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wordvango Jul 2017
on tragedym on deep conspiracies on the blackest electrocutions.
make whole the spaces of time the blank whitenesses
the severe calamities of a life in genius
a poem seeking mistress of desire and pain
one soul alone in  it
hard  to face the reality
condemned to make her best of it
and her death a mark of perserverence
shamedly
her lecturn a warning a tall colossus of
a statue of paper and fear
a surreal landscape  of looming death
her legacy was gone, and I loved her
do to this day
the Sylvia I know
505 · Mar 2016
it's hard to see your eyes
wordvango Mar 2016
to fully grasp your smile
to hold your hand or grab your ***
or open a door for you with words printed only

I only type letters arranged to make shorter
the distance between two blooms reaching
for heaven

I cannot from here hear your breath,
nor lay my ear upon your papers
your message comes

full of promises of spring the rebirth of hope
it is in my head , the high notes
the lovebirds whispers

from here , i here typing
the shy tapping of the red headed woodpecker
or perhaps a thrush

busy putting small pieces of paper
with words wrote
tapping into a nest

where future is the tenderness
of reality making
the best of words

actually touching, with eyes
heart tips fingers
touching skin or feather

not a keyboard
505 · May 2015
Let's us
wordvango May 2015
start a revolution where we just  love
no colors excluded no names called us but humans:
Peace is the resistance!
Make a dream where blue white clouds black skies
red eyes no longer cry
where color don't matter, it up to me
and you to do,
Where children walk down streets of brilliant rainbows.
Why do we see colors?
505 · Dec 2014
Tom
wordvango Dec 2014
Tom
was a ******* cat with bowling *****
then he struck out
         and came home with no spare paws

Tuesday he came upon my writing implements
      sat down a wounded ***,
up on my desk and meowed.


       He would not move so I brought his food
to him right where he gave up hope and
         sat not purring.


Until epiphany, I ran and paraded Miss Kitty
         by him. He jumped up quick like nothing
hurt.
           I went back to writing.
504 · May 2017
adult themed park
wordvango May 2017
a land past the fog the distant see
called hornytoadville
where men and women go
to be their four legged hoppyness
play hopscotch
and basketville in tennis shoes
and not much else
they have saunas built for three
and  margaritas free
clothes only beaches to build your
thrills trains running non-stop
between reality
and neversville
the small kids sit and watch
their parents go all
crazy like they did
those kids they did
in DisneyLand
504 · Oct 2014
Untitled
wordvango Oct 2014
I am a collective of a most  considerate refusal
yelled at 110 decibels like a masseuse gone wild
on top of you jumping try yen to loosen
post or pre menstrual cramping
manipulating selective preemptive
decepting what I mean and what I does
fallowing the child  run or a boar's rut
into your gut
falsify credentials act tough when I get caught
bust a nut every 9 months
into the air usually,
**** can  seams of truth dreamy means
****** . ha
504 · Jun 2015
once was a masterpiece
wordvango Jun 2015
for looking  there common syllables arranged are mine
thy bright wit stealing when legacy
of my heartbeat gets portrayed into a popular rhythm
parlayed into a heart thus mine I only known,

severely conveyed  where in ******* says my mind
why, thine is betraying our then our why
doth thine heart betray our seminal schemes
our promises to feel only each others homes and minds.,

for the sun does , every day rise again, anew, for
me and  my and you. There is room in this vast universe,
my dear, for you and my differences to coincide
promises or pledges aside, Love at the distance.
504 · Oct 2014
very
wordvango Oct 2014
It seems I vary
out of my territory
I change to be what gets me through

I am so polite
     when I brunch with socialites

Dress all cleanly, wash behind my ears
      going to job interviews

Act, is what I am, an
       especially Sunday

Most o' the times I am
        drinking stunk on Cuervo's

And skunk
        rockin' rollin'
504 · Aug 2015
feelings illustrated
wordvango Aug 2015
punctuated
   with tears
smiles as apostrophes
  time .......
as ellipsis ......
commas  a breath
504 · Jan 2017
she rarely answers anymore
wordvango Jan 2017
the show became  tell
she slipped her black negligee
over her shoulders
let it fall delicately to the floor

took my hands in hers
placed one on each upturned
breast put her foot
behind my calf
pulled me forward

whispered, superman,
in  my ear,
this girl was a pro
I swear.
She knew all
my weaknesses
I call her Kryptonite.

