We Are Stories
We Are Stories
13 hours ago      8 seconds ago

At times I'm as high as high can get,
I'll let you know, so don't forget.
I'm lost in the city of my mindset
And somewhere between life and death.
I tell you all I can tell
But when the opportunity comes I know that I'll sell
And get rid of the words that I spell
Until I empty me out of myself
Until my brain starts to swell,
Oh I know this all too well.

I can't remember when my hat wasn't full
My head's so big it should have it's own capitol,
And can't remember when I wasn't incalculable,
Having no care was something so masterful,
-And disaster-full -
I wish I was a kid sitting down to play blaster ball,
Because on days when I sit and think
I think that thinking only brings me closer to the brink
And I sink into the very thought of starting to sink
And I drown myself into thoughts even well into sleep!

I was a kid way well into life cycles
Too bad I left it alone with my bicycles,
Because I'm driving around like I'm driving without a head
And the only way time stops is if I'm lying dead.
Oh I know time too well,
Oh ask him a secret, I know that he won't tell,
Oh I'm sick of selling out at the sound of the doorbell
But time has me chasing it's tail like it's a jail cell.
Someone save me from time and it's cartel,
Before I end up like those who couldn't tell when the floor fell.
I know time too well,
I know time too well,
I know time too well,
I know this cycle of time in a nut shell,
Someone get me out of this cycling stairwell.

Randy Johnson
Randy Johnson
21 hours ago      14 minutes ago

The almighty Jehovah is my Master, he is the one who I serve.
He has my love and obedience and that is what he deserves.
If loving God is wrong, I don't want to be right.
He is my best friend, I praise him day and night.

Having faith in Jehovah can move mountains, that is true.
I hope that you love him because he certainly loves you.
Jehovah can also be your best friend, turning to him makes plenty of sense.
He will always be with you if he has your love and obedience.

MaryJane Doe
MaryJane Doe
14 hours ago      16 minutes ago

Burnt in my mind
Is my first memory.
Do you remember
Saving me?

Tapped in a corner,
Behind a chair.
I might not be here,
If you havent been there.

Too young to know
Not to light things on fire.
I set the curtains ablaze
With the flick of a lighter.

You were just barely
Starting to walk.
If I remember correctly
You couldn't even talk.

I can hardly recall
But I hold no doubt.
It was little you
Who put it out.

This holiday
I'm thankful for no other,
Than the boy who saved my life
My little brother. ♡

Thank you

Crescent Rose
Crescent Rose
16 hours ago      18 minutes ago

Don't you feel the hate
When you possess a smile so fake
Doesn't it hurt your face
To create a smile so fake
Does the pain get erased
When you possess a smile so fake
Doesn't it stretch your muscles the wrong way
To create a smile so fake
Is it happiness you create
When you smile so damn fake
Or is it calmness that you make
When you create a smile so fake

13 hours ago      19 minutes ago

Forget who I was with
The past doesn't matter anymore
The only person I want to be is with you
You're the person that I want to be with now is you
With all of your flaws I still want you

#love   #want   #lust   #i   #you   #crazzypoet  

"Dark eyes are dearer far
Than those that mock the hyacinthine bell."

Blue! 'Tis the life of heaven,—the domain
Of Cynthia,—the wide palace of the sun,—
The tent of Hesperus, and all his train,—
The bosomer of clouds, gold, gray, and dun.
Blue! 'Tis the life of waters:—Ocean
And all its vassal streams, pools numberless,
May rage, and foam, and fret, but never can
Subside, if not to dark-blue nativeness.
Blue! gentle cousin of the forest-green,
Married to green in all the sweetest flowers—
Forget-me-not,—the blue-bell,—and, that queen
Of secrecy, the violet: what strange powers
Hast thou, as a mere shadow! But how great,
When in an Eye thou art alive with fate!

1 hour ago      26 minutes ago

through his window
he could see the oak planted by his grandfather
or his father, or his, however many greats
that would be

few obstinate leaves lingered
like refugees who missed a hegira
to the promised land, or to the
red, russet heap along
the stone wall

some of its ancient roots
had wearied of earth's deep dark  
and now streaked across the yard
silent serpents laying in wait
for another eve

he wanted to write
of his lifelong arboreal companion
but his fingers had adopted a stiff grotesque pose
some forgotten fall, when the leaves
had been long in their leaving

words were there, waiting,
perched behind his eyes, then sinking
in some grave fashion to his tongue,
though to whom would they speak?

nobody remained
who read his verse
still the words kept lining up
not quite knocking on the door
demanding exit to a flat
white world

as his tired eyes rested
on the tree, the words rumbled louder,
until they pleaded, who planted you,
where are they now, and when
will you join them...?

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