****-quadro-toothbrush-thing-that-lights-up-and-s­tuff

Yes the pill is wearing off sure

Why do they all put their hands in my mouth at the same time

Lets see thats four hands

And then they yell at me to relax

But yeah I got a pill qnd I am sooooooooooooooooooo relaxed

My teeth are fine

My teeth are green no wait my teeth or clean because if they were green they wouldn’t be clean

Dr. Joyce is the best

There’s still something to be said for tree frogs

Yes I can walk to the car whoops

Yes I can opine the passenger door

Yes I can belt my seat fashion

Or somethingthis has been fun

Thank you yes six monyhsts…
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  The Road to Magdalena, Paleo-Hippies at Work and Play, Lady with a Dead Turtle, Don’t Forget Your Shoes and Grapes, Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go, and Dispatches from the Colonial Office.
James Floss Mar 4
1.  Shoot *****
2. Ski
3. Free-dive
4. Sky-dive
5. Vote Republican
6. Eat raw fish
7. Play naked volleyball
8. Eat haggis
9. Walk on coals
10. Yodel
11. Visit Somalia
12. Jell-O shots
13. Learn Klingon
14. Fish
15. Sell *****-wigs
16. Drink Genesee Creme Ale
17. Run a 5K
18. Pay mortgage
19. Divorce
20. Shoot ******
21. Go to Tupperware party
22. Drink Gatorade
23. Visit Poughkeepsie
24. Tend bar
25. Serve on a ******* trial
26. Eat glass
27. ****
28. Trump rally
29. KKK rally
30. Watch Sally Fields in The Flying Nun
31. Attend a MegaChurch
32. Listen to Death Metal
33. Watch American Dad
34. Moonwalk
35. Eat brussel sprouts
36. Watch Fox News
37. Turn 20
38. Turn 30
39. Turn 40
40. Turn 50
41. Turn 60
42. Turn over in my grave
43. Eat a tern
44. Teach Fall term
45. Terminate a solemn vow
46. Take a vow of silence
47. Disavow core beliefs
48. Operate a snow plow
49. Forget that I do know how
50. Insinuate
51. Dissemble
52. Lie, cheat and/or steal
53. S'Mores
54. Wet my bed
55. **** my thumb
56. **** a duck
57. Watch Little House on the Prairie
58. Rent a yacht
59. Not rescue animals
60. Not neuter pets
61. Not give to Food for People
62. Not appreciate Public Radio
63. Not appreciate Public Television
64. Knot like a Boy Scout
65. Play Parcheesi
66. Pay credit interest
67. Feign interest
68. Pinterest
69. Instagram
70. Eat spam
71. Exam cram
72. Karaoke
73. Jet-ski
74. Snowmobile
75. Pretend what the ******* are going on and on about matters (whoops; that’s number 67)
76. Blame my parents
77. Not take responsibility for my choices
78. Invest in oil futures
79. Renege on promises
80. Waste my time listening to telemarketers
81. Waste my time listening to zealots
82. Waste my time listening to racists
83. Waste your time
84. Waste my time, I hope
85. Not seek truth
86. Not seek answers
87. Not be authentic
88. Not be xenophobic
89. Accept lies
90. March lockstep
91. Buy the latest and greatest
92. Be consumer extraordinaire
93. Not be present
94. Not be conscientious
95. Not be good to my fellow human beings
96. Consume too much
97. Waste too much
98. Boast too much
99. Post too much
100. Not think about consequences
101. Not be me
SJG Oct 27
Hey, so there’s this one about this motormouth who forgets how to speak everytime he becomes aware of his tongue, or is aware of the person he’s talking to; so poetry is a kind of nest egg of junk thought, half-finished ideologies, half baked neurologies simmering on a low setting on the hob in the kitchen in the other house on the other street in a city that I believe to be very far away from here; but let’s forget about that, heel, toe, heel, toe, e t c, how’s the roof, how’s the rain, are you still battling ongoing dormant mental illness or mild phobias or miscellaneous phenomena like being struck with the taste of iron whenever someone kind of cute wanders into the room, or the fear that your heart is glacially moving from the left of your chest to the right flank, or that people you know and love are conspiring against you because they know enough to know the real bad you and have taken it upon themselves to serve your just desserts all while still finding the time to discover true resting peace in their chests as they carefully move toward the joy you saw in movies and books and heard in the kind of songs they were allowed to play on the radio at the same time as when you were sitting in the backseat as your mom drove you to and back from school and those songs coloured your perception of the base happiness of adults and what love was and whatever love asked for and whatever love could eventually bring, but adulthood isn’t like that, it’s more ring ring ring, wake up and go to job at the bottom rung of the wrong ladder then pretend to your co-workers and managers that this place is a cause you’ll always believed in and you’re more than happy to devote all your private time to recovery and literature is a privilege not worth having and that you’re more than happy to bite your tongue whenever someone in a higher position says or acts boorish or stupid or abusive because you’re a team player who can put themselves below the good of a group that just happens to share the same ideology and rules with whoever’s been put in charge that day by a distant holding company that is constantly pulling moves to make you do twice the work with half the resources and half the time with no overtime but they really care about the mental and physical wellbeing of their employees yet the method they provide to book holidays and sick time becomes more complex and unintuitive with each redesign...whoops sorry, didn’t mean to talk your ear off there, work ***** for you too, and I imagine you didn’t come to this party to share stories about the raw deal the previous generation provides, how have you been, your hair looks nice, oh, mine looks nice as well, thank you so much, so what’s your degree, oh that’s so cool, don’t ask what’s mine, I studied one of the many arts, I don’t earn **** but I have an appreciation for the more elusive qualities of life (hahaha), not that it ever comes in much use because there’s no time to do anything but work and sleep and work and sleep and write as much stream of consciousness stuff in the bathroom before my boss wonders where exactly I’ve gone.
Ken Pepiton Apr 11
April 10, 2019

