At   twilight,  
in my deep slumber, 
 I roused to the rumble of thunder; 
with dense showers soaking me tender,        
Streaks   of   light   sparkling   like   cinder, 
 roaring     with     dander,       down    came     
T
      H
E

B
       O
               L
                    T

                              that       S       RUCK  my fence.

Art of typography.
#poem   #art   #thunder   #lightning   #bolt   #visual   #typography   #typoem  
Daphny Ryan
Daphny Ryan
Dec 5, 2013

Not a moment passes by that I don't miss you
Your warm touch,
The feeling of being safe,
Right where I belong

I long for you,

I miss your face
The way you made me feel like everything would be alright,

The laughs we shared-
The love
I felt would last

Now I'm lost, forever more,
In our memories,
Of us,
Escaping me

I need you here, I need you near

Don't leave my heart without your love.

When i see that bolt turn on

When i see that bolt turn on
I'm excited, afraid, and somewhat confused
Like i'm excited that first of all i got a like
that my poetry might've spoken to a soul out there
that you know i got a like...
i'm afraid of letting success go to my head...
i'm afraid of the torment that i am capable of
afraid of "dependation"
like idk its a personal thing.....
but i'm somewhat confused because i'm a pretty weird ass soul
....and i've never fully been content with myself like right now i love myself but i'm always wishing for better...
and there's a belief in my mind that everyone's out to get me
that i just don't belong anywhere
and i don't know if i'm ok with that....
it's so surprising when i find people who still talk to me
when i say something outta the norm, stupid, when i dress cray cray
but i guess those people are out there
...and i want to thank you for tolerating me
and accepting me

Paul Hardwick
Paul Hardwick
Aug 10, 2012

t
                                                               ­                              l
                                                               ­                   o
My girlfriend went with a man called      B
jamaica no
                                            she
                                     went
                               there
                          on her
                       own.

these serotonin sentiments seem
to be sustained by sick fantasies
of misplaced affection  

dopamine deficiency disrupts delinquency
reminding me that
lackluster lusts are only passing passions

and we here are all unlucky passengers
harbingers of each other's suffering
stowaways on this interstellar starship
called planet Earth
where perception signifies
the faulty frailty of unreality
all the while
exchanging integrity for a fragrance of hope
that we might somehow terminate strife

tacit tactics can't alleviate anguish
only forestall future fractures behind
a flimsy facade of fortune-teller fairy tales
but we all know how the stories end
and no happy ever after exists
in this blissful ignorance you call a life

so when you stand at my grave and weep
when they lower me 6 ft. deep
know this promise is yours to keep

it's too late
now
i'm already gone

i’ve written countless 

poems you won’t ever read. i'm
melancholia.

we are what
we pretend to be

caricatures of recycled
images and refashioned
motifs masquerading without
pretense of originality

carbon copies in dazzling relief
spun through cycles of roguish
vogue realities

you are what you Tweet

we've seen enlightenment dawn
and watched god die while
the planet relay-raced about
a decaying sun
drifting
children of the Digital Age

words are less than wind
they are fingertips tapping
luminous screens
spineless
lackluster and vain
beyond belief

we run our mouths
while the world burns
here's more Tinder for
the fire of distraction
GoFundMy upstart disaster

vegan hippie child of nature
punk anarchist activist
academic film enthusiast
novelist critic intellectual
psychologist pathologist anthropologist

will we practice a
discourse on delusion
or find solidarity with Sisyphus?

we are what
we pretend to be

 
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