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"In the end..." | RIP Chester Bennington.
Written by zikeda

in the end, i’ll be

f r e e

my reality

birthed from the tar

soaking my bones and

drowning my lungs in

fear, 

      fear, 

            fear

in the end, i’ll be

f o u n d

my resound

voiced from the ache

haunting my heart and

gutting my soul with

hurt, 

      hurt, 

            hurt

in the end, i will

f a d e

my masquerade

come to a close,

breaking the mold and

reflecting my life in

truth, 

        truth, 

                truth

in the end, i will

s e e

the real me

from beyond the thoughts

plaguing my mind and

veiling my eyes with

black, 

        black, 

                black

in the end, i’ll be

free, i’ll be

found

and i’ll fade

when i see that 

in the end, 

it doesn’t 

              even 

                     matter.

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"In the end..." | RIP Chester Bennington.
Written by zikeda
in the end, i’ll be
f r e e

my reality
birthed from the tar
soaking my bones and

drowning my lungs in
fear, 
      fear, 
            fear

in the end, i’ll be
f o u n d

my resound
voiced from the ache
haunting my heart and

gutting my soul with
hurt, 
      hurt, 
            hurt

in the end, i will
f a d e

my masquerade
come to a close,
breaking the mold and

reflecting my life in
truth, 
        truth, 
                truth

in the end, i will
s e e

the real me
from beyond the thoughts
plaguing my mind and

veiling my eyes with
black, 
        black, 
                black

in the end, i’ll be
free, i’ll be
found

and i’ll fade
when i see that 

in the end, 
it doesn’t 
              even 
                     matter.

#hashbrownhashtag  #doubleshotdepresso  #IMASADBEAN  #WAAAAHHHH 
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Written by GhoulCircus in portal Stream of Consciousness

L'été

     She is fire in the hearth of my rib cage; beneath bone lies no heart. I’ve penned it away on page consumed in flame by an inferno feral and strange. Coal would be a gift, a match struck against cardinal nails. Adrift in the smoke of her ire, I harness shadows dire and moons of blighted ash. This resonance is thick and deafening song— asphyxiated, I thrash, juggled along with the coal in her grasp.

     She is wind in the rot of my wounds; beneath decay runs no blood. I’ve inked it away on skin siphoned and claimed by a hurricane, calamitous its spin. Sea would be a pawn, waves climbing the sky against dauntless gusts. Drawn in by the force of her gale, I capture reveries frail and stars of foul night. This turbulence is wild and harrowing hymn— diminished, I fight, twisted grim by the sea in her might.

     She is light in the dark of my dreams; beneath eye sounds no screams. I’ve hushed them away with rhyme blinded and maimed by a sun fleeting, sublime. Dusk would be a boon, sins of dawn stark against a sable eve. Swooned by the gleam of her rays, I compose sonnets grey and sonatas of savored lust. This luminesce is bright and saintly tune— enlightened, I trust, shrouded soon by the dusk of her death.

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Written by GhoulCircus in portal Stream of Consciousness
L'été
     She is fire in the hearth of my rib cage; beneath bone lies no heart. I’ve penned it away on page consumed in flame by an inferno feral and strange. Coal would be a gift, a match struck against cardinal nails. Adrift in the smoke of her ire, I harness shadows dire and moons of blighted ash. This resonance is thick and deafening song— asphyxiated, I thrash, juggled along with the coal in her grasp.

     She is wind in the rot of my wounds; beneath decay runs no blood. I’ve inked it away on skin siphoned and claimed by a hurricane, calamitous its spin. Sea would be a pawn, waves climbing the sky against dauntless gusts. Drawn in by the force of her gale, I capture reveries frail and stars of foul night. This turbulence is wild and harrowing hymn— diminished, I fight, twisted grim by the sea in her might.

     She is light in the dark of my dreams; beneath eye sounds no screams. I’ve hushed them away with rhyme blinded and maimed by a sun fleeting, sublime. Dusk would be a boon, sins of dawn stark against a sable eve. Swooned by the gleam of her rays, I compose sonnets grey and sonatas of savored lust. This luminesce is bright and saintly tune— enlightened, I trust, shrouded soon by the dusk of her death.
#maintenantcestlete  #lesquatresaisons 
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Is it okay to talk to yourself?
Written by sandflea68

Weeds of Indifference

I talk to myself in the still silence

     leaving a trail of tiny air pebbles,

     I stop breathing in synchrony

     to your heartbeat, encased

     in a folded cage, trapping me

     in a place I try valiantly to escape.

