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Literature
Dirty Kettle, Black Pot
Dirty Pot, Black Kettle             
Shhhh.
I can hear you thinking.
Hush. I can see you.
Honestly, who are you?
The stars are hidden by cloudy eyes,
the moon is leaving and the ocean is in turmoil,
waves swaying to and fro, with an intensity,
of a woman scorned.
White foam slapping the cliffs and beaches.
Rioting.
Rebelling.
Humanity is bickering about the lies we've built ourselves to be.
Squabbling like children over a toy,
we argue about how life should be run.
This country is a play house, where only 'special' people can join
If I have enough money does that make me special?
Happy, shiny politicians
smiling wide with money bags behind their backs.
As fat greedy men,
with the beady eyes of beasts
rub elbows with corruption.
Greed.
We were once a melting pot.
A mix of people running from our troubles.
As years passed this colourful,
ever increasing and decreasing,
pot of ideals
has become stagnate.
The scummy substanc
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Literature
One morning, as I think
Write,
beneath my feet,
stories and myths that have lived longer than I.
The cold mist travels chilling every part of me
till my teeth chatter and my bones tremble
in an empty garden, of plants long since dead.
Every shadow a suspect, in the dim morning light,
of feelings that are waiting to tumble out.
A multitude of little voices battering around my brain pan.
I am peachy.
Birds sing for the new day, unaware of human matters
Smiling, and my head tilted up, as the sun hits the fog
spreading through what ever it encompasses
warming what would be the death of me.
Dew in the light of day reflects luscious diamonds.
Which is more than what he gave.
Break it.
His concrete ideals and hard monumental ego.
Wreaking havoc as winter storms often do.
Unbending and unwilling to let up from the
tyranny that was infamous.
'Live' said Beauty and in the Rose sprung out aesthetics.
Frantic Rust, flaking and peeling free from imagination
recalls dazzling absurdities of proud beauties that stand no more
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Literature
Symposium
Eros, captured in glittering wine
as laughter echos and speeches are belted
from raucous drunken dreamers.
Illuminated by flickering lighting,
Plato, we speak of feelings that you feel we shouldn't show,
It's a pity, you, bitter philosopher,
humans are notorious for our emotions.
Wanton.
Hands meet at the palm then our fingertips,
we lean in meeting, mouths showing what we can't tell.
Hands fingers and a mouth.
Affection, lust and love.
At the navel where we were separated,
Bitterness churns, a beast unsatisfied.
The ghost of fingernails gently scraping,
the nerves of my being.
I'm sorry, boo these puzzle pieces don't always fit.
No matter how many times,
I or we,
Force.
Force them together. or apart.
My dear I haven't found you yet. . .
A jealous beast churns, bitter and in agony
We'll meet and leave and run towards,
Only to be lost again.
Amoung similarly bitter faces.
Plato, for a man who felt a certain way,
you waxed poetry about love,
drunk off the energy,
and emotions of others.
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Literature
Nightmarish
Down the poorly lit streets of Boston donkeys in zoot suits yell for me, white foamy spittle flying from their putrid lips. Their voices follow after me, scathing and terrifying. I don't turn around, but let my feet take me away.
        
            Running, running, running. Away.
I would joke that what I was best at was what I was doing.
            Running, running, running. I laugh.
My laughter trailing after my like dust on a road, irony trickling down my back as I turn a block, weaving through the crowds of everyday citizens. Fear gets the better of me, though, and I trip.
            Over a crack in the sidewalk.
My mother's back will be fine she's been dead for too many years, a giggle escapes my lips and spit flies out hitting me in the cheeks. I flinch disgus
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Mature content
4:12 :iconiyrll:Iyrll 0 0
Literature
All Consuming, for a Moment.
Whiskey, a glass quarter full sits,
glowing softly in the poor light.
The glass is rolling in your hands tight,
while my hand is held out for yours to fit.
Sober, we settle to watch the leaves,
we joke and laugh as minutes pass on by.
In tandem we meet, eyes closed, hands shy.
As we meet as two, now one, our chest heaves,
I realize Boo, what it is we ha[ve].
It ends. Toppled over like your spillt glass.
Yet, at this time I'm not sad to let it pass.
In that time, what we had was a salve.
I can't promise you a ring, Shugga,
but for now lets tumble in the grass.
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Literature
Repitition
Repitition.
tap, Tap, TAP,
the essesnce of insanity
is repeating oneself and expecting a diffrent results. . .
right?
RIGHT?
Is love insanity?
Is pain insanity?
It must be, it fucking feels like it!
loss is pain and i keep losing
and Why for the love of god Why did I not think
this wanst going to hurt?
FUCK.
