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2 29%
0 0%
5 71%
0 0%
Voters: 7.

from the dark of the marsh
the cygnet sings a plaintive melody
climbing to one thousand stars
it loves but will never reach,
an intergalactic song of dreamy static,
to leave distant lovers flabbergasted,
oh, what a tune.
and i sit, convinced, on the banks,
that somewhere some love
saturated in post-coital perspiration
is tensed and waiting,
for a painless prince to take her away,
to a place where she doesn't need her body.
then the horizon cracks, orange fills the sky,
illuminating the trampled dandelions,
where my frail and fragile form once filled the grass,
the fallout from another night come and passed,
and the music dies, and i kiss an empty dream goodbye.
i've heard my swan song, and i know where i belong.

NuKiller Winter

i was flabbergasted, to say the least.
"orange you glad i didn't say coitus?" he laughed,
but like an intergalatic phenomenon,
the joke was lost on me.

picking dandelions and listening to the fallout spread,
i began to wonder if plaintiveness was the key.
we are all so convinced that perspiration
is the driving force towards success,
but sitting here watching cygnets
dance in plutonium waters
you have to wonder just how much love we've lost.

I Never Learned to Stretch My Wings

Laying in an open field of grass,
flabbergasted that my watch already says
quarter past seven, but then I realize
that I don't care what time it is. I'm convinced
that I could lay here all day as I roll over
and gently tickle her nose with a dandelion
that I've just plucked from the ground.
She doesn't even flinch,
no giggle or goofy grin,
she just stares at the sky,
or maybe even beyond it.
She's deep in thought.
I try to follow suit, but my mind
keeps getting caught
between a plaintive piano's tune
and the fallout between my seed and her womb.
We're still perspiring from the previous hour,
the breeze doing little to hinder this effect.
Her orange sundress
is still well above her waist,
though she doesn't seem to notice.

At the height of it all
things became quite explosive,
as fleeting as it was;
I closed my eyes and became party
to an intergalactic light show.
I've come down since then,
and I know we could stay right here like this
for the rest of our lives
and I wouldn't miss a thing;
just me and the girl that I love
more than anything.

I see movement out of the corner of my eye;
she's getting up. I offer her a hand
in carrying her stuff, but she brushes me off.
I ask her if later she'd like to grab some lunch.
"You know the deal", she says and saunters away.
I know the deal. I'm just another cygnet in her pond
of noncommittal charades, and coital sashays.
Still clutching the dandelion
I roll over into the spot where minutes ago she layed;
I count my blessings, curl into a ball, and fall asleep.


our matchstick dreams will eventually lead
to an intergalactic fallout.
unless that red fades to orange
and we become content for some adaptation
of coitus interruptus,
our lives will one day be extinguished
beneath the trembling finger of a balding,
flabbergasted army field marshal
with perspiration dripping from his moustachioed face.
convince me otherwise;
i’ll beat my chest too
and proffer my own diplomatic stringency,
my cheeks flushed with blood
and my teeth brittle with rage.
but the plaintive grace of a pale cygnet
or the wistful decay of a dandelion
makes me wonder of what silent,
pleading innocence i would have to ignore.
i can only hope that those ninety-nine balloons
don’t float too soon or too late.
Well done Steve.

However, by that I mean you did a good job stealing a piece and rigging this contest so you would win.
Promises meant a lot back then.
Quote by bassbeat77
^I don't think any of us are good enough to write anything halfway decent using those words...

^a clever ploy lulling you into a false sense of security/mediocrity.

i'm on to you steve and your god-damn well-written piece trickery.
Quote by bassbeat77

Does anyone want to break the tie between blue and purple for third?

i'd vote for purple.