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Fumbletongue Oct 2017
Irony
The other word for
Karma
also known as
Poetic Justice
Fumbletongue Oct 2017
The fish bakes
in the sweltering heat of the sun
Its prison
a plastic tupperware container
three feet from the water.
It's jaws SNAP open
and shut as it gasps for air,
struggling
against death.
It's dying
baking
smell
lingers
over to me
as I sit and stare
while eating my
juicy green apple
I packed as a snack
Arthur Vaso Oct 2017
I was ******* poetry
Right out of the womb
Now I am ******* poetry
On the way to my tomb

One you escape from
One you do not
Life is a dead end
Suicide is a hope

Walking along dead end streets
Losing memories and endless sleep
Running away from fears unknown
******* away moments, a life stolen
Inspired by a poem I found that I had written when I was around 7 years old.
The title is an anagram.
VV Lettish Oct 2017
so shall these next eight lines
serve as certain and conclusive evidence
that poetry
(this kind of poetry)
is as elementary
as touching a key
that takes your illusory fountain pen
from one written line
to another
Flo Oct 2017
If I would have surrendered myself
To your lingering presence
We would have lost
The morals we promised to adhere
Our passion we thought to never run dry

I needed to let you down
In order to save
Whatever is left of
"us"
Bittersweet Irony...
Shanath Sep 2017
The black and white pills
Are failing to cure me,
After three long years of running
It's my feet that's killing me.

I would have ran home
Though I ran from there,
It is only when you are alive
That you begin dying.

Black and blue bruises
Hug me tighter than my own skin,
I wouldn't know I still had blood
If I still didn't bleed so much.

I should have drowned myself by now
If I could reach the sea.
But it is in my sadness
I learnt the opposite must exist.
I am waiting for the end
Then we will begin again.
Pineapples Sep 2017
The irony of my performance that I dig in to the depths of depression and despair, spit it all over a microphone, pour out every brittle and heartbroken amount of emotion I can so people can clap and cheer.
Wonderful times have a hard time with nice rhymes.
I've tried to reach the sky and push the limit,
but I can't seem to quite those things that keep me down.
so I surround and ground and proud and sound out
my frustrations and reservations.
Alisha Shibli Aug 2017
Strange is the power of fear
It engulfs you and your reasoning
Strange is the power of loneliness
It finds rescue in words
Strange is the power of heartbreak
It finds strength in emptiness

Being complete is probably bad for your art
To connect, you have to be broken
Life is funny that way
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