you look like a simile,
twisting your body to make yourself blend in
to the whims of the hoi palloi your brain is soaked in.
I'm not building - I'm deconstructing,
it means you know nothing.
Undo the dissonance with quickness, let my cleverness be my business
and wait for the peaceful pieces to snap,
you lost the damn map,
we lost the trap and the monsters are back but the instinct's attack winds the whole story back.
destroyed with contact, see how I rhyme,
there's not enough time to flash all the signs of your twilight,
all night. Struck bright, white light, remember leaves as they started to turn yellow in the wind's flight?
We lost a dream at the drop site, watching buildings lose fights, with planes twisted to streaks in the sunlight.
Refrains are to blame for being uptight.
Relax, sit back, have a good night:
I've shown off enough, you'll have your turn. Taking a break because I feel like I made the page burn.
No reason to risk starting another great fire; now you'll think my wit is drier.
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my mouth is full of winsome lies -
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
I wish to go where nothing grows and sunlight cannot find me.
The only clouds I’d see are myctophids in flashing schools.
Stars would never fall, for they’d be esca hanging proudly.
Should they try, they’d to the surface stray.
My newfound galaxy would grant me bioluminescence.
With this magick, as the stars, I’d master self-reliance.
Things the world has never known would gather to my presence.
Near my halo smile teeth not fit for photic Heaven.
The lover of all things aquatic and marine in me wanted this peace to be a tribute to the deep-sea fishes that the world often forgets.
This poem was created by taking the flavor text of Innistrad's Ulvenwald Mystics and replacing each word with the next word seven words down from it in the Concise Oxford English Dictionary.
Ulvenwald Mystics
Withdrawal thole rive,
weak-kneed caster ASL ourselves frailty humble…
Anderson shelter embryo Theatre of the Absurd Ferris wheel
off-board Theatre of the Absurd uneasy wild duck
Dear You,
Why do you, do
the things a harlot does?
Because i love you,
like tea from Long Island
and smiles from Chelsea
In my dreams i've done the deeds of-
Teeth
A bare handed bludgeon
on the bridge in London that's always
falling down.
and please,
oh please
oh please
i beg and beseech you
cast away your callous condolences.
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it's a fools race to run if all is lost to be won..
It was in darkness that life began
And it shall be darkness to which it ends
For darkness is the womb of the universe
It is from itself that it descends
across the primrose trees
blows the faintest scent of sleaze
the bees all leave their shelter in the mooring
but I will do just what I please
and anyway to hell with all them bees
from what I can seize those bees should be adoring
below the timmyrickle grass
behold a timmyrickle ass
a six legs that old ass doth be adorning
and somehow when I see those legs beneath the ground a'toiling
the thought of all those floozy girls
just does set my blood a'boiling
so I will do just what I please
and anyway to hell with all them bees
from what I can sees those bees should be adoring
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():
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"The dark unspeakable horror choked my wounded soul" - Richard Nixon
Submissions for PRC Round 128 are now over. Be sure to vote and join us for PRC Round 129!
oro_oro_oro's submission will be withheld for failure to vote in Round 107. Please make up for the vote in this round of the contest and your submission will be entered next round.
how beautiful,
(insert their name),
the spacious, sweet, and loud!
you've loved
majestic multitudes,
and gleaming golden crowns!
what bounteous spoils to farm within:
what tracts of land to plow,
what sects of people to impress,
distractions to bestow!
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():
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my mouth is full of winsome lies -
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
This poem was created by taking a segment of a form from my work and replacing every fifth word with a word from the flavor text of Innistrad's Village Ironsmith
Village Wordsmith
participate in regular cohort each, staff development and in-service night,
offered by the program he the participant is excused abandons
District program administrators.
Failure the attend cohort meetings and trappings
development and/or professional developments of will result in removal
civilization from the program and each participant shall be required
morning reimburse the amount of he financial assistance he/she received
repairs through the program to the
After earning a bachelor's front and authorized teaching credential door.
i reel
in a scent
of brine
for a spell of time
and time again
i am-
forever sleeping
drifting toward tomorrow
this day,
those days, like nowadays;
is just a fleeting image
in the crux of things..
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():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
it's a fools race to run if all is lost to be won..
Four fifty-nine a.m.
A weekend.
I enter the gas station.
Swish. Swoosh.
That's the sound of the doors.
Where the **** did my friends go?
There's no one behind the counter.
I'm the last man on earth.
All the kings horses,
trampled on the free.
Not even the youngest children,
could speak of peace to me.
The next morning.
I wake up, swallowed up by a bean bag chair.
