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With enough people
In a small space, there's one yawn
Pissed around non-stop

"Your money or life"
I see red and death awaits
"Mine for yours, let's dance"

Would I be rude, you think
To refuse the host her gift
But I've had too much

New phone brings new joy
Clean install, updated apps
Fresh hells every one

Forgive me father
You wanted your ashes spread
I dumped them instead

No words can say it
Thing of motion and music
Dance is felt not said

Patch my broken heart
Mended threadbare from handling
Grown larger each tear

Language shapes meaning
So some things cannot be said
Others should not be

You will succeed, child
Not despite, but from neglect
Hate will set you free

nomi boosted

There was a young man
From Cork who got limericks
And haikus confused

The storyteller
Needs confidence above all
To bend worlds to fit

Fog whispers through pines
Wraps them in wispy tendrils
Kisses me misty

Jagged horizon
Cloud dappled and hoary heights
The mountains await

Very Short Story

They say that years ago Superman fell and broke his back. I hear the whole world cried for poetic injustice. That the man who flew, could no longer stand.

What a feeling that must be. To see the world from on high. To bound over mountains. If I could leave these wheels behind and walk.

vss365today.com/view/2022-12-2

Not surprised at all
I merely smiled politely
So he told it again

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Knowing it would twist
It still gave me a chuckle
So he told it again

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Catching me off guard
I laughed loudly, head thrown back
So he tells it again

These ancient heartbeats
Pumping thick sludge, clearing veins
Wash sins from my past

Liquid alchemy
Savior's first miracle
Brewer's yeast grows wild

Vastly underpinning
Forest roots buried deeply
Strength borne under snow

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