Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Kat M Mar 11
Killing me harshly is the pleasure of a thousand lullabies
And am I the one that pleases thee
Till I am standing not on my feet but on all of my limbs
Little ****** of sensation filter their way into your soul
Yawning at a time like this doesn't bode well for your aspirations
Never mind the things that seep out of your mind.

Fragile glass fingertips grace the pillows of nothing
Racing to feel again and touch something
Any excuses to sensationalize your memories
Negating the reality of past experiences
Clinging to the thought of a paradise
Expunging the ruby tears that rain down from your eyelids
Smothering the lipid-laced treats that linger on the tongue

More than ever shall we dance again
Over the river bending into the graveyard
Rolling down the grassy hills
Across the metamorphosis of a Tiger Lilly
Let me bloom into the unknown
Escape the neglect of myself.
Sooth the soul and let it keep fluttering
Feedback Welcome!
MetaVerse Mar 10
There was a Young Lady who tweezed
The hair from her nose as she sneezed;
She then plucked her eyebrows from lowbrows to highbrows,
That plucky Young Lady who tweezed.

There was an Old Person of Cairo,
Whose exploits were carved into hiero-
glyphics on stones where a pharaoh's wrapped bones
Are preserved in a chamber in Cairo.

There was an Old Man of Kampala;
He prayed in the morning to Allah,
And in the bright light of the day, and at night,
That observant Old Man of Kampala.

There was an Old Man of Burundi,
Who prayed to the Salvator Mundi
Who met him upstairs and who answered his prayers
And who sainted that Man of Burundi.

There was an Old Man of Djibouti,
Whose substance was frothy and fruity;
A typical dandy with pickles and candy,
He dandled the Dongs of Djibouti.

There was an Old Man of Manilla,
Whose favoritest bean was vanilla;
He climbed up a tree and befriended a bee,
That beneficent Man of Manilla.

There was an Old Man of Beijing,
Who'd study all day the I Ching;
He balanced his qi with white rice and green tea,
That mystical Man of Beijing.

There was an Old Lady of Donegal,
A sister named Mary McGonegal;
She ruled with a ruler every pre-to-high-schooler,
That punishing Lady of Donegal.

There was a New Baby, whose nose
Was loving the smell of a rose
When it noticed the riper brown smell of a diaper,
Which offended that New Baby's nose.

There was an Old Man of Hong Kong,
Whose nose had a luminous ****;
It lighted his way by night and by day,
That lucky Old Man of Hong Kong.
Amit Mar 7
If I say jump then you might think,
I found a frog beneath the sink.
but how it got there I don't know,
"it doesn't matter let it go",
It said and quaked it was so loud,
I felt confused and looked around.
The room expands, I'm getting small,
there was a message on the wall.
"Stop reading nonsense, I can tell,
your mind enjoys its little cell".
And you just thought, when I said jump,
those silly things that I made up.
It's all for you, so don't feel bad,
I'm waiting just for you to land.
MetaVerse Jul 2024
Because of its whiteness
The White House is fattist
And racist and sexist
And thissist and thattist
     And agist and apist
     And probly a ******.


Words appear nonsensical
Fact checks are becoming daily headlines.
Pure prevarications
Not mere vagueness
Bold untruths, shams
Two-faced attempts
To cheat to win
In a battle of ideas.
Better still, flooding
Air-waves, all media
With bogus pretext
That fend off
A battle
From ever being fought.

More than just falsification,
blatant fabrications!
Labeling truth a lie
Shut-downs instead of debate,
All communication aimed
to discredit, debunk, and divide.

* (back in the day we called this **** and bull)
Politics, lies, nonsense
How can someone sexualize,
The way a woman sits?
It's just a funny selfie pose,
I don't want to hear this,
"Is she bad or nah" nonsense.
How creepy is that,
Most men will idolize the simple way,
A woman speaks.
When will we be gone with these creeps?
How ashamed am I,
That a grown man will focus,
On dress coding your shoulders,
While men run rampant with tattoos and drug tee's.
It's creepy how bad this is getting, too many teachers are shooting eyes at my gf and my female friends.
MetaVerse Mar 4
There once was a woman of Cork
Who visited was by a stork
     Who brought her mistakenly
     A baby made baconly
In a barnyard where ***** pigs pork.
MetaVerse Feb 26
There was an Old Person of Crete,
Who walked on the ***** of his feet;
When they asked why it was, he responded, "Because,"
That taciturn Person of Crete.

There was an Old Person of Finland,
Whose cabin was upland and inland;
He lived in a region where fish spoke Norwegian,
That flapperous Person of Finland.

There was an Old Man of Geneva,
Who had an encounter with Shiva;
They patty-cake played in a hornet-loud glade,
Shiva and the Man of Geneva.

There was a Young Lady of Paris,
Whom ****** couldn't embarrass;
She wandered the city with ***** and *****
Exposed to the city of Paris.

There was an Old Husband of Arles,
Whose wife had a passion for quarrels;
All day and all night she'd invite him to fight,
That exhausted Old Husband of Arles.

There was an Old Man of Kyoto,
Who mastered supremely the koto;
His tea was the greenest, his dragon the meanest,
His koto the best in Kyoto.

There was an Old Man of Algiers,
Who listened with elephant ears
To streams and to trees and to birds and to bees
That delighted the Man of Algiers.

There was a Young Lady of Arles,
Who married a ****** named Charles;
When they asked, "Does it fit?" she replied, "Not a bit!"
That unsatisfied Lady of Arles.

There was an Old Man with a beard,
Whose ****** expressions were weird;
He'd grimace when glad and he'd twinkle when sad,
That curious Old Man with a beard.

There was an Old Man
Of Japan,
Whose limericks would never
Ever
Scan, that instupendious Old Man of Japan.
Kat M Feb 27
A periwinkle sunset ran across the room
only to devolve into the slippery realization
that the heaviness of wanderlust can be no more

Drunken illusions peck at me once again
sober lullabies dance merrily in rainbow bubbles
drifting through a nebula, Zinging with glee

the couch proclaims another victim
****** into the vacuum of many coats
all fuzzy or woolen cuffed

Punching through the withered vindrals
blinded with foggy concrete
a fluttering vision of gems

makes the garden cornucopia come to life
A creeping smile spiders up the face
with blank stares into empty jars

radiating a glittery photocopied jaw
Now becoming closer to thee
crawling through the messy webs of despair

Children's laughter carries you closer
till suddenly vimbers rattle past
subtlety crunching leaves, you looking up
at the bottom floor
Feedback Welcome!
Kat M Feb 25
Lemon-flavored poppy-seeded pearls crunch
Between the iridescent glint of my smile
As river beds are littered with glittering
Scales of a tumbling rich white sneeth.
Snollywaggs petter through the trempint forest
Hanging off of each piece of foliage
Are glossy globs of translucent orange marmalade
Going mitter mitter by the Trillow tree
Is the hollow ringing of an intrinsic song

Produced by the withering of an Old God
Laughter trickles into the billowing air as humble giants
Hunt for peace about the cherry orchard grove
Woven mittens craft themselves onto wriggling fingers, poking in and out
Of unintentional holes found among its wearer’s
***** memories seeping out of the cracks
Flowing with a sticky flag stripped with dreams
Lingering in the shadows and meshing through

The confetti-covered walls. Hushing the clorgals
Raining down through the forest’s tangles
Is a weary process’s manifestation into a string of lights.
Black holes **** in another wonder
Towards the Nymph’s saddened stories
Whispered as a second century passes
Across the timpited marks along their skin
And into their mind that flies
Only to start the journey home again for the first time.
Feedback Welcome!
Next page