I call her every day.
She rarely answers ,
anymore.
503 · Jan 2017
midnight imagery
wordvango Jan 2017
the blue cast of the moon on tree limbs making
bent by dawns awakening and lovers eyes
the color change a bit from
midnight to dawn
a difference of hue
the color spectrum
changing from bright opal to emerald
mixed on  the palette
by feelings and temporal
the senses are so
ephemeral
they see the world in
emotion's
colors
503 · Aug 2015
take me to the woodshed
wordvango Aug 2015
I did it momma, I stole the candy bar
from your bedstead, so let my brothers and sisters go,
yes, I am the youngest, and I give myself up
don't whup them no more
I eat it and proof, is in the pudding
for I found out it was ex-lax,
so whip me all you want.
503 · Dec 2017
mon dieu
wordvango Dec 2017
mon dieu
enchante'
madame
gratuits dans mon égocentrisme
seul dans mon sufferage
vous sous la tour
et je me tiens sous
éclat de votre enfant
visage tête chauve et frisson
502 · Jan 2018
As one
wordvango Jan 2018
Just as lime
As the soil
Integrates
Sinew and bone
Tastes
All that made man
Into a lad

Just a breeze
Insinuated
Weakness in sight of
An oak trees majesty
Or a
Steeple
Browned eyes askew
Down tween everlast
And yesterday
Came
wordvango Sep 2018
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not be but gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed'and gazed'but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
Wordsworth.   Also known as
(Daffodils)
502 · Jul 2017
Ben Franklin's Heist
wordvango Jul 2017
I often rode my bike there
the closest store
in Nankin Mills, Michigan,
a staple for penny candy and
whiffle *****.

A  month into the summer me
and my best friend, Craig Hewitt,
who lived four doors down
mounted  our one-speed Schwinn's
and decided to pull our first heist.

The ride was a turn right then left around
a curve out to the four-lane Joy Road,
and we rode determinedly. Four blocks on the right
was the small shopping place
a grocery store and
a Ben Franklin's Five and Dime.

We hitched our Schwinn's in the bike rack,
located near the entrance and studied. Thought of possible quick escape routes.  Excitement flowed, I wanted a quarter piece of chocolate and Craig had his lust on a Matchbox car his unfeeling parents refused to purchase.

I checked my holster the Roy Rogers shiny six-shooter
was at the ready. We sauntered in. Walking tall but shaking in my pretend boots, which were actually Ked's.
My friend was so brave he barely looked nervous.
I followed his lead.

We were in there two minutes pocketed the loot and walked out sure we had made a clean escape. Our Schwinn's had barely moved when two arms grabbed us. "Hey boys!" We were apprehended.
We gave full confessions to the Principal looking
old lady interrogating us. They called our moms.

They let us go.Craig had wet his pants and I had squished
hell out of the chocolate candy. We left not wanting to go home.
Pondering what state might take two refugees with records.
I imagined walking the rails with a stick and a handkerchief
tied on its end full of my marbles a pair of socks
the remains of my Halloween candy in.

We went to a field near our school playground and fidgeted and talked and rued and scratched the dirt with the toes of our Ked's
and tried to think how we could explain or make an excuse or
go back a day. It was getting dark.  The night on the run was more scary to both of us than our moms.

When I entered the house there at 8587 Blackburn, a white brick
normal house, now so scary with danger pain foreboding out every window and door, it was my bravest act to this day, expecting screaming a scene a beating my mother towering over
asking "what were you thinking?"

Yet nothing happened. my oldest sister, 14 at the time sat grinning
on the couch watching tv. And Mom was in her apron by the stove like every other day. As I walked by my sister said "I was the mom today.
You owe me a kiss". I hated to but I nearly kissed her every day for a
week.

Craig got his *** whipped.
502 · Feb 2016
heard in the
wordvango Feb 2016
fire
the sounds of sirens cries
filling the valley with sighs

the mountains with a roar
on a walk through the forest the
woods  laugh with every step

