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these one time things.

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  • these one time things.

    never the raven
    asked upon desk
    cool as the air
    inside of the skull
    jaw long gone
    death like hated
    evil live webs
    spewing mores
    serum saucy
    burn me with
    rubbing indian
    sunburn buns
    appetite rite
    sophist cliff
    hanging nails
    spit abyss
    laugh neon
    noetic sauce
    sappy yellow
    like Van Gogh.

    eyelids shut
    what do you show
    me when I come
    next to your face
    apparition caught
    in the death
    in the heated hate
    why ask, why.
    need mores?
    must this
    lustless slit
    slope my tottering
    to the Edge
    the last line

    shroud of Turin
    just a dress
    she wore once.
    Last edited by amenOra; 09-24-2017, 07:06 PM.

  • #2
    These one time things

    carry a ring.

    Sophist cliff,

    spit abyss,

    who rails

    the hang-nailed

    Last edited by Johntee; 09-25-2017, 04:45 AM.


    • #3
      there's many things I don't find "finshed" or complete about this poem as a whole. one might notice a shift, the poem was pivoted upon the recognition of the word 'death' being an anagram of 'hated'. tried some new things, although it's not as affirmative, or something, as my other stuffs.

      Thank you for reading and commentin' Johntee! <3


      • #4
        Neon noetic sauce in a sappy Van Gogh yellow seems like a cerebral-visual version of English mustard. Gah! My burning brain!

        Shroud of Turin shouts of Turandot: lesson dormant ... lesson dormant .... O principessa! ...


        • amenOra
          amenOra commented
          Editing a comment
          Love the exchange of information. Thanks for commenting, it fits in with my Idea ... to read more plays. So I shall! ...Almost done with The Divine Comedy.
          Thanks, thanks.

          edit: opera, not play. Even more accessible.