Come a day, reason peeks around the corner,
Wisdom spots the whole idea,
nothing hidden around
the edge,
she winks back.

The story is there
was this kid,

he has these uni-
que memories
or easers of toils,
reward for sweated blood

proverbial guiding
resting easy in the shadows

he sends songs soaring
some when
Dams break, knowns burst
thru bubbles in jeopardy
new f-izzy izy knots
loose the lowest layer of liege
let go
free. all for allegiance,
reciprocal give and take with no control
given to any lacking self

idle words redeemed by chance
take up the dance,
least friction
ease of flow, over under, around
, through, if it comes to that,

any which way ye find,
wind way,
Pollen Way,
River way, rolling
rocky mountain way

it was noised abroad, in the hill country.
We all knew.

Reason come with me,
we have heard we must war

some more,
we are feeling
fused with metal minded

souls set to unleash some
monster idea thing-ysdril-
whoops cyd-drethal
twist ing side
ways to es
scape the scoffer
from the
Welsh brig… abrupt

scene shift
like a real life movie

encrypted Welsh wonder words

the professors called thunderwords and
allowed only those umlauted
u prounouncers to speak

with proper compre
you get that? Ubermenschken?

Controllership. that idea.
think what controllership would be,
if it were yours being weighed.

The Welsh had a word for that.

How was such a word lost?

How can we teach our kids
controllership when our nation
has no national tongue able

to roll wisdom into reasonless reality,

it's magic, if magi means much to you.

Ordovician rules. If I had a hammer.

Ord'vicians, hammer warriors,

hammering out justice all over this land,
as the bombs were falling,

for God's sake. Sake itself is assumed to have
meant "cause",
cause being reason, aition or aitia.
Reasonable reasonibility to
just ify now, as real.

So, since we agree,
we know right, when we taste it, or

do we take a chance on better, a bit more
than half the times?

Judge the controlership system.
What determines a good controller?

when can I assume you consider me no evil? Wordwise, id est.
assume (v.)
early 15c., "to arrogate, take upon oneself," from Latin assumere, adsumere "to take up, take to oneself, take besides, obtain in addition," from ad "to, toward, up to" (see ad-) + sumere "to take," from sub "under" (see sub-) + emere "to take," from PIE root em- "to take, distribute."
Meaning "to suppose, to take for granted without proof as the basis of argument" is first recorded 1590s; that of "to take or put on fictitiously" (an appearance, etc.) is from c. 1600. Related: Assumed; assuming. Early past participle was assumpt. In rhetorical usage, assume expresses what the assumer postulates, often as a confessed hypothesis; presume expresses what the presumer really believes. Middle English also had assumpten "to receive up into heaven" (especially of the ****** Mary), from the Latin past participle.