I'm on my floor. The chair isn't supposed to be here.
Who's that in my bed?
Never mind. I don't even care.
I rise, but it's hard to say I've risen.
Walk down the hall.
My mouth can no longer produce saliva.
All the kings horses,
trampled on me,
not even the voice of youngest children,
could bring peace unto the free.
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():
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Official Moderator of The [Gutter]
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Falling through space, suspended in time.
The crude metal object penetrating flesh.
Diving through a catacomb, leaving no trace.
Laid up in bed for days with no commission.
And all I've got is this stupid brace
and a car with an automatic transmission.
All that experimentation is to help me get my juices going for something a little more traditional:
Boy Life and Adult Man
a 2nd story whiff
of teen Swagger (no he's not a captain)
envelops me as we pass,
the spicy store shelf generic
hormone sweat and tightie whities clean
after a night's wet dream
ignite dreary memories of my 7 through 11
jock locker and the rows of predatory masculinity
hungry for any misstep.
The first thing I saw was
the face of the doctor
as he watched my head slip from between the nestled lips
of my mother's gaping ******,
allowing the miracle of childbirth
through in ways brilliant
and loving
and straining
and early.
Let's say that the second thing I remember
is a fleeting hug of hers
given before my first day of school,
her arms enveloping my consciousness and making it all better,
my fears melting away and becoming meaningless,
and for once I can see anxiety as the baseless worry that it is.
Let's say that the third thing I remember is a project my mother helped me with when I was seven.
We decorated the pages with beads and macaroni shells:
I wrote a children's book,
as a burgeoning young author(tm),
and it had animals with rolling eyes and big hugs.
Let's say that it didn't end in the first thing.
Let's say we talked
and grew old
and hated each other
and loved each other
and we were family,
even though
we never were
my mouth is full of winsome lies -
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
Original Entry Revoked because it needed more work, this is taking it's place as more work and more soul has been put into it.
My Night With An Old Friend
We were together
As it slowly slipped away
She said it would be forever
She would be gone by the end of the day.
I always **** up.
I never had the chance to tell her.
It was slow as she drank from the cup.
The last of her treatment.
A Moon Later I came back.
I hugged her and kissed her cheek.
She was bent over coughing and hacking.
If only there wasn't a leak.
If only I had been there sooner.
I could have told her what I felt as she slept.
She laid back in the bed
"I love you, Isaac"
She said.
"Don't say that, it was never meant to be"
"It was, and now we both have to move on."
She reached up and kissed me.
Falling backward violently.
She fell asleep.
I ran to my car.
I drove to everywhere I could.
A phonecall from her mom
"Are you okay?"
"No."
The vehicle began to skid.
A tree, a rock, a deer.
Everything flashed in front of me.
All I wish is that her and I could still be.
Another day, another dawn.
jewel of the heart, sing your song.
The sun is shining, the wind is sweet.
The crops are growing. Vibrant! Spite on the heat.
We've weathered all the gaels,
through all our trials, we did not fail.
So dance without sorrow, chew on some leaves,
prepare yourself, for abundant reprieve!
Soon I hear! The ballot will come.
It came and went, so little time spent,
but our comrade, our comrade! Fruition from intent.
More land for our farms, more bread for our plate,
I'm going to get a new bicycle, I can't hardly wait.
Everything will be great, of this my doubt is quite faint.
Plus even if it wasn't, nobody likes those with complaint.
If I just keep wearing my smile, and tending my business with a hush,
Most assuredly soon, my world will be lush.
I do not know, when a ballot will come.
It's hard to grow crops, with nothing in the sky,
not even the comrade, can make the heavens cry.
Surely he could do something. But alas! No word.
Sometimes I wonder, if any prayers are heard.
Less and less, the energy I have each day.
My feet are weary, no bicycle is on its way.
I try to keep the smile up, but I fear soon the frown will start to show,
I've lost faith in the comrade, but it would be unwise to let the neighbors know.
I'm glad that soon, a ballot will come...
Hush! They'll hear us. Do not let the know that of which we speak.
Flee, run with your sister! They will be hear this week.
It's too late for that, they already know. How foolish of me.
The price we paid, to never be free.
The ballot. The ballot.
What a worthless hunk of meat.
I should have known the devil,
always procures a victory, even in defeat.
I hear the brigade drums.
Fires.
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In the shape
Of a shovel
Meant to bury
The hatchet.
RE: I rescind. After much
Deliberation, it seems to me
You rather resemble-
A simile
In the shape
Of a
Sidewinder missile
Meant to
Wipe
Away
The world
We knew.
Time. Ticking away moments that end a fast.