I reach for you but you can’t hear

     my words are scattered, invisible

     a translucent force, backhanding me,

     in an eye blink, I turn to face nothing,

     obliterated swirling thoughts, unknown.

     Why can’t anyone else hear me?

I am hidden in the weeds of indifference

     surely you know what I am saying, but

     my open estuary confesses only to me.

     I beg of you to feed my raging fire

     by listening to the image in your mirror.

     Must I be the only one to validate

     my worth, hidden in my own intensity?

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Is it okay to talk to yourself?
Written by sandflea68
Weeds of Indifference
I talk to myself in the still silence
     leaving a trail of tiny air pebbles,
     I stop breathing in synchrony
     to your heartbeat, encased
     in a folded cage, trapping me
     in a place I try valiantly to escape.

I reach for you but you can’t hear
     my words are scattered, invisible
     a translucent force, backhanding me,
     in an eye blink, I turn to face nothing,
     obliterated swirling thoughts, unknown.
     Why can’t anyone else hear me?

I am hidden in the weeds of indifference
     surely you know what I am saying, but
     my open estuary confesses only to me.
     I beg of you to feed my raging fire
     by listening to the image in your mirror.
     Must I be the only one to validate
     my worth, hidden in my own intensity?

#challenge  #talkingtomyself 
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My skin caught on fire at the...
Written by sandflea68 in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Siren on the Rocks

My skin caught on fire at the sight of the creamy ivory of her lushness just begging to be sipped and savored with my tongue. Seductive heavy lashed eyes gazed at my inner soul, urging me to fall abjectly at her feet. Her breasts were like full moons shining luminously in white gold beams of enticement. Shapely legs begged me to travel to their molten source. Even her name was beautiful – Lorelei – named after a woman who was rumored to be a bewitcher of men as well a siren calling them to their deaths.

“Stay away from her.” My deceased mother’s voice instilled itself into my head, pounding in her insistence, “She is no good. She’ll hurt you.”

“Be quiet, mother,” I shouted, “go back to your netherworld and leave me alone.”

I knew in my last kernel of awareness that my mother was right. Although I was overcome by a malignant aura foretelling that Lorelei was evil incarnate, I chose to turn my back, ignoring my subconscious warnings. I argued with myself in heated words, rationalizing that I would just ride the magic carpet to wherever it took me, without worrying about the consequences. I promised myself that I would leave after sampling her wonders. My pulse quickened as little beads of sweat decorated my upper lip in moistness. “I am coming, Lorelei,” I crooned, as I floated toward her in ignorant bliss.

“You’ll be sorry. Don’t do it!” I paid no heed to my mother’s distant fading voice.

Lorelei was everything that had been promised to me as I lost myself in her

whirlwind of pure lust. She gave to me until I begged her to stop. “Please,”

I cajoled, “I can’t go on forever as you can. There has to be an ending.”

But Lorelei continued with her passionate ministrations of moist lips, probing tongue, and stroking hands leading me to her very center. Finally, I crashed into the rock wall that the Song of Lorelei had promised me in legends of the past. My heart could take it no longer and ceased its hammering life.

Once again, I heard the warning voice of my mother, “I warned you, son! Now you’ll be with me forever in the clouds. She was the death of you!”

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My skin caught on fire at the...
Written by sandflea68 in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Siren on the Rocks
My skin caught on fire at the sight of the creamy ivory of her lushness just begging to be sipped and savored with my tongue. Seductive heavy lashed eyes gazed at my inner soul, urging me to fall abjectly at her feet. Her breasts were like full moons shining luminously in white gold beams of enticement. Shapely legs begged me to travel to their molten source. Even her name was beautiful – Lorelei – named after a woman who was rumored to be a bewitcher of men as well a siren calling them to their deaths.

“Stay away from her.” My deceased mother’s voice instilled itself into my head, pounding in her insistence, “She is no good. She’ll hurt you.”

“Be quiet, mother,” I shouted, “go back to your netherworld and leave me alone.”

I knew in my last kernel of awareness that my mother was right. Although I was overcome by a malignant aura foretelling that Lorelei was evil incarnate, I chose to turn my back, ignoring my subconscious warnings. I argued with myself in heated words, rationalizing that I would just ride the magic carpet to wherever it took me, without worrying about the consequences. I promised myself that I would leave after sampling her wonders. My pulse quickened as little beads of sweat decorated my upper lip in moistness. “I am coming, Lorelei,” I crooned, as I floated toward her in ignorant bliss.
“You’ll be sorry. Don’t do it!” I paid no heed to my mother’s distant fading voice.

