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BlockThe words aren't coming
The flow has stopped
The spindle runs thin
The flowers cropped
The letters dropped
Hand on her chest
Wishing she wasn't
Entwined in this mess
The honored guest
To maritial ties
All too late
To bid her goodbyes
StructureI'm not a fan of structured poems, at least
When they're imposed on me, like subtle frames
Of written code which keep each line the same
The trapped voice a bird that yearns for release
Allow the flame to grow, please free the beast
Don't snuff the candle's fickle, frozen flame
Set meter and rhyming, you are to blame
Rendering my creativity deceased
But for you, I'll accept the forms you wish
Consume, swallow words with a grain of salt
My heart, wrapped in paper, I'll give to you
In a stanza, a line, or a swish
Of reason, confining words to a fault
Just don't think you're the only one who knew
Lucid - WIPI'm lying here on a table. Nothing but the sweet hum of machinery, both around and within me. They'd mentioned something beforehand about my hearing. Something about sensitivity that wouldn't hurt in higher decibel ranges.
My hand twitches to touch my new ear, but it remains limp by my side, paralyzed. I think they'd mentioned something about the risk of muscle atrophy in low-gravity environments. Something like that.
I'm hearing my heartbeat now. It's strange to hear such an organic sound in this sterile environment. If I cut myself, would I still bleed red? Or had they replaced my blood with a substitute? Was it still red, or another, foreign color?
With a slight click, a bright light switches itself on from overhead, illuminating the capillaries in my eyelids. Still red...
Squinting, I try to turn my head, but my neck won't obey me. As if reading my though
Ghost of the PastEver been haunted by a ghost of the past? You know, those recurring memories of a time long gone, the ones that float uninvited into your head? Maybe it's triggered by a memento, or a visit to a sacred place, or the mere mention of a name. The moment relives itself in your head, then disappears, leaving you with only a scrap of cloth or a pressed flower to remember.
But what if these ghosts aren't really ghosts at all? What if they're still living, breathing creatures? Maybe you never see them anymore. Maybe you live too far apart. Maybe you see each other on a daily basis, but you both pretend the other no longer exists. Maybe you're enemies, or even friends. Either way, you've both made an unspoken pact to never speak of the moment again. In a vain attempt to smother the memory alive, you flood it with fresh oxygen, fresh consciousness upon which it can feed.
Is it better this way?
PerfectionistsA writer in a group of artists
Is hardly a place to fit in
In a glance, one can admire a picture
But writing takes much longer to sink in
We've all learned our native language
But not all have picked up a pen
Yet sketching is somehow extraordinary
Simply because not everyone can
We can both stare at a vase for hours
Yet come up with an empty slate
And our details of realization
Rarely come sooner, but late
For despite our apparent differences
Our goal is the same: to learn
And only by way of practice
Can this mastery of skill be earned
LifewishA mourning dove hobbled across the road
And I wondered, "Why didn't it fly?"
Does the pleasure of crossing the pavement by foot
Outweigh the risks if it should die?
Maybe the bird remains ignorant
That a passing car could lead to his demise
Unsure of the dangers in the world of man
With no sense of fear in his eyes
Or perhaps he is simply cocky
As he struts across the road in pride
Knowing all vehicles will stop their procession
In order to let him pass by
But I, for one, think he enjoys it
In the way a human walks instead of drives
So the next time you see a bird walking
Maybe you should be the one he walks beside
ScrapVersion 2.0 is ready
The beta is complete
Its release date is tomorrow
And I've heard it will be l33t
This one's fully moddable
No need to deal with flaws
And it's piracy-protected
So you can't break the law
The calendar is built-in
You'll remember all your dates
And the autopilot feature
Will ensure you won't be late
It's compatible with everything
The computer, the tv, the phone
And it'll download all your contacts
So you'll never feel alone
But if you choose not to upgrade
You'll be alienated, at best
Your communication will be archaic
And your accuracy, second-guessed
This isn't really an option
Conform now, or be scrapped
Humanity is overrated
Believe me, the entire brain's been mapped
We've discovered all your problems
And fixed them, one by one
Even those pesky emotions
We've sparked the revolution
NephelaeToday is a sad day.
Why is the sun shining?
I thought the sky was supposed to reflect emotion
Like a heaven-mirror
Answering the prayers of the living
In the form of precipitation
Are the clouds our gods now?
They are notably absent
In this clear sky
An expanse filled with light
Online Dating: The Older Man!For many years I have delayed, but now I’m tired of waiting,
For now I feel mature enough, to tackle online dating
I think I must be honest, and say it’s been a while,
Since last I had a lady friend, but here goes with my profile:
I'm mostly known as Horace, but I've never liked this name,
I've changed it now to Boris, though it does sound much the same!
I think I’m almost five foot tall - was six foot but I'm shrinking,
But never mind, for short is cute - at least that's what I'm thinking!
I like my hair to be au naturale, which means that I am bald,
Well, if I'm to be quite honest, it's just part of growing old,
I have the most amazing ears and ditto with my nose,
For age has blessed me with a gene for extremities that grow!
