You're mysterious.
desirable aliens
desirable aliens
Jun 28, 2014

You're mysterious.
You're mysterious in the way that makes me want to open you up like a book and read your pages from start to finish but I can't because you are so high up on the shelf that I cannot reach you.
You sit up on the shelf collecting dust trying to protect yourself from the people who will rip out your pages or bend your cover.
Oh, how I wish I could climb up the shelf and take you down and have you tell me your story.
Maybe one day I'll finally be able to climb and reach out to you, but for now, you're just the book I have yet to read and you're on my list.

Don't know if I am a plant turning into a tree
Or a person, into a zombie.

This is a confession, of how depression, lead me to self-destruction
I have done things I am not proud of
Now the reason seems senseless but the whispers in my head gets louder

Urges to try it, one-more-time

And I am taking about real shit - stuff that gets you real quick
My intoxication has made me bold, but not foolish
It has induced me to talk about my past mistakes, but not repeat them

Has it made me a better or a changed person? I do not know
It has, however, made me realize the insignificance of things I thought as the most crucial  
I might even quit.

At first sight, she was going to be a nobody
Who knew what the future had for us
Time is elusive. Daily events are random occurrences
Or is it? What is random anyway?
Shuffling your music playlist isn't random

Feb 17      Feb 18

This could have been a poem about hope; pigeon
Hoping that she would text first, or catch me looking at her
This could have been a poem about passion; fire
Holding her waist, as my lips touched hers
this could have been a poem about love; heart
Taking a longer route to school just because you wanted see her earlier every morning
This could have been a poem about finding reasons, to hold on during tough times
but it is not
there is no reason to hold on
because the love is gone.

#heart   #lost  

The street was dark and so too were my eyes
I walked down the cobble under darkened skies
I walked down the stone, ankle breakers sets
Gamblers in the alleys watching on, making bets

The buildings stand guard on the night for their lords
keeping them safe, open their mouths; in filth pours
Light poles, with dim candles, give hope for safe journey
Dark alley ways steal eyes, make nervous muscles in our sides

Window light, guardian ports, fly catchers, laundry holes
Shines on the street, waiting for me, with it meet
Footsteps creep around edges avoiding sight
But it’s easy to see, all this going on in the night

Out of law exchangers making changes in pocket stuff
50 for the things, that make pigs squeal, illegal deal
Children's eyes are shut, in bed, not here with us
Tucked in warm and tight, not here with the people of the night

Street sweepers weep, we drink, bottles broken at our feet
Bar tab one too many, stumble, mumble, home on the street
Pickpockets delight, puts up no fight, pockets empty when drunk
Bourgeoisie snobs make prison demands! Lock them away tight!

The street, is dirty, I know, I do
But this is o.k, with wary watch

For indeed

In the absence of the light
Come the People of the night

Shima Haydarzadeh
Shima Haydarzadeh
Jan 29, 2014

I want to make a apple tree,
I want to have different colors and shapes like a rainbow, 
I want to disappear like i have no family while being homeless on the streets with so much talent gone to waste, 
Even if we have talents who gonna bother with it?
We ignored, but we perfect in our own ways.
As the days pass, it's just memories, but we want to have peace.

Mysterious grace
Aug 27, 2014

Street lamps play
As they have before
Dim walkway
Leading to a door

Careful steps
Strewn leaves
Breathe between gaps
Skulking like thieves

Rustling trees
Otherwise nothing
Mind at ease
Heart rapidly beating

Usually stops here
Usually I'd stir
But still in slumber
I drew closer

Eyes on door
Familiar scene
Stood here before
This dream I've been

Up the patio
Door was ajar
Accompanied by my shadow
Stretched far

Tunnel vision
Dripping eave
Door handle beckons
Hand raised to receive

Usually stops here
Usually I'd rouse
Allowed to enter
This time... This house

Handle I seize
Door seemed light
It did not freeze
Hinges did not fight

Revealed the insides
Scanned surroundings
Unlit lights
Stairs climbing

Footsteps I heard
Coming my way
Sounds absurd
But yet I stay

Usually stops here
Usually dream is done
But still was clear
It only had begun

Darkened figure
Descending on bare feet
Beauty light as feather
Ever did I meet

She did not see me
Planted at the doorway
Impossible it may be
Nothing did she say

Walked right by
My eyes followed
Seconds fly
In eternity they burrowed

Usually stops here
Usually I'd wake
Yet still I'm here
Chance I'd take

Stood at the fridge
Back towards me
Under siege
My mind set a flurry

Fridge was opened
Light casted her silhouette
Her back darkened
Curiosity grew fat

Illuminating beams
Accentuated her hair
Like golden streams
Flowing with flair

Usually stops here
Usually I'd startle
Connection did not sever
Continue I was able

Spellbound I gawked
Rooted like a tree
Wide-eyed I stalked
This siren before me

She drank
Not knowing I was there
Stiff as a plank
I was locked in a stare

Finally broke free
Shifted my weight
She turned to me
And then said...

Then it ceased
Then I awaken
Surprisingly pleased
Slice of heaven

Who was she?
Silhouetted face
Mysterious grace

Foreign albeit familiar
Strange but true
Now rings clear...

It is you...

Based on a dream I had.
Willie Jennings
Willie Jennings
May 28, 2014

Mysteries are things we sometimes
never figure out.
Why do some say the keys to the world
are only love, hate and doubt.

Why are things off limits to some of us
and totally free to so many others.
How can a man love himself only to
end up hating his brothers.

What is the answer to a question that
has never been asked.
How can anybody have a future without
having a past.

Why are so many people out searching
for a tomorrow of change.
When the tidal waves of the human race
are so easy to rearrange.

What are the mysteries of a day that can
only be seen at night.
Why does wrong seem to override the
things that are suppose to be right.

Selena Irulan
Selena Irulan
Oct 9, 2013

I have given this a lot of thought,
and soon I will tell the truth,
the girl you see before you,
isn't the girl you thought you knew.
She is shattered like the mirror glass,
and lying open on the floor,
the girl you once loved,
has ceased and is no more.

She is replaced by another Spirit,
that was created after years of hurt and pain,
she was broken and came undone,
has nothing in this life to gain.

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