Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
PJ Poesy May 2016
Knowing how you were taken off guard
By spinning eyes and fast **** of my head
No wonder you burst giggles buffaloing
And how could one help, but to slyly smirk red

Caught in your allure, devil may wander
Bounced instant shakeup of total ricochet
You felt it too, and I knew this of you
Counterrevolution comes hither what may

Pausing to pull me in, slant of ellipses
Pheromones explode, ocular orbs have eclipses
Trekking wrecking of satellites in flight
Cross governing communications trip the light

Fantastic are we, as we pretend to deceive
By shucking it off as mere passing fancy
Neither taking a number and this I bereave
How I’d love to take chancy, you my fiancée
Sherry Lore Aug 2015
where the beauty is?
why do we only see the beautiful ones on display,
perfect as complete perfection, photo/makeup/cosmetic correction can make them stay...

replay, forever young, caught in some perpetual still life like on a canvas,
flawless, braless with ever perky ******* and bright white teeth polish,
bronzed skin and too tight everything, my god how the world must sing

whenever they strut their **** all around and bring
the rest of us less than perfect ones down by saying... nothing
according to the magazines, there go my dreams,
all in a too fat, too flat, where the ****'s my **** at,
reality in play, myself is where I stay,

stuck, in 6 weeks you can be like them, in six months you can be like her,
in 6 years you'll be like you... cause that's the cards we're played,
the genetic makeup, life breakup, reality shakeup is
that the impossible really is just that,

the beautiful really are just that,
and inside I'm just that
so wake up all you magazine covers, look up and take notice all you trend setters,
stuck up, rich *****, fake ***, wanna be real but gotta fake it *******

this... is where the beauty is
kevin Apr 14
City Could be Affected by Shakeup in L.A.'s Homeless System

fold paper

advertisement of government

regulations

obtain and institute french ink at times of los angeles
your trial begins, this is high treason

follow irwin the intern into camp
AMAN12 1d
He resembled Abraham Lincoln in views and looks,
a jawline carved from principle,
voice like a verdict that never needed volume
and I followed him like a nation follows myth.

He was my assigned mentor,
but I choose him for my infatuation.
I studied his pauses more than my syllabus.

I traced words dressed in restraint
and sent through an unmarked number for weeks.
But he knew my cadence,
the way I break a sentence,
the metaphors I reach for
better than I knew myself.

That day,
clouds were shedding incessant tears,
my purple umbrella and his yellow raincoat
were not a match made for this weather.
I stood outside the library, clutching my diary
he stood holding his helmet.
A whisper reached my eardrums
through the hurricane winds-
'People who come together for minds
do not exchange hearts.”

The building behind me, its shelves,
its silence, its sanctity crumbled
into my chest.
The heartquake wasn't loud, just exact.

Wet slippers took my drenched heart
to an ice cream parlour.
Ordered a parfait for a perfect shakeup.

My thumb still remembers his number,
But knowledge has tied it into a fist.
It was a shakeup... not a breakup.

— The End —