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Asominate Feb 2020
Abstract extracts have no story to tell
I have no feelings and art don't sell
A familiar emptiness; hunger, that I know too well
How can I be in the valley, if I never fell?

We're pretty much the same,
Divided across an axis
An object and its image with no name
Bhill Feb 2020
Of course, masterpieces of the mind, require sensationalism
Returning to the womb to re-visit the beginning
This journey is one extraordinarily odd voyage
Can it be achieved

Brian Hill - 2020 # 33
Take yourself back to the beginning.
Start fresh...
Ray Dunn Dec 2019
how does your tongue
flutter as does a butterfly;
silent and wind carving—
yet unmistakable on the skyline...
idk
jocelynn Dec 2019
It must've been that odd mushroom:
Its pungent spewed spores have made me
A fungal all-fours beast of gloom.

It couldn't have been my own brain:
So toxic, rotten, and seeping
Out meanness, spreading all the same.

Infected, that's why I'm absolved
From sinful guilty reflections,
It was them, not me, that mushroom.
Cordyceps are small yellow fungi that infect insects and other fungi, turning them into mindless zombies that spread the infection until it eats its host.
Asominate Dec 2019
Deeper darkness,
I hark the harness,
I drown

Sleeping caress
A sinking forest
To out

The darkest darkness
It has no hands to hold
A possibility exists within my mind
Untold

Suffocation
Sweet deprivations
Mutate

A broken nation
A whole, we take one
Our fate

The missing masters
They build their hearts of plaster
Because the nothing matters
We laugh, we laugh

Taciturn trouble
Undergrounded bubble
O’erflow
I forgot I also wrote this poem, so odd, isn't it?
Asominate Nov 2019
I think of her
She comes to mind
Did you buy him a lizard?

Nancy, dearest
Wasn’t feeling her best
When she sliced through his gizzard.
Not written anatomically correct.
References GHOST’s song “HOUSEWIFE RADIO.”
Asominate Nov 2019
Of queens and kings
A harpy sings
Of those who’re in control

And all the things
Their power brings
As all else pay the toll

Of kings and queens
The unforeseen
A funeral bell rings

Through thick and lean
As life has been
Queens hang their kings on strings.
I'm feeling a bit odd.
Garrett Johnson Nov 2019
Opposite loft blues.

I've seen the Maroon.
Moon in your eyes.
When you smiled as you cried.
From the shadow of your boots.
Dying in your labyrinth of mind.
Standing.
Gasping from time wasted.
Slapped granite blankets.
As your rust eyes close
& Your face turns invisible.
Starting with your nose.
Screaming the song.
You would oppose
But then think
Just maybe you were supposed to die.
& Then you did.
You got rid of your pains.
Starring aimlessly.
Through those maroon eyes.



Garrett Johnson.
I'll keep it with mine.
Nathan MacKrith Sep 2019
No I will not write a poem
Obviously I will not
There’s no way anyone can make me
How come people keep trying
I know their efforts will fail
No matter how hard they try to
Great, now I’ve written a poem
~
NM
04/11/19
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