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I met a busboy and once he really ***** twill
of this winding expressway
with a bourgeois vex in this supper quest
why a Turk described them admirably
a shrew whirled in a shrill of the night
still could skirt his papa's pants
in a romance of tennis
to further kind with a match
only with a foul drama again
and put it in court
an actor's guild
Noah Rein Aug 2019
I don’t believe in myths or lore, but there might be truth within its core

I don’t believe in shadow folk, or people made out of smoke

I don’t believe in fairy lights or small gnomes wandering through the night

I believe they are allusions, all about scary humans

I do believe in monsters though, just not the ones the fairy tales show

Monsters can be many things - strangers, friends or even kings

Most of all I do believe, that inhuman monsters are make-believe
A Procrustean woman's tale
in an orbit does tell that this snitch
here wasn't Montgomery whether sound must hitch
with Pythagoras
that seldom erupt in despair
now dire hands with guilty chest
yet volcanoes bleed in the air
note auther L.M Mongo,ery..
Em MacKenzie Jun 2019
I broke at the shore of the ocean
but lovingly embraced the sea,
let it wash away each stain of emotion,
but got carried away and ended up drowning.
While the surf invaded my airways
and the salt brushed to my skin,
my mind flooded with memories of the sun’s rays,
unconsciously my lips found a grin.

I outstretched my arms and pried apart my fingers,
survival instinct set off alarms, but the beat in my chest lingers.
I was pushed and pulled with the current, dragged away with the tide,
my fear of aquatic lifeforms should act as a deterrent, but I decided to enjoy the ride.

Do you see the invisible strings and lines
that intertwine each life and path?
The subtle clues and the flashing signs,
the chemistry and the math.
Sharing the same air and skies,
the same language and the same view.
Similar perspective through different eyes,
different soils but it still grew.

I stood firm and unmoving on a patch of grass that wasn’t green
and I failed to remember the only thing I tried to forget.
Flashbacks and hauntings of every back that I have seen,
walking away with head held high with no regret.

And my body still aches and trembles
with all the days lost it never seemed to retain heat.
But each day gains a shimmer of the past it resembles,
and now I’m warming up except my poor circulated feet.

Do you hear the silent music and unspoken words,
that tell a long story only two or three truly know?
Drowned out by passing cars and chirps of birds,
carried away gently with the wind’s blow.
Sharing the same air and skies,
the same language and same view.
Hand on left I promise to tell lies,
because even the promise wouldn’t be true.

I saw a vision in front me that day,
I didn’t even have to block out a single shadow, I didn’t have to try.
And I smiled unknowingly, not knowing what to say,
even so the words nestled in my throat, I choked but didn’t die.

I’ll gift a map, and I’ll provide clear and written direction.
I’ll mark off each trap, and reveal the secret route to avoid detection.
badtaste May 2019
Written in the stars the celestial bodies are destined to rise and manifest
for the balance or control for the cosmos.

These 24 zodiacs and 12 demigods are given the powers of the dying deities.

Through these tirelessly infinite trials the true tyrant or savior of our universe will be chosen.

In these moments we look to the sky-throughout the stars-for the answer of
who will become the omniscient one...
a fan fiction of what if 24 zodiacs (12 western and 12 Chinese) fought against 12 selected demigods among different religions, for the truth of who is right to control destiny itself.
A Simillacrum Apr 2019
This happened before.
Your eyes. Your world.
Your lust. Your lies.
This happened before.
Your heart. Your hurt.
Your best. Your worst.
This happened before.
Your taste. Your scent.
Your loss. Your win.

One could say, I have a taste
for the familiar.
Grace, is still waiting alone,
for me to see my mistakes.

but

I see the shapes.
I see the forms.
I dip my toes in the destruction.
I fail, to be reborn.
Kabelo Maverick Apr 2019
I’m not a poet
I don’t write poetry
I’m a silhouette
I don’t like poverty

I’m a Black Freedom Writer
A poor man’s dream
I take back the kingdom
like a fighter from
the sewer mainstream

I’ve been tryin’
to tell them since dawn,
I’m a seed residing
from Heaven,
Prince Lore.
Maverick
a duck
**** her
foot by
daphne there
to clear
stream on
a day
to walk
to wood
with stippling
and catch
breeze ashore
as tiny
men here
are nice
to see
him play
live in Daphne
a bastion
of position
to fend
rife that
any captor
courts acrimony
here that's
really offensive
that ruptures
passage to
the next
realm in
this savanna
with bedspread
if interstellar
jar was
thunder road
a gallant approach
It takes me to a place
I've been before
A land of giants, legends
gods and lore

Pulling me into
the darkest light
to guide my spirit
to Supernova bright

I shunned the hand
that's always spoken
for my soul...
to lead a so-called proper life

But now it screams
as I open my eyes:
to a meaning, a purpose,
a gift... my life
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