in the dark with
nothing there but growth
all god's creatures

asleep , a step
a foot paw or human
approach

knowing you should
be afraid at attention
crane every hair up

on end to hear
your forefathers and mothers
or gaze

from a tall mountain
and listen to the
words spoken

in the breeze?
501 · Mar 2015
mine numb heads
wordvango Mar 2015
too focused on the falling of leaves
the grass growing and I miss them
heights of tallness grows without me
straight up pines
forests
apple bloom sweetness
pearls in shells diamonds treasures
grow faster
than sunrises
leaving amazed me
to catch glimpses
when day goes
into nights
501 · Feb 2016
if I were to
wordvango Feb 2016
be a feetless floating
gill fin laden underwater
poet, My mouth would still gulp
I would recite and still stutter
all the words in fish languages
and possibly mate
with my father's daughter.
or my brother's mother.
501 · Aug 2019
Covers
wordvango Aug 2019
Under the covers I dream
Black out reality
And color everything
My palette
Cower into my side
The starkness
Hold myself in the
Dark
Where only my eyes
See the yellows
And the green inside
501 · Dec 2014
just on
wordvango Dec 2014
just on down from the edge of the horizon
on the cusp of a seam between midnight
and tomorrow a tied wire deliminates
white from black and wrong from right
left from left out dark from the other side of the moon
purple haze
from M&M;
from good & plenty
barbie dolls and Chevrolets from
GI Joes on ecstasy armed with grenades
exploded from ***** hands.
500 · Nov 2017
my home
wordvango Nov 2017
Life lightly drifting like seeds
of a dandelion on the slightest breeze
up and away beyond
the day to day  bounds
over fences to a grass greener
over a tall pine
in the distance
to light down someday real
in an arm of nature a face
of sun
a light so brilliant a future
of limitless creations
happiness
a smile of a cradle of
green hill
over the horizon once
now real
so flesh and blood
and I treasure
I see
I saw I know
this is where
I choose
to make my home
500 · Aug 2014
creep
wordvango Aug 2014
\The creep/
that+adds -subtracts
in ^positive
reactions?
walks a mile in contractions#
sees he face in no refraction:
as a lush(
is innocent)
adjusted for lack of guidances empathy"
the clarity of there is&
around<> him
the hunted the hungry_
grow nevertheless
feasting on the living
misgivings
knocking ******* a dime for
closed door revealing
what they done=
is unforgiving%
a sheltered

amazement!!!!!
nested in forgetting?
the ultimate destination is a }
waiting?
500 · Aug 2014
spools
wordvango Aug 2014
to the fetid pool streaming
     brooding heart bleeding
bare insanity screaming tapping
    tapping
smashing
clanking
banged
     without reward
epiphany a pool of desultory
    filthy bare thread
wound upon labyrinthine spools
      echos spinning sounds
only he hears.
     Or  sights he
dizzy sees.
499 · Aug 2014
topic
wordvango Aug 2014
The poet is the topic
not uncommon his logic
or his leave of sanity absent reward
pondering precariously on his edge of lunacy
rejection his norm-
resolving the inside humming
his outside tapping keeping beat
to a pace
of shoving guilt into place
while resolving the accusations
smashed
clanked banged
anew nothing
just rearranging
injecting
Bless you!
499 · Jan 2015
i like alternatin' current
wordvango Jan 2015
especially when I stand in the rain
with my special sense feeling the hair on neck stand up
a ringin' in my ears drunker than

fallin' down in the audience with a special
sharin' anticipating the thunder of bass
and the highest ringin'
in my ears

AC/DC the best but would trade my IRA's
for a Nugent ticket or give my stash to a peddler
for one minute of Led Zeppelin.

Just to go again and bang my head like I did
when I was young. I blow a candle out, wishing.
But those days I guess are past.
For once again I am 29, and grey.
499 · Jul 2015
I got your puppy cat:
wordvango Jul 2015
Will you give me some
     puddy Tat?

Make me mark my territory *******
    as I love to hear your meowing, purring
so, I hiss away all competition,

display, both my pleasure and anger
     flicking my tail tip
deposit my pheromones with my cheeks

our yowls together a treasure resolving
     throughout the neighborhood under
a full moon backlight, Your soft neck in my teeth

awaking the witches and innocence gone
     with vocalizations: starting low pitched rising coming
back down. We always land on our feet.

