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Tommy Johnson Apr 2014
He sure is a chip off the old block
Knock his block off
Knock it right out of the park
Into the china shop, breaking everything
Blame the bull

Your'e a man of few words
More power to you
Needless to say
Let’s talk turkey

Don’t count your chickens before they hatch
Just fly the coop
It’s for the birds
And there’s a fox in the hen house
Feast or famine

A fine kettle of fish
And a can of worms
On a dark and stormy night
But as luck would have it
A penny save is a penny earned
Play with fire, you’ll get burned

Give me a ball park figure
Go against all odds
Because I've got an ace in the hole
And another up my sleeve

She’s rolling over in her grave
You must have been rubbing her the wrong way
Time and time again
That was the straw that broke the camel’s back

I’m scared out of my wits and I’m at the end of them
Sweating the bullets used to shoot the breeze
Time is of the essence
And you’re going slower than molasses in January

You take all the leaps and bound
And always land on your feet
Into the lap of luxury
Making the best of a bad situation

I ordered a slice of humble pie
And all I got was a knuckle sandwich
With an apple everyday
And hefty doctor bills I had to pay

Life’s a *****
It’s a grind
It’s a game
It’s a gamble
Live and learn
Live and let live
Let the good times roll
But look before you leap
That’s the long and short of it

Every dog has its day
Its fifteen minutes of fame
Barking up the wrong tree
And chasing its tail
[A conversation between Light and Darkness]

  Light said,
"We're adversaries, maybe.
But I've come to see the possibility
That you are my shadow after all."

Darkness dawned, and said,

"And I thought you could see everything,
For you were light yourself.
Am I merely a fear, of your and mankind's?
[They think you could have no fears, either.]
I am, Nature's nocturnal rhyme.
I exist, for you cannot make up for me.

An ever unraveling mystery,
I am humble, for I become
What the world makes of me.
You make the world see,
Little do they know,
They see the world
Through the colours You colour them in.
I make them face fears,
Away from illusion-ed complacency,
With my silent presence giving them company.
From mere empirical sight,
I have given rise to vision/ imagination in them."

Darkness continued -
"Oh, I am not here to seek pity.
I'm sure they wonder,
Why some-one like me,
Has existed as tenaciously as you.
I am not to be sought,
I am not light years away,
I am the recourse within.
Truly, I had underestimated myself for long."

Light flickered a little,
To glow anew in realization, then said-
"I am the spotlight,
You're the impactful dot.
I comprise the glorious endings,"
Darkness beamed and said,
"I am the prompt to the start.
Dawn and dusk are but a
Celebration of our synchronicity."

Light chipped in to continue,
"I begin to see things in a new light,
For I have acknowledged you,
And that is our victory."
From thinking of light and darkness as two opposites in perpetual contention, to realizing that the two exist because of each other - The conversation attempts to break the notion of them being mere adversaries. Also, light is perceived here from different vantage points in the poem - If one sticks to the light - darkness adversary notion, then light itself has always been in fear of the dark. But light, being luminous as it is, cannot see the larger picture.  When light falls upon an object, we simply see it with our empirical senses, and believe it to be true- a big risk we're taking all the while. Darkness isn't necessarily literal here, it could stand for emptiness-  which may thus not necessarily prompt fear, but introspection, or imagination. Hence, the difference between sight and vision. Darkness seeks to be throned on no pedestal - it lets the world shape it in the way the world  likes to right now, giving them time to discover its real form, unlike light which has been venerated all along. For all you know, light is a shadow of our creation.
Claire Collins May 2014
I'm so hungry I could eat a *****
I'm sure she could use the money
I wonder if she charges hourly
I'm so slutty I could eat a dollar bill
Money is the root of all evil
All evil sits in the pit of hunger.
she's the kid of girl
who tries wayyyy too ******* hard to please everybody
somebody has each limb
and is pulling her in every direction

boys fight for her heart
the one she wants to win doesn't fight
she leaves herself in the open
taking shots from all angles
absorbs it and shakes it off
like it didn't even hurt

she tells me her deepest secrets
and laughs
from the shallowest part of herself

that smile could make a grown man
a man who gave up on love
weak the ******* knees
make the hardest frown
turn right upside down

the one's who say they love her
**** her up more than those who don't
she's rare
she cares
sometimes, well
most of the time she gets too stressed
and tries too hard to be the best

tear away the seams
your heart is sewn onto your sleeve
rip it off
it might hurt a bit
you might bleed
but it's temporary
unlike the hurt from the ones who "love" you
TEAR YOUR HEART OFF YOUR SLEEVE
put it BACK where it belongs
lock it up tight
let the right one in
not the one who speaks in cliches
choose the one who can look you dead in the eye
and tell you you're beautiful
without looking at your chest or ***

I pinky promise he will come around
I can't promise when
but i swear
be patient and sit back
and watch your life unfold
like opening the pages of a pop-up book
JDK Apr 2014
I cried inside my car today.
I cried while I thought of the things I would say when the one that I love questions me about the one I made love to.
(I didn't want to do it. I'm crazy about you.)
"You make me feel like a little kid again."
"You make me feel like magic is real."
"It kills me that you have a boyfriend."
It kills me that this isn't real.
None of this is going to happen.
I cried inside my car today.
Then told a bunch of strangers about it.
spysgrandson Apr 2014
some friends, some lovers,
some just…names, none  
dropped from the sky like flies  
they vanished, some before my eyes
mostly, though, my ears heard of their passing  
“so and so…before their time”  
but tabulated ticking is not the province  
of the silenced, now in unseen passage  
it is our ears that hear those clocks  
and decide if they beat long enough  
and by what measure?  
some friends, some lovers,
some names, we heard a time or two  
or saw in print a final time  
before we rolled the paper  
to swat another one or two  
from the buzzing air

— The End —