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Hailey Sep 2017
i know
you don't
love me
but i
like to
pretend that
you do
Megan R Hoogstad Dec 2013
So tell me did it happen?
Are you real or make believe?
I keep thinking it didn't happen,
but then I hear your shadow whispering:

"Follow me into the bedroom,
kiss me here, and make me sigh,
please don't stop, i want this to happen...
let me hold you in my eyes"

So tell me did it happen?
Are you real or make believe?
They tell me it didn't happen,
but still my heart, it does see
my mind longs to lie to me,
to make me see what
my heart wants me to see.

So tell me did it happen,
are you real or make believe?
Madds Jul 2012
But what is a soldier without his gun?
A brave little boy, playing makebelieve
in his room with a plastic G.I Joe doll,
his camouflage inaccurate and too yellow.
Plastic sand bag barriers scattering the floor
this boy has never learnt a thing of the war.
leaving it all up to imagination
he takes the tiny plastic radio
and calls in, "Mission complete -
Commander, we're comming home.
Over and out".

Creating a fake static noise with his mouth
which takes us to a new scene.
Accurate camouflage colours this time,
the australian flag on his shoulder,
but that little boy from his room
is now wearing them as a man.
A soldier he has become
with destruction all around him,
he was flown to Vietnam.
A high-tech radio for real this time,
"Man down! Man down!"
One of his unit fell heavy in the mud.
303. slung over our little-boy-from-his-room's shoulder
he drags the wounded behind trees and shrubs
an act of valour.
Though, our little boy did not know,
that he'd be wounded too
and comming home tomorrow.
Ladies and gentlemen, this is the start of my poem I have to write for school (I have to write a series of atleast 15). If you wish to give me tips on how to improve or extend it, that would be very much appreciated. \ Much love, xoxo.
Esherymack May 2014
sometimes, late at night
i lie awake, or sit, or even dance
i do not "sleep"
i might drowse, or snooze,
but only temporary reprive-
The Dark
holds its monsters and
pattering, clawed steps
outside of my candlelit chambers
and beyond the fragile makebelieve walls
of my lurking consciousness-
     light a candle.
     burn the Night.
     Smolder your eyes upon the smoke
banish my fears, faint light-
but do not destroy my peace-
morning Light, cast not your hands over
this black scry-stone!
Look but so gently into the Dark's swirling
and staring stars
down upon a ritual laid bare-
agate eyes upon the crown
upon the head of the young Oracle
a story for another time, a
prayer for a beating heart
in another place,
another darkened midnight womb
or perhaps an obsidian tomb--.
fill a chalice and not a mind
tip the contents to then find
a wandering flame spread to the wind
devouring those violent souls that have sinned
as such, topics change like Gaia
dear, as such my mind roams when
I cower in fear--.
in the imaginary arms of a
man I love, the one who can't be near.
Night sings a quiet song of insane
love and gentle terror, a soft-soft
sound that rings eternal
and lulls its listener not to sleep
but into a spell that gathers deep
within the core of the mind
behind the third,
before the eye,
but loud and deafening guilt
that keeps the shade-drawn witch
awake, and the quivering fear
racing in their youthful heart--.
Ladle the light of the stars above
into the cupped hands tonight
and sing the damnation back
to the groping clouds
on the black horizon, the violet and
blue and grey and white
swirling in cohesion and roaring into a wave of
conscious nightmares

i cannot deal with these thoughts
on my mind, resting upon
my heart
     my eyes
          my mind
               my very soul.
-the greybird
Arthur Habsburg Jul 2018
All land begins
underneath these feet:
a merry makebelieve.

Jump
and catch a glimpse of Arabia
in red,
Birkenhead
in yellowish-grey,
Berlin's fading rainbow..
all lacking in depth like
floaters,
like foreign pain,
like your very first birthday.

Don't they?

Spend days in suspension,

don't you?

Well, look around!
You see ahead
and back
are much the same
when all is round.
And all IS round!
Unless of course,
you're
on the ground
where a single wave can
****.

Doubtless fun,
boundless thrill, all
but for a price!
Here
even cloudy sunsets imply
sacrifice.
And at nights
perfect darkness never dwells,
Some devilry always tells the time
in mocking ways:
Jump
and you're on holidays,
divorced from all necessity,
sleeping in the sun
for days an altogether different
beast,
electrified,
with sandbagged veins.

At least not dead,
I hear you say.
How cute..
Alas! the price you pay for
being oh so futile is per se
a snide;
So pick your cherries and throw them
in that tide!
You know the lights in this harbour never return
in a straight line
May craft and the shimmering power
not let you be
the fog in the rye,
or the rock's inside.

