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Micah
17/M/United States I write whatever I feel, but I love haiku. I learn more about it everyday and love fried chicken and waffles, music (all genres literally), and reading. I’m an INTJ. And that’s all you need to know I guess.
When flesh prevails And spirit fails Who remains? When passions die And evil lies Who remains? When love is lost And warm faith is frost Who remains? When blood is shed And near is death Who remains? When the others fall And one stands tall Who remains? I will tell you who remains I will tell you who saves with grace Yahweh saves Our Father remains
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Feb 19, 2020
Feb 19, 2020 at 12:28 PM UTC
Who Remains?
There once was only ... Until one day a sound resounded in the heavens Rebounded at each barrier Shattering and shaking Breaking the woven fabric Like it was attacking a bandit Stealing potential. And now we have this astounding creation Cremated by human hands And blandly recalled in sub-par bars and meter and rhyme Because none can do it justice This universe and space and time. Bittersweet indeed. And every day more tears rain down from Elohim eyes While we stagnate satisfied by Evil lives Content to die without purpose Victims of Passion, Politics, *********** Painkillers, Pandemics, Parlor talk And we walk steady Rocking our inadequacy for all to see Never to see the salt is gone And all we reap is weeping And broken teeth.
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Feb 14, 2020
Feb 14, 2020 at 3:03 PM UTC
Testament
Valentine’s Day Is a bane All it contains Is poetry plain And that’s all that I have to say
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Feb 14, 2020
Feb 14, 2020 at 1:10 PM UTC
Valentine’s Day
They call me a two faced freak But I know I’m not fake in the least Sure sometimes I am beastly And other times priestly That’s just the complexity of me That’s a truth that took me too long to see That there is nothing wrong Well not worth this long problematic Space in time I’ve wasted feeling Sorry For myself and everybody else Embrace the cycle Maybe Micah is just a complex person
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Feb 13, 2020
Feb 13, 2020 at 8:45 AM UTC
Untitled 2
Burning, beating Fighting, fleeing War is a desperate thing Hacking, slashing Bashing, bleeding Glory to the victor, indeed!
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Feb 12, 2020
Feb 12, 2020 at 8:20 PM UTC
War Song 1
If I am empty, lad Then I must be fillable And forsaken land Then I am still tillable So hand me a pint And I’ll drink the tankard full And we’ll be on our merry way
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Feb 12, 2020
Feb 12, 2020 at 8:10 AM UTC
If I am Empty
Crisp and yellow things Small suns in my open mouth- Crap! The bag’s empty!
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Feb 11, 2020
Feb 11, 2020 at 6:20 PM UTC
crisp and yellow things
The small buzzing fly Causes me so much grief, but... Who am I to **** it?
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Feb 11, 2020
Feb 11, 2020 at 6:18 PM UTC
The Fly
In the suburb it only takes a certain lens To see that not all is as it pretends The mind is so quickly warped by life And the pain and the darkness and strife For example, the wind will carry a kite Such innocence on display but try with might And you will see that this scene without a care Is so different than we think, so hear. The childrens’ exclamations echo in the air Easily taken as that of a terrified Baudelaire As if Reversed by some ungodly curse What once was joy now turned for worse And the wind of course Represents the taking of life by force As life does in the end Everything will beneath death, bend. And red the kite is even as tragic as Les Mis For that is the color we bleed And bleed we will Indeed. So heed my words reader dear, heed Everything is not what it seems You may see things one way But I see differently this day.
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Feb 4, 2020
Feb 4, 2020 at 5:58 PM UTC
A Suburb
Yggdrasil-champion Magic Mead-master Sovereign seeker of sight Command the Valkyrie Battalion Casting triumph and disaster Great Lord of Asgard on high Glory, Ymir-slayer Glory, World-shaper All powerful till Ragnarok arrives
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Jan 10, 2020
Jan 10, 2020 at 3:42 PM UTC
Odin