this whip is bright like lightning black matted as a punchthrough void i swim through brackish waters to get to cleaner waters to escape all of the sick dying fish around me to flip my fins and get far to feel the warm sun under the water and the cool moonish nights but in these vinegar waters all i see is muck, coughs, cries, screams broken fins, bottom feeders in the clear clean waters where they laugh, where they stay in schools, where they lounge by coral anemones, out in that northern sea soon i will be, part of their world
epeiric waters is where i belong you have to take me right now from these cold, foggy, murky lives now swim me there, i can keep up
u see the knife you watch the glow u see me smile but can't hear me cry u think i'm happy but inside i'm breaking u see the blood then u realize that i wasn't lying when i said i'm depressed! u wish u gave me the support i needed but now it's too late. I'm dying inside...
I used to read your poems but lately you don't write you're silent and aloof you know that isn't right. You can't close a door once opened you can't abolish all your dreams you're a poet of the heart mustn't fall apart at the seams. Say what you can in words they speak the message true spoken from the heart the poems will see you through. A hermit's not your style a recluse, you are not never give up writing of things that you've been taught. I used to read your poems I'd read them once again if you would send them out (this one's from a poet friend)
The tragedy is there's a prison in my mind all the thoughts that lurk there are ones I wish were never mine they etch into my heart the scars I wear so bright
They whisper wicked stories of things that never happened or maybe things that did things that shouldn't create ripples in the current in my life but here I lay in bed stuck awake at night eyes cutting blankly through the nothingness of my cold and dark bedroom
I don't feel special, I'm not unique. I want to cry but I can't even speak. My hands reach out, but they cannot hold a single thing but the bitter cold. Everything's frozen, I feel lost. Even my tears have turned to frost. When I cut my waist it bleeds black. I'm so deeply gone there's no way back. This is goodbye
And if these could be my last few words to the world, And if this could be my last poem to be written, Torned out entirely, but rigid inside Sad by looking, but happy inside, I would write, one word, "Companion".
They said, "The most beautiful art is looking into someone's eyes when they talk about the things they love." And I said, "Or looking at someone you love. Or maybe, just maybe, by looking at the mirror is the most beautiful art anyone should appreciate."
Appreciation post for myself; for you and for everyone as well. You deserve more than the world has to offer.
I love him I tell myself I know that We will be together forever I don’t believe that We could be separated My thoughts tell me that He’s the love of my life Sometimes my heart lies and says I could live an eternity Without him Like my friends say “We’re perfect for each other” And you can’t tell me He’s not the one.
She is... Chasing a heart for four years... A heart that she knows will never be hers A heart which already been broken by someone Even knowing that she is chasing a miracle But She still chooses to chase...
Their music surely shaped my life As I grew into adulthood. She loves you, yea, yea, yea, while We drifted in yellow submarines Within psychedelic seas. The split that ripped our hearts apart Screamed that he was dead, but I can still hear blackbirds Singing in my head.
Whether a comma, or colon: Punctuation slows my rolling I need no period. When I end no Capitalization when I begin Rulelessly I flow my art Not a single! Exclamation mark Are you not the one Who'll know? Where a question mark No longer goes
Warp the structure Bend the lines Put in repeat Let emotion unwind Make yourself Your poetry's the best Be your own ruler Pass your own test
Take your own road Where ever it leads Lover or hater It's all poetry!
Traveler Tim .
Hay No matter who you are You have my deepest respect!
Vanity All is vanity The meanings of passion The aesthetic expression The lines we draw and stay within Even love is beyond intent Vanity transcends Flowing from our pens And so we breathe again
I've been slowly hacking away at this tree, surely it's lived for hundreds of years. It's durability is dropping little by little until it's cut all the way down to zero. This tree's branches are no longer stretched and nothing will stop it from toppling over. It used to stand tall and high but now it'll fall down to zero.