One more hour, why do I have to be the last?
Hunger. Eating away from the inside, testing limits.
Allowing the strength of will.
scumbag
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A Force of Un-Nature!
The Crunching of Numbers;
The Crunching of Bones!
Burn it all!
Save the ancient tomes!
The savior descends,
From hills,
From knolls!
Save you from yourself;
Your sin, it engulfs!
A slave to the will!
Take Liberty Pills!
Praise the Messiah!
A.D!
A.E!
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
you look like a simile,
twisting your body to make yourself blend in
to the whims of the hoi palloi your brain is soaked in.
I'm not building - I'm deconstructing,
it means you know nothing.
Undo the dissonance with quickness, let my cleverness be my business
and wait for the peaceful pieces to snap,
you lost the damn map,
we lost the trap and the monsters are back but the instinct's attack winds the whole story back.
destroyed with contact, see how I rhyme,
there's not enough time to flash all the signs of your twilight,
all night. Struck bright, white light, remember leaves as they started to turn yellow in the wind's flight?
We lost a dream at the drop site, watching buildings lose fights, with planes twisted to streaks in the sunlight.
Refrains are to blame for being uptight.
Relax, sit back, have a good night:
I've shown off enough, you'll have your turn. Taking a break because I feel like I made the page burn.
No reason to risk starting another great fire; now you'll think my wit is drier.
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
I wish to go where nothing grows and sunlight cannot find me.
The only clouds I’d see are myctophids in flashing schools.
Stars would never fall, for they’d be esca hanging proudly.
Should they try, they’d to the surface stray.
My newfound galaxy would grant me bioluminescence.
With this magick, as the stars, I’d master self-reliance.
Things the world has never known would gather to my presence.
Near my halo smile teeth not fit for photic Heaven.
Ulvenwald Mystics
Withdrawal thole rive,
weak-kneed caster ASL ourselves frailty humble…
Anderson shelter embryo Theatre of the Absurd Ferris wheel
off-board Theatre of the Absurd uneasy wild duck
[Clan Flamingo]
Why do you, do
the things a harlot does?
Because i love you,
like tea from Long Island
and smiles from Chelsea
In my dreams i've done the deeds of-
Teeth
A bare handed bludgeon
on the bridge in London that's always
falling down.
and please,
oh please
oh please
i beg and beseech you
cast away your callous condolences.
And it shall be darkness to which it ends
For darkness is the womb of the universe
It is from itself that it descends
across the primrose trees
blows the faintest scent of sleaze
the bees all leave their shelter in the mooring
but I will do just what I please
and anyway to hell with all them bees
from what I can seize those bees should be adoring
below the timmyrickle grass
behold a timmyrickle ass
a six legs that old ass doth be adorning
and somehow when I see those legs beneath the ground a'toiling
the thought of all those floozy girls
just does set my blood a'boiling
so I will do just what I please
and anyway to hell with all them bees
from what I can sees those bees should be adoring
http://www.ilike.com/artist/oro_oro_oro
oro_oro_oro's submission will be withheld for failure to vote in Round 107. Please make up for the vote in this round of the contest and your submission will be entered next round.
while they kick sleeping dogs to kill the cats,
And ya can't see the the trees cause you're racing the rats.
They say "Bury the hatchet."
**** it, got a forest to see.
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
how beautiful,
(insert their name),
the spacious, sweet, and loud!
you've loved
majestic multitudes,
and gleaming golden crowns!
what bounteous spoils to farm within:
what tracts of land to plow,
what sects of people to impress,
distractions to bestow!
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
Village Wordsmith
participate in regular cohort each, staff development and in-service night,
offered by the program he the participant is excused abandons
District program administrators.
Failure the attend cohort meetings and trappings
development and/or professional developments of will result in removal
civilization from the program and each participant shall be required
morning reimburse the amount of he financial assistance he/she received
repairs through the program to the
After earning a bachelor's front and authorized teaching credential door.
[Clan Flamingo]
Say what you will and have your fill
of spilling swill in way of words;
and though for little less I've killed,
for once the bitter pill I'll swallow.
While yes I know it's much deserved -
this wroth so sharp as hedgehog quill -
be sure to bark just up until
my sword hand has quit resting still.
in a scent
of brine
for a spell of time
and time again
i am-
forever sleeping
drifting toward tomorrow
this day,
those days,
like nowadays;
is just a fleeting image
in the crux of things..
Four fifty-nine a.m.
A weekend.
I enter the gas station.
Swish. Swoosh.
That's the sound of the doors.
Where the **** did my friends go?
There's no one behind the counter.
I'm the last man on earth.