From <>

(that which causes, which is not prophaseis)
If this is not enjoyable, you are wearing the wrong shoes. I found a Welsh English Dictionary from 1848, which I had forgotten. It was a gift, it came with wonder-filled unspeakable magic words, and a memoruy of the giver.
Kateasz Nov 2018
Things she claims to hate.
She takes to heart
And it adds a drop to her glass
Every word shot out of crooked mouths
And engulfed in dark cruelty
Drips down the side of her weightless glass
But I wonder what would happen
If they stopped.
I wonder if she would, too.

The glances in the halls
The whoops and hollers echoing back and back
Every lingering eye validates his persona
This character molded by malicious smiles
He wordlessly begs for a laugh or a smile
Filling a river he keeps running dry on
But it is a plastic cup bailing out a sinking cruise ship
Let's hope he graduates before he drowns
Elexer Oct 30
Whoops I od'd,
Shortness of breath,
Call ambulance,
Tell my wife I—
Error in judge—-
—-ment cut my life,
No second chance
No guiding light
I never meant
To cause you pain
I never thought I'd be the one who took the fall
I got lost in the moment,
******* like to test the limit
Six minutes down,
Breathing  machine,
Brain not feel right
The look on you
Is killing me,
Drowning in shame
But don't feel bad,
Cause I
Never feared consequences
Hate regrets more than apologies
A year has passed,
Like photographs, my life is just
A scrapbook of
Old friends and faded memories
Looks like I pulled the rug from under myself
The falls too much for me to recover from
It's been real fun
But now I must say goodbye,
I'll see you all at okie dogs
See you all at okie dogs
Lyrics from NOFX
Paul Butters Dec 2018
Good old Norman,
Thank goodness he’s normal.
Unlike many a friend,
He hasn’t gone round the bend.
Stevens is his surname:
He never plays the Blame Game.

Such a decent chap
And never utters *******.
Whoops, I had to miss that rhyme,
To avoid committing a bit of a crime.

Norm is quite the hero,
And something of a Shakespearo.
He’s maybe my biggest fan,
From England to Japan.

Reading poems from me,
Right there on his Smart TV.
So Norman enjoy your beer,
As I will always be here.

Paul Butters

© PB 1\12\2018.
My weekday drinking chum.
Napolis Apr 25
Hardly to
notice the
in the

your arms
in our

nowhere else
in the
our hearts
want to

so let's
back up,
and throw
the day

to us,
and piles
and piles
of hugs and
wet wet

the kind
that take
our breath

put on
your sun

I'll put
my sunglasses

whoops gas
is calling
bill long

less I
got all
the warmth
I will
ever need

right here
in your

ALesiach Jul 27
Wandering through the bayou,
wrapped in its eerie embrace.
Mysterious and strange,
a magical place.
Never seeming to change,
even as seasons come and go,
swampy waters ebb to and fro.

Like long-lost daughters,
gnarled courtly cypress trees,
rise from black murky waters.
Draped lovingly in Spanish moss,
swaying softly in the breeze.
Butterflies seem to float across,
as gentle winds ruffle their leaves.

Bouquets of wild hibiscus fill the air,
mingled with sweet azaleas blooming there.
Bullfrogs croak and crickets chirp,
the bayou is awash with soothing music.
As dragonflies flit the cattails, elusive,
water moccasins slithering at your feet
or lurk above you in the trees.

Just as, the sun begins to sink low,
comes the faint sound of a fiddle and bow.
The gator comes out of hiding,
rising from the dark waters below.
Looking for his meal and smiling,
with snapping jaws, a deer is caught,
then taken below where he will rot.

The moon rises high into the night,
as fireflies glow in the twilight.
A voodoo queen slips into sight,
with gnarled hands, she rolls the bones.
Whispering cryptic words, she softly moans.
Tenderly she caresses her snake,
wrapped around and about her neck.

A ****-hound whoops it up.
The gnarled trees cast spooky shadows.
Is that the ghostly apparition of Jean Lafitte?
Who managed to escape prison and gallows.
Did you bury your treasure in the water or weeds?
As the wind moans softly, time to turn home,
where you can fill your belly with spicy gumbo.

ALesiach © 10/12/2014

— The End —