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Anais Vionet Nov 2020
The flags are waving brightly,
hypnotizing the naive,
they shimmer like carnival balloons.

There are merry andrews waltzing,
to the themes of marching bands,
they’re camouflaged to blend in with the moon.

The party’s getting started,
so we better get in line
- the wind is breathing something like a sigh.

The smell of cotton candy
drowns out the barkers script,
and multicolored lights announce the mood.

There’s rain off in the distance
- you can feel on your skin
- the children refuse to stay in line.

Dogs are barking somewhere,
and lanterns dance like birds
- there’s nothing left to do but step in time,
two, three, four.

The tent is Chinese silk,
as silver as a coin
- acrobats take tickets with their lips.

The sawdust smells like bacon,
and the seats are way too small,
but the crowd is pushing in
because red rain is falling.

Elephants turn like dancers,
and trumpet to the night
- the sound shakes the world like my alarm.

Another **-hum morning,
soon the sky will tell a lie,
- that lemon light has something to proclaim.

My bags are packed for boredom,
the trip will last all day,
- there’s nothing left to do but step in time,
two, three, four.
what hides in dreams?
Tim
Thy lips like golden pages of a sacred book are shining.
Thou art resplendent in gold;
I am shy in waves of pink.
Soften my sweet sap, soften my love for thee and let it be planted like a seed in the grounds.
With thy light may thou water my heart.
For thee I die, for thee I die.
Jessica Jarvis Apr 2018
...My hardened heart has been awakened.
The broken grounds will begin to quake and
within the crevices between the faults,
Your rushing water will flood....
4/10/18

Here is a little excerpt from a much larger spoken word poem entitled, “Reborn”.
The grounds seem wet
like the last layer of a years flood
or the beginning of a light drizzle
I cannot tell, I cannot tell

-Kaya
Colm Jan 2017
Wherever they are
Would you let these thoughts and dreams profound
Settle to the base of your stomach

Like that stray grains of coffee grounds
Not filtered through the thinness of society
But strained through the fibers of the heart

Ever flowing from the the mind
Until the truth is boiled down
And at the bottom of the cup found
Have a cup on me my friend. Because life is too short.
Martin Narrod Nov 2016
I rob roadside grave markers
I rub my *** at the library
And I never wash my hands.
I carry a disease for my popularity,
I *** in beds and get **** in my boxer briefs.
I get by with flashbacks and I like to lick the Slime off of toads.
I deleted my birthday.
There is no reason to celebrate
Or ever allow ice cream, nor smiling.
There shall be no smiling.
I am a heathen and unforgettable
But I don't hate and I ain't racist.

— The End —