Week of 11th - 25th June
Congratulations AuburnZero for winning 100 !
:bigthumb430602858:
Feature of Great Commenters!
A-m-i-a-r-t, Ace1999, artiste-reveur, Dchiuart, Dianamisu, DoubleDandE, EveVon, OfficialFendama, Fluffy-fez, GratefulHeartist, GourmetNinja, LT-metamorphose-LT, Lupinalia, Ly-s, Owl-Flight, PolymerWantACracker, lDestiny, SmolstFever
Week of 25th June - 9th July
Congratulations MaggotsX for winning 100 !
The Candle is HotThe Candle is Hot
My coffee is cold.
The candle is hot, my thoughts are not.
Mind-Watch, mood-sniffs scanning.
Block by block. Lot by lot.
The candle is low. Feelings don't glow.
My coffee is cold.
My coffee is cold.
The candle won't cook, I'm not a crook.
Psyche-gang, last night shooting.
All are same. Think that they do.
The candle won't tell. I'll hide a spell.
My coffee is cold.
My coffee is cold.
The candle is home, in city of chrome.
Safe-shack, hidden not seeing.
Walls I know. Doors they don't.
The candle is small. Alone in my sprawl.
My coffee is cold.
My coffee is cold.
The candle is mine. Coffee packs: nine.
Grub-grab, I must be sooning.
Hide & run. Run & hide.
The candle won't last. I must be fast.
My coffee is cold.
My coffee is cold.
The candle is life. In days of strife.
Brain-jail scary. Never they stopping.
Sniff us & shock-gag us.
The candle won't hold. My coffee is cold.
My coffee is cold.
My coffee is cold.
The candle is hot, my thoughts are not.
Mind-Watch, mood-sni
Bomb ShelterBomb Shelter
O grotesque for shelter's sake,
For damned we do: down holes/up walls.
For damned we don't: a bunkered handshake.
Below these fading stars.
["Who more than self"?]
O grotesque for not-me sight,
Whose lady unlighted turns round,
All whose feet be fired to flight.
Cross brotherly brow, is good uncrowned.
["their country loved,"?]
O grotesque for partisan dream,
That sees bombs behind the tears,
Thine lackalovely cities gleam,
Unmarred by human fears.
["And mercy more than life!"?]
O grotesque.
MaggotsX @ 11.20.2015
Ghost WhipGhost Whip
"Harvest is past, summer is ended, And we are not saved."
-Jeremiah 8:20
Summer was plentiful.
The work was good, the work was done.
Why then, this languid lament, for something
left unfinished, a job untried, a job undone.
This soil, this land:
Toiled by my forebears hand,
Great. Grand. Father's earth.
A never-fought battle waged,
for a legacy of seed: this corn, this soy,
an orchard of plum, these acres of trees.
A blessing of welfare wrought
from a boon, a shoulder tap, tapping
the proud nobility of a farmer's root.
A plantation never-stood: our fields not
nearly so grand. Never-guilt for never-whip,
never-dark on upon this sand.
Summer was plentiful.
The work was good, the work was done.
October's breath, a forgotten
skeleton rattling it's discontent
amuck the shuck-dried corn husks.
Herenow lately, our orchard b
Feature of Great Commenters!
AuburnZero, El-Rey-Chipinque, Ellofayne, EpicKeenan, Jooleya, Lilia-DeRosso, paddedpaws, rainbow000pegasus, lDestiny, RhazeOscrus, TheDrawingDog