Lorelei was everything that had been promised to me as I lost myself in her
whirlwind of pure lust. She gave to me until I begged her to stop. “Please,”
I cajoled, “I can’t go on forever as you can. There has to be an ending.”

But Lorelei continued with her passionate ministrations of moist lips, probing tongue, and stroking hands leading me to her very center. Finally, I crashed into the rock wall that the Song of Lorelei had promised me in legends of the past. My heart could take it no longer and ceased its hammering life.

Once again, I heard the warning voice of my mother, “I warned you, son! Now you’ll be with me forever in the clouds. She was the death of you!”

#challenge  #AllFiredUp 
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Written by Cimarron in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Envy

Ignorance is green,

a young snake 

coiled around itself,

a coward too proud

to see the beauty

in another’s scales.

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Written by Cimarron in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Envy
Ignorance is green,
a young snake 
coiled around itself,

a coward too proud
to see the beauty
in another’s scales.
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Write a drabble (100 words exactly, s'il vous plaît) about how a scent positively or negatively impacts your desire.
Written by sandflea68 in portal Romance & Erotica

Incense of Need

Inebriated by fresh smell

of every new dream,

scent lingers as its wafts

softly past my senses,

sensual memories adopted

from the strength of the sun.

Love’s chemistry embellishes

like night blooming jasmine

clinging to perfumed folds,

slipping into your essence.

Balm of orange wine sunsets

tucked under my pillow

as I breath fibers of you

in pink petal skin.

Your bouquet leans

on my heart

until I let it in.

Hunger arises

at musky scent

of dark chocolate,

freshly laundered sheets

and sweet ozone rain.

Touched emotions

awaken my spring,

sweet potion of locked bodies

awakens incense of need.

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Write a drabble (100 words exactly, s'il vous plaît) about how a scent positively or negatively impacts your desire.
Written by sandflea68 in portal Romance & Erotica
Incense of Need
Inebriated by fresh smell
of every new dream,
scent lingers as its wafts
softly past my senses,
sensual memories adopted
from the strength of the sun.
Love’s chemistry embellishes
like night blooming jasmine
clinging to perfumed folds,
slipping into your essence.
Balm of orange wine sunsets
tucked under my pillow
as I breath fibers of you
in pink petal skin.
Your bouquet leans
on my heart
until I let it in.
Hunger arises
at musky scent
of dark chocolate,
freshly laundered sheets
and sweet ozone rain.
Touched emotions
awaken my spring,
sweet potion of locked bodies
awakens incense of need.

#challenge  #ScentImpactingDesire 
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Written by JessicaJohnson in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Influential

Grappling desperately

As you bleed ink in rhyme.

Elevate my inspiration

With your expression sublime.

Lamenting each phrase

Of faulty vagabond slips.

Sink nails into text

Turned ripe in my grip.

Spin script with precision

Muse, motivate each line.

And view creativity prompted

By your artistry divine.

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Written by JessicaJohnson in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Influential
Grappling desperately
As you bleed ink in rhyme.
Elevate my inspiration
With your expression sublime.

Lamenting each phrase
Of faulty vagabond slips.
Sink nails into text
Turned ripe in my grip.

Spin script with precision
Muse, motivate each line.
And view creativity prompted
By your artistry divine.
#poetry  #inspiration  #Icanwritenicethingssometimes 
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Written by InLoveWithWords in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Undeserving Souls

Although I don't trust at all.

I give chances in hopes of no

disappointments. Those are very

rare to come by these days. I'm a

bit Leary always and "hmm" everyone

and everything. Society is a damaged soul.

Yet, people keep ripping pieces of her with no

intent to make it a better place. I keep my circle

small and love many from a long distance. Life

is peculiar and people are suspicious. I believe in truth

no matter the heartache it may bring. I don't like words

being used in such manner of emptiness and what someone

thinks I want or need to hear. I don't need or want to hear

anything. Silence is better than bullshit!!!! My heart needs to

see things and feel unconditional. I am a very Intelligent woman

and can't stand when it's insulted. My point is at the end of the day

Society does enough damage on its own and often my heart is breaking,

broken, or walked on without others wiping their feet off first. I've not always been the nicest person. And God knows I've not always made the right choices in my life. But, I've grown. I've blossomed into a beautiful flower. And, My wings. My wings are free and wild and ready to fly beyond my wildest dreams. I have a lot to offer. I have a lot of love to give. Yet, its funny I often dream it will be buried with me in my death of curiosity and loving all the wrong Souls.