We may be feral, wild prodigiously mate
         I done let go of your neck,
you retract your claws, we go our ways,

high from the catnip(ing) nap then.
       The queen struts away.
I tom the night , a stray, puppy cat.
499 · Jan 2019
It's all coming round
wordvango Jan 2019
One circle returning a spiral
No beginning or end
The origin is forgotten
The end is to come
Unending unknown
The cycle spins in orbit
A known side and a dark
a duality is studied
But like quantum  physics
Is just a theory
And great minds
Get dizzy

conceptualize if you can
spirits and ghosts
Afterlife and life's beginnings
Your own end And
grieve while you live
Make habits and poems
Rhyme while you're  capable
Of watching
Sunsets

Make haste when you are hurried
Make love when you're  worried
Make songs to be sung
And diagnose the worlds wrongs
But make something round
A mouth puckered up
A ball bouncing over
The world spinning round

And you will realize that sides mundane conceptions
We live uneventful Like days
will always go on
The last thing we should study
more the right than the wrong
we should play ball more
life and a metaphor

Its all coming round
498 · Sep 2016
so many
wordvango Sep 2016
beautiful people out there and time so few
to acknowledge each and every one of them
and tomorrow  comes so urgently
without pause relentlessly
I wish to write each and every one of them
and tell them what beauty they bring
to me and how I feel
but
I have to generalize I guess
and suspect if I write this
they who  are deserving
will know
they glow
a little more
than they do
now
498 · Jun 2017
Unreflecting Mirror
wordvango Jun 2017
If only a glimmering pond to view
   a shimmer to ease my fear
of being cursed to look
   in an unreflecting mirror.

My sight is sufficient
   as I can see the first break of day
before the **** calls his warning
   or the horned owl beds away.

My touch is sensitive enough
  but I know not what I feel,
the pain of ancient splinters numbs
  when I touch the spinning wheel.

No, my sight is not the cause
  of my inability to hear
the sounds that I must make,
  it is the unreflecting mirror.

Perhaps outside they watch with me
  as I shyly shed a tear,
I cannot see our faces, though
  in the unreflecting mirror.
498 · May 2015
might a rainbow
wordvango May 2015
be over the clouds behind the mountain or over a hill
may a lottery winning be one dollar away or
Publisher's Clearing House knock on my door?
Might Audrey Hepburn be eternally young stalking me,
might cat bark and dogs not **** on fire hydrants
or ants be less numerous
or gone be alive or time slow down, might
the rainbow shine, all the colors combined into bright.
All the wishes be at her end in a *** of golden
love and eternity?
wordvango Aug 2016
A toad the power mower caught,
Chewed and clipped of a leg, with a hobbling hop has got
   To the garden verge, and sanctuaried him
   Under the cineraria leaves, in the shade
      Of the ashen and heartshaped leaves, in a dim,
          Low, and a final glade.

       The rare original heartsblood goes,
Spends in the earthen hide, in the folds and wizenings, flows
    In the gutters of the banked and staring eyes. He lies
    As still as if he would return to stone,
        And soundlessly attending, dies
           Toward some deep monotone,

       Toward misted and ebullient seas
And cooling shores, toward lost Amphibia's emperies.
    Day dwindles, drowning and at length is gone
    In the wide and antique eyes, which still appear
        To watch, across the castrate lawn,
            The haggard daylight steer.
497 · Sep 2017
horizons
wordvango Sep 2017
touch and allure
blush  lipstick  make me see
the horizon surely
where the trees gray clouds
the lake all merge
into cerulean
indecipherable
jumbles of arms  legs lips like the clouds trees
lakes green
melt into distances
the soft eyes see
everything
496 · Jan 2015
Another
wordvango Jan 2015
New Year's Day and I hope for you a great one.
Mine, was not the beginning I envisioned. My adopted Mom, Marge
I rushed to the hospital at twelve.
She looks like me at 6 am after my binges. Red eyed and a little smile
of I don't care anymore on her 72 year old tired face.
I got back home, not drunk enough,
and found tiny, a sweet little black kitten who strived through thinness and
stumbled around for the 10 weeks of her life, cold and still.
She still lays there.
I guess her suffering has ended.
I am still drinking down the courage and liquor to go dig the hole in the backyard. I will cry, and need the strength I find in a bottle to prepare.

My adopted pops, 82 year old cad who took people all his life, took me into his heart. He is not a red man's father except by heart and caring. He is looking so old and tired. He took me to see Marge in the ICU. And consoled me as a priest would with wisened words of time and need.

