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Michael Acosta May 2010
Thunder crashes and shakes the sky,
Torrents of rain hide the world.
Lightning flashes and blinds the eye.

Thunder crashes and shakes the sky,
I feel at peace and wonder why.
Sudden release, relief unfurled.

Thunder crashes and shakes the sky,
Torrents of rain hide the world.
©2009-2010 Michael Acosta
Vladmir Putin May 2015
Spooky
Wooky

Skelington

Booky
Wooky

Selling tin

Zooky
Mooky

Telling Jim

Rooky
Pooky

That ****** was right
Written with free internet of both Starbuck and panera. Made with 2.45 mol Love
Little Azaleah Jun 2015
It was raining. It was cold. The sleeve of my shirt sticking to my skin, my flats wet and ***** from the mud and rain.

Suddenly, the rain stopped pouring down on me and a shadow loomed over me. I looked up, I saw him.

He was the one who shield me, rather than shielding himself. Held me so close, just so I wouldn't get wet. We laughed at how ridiculous we look as people stare at us. Cramped together under the small pink umbrella; our shoulders touching, our hands touched slightly.

If I knew what he had thought at that moment,
I wouldn't know what I'd do.

{ E.I }
AM Oct 2015
his big hug feels like a blanket
with ever-changing colors
which I demand in the morning
at noon, even at night
One picture puzzle piece
Lyin' on the sidewalk,
One picture puzzle piece
Soakin' in the rain.
It might be a button of blue
On the coat of the woman
Who lived in a shoe.
It might be a magical bean,
Or a fold in the red
Velvet robe of a queen.
It might be the one little bite
Of the apple her stepmother
Gave to Snow White.
It might be the veil of a bride
Or a bottle with some evil genie inside.
It might be a small tuft of hair
On the big bouncy belly
Of Bobo the Bear.
It might be a bit of the cloak
Of the Witch of the West
As she melted to smoke.
It might be a shadowy trace
Of a tear that runs down an angel's face.
Nothing has more possibilities
Than one old wet picture puzzle piece.
1184

The Days that we can spare
Are those a Function die
Or Friend or Nature—stranded then
In our Economy

Our Estimates a Scheme—
Our Ultimates a Sham—
We let go all of Time without
Arithmetic of him—
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