My lips are good but I must admit that I have rotten teeth,
and my chin has yet another chin that's growing underneath,
Good to have a spare part though, that's what I always say,
Though I'm not sure all the ladies would look at it this
Internetowe loweInternetowe Lowe
Zycie, tak jakoś czasem dziwnie się układa
i czujemy, że w serce jest wbita szpada.
Wtedy, no wiadomo szukamy uleczenia
Bo cóż, każda jest dobra droga do zbawienia.
Niestety często nie pomoże nam rodzina.
A druh jest głuchy na żale jak wykładzina.
Wtedy szukamy dalej i dalej medyka,
bo od ignorowania problem nie zanika.
I tutaj pojawiają się nam Internety,
które mogą budować nadzieje, niestety.
Często jest tak w tej internetowej sieci,
że tam znajdują zrozumienie smutne dzieci.
Samotność jest naszym płaszczem, dobrze okrywa.
Dotyk bliskich nam osób boli jak pokrzywa.
Szukamy dlatego w sieci pocieszenia,
tam z pewnością uciekną nasze zmartwienia.
I tak bajka się toczy, czasem się tak dzieje,
że poznając kogoś przez sieć mamy nadzieje,
nie widząc osoby twarzy, nie słysząc głosu,
... Merry Birthday, Jeff!!!*
Hello Gorgeous, pretty fella!
Would write you a complete novella
of young and charming Cinderella
draped with but a pink umbrella,
munching beef with Salmonella -
however - great. You are in luck:
my pen is simply grossly stuck!
Mean and tricksy midnight puck
with firm blessings stuffed 'n tucked
it in none too small a scale
well underneath the fluffy tail
~ of a well fed mongoose duck!
... Oh, ye gods!!!
What ever are we now to do?!!
Here's a quirky point of view:
let us fill her with fine brew;
for until she finds the loo -
our common goal we can't pursue!
So, in the Merry month of May,
- or July - whichever way -
run, have fun - enjoy your play
and dip thine whiskers in soufflé
of gifts and wishes: a neat soiree
(that we are) we cheer and say:
~ long live our Jeffy on this saintly Day!
Why Dogs are Better Than CatsA dog has a lot to do,
But you already to that,
and so this is a poem all about
why dogs are better than cats.
First, let's talk about night,
Since night gives most of us some fright;
Dogs will sleep all through the day (except when they have to play, of course)
But if an intruder knocks on the door,
A dog will roll up off the floor,
And bark, and bark, and bark.
And say the intruder didn't knock,
The dog will not exactly bark,
But will come up to the bad guy
wagging its tail,
Distracting the bad fellow with endless kisses.
Then Mom will know something is amiss,
Since someone in the house is getting kissed,
and everyone is safe in bed,
So a bad guy must be wanting fed;
So the Mom will come down and bring out the chicken,
Or at least that's what Fido thinks,
Then she'll feed Fido first, and then the bad guy,
Who wants to be fed
And everyone will be happy because Fido got chicken, and petted, and so forth.
Oviously there is no need for point two,
Because it should be very clear to you,
Never A Happy EndingOver a Beer a Psychologist once told me...that there are only a few that he never truely understood,
and the worst out of the whole lot,
was that Little Miss Red Riding Hood.
She told him lies and would often storm of in a huff,
from day one he knew...'this little girl was going to be tuff'.
She told him how...she would cut with a knife,
any Wolf...that would dare give her any strife.
This bitterness she carried with her...through out her whole life,
she never once found love...or was to become someones wife.
In old age... her good vision was lost,
and to this...any poor four legged creature, with its life...would unfortunately pay the cost.
Stuck growing old...as a little fairytale girl,
she ended up going insane...claiming everything had a Wolf like smell.
Then she got institutionalised...when she thought granny was a Wolf...and threw her down the Well.
With more beer...the Psychologist...more tales, he started to tell,
Then there was Prince Charming....who never really got over his
The Last Little PiggyDid you ever hear the full ending of the Three Little Pigs tale?
In the end...the last little piggy had to sue the builders
when the foundation of his brick house...did fail,
and on top of that...
He built a house without planning permission,
and could have faced a fine...or even gone to Jail.
To the council the little Pig made many trips,
each time the Big Bad Wolf... watching, whilst licking his big hairy lips.
'With brick'...the little pig was told...he could build his home in any town,
but in the country side...'your brick house...under regulations, it must be knocked down.'
'That is the rules of this land,
do you Little Piggy '...they asked...'understand? '
'But all my friends that have built with Straw,
are no longer here...they are no more,
built with Sticks... they have too been beaten,
now you want me to build like that... then surely I will be next to be eaten.
Told to take it down... that very day,
little piggy was sent on his way.
He knocked down his old house...leaving a p
Out To Sea!Oe’r the waves and rushing tides we sail!
Out to sea where uncharted land lies!
Out to sea where monsters wait!
Out to sea where dreams may live!
Out to sea where destiny lies!
Out to sea!
Out to sea!
Out to sea where pirates await!
Out to sea where action is life!
Where treasure awaits!
Out to sea!
Out to sea!
Out to sea where we find ourselves!
Out to sea where life is at it’s fullest!
Out to sea!
Out to sea!!!
cookiesi ate all the cookies
not a single life was spared
i ate all the cookies
not one even dared
sweet oatmeal cookies
your taste was like cold flame
sweet oatmeal cookies
i wish i knew your name
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