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yin and yang wolves for scottshak poem origin story

Origin Story

Matted with my mess,You fit me like a glove,Pressed against my body,As we try to become one,Fighting everything the world hauls,Biting everything that it calls for,Plucking weeds that stop usFrom going back to our origin story –We were the same rockBefore we parted ways,And splayed

seraphic poem by scottshak

Seraphic

Mornings laced with the taste of you,A memory stoned in time,Arms biting your body inWith a promise to hold you tight.Marveling at every tiny featureThat composes your ethereal form,Consuming you with my razor eyes,So you never get forgotten,Unlike a past that feels all hazy now,I

family the womb of orthodox musing by scottshak

The Womb of the Orthodox

I am livid at my parents for messing me up. I am angry at the society that they call themselves a part of. There is nothing likable about it. All their rules, their self-proclaimed laws are decadent and morally so hurtful that if a fully

the crumpled painting poem by scottshak

The Crumpled Painting

Victim to the human condition,I have been torn,Now scars are bornWhere there used to be a picture.I can’t find it now,I had a story some minutes agoThat someone smudged,And I have no idea why –I don’t understand their ways of life.Subjected to some critical liesThat

wolf feral poem by scottshak

Feral

I love the autonomy in you,The power to go outWhenever you feel like,And to stay in when you don’t,While people are tied to a clockThey have never questioned before.How you are not governed by any human life,As if you were your own creation,That anyone who

cosmic poem by scottshak

Cosmic

Words have never been enoughTo fit a story of love,And what it makes you feel inside.You think ecstasy is it,But that barely scratches it,Is it the rapture in your heart?But that barely covers it,And whatever brings euphoriaWhen it ushers in,Or what bliss should all be

my wildflower poem by scottshak

Wildflower

Beware!You are leaving meWith my headAloneI think a lotOf nonsenseWhen you are gone.If I dare make senseThen hear me out,If you hurt yourselfThen cry me outOf your system,It can be done,I have done it too,After a day or twoYou think not much,And you think lessOf

she is a writer poem

She is a Writer

Words so tragic,Letters of magic,She spinsA web so wellShe would putAny writer to shame,Or elicit a nodOf prideFrom her kind,And force a clapFrom brooding eyes,And a thumbs upFrom the wonder keeper.Her brain is a marvelOf thoughts insaneAnd she chugs itLike an engine,Her heart beats through

heart on a plate for unrequited poem by scottshak

Unrequited

Serving you a pieceOf my heartIn a silver platter,Scrummy,And yummy,Filled with promisesOf luscious kissesAnd sweet nothings.You devour itWith your long fingers,And your tongueClicks and clacksIn consent,Which I takeFor love,But wait!Do I hear something?Oh, that’s just a burp,I am so glad you are full,Now your turnTo

tipsy poem

Tipsy

I could be making senseOr talking trash,But behind the maskYou choose not to see,It will always be me.Even when I am sloshedOr hopelessly sober,A part of meWould want to be With you,And why does it matterHow many glasses I devour,I never leave my bodyI am