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Nat Lipstadt Apr 19
Ah, Mesdames et Messieurs!
you 99% who number themselves
in the know-it-all category, the
largest subspecies of human animal,
fail to appreciate the vast eternal plan
that flexes & fluxes with gravitational
pulls and pushes, sunspots unpredictable,
can you ever predict the AM headlines?
have you checked your bank balance today?
always look both ways when crossing a one
way street, twice, just to be somewhat sure?
have you told you loved ones dryly and
routinely of your affections after every text,
emai, and even the most dreaded phone call
(tyou borrowed the car and left the tank on E)?

you’re an A+ student, prom queen, a cheerleader,
a high school football star, till you wrench that
knee because you were too busy admiring yourself
in the reflection of your selfie and didn’t notice
the open grate, the potholes or the orange cones
that appeared overnight, a cause for fright delight,

thank you so much for providing he fodder for this
pink sapphire of a poem, and please continue to
forget to utter your morn prayer to whatever God,
you entrusted your soul while sleeping, cause G. is
smirking at all the fun mishaps planned on today’s
agenda!

Is
you zipper open?
your blouse on inside out?
your metro card in the wallet
of your best friend who forgot
to return it?
What! you forgot bout the cheshire
grin on the Biology Prof’s face, when
he said “Anytime, Anyplace, surprise quizzes
are graded at 0, if you should  fail to appear at
your 8:00am class…

ah well, check your sneaker laces, try to recall
why that string is tied to your index finger or
take you chances of random probability that
having read this missile missive you’ve already
messed up and be careful our there, there are
very dangerous natalino poet~prognosticators
out there ready, william and able to take advantage
of  idiots who fail to be properly superstitious!!!

Salt, anyone?
tapping the well
Rhoemeoh May 2019
Today, you came home to a package.
It was a box that I  had taped up tight.
Inside you found your worn out high school hoodie.
When you unfolded it, nearly every picture of us fell out like confetti.
And at the bottom of the box, in a thick hemp cloth, you found a framed picture of you
looking miserably in the mirror, back at me.
I was behind you, smiling and deliriously happy.
The picture was in pristine condition.
I wrapped it the way my ancestors would cover a mirror
after a death in the house.
They did this to keep  the spirits from passing to another realm.
I did it knowing we had ended that night and  that you would forever be looking back for me.
You will be miserable and I will be deliriously happy.
Written 4-14-2019
I was feeling some kind of way about new beginnings and what to take with me. Thank you for reading!
Purcy Flaherty Apr 2019
I got a penny in my pocket,
a cricket in a box,
a ladybird,
a dragon fly,
a little silver fox,
I got a key,
a golden eye,
a pie up in the sky;
I've got so many lucky things;
Oh! these lucky things of mine!
I'll cross my fingers,
Hold my breath,
pull the petals one by one
I'll gaze into my lucky bag;
and marvel at the lucky ones.
shooting stars and moon lit skies are dazzling to my eyes.
But I treasure all these luck things;
Oh! these lucky things of mine!
Now make a wish
and count to ten
then turn three times and say again!
"I'm a silly superstitious ****!"
Yes I'm a silly superstitious punk!
putting faith into the  silliest things
Seema Oct 2017
The number thirteen
On the day Friday
The murdered twins
A coincidence I may say

The lucky the number
Or unlucky a member
A dark day of sorrow
It's today not tomorrow

Friday the thirteenth
A superstitious belief
Crawling from beneath
It's no grief but a relief

The more the believers
Of this unlucky day
The more life shivers
In the dark anyway

A positive thought
To a positive mind
Sets lose if caught
From such negative blind

A number it is, for sure
Lucky or unlucky could be any
Being rich or be poor
Believers I believe would be many...


©sim
...and it's a bright morning today, 13th October :)
S C Netha Oct 2017
Everything means
what you want it to mean.
Nothing
means anything.
In particular.
No particular event
specifically signifies
a specific occurrence.
Unless we want it to.
Everything is relative
To our point of view
And no particular event
Is marked by another.
In particular.
Nothing means anything.
In particular.
Everything means nothing.
Unlearn superstition.
ky May 2016
Stars
Glowing in the darkness of the night
Looks too delicate to touch
So far away
Wishing for a better something
Even though it’s superstitious
If only
They really granted them

— The End —