If this New Year's day is a sign of what 2015 will be like,
after three more drinks, I think,
I will go out back and dig a  hole big enough for me to crawl into and hide, until next year.
496 · May 2017
I have  lost
wordvango May 2017
tendrils reaching out for what seems too far to grasp the stars it seem are closer the moonbeams more
in tune than anyone living or known
a star burst raises the hair on my arm
more now than her kiss or touch
than I go off on that starlight
that glistens off some lake at night
far reach fetch I try to seek that
lost light I have lost
496 · Sep 2017
she came around!!!
wordvango Sep 2017
her temperature read 102.5 Fahrenheit
after I put the thermometer in
I knew she was hot
but ****
she got all wet
and shivered
grimaced like she was in pain
called out deities names
I thought she was dying
clawing at my back
trying to take me with her
I got all concerned
gave her mouth to mouth
resuscitating
and pushed on her breast
her eyes rolled back in her head
and she came
around!!!!
496 · Jan 2018
Nevertheless
wordvango Jan 2018
Don't
     Wanna
           Conform
Nevertheless
496 · Feb 2016
a day
wordvango Feb 2016
like all the others
started out with a ******,
spanked her on the *** ,
she spit it out,
I don't give a **** as long as I get mine,
took a long and smelly beer loose ****
settled down in front of the tv to watch Good Morning America,
only because my remote is broke and that was the channel was
on last night. Put baking soda on my toothbrush and gargled with
the last sip of whiskey, Lara Spencer got me going , so I sprinkled
soda on the sheets , nudged what's her name up.
496 · Sep 2016
nothing but borrowed
wordvango Sep 2016
I almost celebrate the unpopularity
of my imaging sandpaper and saws
sounds
thy western accompaniment
of warmer inner purpose
progressions of chords
calming and coherent
when you listen to
the harmonies
like adding mustard and relish
to a hotdog
sniff around for
chords perfectly
a new layer or two
on a journey of  my own
may you join in
my Magical Mystery Tour
where I add an f flat
to an f major
f flat becomes
f seven
upon your shoulders
and my powers and
depth are nothing but borrowed
true artists
are more
articulate

I am but lyrical
trying to re-introduce
a cadence
developing
a dream or two
however successfully
or not

it might be because
of a disconnection
a hallucinogenic
recollection
an old song
I listened to
while tripping

a long time ago

a radical idea
no

nothing but
borrowed

shadows
496 · Jan 2017
I've no complaint
wordvango Jan 2017
I must say that life is good as it drains away
took me a while
to fully realize her beauty in her pain
her smile in all her cries
the softness in the hard refrains
all the good in the days
i saw as wasted
time
life plays no games
it comes around
and slaps you in the face
sometimes
wakes you from
that dream
you sleep
within
gets lost in
awake and dreams  but
the real thing
you'll see too
one day
then realize
how much you've
saw
and seen
wordvango Jul 2016
Darkness at the break of noon
Shadows even the silver spoon
The handmade blade, the child's balloon
Eclipses both the sun and moon
To understand you know too soon
There is no sense in trying

As pointed threats, they bluff with scorn
Suicide remarks are torn
From the fool's gold mouthpiece the hollow horn
Plays wasted words, proves to warn
That he not busy being born is busy dying

Temptation's page flies out the door
You follow, find yourself at war
Watch waterfalls of pity roar
You feel to moan but unlike before
You discover that you'd just be one more
Person crying

So don't fear if you hear
A foreign sound to your ear
It's alright, Ma, I'm only sighing

As some warn victory, some downfall
Private reasons great or small
Can be seen in the eyes of those that call
To make all that should be killed to crawl
While others say don't hate nothing at all
Except hatred

Disillusioned words like bullets bark
As human gods aim for their mark
Make everything from toy guns that spark
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
It's easy to see without looking too far
That not much is really sacred

While preachers preach of evil fates
Teachers teach that knowledge waits
Can lead to hundred-dollar plates
Goodness hides behind its gates
But even the president of the United States
Sometimes must have to stand naked

An' though the rules of the road have been lodged
It's only people's games that you've got to dodge
And it's alright, Ma, I can make it

Advertising signs they con
You into thinking you're the one
That can do what's never been done
That can win what's never been won
Meantime life outside goes on
All around you

You lose yourself, you reappear
You suddenly find you got nothing to fear
Alone you stand with nobody near
When a trembling distant voice, unclear
Startles your sleeping ears to hear
That somebody thinks they really found you

A question in your eyes is lit
Yet you know there is no answer fit
To satisfy, insure you not to quit
To keep it in your mind and not forget
That it is not he or she or them or it
That you belong to

Although the masters make the rules
For the wise men and the fools
I got nothing, Ma, to live up to

For them that must bow down to authority
That they do not respect in any degree
Who despise their jobs, their destinies
Speak jealously of them that are free
Cultivate their flowers to be
Nothing more than something they invest in

While some on principles baptized
To strict party platform ties
Social clubs in drag disguise
Outsiders they can freely criticize
Tell nothing except who to idolize
And then say God bless him