You are round and everything
is your equal.
So consider your battles well.
sara Apr 2019
one of my best friends
was named mia

we met when i was in fifth grade
although she didn't tell me her name then
she gave me a smile instead
and said not to worry about it

and so i didn't
and mia and i grew closer and closer
we became inseparable
i was not myself without her

i kept my friendship with mia a secret
because although i didn't want to admit it
i knew she was a bad influence from the start
i knew she was toxic

but even so
she made me feel better
i could always go to her when i was upset
and she would know just what to do

when people found out about mia
they tried to keep us apart
but it was too late
we'd already become one and the same

and so i pretended
i pretended that mia had left me
i convinced everyone around me
but it was all a lie

she wasn’t gone
i thought that she would never be gone
although i didn’t want mia in my life anymore
i knew that she was there to stay

it wasn’t up to me anymore
mia had taken control
i simply submitted to her
and did her bidding

but it wasn’t really that bad
she did help me out every now and then
she would pretend to give me control
and it made me feel powerful

in my mind
i knew that i was never truly in control
but it was comforting to imagine
to makebelieve for just a moment

time has passed
and i am finally alone
but the loneliness doesn’t hurt
because i know now

one of my worst friends
was named mia
J J Aug 2019
worm that wiggles inside my wrist
felt and pressed unto the warm,wet grass
of Scotland's afternoon,
kissed to the dirt, connected to the rest
of it's kind, bent backwardly
to the continious pulse that represents all
simontanious life, stripped of skin and cause,
bound to be free one day, bound to swarm
like ink through water:
the universe's tinny pulse met between
its ying and yang;
built on reverbration and
endless enough to makebelieve to be perfect
for the moment,
silently calling, running across death ears
    at the breadth of a witch's sowing needle,
cosmic dice, archaic ruin, a thousand tunes
rang mute with shyness,
construction sites,
royalistic virtues centuries had and quickly
forgotten. AI
whispering doom, gloomful suicide of
reason--Amazon choked
in mucky ash, all lost and pretending
otherwise.
History is but an abstract concept,
but nostalgia
relentlessly reserves it's rosey pulse
and ties us pleasantly closer to the great,universal
    grave.
My poetry-break didn't last very long. Sorry.
Hi, my name is Brian Allan
And I was an alcoholic
I wanted to show myself
More important than I actually was
I went into every club
Wanting beer and getting drunk
And I wanted to party
I still now want to party in some ways
Or another
But back then I was getting kicked out of clubs for being drunk and disorderly
I know I loved life back then
But I pretended to be the boss of a tv Station called AAA
I used to be in squabbles with my family because they refused to
Play with me
But they were living in the real world
Thinking it was crazy to still be living
In a makebelieve world in my house
I used to have a messy house
I tried to make my house a party house
By putting empty beer bottles around the house
And when people came over to get drunk with me I would stand my ground
I used to get bullied and teased and fought just because I had a weird way of loving life
I went out at night to Las Vegas pub in Canberra and blind beggars inn Canberra
I was an awful person
I nearly got killed or punched for speaking my mind
I hung around the city all night
Nothing bad happened but if i did that again
The situation wouldn’t be as rosy
I felt people treated me like a koomarri to muck around with
And sometimes bully
I stopped doing that in 2004 despite having an alright time dancing
But I was with the people that teased me back then
So I said, I want out
But it was hard because I like to have a good time but I had to grow up
Cause I was showing no signs of my purpose in life which is I want to have fun doing what I want but I must say
Within reason because deep down I hated the people who teased and bullied me back then
When I was first was an artist I toasted my art with champagne but
I was getting tippsy and I stopped doing that because I went to the psych ward I went to the psych ward twice in 2004 and 2013 for having weird dillusions probably because of all the alcohol I drank
I express myself in art and writing
And my new purpose in life is learn performance art so I can fit into society
I still hear those voices of who bullied and teased me back then but not like back then, those voices are not true
I hear about other people get bullied like I did and it forces them to end their life but not me, I loved life too much to want to end it, mind you the thought of death used to scare me, it still does despite me knowing I will come back to another life
But I don’t want to finish this life
I nearly got caught into taking drugs
I gave him $20 and sat there waiting for him
But I got bored of being in there so I left
And I got teased by him ever since but
Then it stopped because I showed no weakness
You see saying all this doesn’t make me weak it makes me strong
Saying all the trouble I caused whilst
Trying to party hard
People are talking to me now
So I don’t want to live in the past
My name is Brian and I was an alcoholic but not anymore

— The End —