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Suicidal Piety loves you

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    Horton Hears A Who

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  • 84 posts
  • Location:Canada
  • Interests:Random interests that revolve around a mythological and literate world. I love writing, reading and art of many varieties. I paint, sketch and role play different games. I have a fascination with dragons and immortality, or at least the concept of it.
Wild Eyes

If loss should profess character
then these eyes are full of traits;
pouring forth innocent malaise
from an unspoken place.
Her wild eyes,
Her tender touch,
all too much to bare.
Her bosom ne'er as
as that which
Her sould did share.


You see me near the homeless -
the woman in her lawn chair
collecting old news papers.
the man lying under the balcony
speaking rhyme to listening walls.
the adolescent girl in hip-huggers
waiting for her local fix.
the retired man on the stairs
smoking a cigarette toxin with memories.
You see me with the homeless -
the young and lonely poet
with the broken pen.


She speaks to me
as though I know her.
Eyes full of passion
lips begging for acceptance
hands fluttering in mute
signals - "Promise me love."
they whisper.
My soiled hands are empty
as my words


In the shallow garden of poverty
hope blooms.
Secretly, under bough abd bush,
'neath weary visage and course palms,
She blooms; Heavy perfume mixing
with the opium of neglect.
The old woman awakes
in hopes of dying today.
The poet rises with dreams
for his pen, watching, ever
vigilant - the old woman waiting.


Somber pink flower;
so like the maiden's cheeks:
Will you, as so many before you,
rot and wither as man's promise?
Or, unlike your Kin, remain eternal
unto me?

So there's a few. Have fun. Don't ask what I was thinking.



    There's A Wocket In My Pocket

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Whoah... those totally blew me away! You are really really good at writing!

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