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  May 2017 George Anthony
Cinzia
Ink
Give up your muse
of mediocrity
Throw him to the wolves

Let him roast on the spit
of your whirring pen
laugh without mercy:

"You guided me to this place,
Miscreant
Now I'll show you where to go."

The ink stains your hands
You, Lady Macbeth,
but instead of washing

use it to tattoo
the truth
all over your face
Sometimes I get tired of love poems, but, you know, I'm a lover not a fighter.
George Anthony May 2017
it doesn't matter how friendly
or how affectionate
i may be with others

whether they're friends,
past crushes
or even past lovers

because my fingers
write sweet nothings
and my mouth might sing love songs

but for the past...
ever since that dream
it's been you all along

running through my mind
so much
i'm tempted to ask if your legs are tired.

did i just use a pickup line
in poetry,
one that's long since expired?

possibly, though i won't apologise.
i'm one of those old souls
always just a little behind;

but i don't mind being behind
if you're in front of me,
i'll enjoy the view

and no, that wasn't ******
i promise
i just enjoy looking at you
I might have lost my talent for writing but I'll never lose my muse.
George Anthony May 2017
All the stars in the sky couldn't outdo your shine...
sorry, that's a cliche line
so should i compare thee to a summer's day instead?
no, sorry, that's plagiarism;
i guess i'm not as good at this as i want to be,
but it seems every time i try to tell you how i feel
the words just escape me.
There's nothing original in my head,
so i resort to using poetry
that's been recycled instead. You do that to me, you know,

you take all these impressive thoughts, long words
revised from dictionaries during high school essays where
i should have been focusing on the question
but found myself
more interested by the way words with more letters
could have so little meaning; words with less letters
could store enough emotion to fill a blank void with
billions of burning lights - you could create a universe for somebody with
just four letters, but you could
simply make a small dent within the air by using nine.
l o v e
r e d u n d a n t
nine meaningless letters for a pointless word - even
the word itself acknowledges its lack of necessity.

It was upon pondering these thoughts, just now
as i write this silly little poem that's
lost its flow, lots its rhythm and rhyme just as i seem to
lose myself when i'm around you,
that i stumbled upon a discovery

and though this discovery held no comparison
to the miracle i uncovered in
discovering your existence, and the way your eyes shine warmly like lanterns
whenever you're happy (something which consequently brightens my
dark and broody spirits, lifting them out ever so slightly from the hell they reside in),
i found it to be an important discovery all the same.

See, words and letters and literary features,
they're all so... simple, and how better to communicate with another soul
than doing so simply, in language even toddlers can understand?
If a four letter word can be more meaningful
than a word containing nine letters, then maybe less
really is more.

I'm coming to my conclusion now, just-
bear with me, here. It takes a guy like me a lot of courage to admit to what he feels.
See, i was going to write about the way your smile shines
bright and beautiful like the sun, but i realised that would mean that i'd never stand a chance
because if ever i drew close enough for a kiss

you would burn me.

So here it is. Plain and simple.

I love you.
I wrote this maybe a year or more ago. But it's suddenly relevant again.
  May 2017 George Anthony
Kon Grin
Morning, Nine-five,
To the tiny flowers in your garden,
And celestial ongoing bloom.
To the cadence of the sudden
Bird awakened in the noon.

Morning, Nine-five,
To a drop of light that slithers down
Down the smooth of shins and to your ankles.
Morning to the heedless way it gowns
Tips of feet unhid,
Naked toes uncovered by your blanket.

Morning, Nine-five.
  May 2017 George Anthony
Tuffy Mutombo
You are the drug of my choice
the strength in my voice
a thief in the night
you stole my heart on sight
robbed me of sight so I can only love you with my soul
I gave you my all and more  
I sacrificed my imagination and filled it with your sensation
Addicted to you I am
like a an addict is to their needle of joy
I get a great high when I am around you
a depressive low when I am not with you
I am addicted to your flaws
in love with your insecurities
you bring out the best in me
every kiss is as powerful as every breath I take
I need your touch like the veins that connect to my heart
without that I am like an empty vessel with no purpose
You are simply my addiction and I will never seek treatment
In you I find therapy, you have taken the best of me
  May 2017 George Anthony
J
loneliness consumed you
while you were busy finding distractions
your eyes sunk deeper, your nights darker
you found a marker and wrote it out in black ink, you left half a cup of tea by the sink,
one final reminder that you could never clean up right, your scars were not quite healing
men came and went like hopscotch manic feelings, daily warfare, gentle as a tide though
you would let them in just to let them go
crafted a plan to **** yourself
because you didn't know anything else
but the bottom of a bottle you swore you didn't drink you spent 11 months sleeping on the brink of death
loneliness consumed you
you took the bad parts, shaped them into something you could swallow and fell in love with the high from your insides eating you alive now you're full of sculptures you gave up on years ago and maps of places, far away, where you'll never get to go
because you're bed ridden and tired, you're only 20 and you did it, you have carved yourself entirely empty
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