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)
I put my fingers to this screen, pen to paper, a retrospect connecting two beings. I paint modern Latin into charcoaled emotions. Digital inked expressions raging to be exclaimed. A grey ball burst into a colorful mess. I’ve finally begin to enjoy the flow of images that have been clustered inside this membrane. Scribe my boy, scribe with the madness that has detained you for an inconceivable amount of time. I cry as this ecstasy is so refreshing and this sorrow is so sublime.
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
On my way home from the christmas market, the air is heavy from the scent of sweet chestnuts. A cheerful crowd moves towards the flashing lights in the distance. I catch last glimpses of rosy faces and plush woolen hats. Out of balance from a few mugs of mulled wine, my feet slide across the sparkling ground. The street lanterns die out, taking all the warmth with them, making place for the frost to creep in. My breath rises in silver mist into the night and fades into nothingness, just like myself.
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.
The sky so gray the ground so sleek i remember so vividly as we walked down the street for the first time i seen your eyes shine as you watched over me so protectively don't think i didn't see we go to the place we were going somewhere i've never been but soon will be going plinty and somewhere you'll return later that day i miss the old days the sky so gray yet we were happy
i miss him a lot and i know he misses me its a shame we are so far apart but this is how destiny wanted it
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
Informer Willow Columbo is Aunty Pam Oh oh oh yeah You see she is my Aunty’s next life Oh oh oh yeah Informer She is the life Of the Columbofamily oh yeah She looks so good Oh oh oh yeah Informer Willow Columbia is Aunty Pam Oh oh oh yeah You see she is growing up To a beautiful young lady oh yeah I am Sure she will make a lot of friends As heaven purely waits Aunty Pam’s cool look Informer Willow Columbo is Aunty Pam Oh oh oh yeah You see she looks like the little girl In the grinch Oh oh oh yeah I liked Aunty Pam She was nice to me Informer Willow columbo is Aunty Pam Oh yeah bow bow
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".