Fear not the candle burned at both ends, A silent dawn of broken words and disintegrated phrases, For you have attended to the tremblings of your soul And made them known to yourself.
Empty of struggle and replete with possibility, I meet the page unfettered by convention. For a mind exhilarated by exhaustion, anything and everything is open to reinterpretation. Solitude rendered absolute; no graceless distraction. Silence made holy; no retrieval from the brink. How to outrun quotidian considerations? How to distinguish between the rarefied and the fundamental? There is language. There are limitations. There is the writer…feeling soundlessly.
‘I slept with faith and found a corpse in my arms on awakening; I drank and danced all night with doubt and found her a ****** in the morning.’ - Aleister Crowley
i spent my life trying to please someone with a twisted disease i broke myself down and tucked my feelings away to become the person they wanted me to be i let myself be watched through the glass of a two sided mirror of a sociopath i wallowed my spirit away and begged for acceptance but there’s nothing in the world that i could do to let the narcissist know that i am human too
the only thing that can please a narcissist is being miserable
There is nothing in this world that we can get for free. Every boy and every girl were born with eye's to see. While I was walking down the street a man did approach. He asked me for a cigerette I told him I dont smoke. later on that very same man was driving a brand new porche it turned he was very rich his daddy was a morche.The moral of this story we really never know the score. A little bit is not enough, we all cry out for more. So in time the man died from cancer from the cigerettes he smoke, life can be a real big game not meant to be a joke. So remember this suggestion do not accept anything for free. It may be the death of you or maybe the death of me.
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)
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.
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 thought if I could swallow the stars I’d be as beautiful as the evening sky I tried one night with fireflies They burned my throat Their legs striking at soft flesh But my skin did not glow No moon crawled from my eye sockets I was left with corpses in my stomach I soon learned I would only ever be A cemetery
If I look forward as I fall I might regret this soon as the ground comes ever closer So I turn around to look back and remember why it is, I'm falling in the first place as I watch the sky get further away
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
Draw the doorlatch, turn the key; Stay in your tower, but not with me. Shake free to pull the chains in tight; Store tainted objects out of sight. Wipe clean the traces I have left As I lie prone, exiled, bereft.
My sickly scent shall still seep through Cracked window frames, to chasten you; The odour of humanity Will swirl with sugar in your tea. Ants will trail through, borne on their feet, My broken matter from the street.
I cannot live for your fine ease; I cannot die from your disease. Unloved yet loving. Cast aside. You promised me your heart. You lied.
together the first flower bloomed with her sisters we watched it waver as storms weeped and weathered we planted more seeds of glowing hope wishing, one day we could see it flourish into a beautiful garden we could explore forever
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