I haven't lost him yet.
but it's coming,
like the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach
I know I'm losing him.
Second by Second
Day by Day
the days we shared and the memories we made are leaving him
I'm losing who I once knew so well
And I'm Angry, and I'm scared
I want to scream and demand why he isn't fighting
I know he's trying
like the sun goes 'round
I know,
but it isn't enough
I'm selfish.
And I need him.
But nothing can stop death and his brain is dying.
I can't accept this.
I don't want to lose.
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Literature
Growing Filigree
The blue sky that never ends
the dry grass that we tried to keep alive
crackles under my feet
all hints of my childhood are long gone
the apple tree that i climbed
the pear tree that broke one windy day
denting the fence but leaving our humble house be
nostalgia rises and this feeling in my chest tightens
the tears pool to the side and i'm homesick
i want to stay but i don't fit the mold any more
i walk past the graves of those who meant the world to me
when i was younger.
those old wounds have scabbed over with time as its ointment
red and pink flowers bloom of the wounds and painful memories
growing and twisting and binding me to a new life
without this.
I'm the ground cover that's reaching for the sun
not quite making it
basking in the shade wilting from it's directness.
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Literature
Girl with no name
Blue about a girl
I ache.
scale my pain
cry as she elaborates
deep heaving
some
dead pieces lather bitter metaphors
says a sculpture
with an arm welded on
who can whisper why
we never ask than to know
see an electric silhouette try at suffering
abstract masterpiece
they bare my messy life
live life raw
we must demand
she is there
boldly shimmering,
a fiery, worldly woman.
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Literature
Bitter
My blood is pumping
like a roar of a Harley
and my heart races
adrenaline addles my brain
and I cant think straight
were smiling and laughing
talking about
anythingandeverything

and I'm wondering if you hear what you do to me
I hope not.
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Literature
In and Out
Red yarn wrapped around your little finger,
Baby, you've got me tied up.
This tango's not working, we've learned.
Well, I've learned.
You tug the string and I stumble and fall
You've got me so wound up that I'm crawling
To you.
From you.
Then back again
in and out of the tides flow
at the moon beckoning.
Lets not do this,
I say this now but
in a day,
in an hour
I'll be feelin' different
this dance of love and despair isn't working
I don't quite like this.
Could we do this again never.
(Though my heart says otherwise)
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Literature
Show don't Tell
Show don't tell.
My fingers tangle themselves in my hair
Twirling, writhing, and unhappy
discontent.
I bite my lips
Lower my head
Hide behind my hair
As I look up to you
this desire-
Show don't tell.
I look at our hands on the table
I look at anything but your lips
your eyes.
Dear god you have me waxing poetry
and through all this
I hold back the urge to kiss you
and ruin all that I …
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Literature
Cross Xing
There's a  bird on my hand
an inky flower as well
and I focus on them as my stomach drops
and tears burn
While the toe of my boot digs into the snow
wondering why
if you don't like me
then why do you hang out with me
I hear you as you two rant about me
below my feet
there's a crossroad for me
Two signs pointing in opposite directions
and I like neither.
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Literature
Up Chuck: from mind to mouth
Out of my mind, out of my mouth,
Comes nonsense, crawling, writhing their way out,
Malignant parasites, infectious thoughts,
that beg to be said, implore to be spoken of,
I relent.
And like a geyser those thoughts burst forth,
Springing from my wicked mind.
Silence.
You look at me.
I know, surely as I know the earth rotates,
That you don't understand,
That I've confused you.
Shame and embarrassment  color my cheeks.
Silence.
I retreat,
and walk away from this situation, this memory.   
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Literature
Peaches
Hotspring of warmth spreads;
Bubbling and engulfing in an all consuming sort of way,
I pause.
My hands grasping a warming drought
For a moment basking in this semi new experience.
The cold of winter that took residence beneath my skin and in my bones,
retreats and is held at bay.
The bitter and the sweet
collide in a loving battle for dominance.
I sigh
and I smile.
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Literature
Ash
My tongue burns,
As Society's pet dragon,
Crawls down my throat,
Killing a bit of me,
Second by second
Day by day
As I conform,
Twisting and contorting myself to be the Public's plaything.
Till I'm only a pile of ash.
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Iyrll
Aubrey
Artist | Student | Varied
United States
I'm a college student in New England with a love of witty humor, good books and decent coffee shops.
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dementja Featured By Owner Jun 28, 2013
Thank you for faving Fog :)
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Thanks for all the :+fav:s. :)
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hey :) thanks
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Sorry for te late respons, but thanks for Faving [link] :)
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Thanks for the fave! :)
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Thank you for the fav of: Skogsraet
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