All the kings horses,
trampled on the free.
Not even the youngest children,
could speak of peace to me.
The next morning.
I wake up, swallowed up by a bean bag chair.
I'm on my floor. The chair isn't supposed to be here.
Who's that in my bed?
Never mind. I don't even care.
I rise, but it's hard to say I've risen.
Walk down the hall.
My mouth can no longer produce saliva.
All the kings horses,
trampled on me,
not even the voice of youngest children,
could bring peace unto the free.
Falling through space, suspended in time.
The crude metal object penetrating flesh.
Diving through a catacomb, leaving no trace.
Laid up in bed for days with no commission.
And all I've got is this stupid brace
and a car with an automatic transmission.
scumbag
Want Higher Level Card Evaluation? Visit Diestoremoval.com
Boy Life and Adult Man
a 2nd story whiff
of teen Swagger (no he's not a captain)
envelops me as we pass,
the spicy store shelf generic
hormone sweat and tightie whities clean
after a night's wet dream
ignite dreary memories of my 7 through 11
jock locker and the rows of predatory masculinity
hungry for any misstep.
[Clan Flamingo]
The first thing I saw was
the face of the doctor
as he watched my head slip from between the nestled lips
of my mother's gaping ******,
allowing the miracle of childbirth
through in ways brilliant
and loving
and straining
and early.
Let's say that the second thing I remember
is a fleeting hug of hers
given before my first day of school,
her arms enveloping my consciousness and making it all better,
my fears melting away and becoming meaningless,
and for once I can see anxiety as the baseless worry that it is.
Let's say that the third thing I remember is a project my mother helped me with when I was seven.
We decorated the pages with beads and macaroni shells:
I wrote a children's book,
as a burgeoning young author(tm),
and it had animals with rolling eyes and big hugs.
Let's say that it didn't end in the first thing.
Let's say we talked
and grew old
and hated each other
and loved each other
and we were family,
even though
we never were
because she had to go and leave me here
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
My Night With An Old Friend
We were together
As it slowly slipped away
She said it would be forever
She would be gone by the end of the day.
I always **** up.
I never had the chance to tell her.
It was slow as she drank from the cup.
The last of her treatment.
A Moon Later I came back.
I hugged her and kissed her cheek.
She was bent over coughing and hacking.
If only there wasn't a leak.
If only I had been there sooner.
I could have told her what I felt as she slept.
She laid back in the bed
"I love you, Isaac"
She said.
"Don't say that, it was never meant to be"
"It was, and now we both have to move on."
She reached up and kissed me.
Falling backward violently.
She fell asleep.
I ran to my car.
I drove to everywhere I could.
A phonecall from her mom
"Are you okay?"
"No."
The vehicle began to skid.
A tree, a rock, a deer.
Everything flashed in front of me.
All I wish is that her and I could still be.
scumbag
Want Higher Level Card Evaluation? Visit Diestoremoval.com
Another day, another dawn.
jewel of the heart, sing your song.
The sun is shining, the wind is sweet.
The crops are growing. Vibrant! Spite on the heat.
We've weathered all the gaels,
through all our trials, we did not fail.
So dance without sorrow, chew on some leaves,
prepare yourself, for abundant reprieve!
Soon I hear! The ballot will come.
It came and went, so little time spent,
but our comrade, our comrade! Fruition from intent.
More land for our farms, more bread for our plate,
I'm going to get a new bicycle, I can't hardly wait.
Everything will be great, of this my doubt is quite faint.
Plus even if it wasn't, nobody likes those with complaint.
If I just keep wearing my smile, and tending my business with a hush,
Most assuredly soon, my world will be lush.
I do not know, when a ballot will come.
It's hard to grow crops, with nothing in the sky,
not even the comrade, can make the heavens cry.
Surely he could do something. But alas! No word.
Sometimes I wonder, if any prayers are heard.
Less and less, the energy I have each day.
My feet are weary, no bicycle is on its way.
I try to keep the smile up, but I fear soon the frown will start to show,
I've lost faith in the comrade, but it would be unwise to let the neighbors know.
I'm glad that soon, a ballot will come...
Hush! They'll hear us. Do not let the know that of which we speak.
Flee, run with your sister! They will be hear this week.
It's too late for that, they already know. How foolish of me.
The price we paid, to never be free.
The ballot. The ballot.
What a worthless hunk of meat.
I should have known the devil,
always procures a victory, even in defeat.
I hear the brigade drums.
Fires.
have you
gone off?
Oh why
has it
left me?
Oh where
now is
the truth?
Oh which
Messiah dies
for me?
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
-tomathan88