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Sai
And here I am pleading I want you to love me The way you loved your coffee I want you to accept me Despite of my bitter taste Or my cold face I want you to be comfortable With my heat I want you to need me Every morning when you wake up I want you to love me Until my last drop
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Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 6:41 PM UTC
Coffee
Hello. I am the trending poem.                                                                                  you see me and I make you feel alive                                              so you like me and re-post me                                                                   then you leave me alone to die. Hello, I am your forgotten lines.              you created me with a careful love                                                           and decisive rhymes                                       and then to the bottom of your page I'm shoved. Hello I am forgotten, alone and unloved                            a faded smile a broken dove                                                I once was beautiful, touching.                                                           now, I've been replaced, I'm nothing.
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Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 6:40 PM UTC
Broken Poetry
My depression is a figure made of smoke. It wraps itself around me and suffocates me. But I can't grasp it. I only claw at my skin as I try to make it release its grip. It fogs my mind until there is nothing left. It filters through my being until I'm left feeling empty. It covers me like a blanket at night, but this blanket doesn't comfort me. It restricts me and replays everything I've done wrong.
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Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 6:39 PM UTC
Smoke
It's late again and the room is dim with candle lights taking over the night. I'm swallowed in this empty space counting the days. How many moons must pass by before I finally can fall asleep? She no longer is enough. I've grown old. I've grown slow. I find my time lost in memories, but I think it's now my turn to find someone who looks at me like I'm glittering. Show me the way, Show me the signs, I'm forgetting how to read. Will I win, Will, I walk, I've seen this road before. I've just never made it down to the end. Luckily, the stars saw my grief and made amends with me. They've kept me in the dark for so long, and now are finally guiding me through this terrain. Through this rain. Through the night. Until I find someone who can carry me back to the candle lights.
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Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 6:39 PM UTC
21
back in the day rocks could talk often they where casual, petty and small-minded just like us divinities platitudes every word a drop of manna its magic wow magic so out of conceit we made them gods deferred to their credibility and like idiot children paid attention to their great allegories a provident sea of wisdom from the skeletons of time we carved their faces from stones put them on pedestals and gave them names the great know it alls urns of heaven those oracles of old and so ensued the epic cycle of talking statues and thats how decisions where made back in the day the statues are strangely mute now sunken shadows into earths bowels and the age of reason has been transplanted by the age of *what the **** a new hobbled world soul of darkened consciousness to cope with tentacles of complexity and a forest of trials where depth of thought has been replaced and decisions are made by the exalted ennie meenie minee moe method an abstruse form of ritual magic so from now on all arguments will be settled by me sticking my tongue out
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Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 6:37 PM UTC
EENIE-MEENIE-MINEE-MOE
to me thunderstorms are the purest form of beauty
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Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 7:00 AM UTC
beauty
They ask me if I still love you. I blush, grin and say; of course. Why? Because your eyes are of the most utter ocean blue, but other days they're the currents of the stormy grey sea. I see a current of salty water, deep, once blue, but now a faded grey. I see a bundle of darkened grey clouds in the distance, and the thunder rumbles from your irises, and I hear it pound in the back of my mind. I wonder if you knew. I see a spark of lightening flash, only once in a while, while you look at her. My throat corrodes with bile. She says she sees green demons lurking in the depth of my own ocean currents, and I shrug. What am I supposed to say? I know you think about her. Night and day. The hardest part, is a generic, old saying. If you love them, you let them go. If they love you enough to stay, or to come back, you never let go. But you haven't come back.
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Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 6:57 AM UTC
They ask me if I still love you.
Humanity i love you because you would rather black the boots of success than enquire whose soul dangles from his watch-chain which would be embarrassing for both parties and because you unflinchingly applaud all songs containing the words country home and mother when sung at the old howard Humanity i love you because when you’re hard up you pawn your intelligence to buy a drink and when you’re flush pride keeps you from the pawn shop and because you are continually committing nuisances but more especially in your own house Humanity i love you because you are perpetually putting the secret of life in your pants and forgetting it’s there and sitting down on it and because you are forever making poems in the lap of death Humanity i hate you
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Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 6:57 AM UTC
Humanity I Love You
little dark girl with kind eyes when it comes time to use the knife I won't flinch and i won't blame you, as I drive along the shore alone as the palms wave, the ugly heavy palms, as the living does not arrive as the dead do not leave, i won't blame you, instead i will remember the kisses our lips raw with love and how you gave me everything you had and how I offered you what was left of me, and I will remember your small room the feel of you the light in the window your records your books our morning coffee our noons our nights our bodies spilled together sleeping the tiny flowing currents immediate and forever your leg my leg your arm my arm your smile and the warmth of you who made me laugh again. little dark girl with kind eyes you have no knife. the knife is mine and i won't use it yet.
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Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 6:57 AM UTC
Raw With Love