by drake Thursday, Apr 23 2020, 7:52am
international / poetry / post
the passive reflected light of the moon is enough
in its fullness to illumine my favorite
clearing in the bush,
its soft young grass is an anomaly in the rough scrub
so i relax and wait knowing that the silver will not be wasted
soon enuff i hear the rustling as she approaches
hungry for my love or for the Love independently of me
tho the Love is enuff for all, i have never considered myself
something other, special, tho most consider me otherwise
she breaks into the small clearing smiling, eager and ever so
young and vital, I 've been too long without it, bloody boilers
only drain u and return zero
she snuggles next to me purring like a tiger,
what else is hidden in this special delight?
it is for me alone to discover on this
platinum moonlit night
by american Friday, May 1 2020, 12:00am
you're still around. No more news site?
by amoz - Oz Poetry Saturday, May 2 2020, 12:03pm
sure am, tho ceased the futile pursuit, the tsunami of mass media propaganda
and censorship leaves me to retire from previous pursuits and return to my original
u can find me haunting the usual places tho it's a lockdown ghost town atm
as a result of media exploitation of a flu virus, tho deadlier than most,
but compare to bubonic plague which killed 2/3rd of world population at time --
notwithstanding the Spanish flu -- and they call this a "crisis",
80 deaths in population of 24 million wankers.
but of course elites have cleaned up by lending nations hundreds of $billions
which they printed from keyboards and presses; they stand to make $trillions
from loan repayments with interest -- absurd -- let the suckers repay it until
they learn -- morons!