While one who sings with his tongue on fire
Gargles in the rat race choir
Bent out of shape from society's pliers
Cares not to come up any higher
But rather get you down in the hole
That he's in

But I mean no harm nor put fault
On anyone living in a vault
But it's alright, Ma, if I can't please him

Old lady judges watch people in pairs
Limited in ***, they dare
To tell fake morals, insult and stare
While money doesn't talk, it swears
Obscenity, who really cares
Propaganda, all is phony

While them that defend what they cannot see
With a killer's pride, security
It blows the minds most bitterly
For them that think death's honesty
Won't fall upon them naturally
Life sometimes must get lonely

My eyes collide head-on with stuffed
Graveyards, false goals (gods), I scuff
At pettiness which plays so rough
Walk upside-down inside handcuffs
Kick my legs to crash it off
Say okay, I have had enough, what else can you show me?

And if my thought-dreams could be seen
They'd probably put my head in a guillotine
But it's alright, Ma, it's life, and life only"
495 · May 2016
we know most all
wordvango May 2016
we really know most all, more than we
ever can vocalize or reason out loud,
never realizing it's implicit value,
though we poeticize paint sketch and anticipate
one day being able to,
like driving a car down the interstate
to who knows where it ends up
495 · Oct 2014
Untitled
wordvango Oct 2014
my life me dream
where do you seem to be?

here?
or in fantasy

in me

past, present, future?
Contagiously disinfect

my bad nurturing close
my wounds with

kissy sutures,

cleanse me sanity with
your oh so sweet words.
Comment
me
back
to this world, balance
me
upon your curves.
for chances
are,
it will turn out
my past is presently,
me destiny.
495 · Aug 2015
just there 'tween where
wordvango Aug 2015
venus and mars shine in the dark night sky
I with my bare eyes caught  a glimpse one day of a star shine;
I studied for years refractory sciences and lens technology
until I developed the focuses to approach you, so far so
beautiful so unapproachable, by the naked eye,
wrote a thesis on tracking the night skies,
won my prize, you. My beauty.
494 · Apr 2015
tell me
wordvango Apr 2015
where  what is
(left)
to do (right):
this
expectant journey;
this between
the dawn yellow;
before the violet nights?

except, construct
innocuous
inconsequentially
Rubic cube spiels,
send
myself off  into
eternity.

(unto) the
mausoleum;
dig my grave:
before my last breath?
The autonomous;
casket maker:
asks?
494 · Jun 2017
ain't no such thing
wordvango Jun 2017
as love too much or love in vain
or a wrong chord sung in ecstasy
say oh god my tone deaf
partner and it sounds like opera
to me
write me poems leave them in lipstick on my back
I will stand in the mirror and crane my neck
take keys and scribe my vette
stick icepicks in my tires
me and my new love watched
naked inside while peeping out
the window
both of us had been there
before
I hate you hurt but ****, life
is sometimes
hard
493 · Nov 2014
10(w) I am thankful for!
wordvango Nov 2014
Food.
Beer.
*******.
Cheer.
Pie,
Thighs.
Oxygen.
Yesterday.
Today.
Tomorrow!
493 · May 2015
Am I finally dead?
wordvango May 2015
cold
on a slab in cold storage, nothing but black, no me no
rigor mortis has my ***** in a vise yet,
I am not screaming
a mortician
comes in
gonna cut me up,
I try to utter scream,
BOO!!
Nothing comes out. So,
I issue forth a breath of
dying tissues know that is breathless,
as i held my breath , and farted my last issue!
493 · Aug 2014
gather sins
wordvango Aug 2014
gather sins while your victims turn
above their grave
while sounds of slime emit from ******* grime
but recall
a sinister rabid entranced wind
is waiting over the horizon
and will not be hesitant
to disembowel your grinning ***
while you feast now on other living beings
and oh, you had your fun!
You will see once come
after your light turns out
the suffering
of eternal
heat.
493 · Apr 2015
naivette
wordvango Apr 2015
I was a person
when cigarettes were cheap and drank
without guilt, chased
the man in the moon dreams: visible ,
possibilty was my friend  existed where
a penny was worth a thought
food was keen  words
sweet as pickle juice on apple pie, eyes looked
in  love sighs,
  the
smooth and soft skin rebounded
with  biscuits ate
if fallen fell without indigesting
buttered side up
all naive, all the fantasies
as reality.
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