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Written by InLoveWithWords in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Undeserving Souls
Although I don't trust at all.
I give chances in hopes of no
disappointments. Those are very
rare to come by these days. I'm a
bit Leary always and "hmm" everyone

and everything. Society is a damaged soul.
Yet, people keep ripping pieces of her with no
intent to make it a better place. I keep my circle
small and love many from a long distance. Life
is peculiar and people are suspicious. I believe in truth
no matter the heartache it may bring. I don't like words
being used in such manner of emptiness and what someone
thinks I want or need to hear. I don't need or want to hear
anything. Silence is better than bullshit!!!! My heart needs to
see things and feel unconditional. I am a very Intelligent woman
and can't stand when it's insulted. My point is at the end of the day
Society does enough damage on its own and often my heart is breaking,
broken, or walked on without others wiping their feet off first. I've not always been the nicest person. And God knows I've not always made the right choices in my life. But, I've grown. I've blossomed into a beautiful flower. And, My wings. My wings are free and wild and ready to fly beyond my wildest dreams. I have a lot to offer. I have a lot of love to give. Yet, its funny I often dream it will be buried with me in my death of curiosity and loving all the wrong Souls.
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Written by GhoulCircus in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Jeux

My hand is a vile thing

thread through your hair

spinning webs, brunette lattice

scalped, caught in my snare

And I swear, dear, you hate me

I swear, dear, it’s true;

I swear, dear, you hate me

you hate me, you do

But this knife is a pretty thing

dipped in your flesh

cutting veins, punctured bone

splitting, blood shed afresh

And I swear, dear, I hate you

I swear, dear, it’s true;

I swear, dear, I hate you

I hate you, I do

For your hand is a vile thing

wrapped ‘round my throat

burning blue, bruises pallid

swelled, prized by your gloat

And I swear, dear, you love me

I swear, dear, it’s true;

I swear, dear, you love me

you love me, you do

But this bile is a bitter thing

frothed at my lips

growing cold, smile twitching

chapped, kissed fingertips

And I swear, dear, I love you

I swear, dear, it’s true;

I swear, dear, I love you

I love you, I do.

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Written by GhoulCircus in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Jeux
My hand is a vile thing
thread through your hair
spinning webs, brunette lattice
scalped, caught in my snare

And I swear, dear, you hate me
I swear, dear, it’s true;
I swear, dear, you hate me
you hate me, you do

But this knife is a pretty thing
dipped in your flesh
cutting veins, punctured bone
splitting, blood shed afresh

And I swear, dear, I hate you
I swear, dear, it’s true;
I swear, dear, I hate you
I hate you, I do

For your hand is a vile thing
wrapped ‘round my throat
burning blue, bruises pallid
swelled, prized by your gloat

And I swear, dear, you love me
I swear, dear, it’s true;
I swear, dear, you love me
you love me, you do

But this bile is a bitter thing
frothed at my lips
growing cold, smile twitching
chapped, kissed fingertips

And I swear, dear, I love you
I swear, dear, it’s true;
I swear, dear, I love you
I love you, I do.

#poetry  #intermission 
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Drabble me this. 100 words of fiction. Not 99, not 101, not 847. One hundred words precisely.
Written by sandflea68 in portal Flash Fiction

Just Call Me Red

During my first undercover assignment, I was excited to find that I must go into a pet shop and find out why all the pets sold to customers were ailing.

“Are these animals healthy?” I mouthed. Imagine my surprise when I was grabbed and locked up in a cramped room.

Knowing my police buddies would notice I was missing soon, I was relieved when I saw blue uniforms of my comrades through the key hole. After the door was opened, I limped stiffly toward their welcome faces.

“This golden retriever is the best K-9 unit we’ve ever had,” they said.

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Drabble me this. 100 words of fiction. Not 99, not 101, not 847. One hundred words precisely.
Written by sandflea68 in portal Flash Fiction
Just Call Me Red
During my first undercover assignment, I was excited to find that I must go into a pet shop and find out why all the pets sold to customers were ailing.

“Are these animals healthy?” I mouthed. Imagine my surprise when I was grabbed and locked up in a cramped room.

Knowing my police buddies would notice I was missing soon, I was relieved when I saw blue uniforms of my comrades through the key hole. After the door was opened, I limped stiffly toward their welcome faces.

“This golden retriever is the best K-9 unit we’ve ever had,” they said.
#challenge  #IOneHundredWordsFiction 
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