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frank-victoria
*An interminable yearning of solace finding. A constant struggle of cicatrix hiding. Euphoric trance,  we hanker it all. To breath beyond the limits of wall. Wall that curbs our accord. To hum the songs from one old record. To aviate beyond the visible horizon. To be souls of mirthful composition. Exempting our cores of concealed  desires. To sway  with adored one in bonfires. To see the world engrossed in love and peace. Will only,  then our souls ensconce in ease*...
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Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 3:06 PM UTC
Euphoria
There’s been a lot of nights 
recently
 where the howling of the trees 
makes my soul feel at home There’s been a lot of nights 
recently 
where I remember that 
I am not stagnant There’s been a lot of nights 
recently 
when I’ve thought that 
this isn’t right 
 but my mind circles back 
on its seventh time around
 the round-a-bout 
and I try not to get stuck
 in the cal-de-sac of lies 
 that this town 
is trying to make me 
 believe
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Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 3:06 PM UTC
We All Realize Someday
Do not ask why you are here, Treading the waters of a Planet leaving tears on the Straight razor held Firmly to her throat by her Children. You are here to dance your life Out from birth to dust On the floor between Satan and Seraph, between kind and Selfish. Between Poet and predator. Know that a light heart, love For yourself and others; a Whispered gratitude for the Smallest of things, is the tallest Tree in Paradise. Anger is an axe. And fear. Fear is a chainsaw. See the flower; ignore the Thorns. Look past the hurtful comment; More often than not, it was a tickle, Not a slap. Be the finger that begins the easing Of the grip around the razor's Handle. Form an open hand upon The face of our blue mother. Kiss her. Kiss her every sweet Tear of relief.
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Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 3:06 PM UTC
Between Poet and Predator
Now he's got a drinking problem, He's steered off course. He's heading to the bottom on a Smirnoff course.
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Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 3:06 PM UTC
Steered off Course
The first time I saw you, I knew your eyes weren't just brown. I stared into your eyes and they reminded me of soil. The comparison itself doesn't sound so pretty, but I stared a little longer and your eyes reminded me even more of soil. Soil that life peeps through to spit beautiful flowers, Soil with rich health growing among it, Soil that holds more than billions of lives; memories, tears, laughter and anger. Soil that trembles the world averagely two inches into disaster, Soil that covers the nickel nucleous of our precious blue star, Soil that preserve resting ansestors, dust they became. Soil that clasp secrets scientists breathe for revealing, Soil that hides the bones of the first organisms to roam this planet. Your eyes weren't just brown, they weren't just ordinary brown eyes. Your eyes were heavy with the world. And as I clawed deeper and deeper into your soul, I felt how your body cracked little by little like fragile glass wanting to burst with burning hot water. Your eyes are so brilliant, but to cradle tremendously vast amounts of the Earth's existence must be so frightening.
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Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 3:06 PM UTC
Brown eyes
1005 Bind me—I still can sing— Banish—my mandolin Strikes true within— Slay—and my Soul shall rise Chanting to Paradise— Still thine.
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Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 3:05 PM UTC
Bind me—I still can sing—
It's all over now Lovely but forgotten Showing less each time Bathing unspoken insecurities Envisioning whispered structures Not bereft of your distant existence Birthed features fading again Useless rhythm keeping time Trapped completely Stripped of a promised exit The start of your electric identity Savage instruments underneath I collapsed with convicted acceptance An evening with dissolved delicacy Dozing on your eternal shoulders
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Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 3:05 PM UTC
Transmute
He's way better than the boy of my dreams. He's real.
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Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 3:04 PM UTC
Reality
A freezing drop of water, oozing from a distraught cloud, (wanted to be a feather in the cloud's dark watery wing till it would in torrents rain in as much distant a land possible that thirsts,while  reeling under drought,) forced out, slips in to the sultry air, halfheartedly, not even aware of what it is really, quickly becomes steam in another minute, now, fails to recognize itself, subjected to an  identity crisis. A story of self oblivious sacrifice, that speaks of pain, unexpressed.
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Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 3:04 PM UTC
A Sacrificial Offering of Pain
The winds of change blow ever near Can't take away this taste of fear Storms are brewing in my mind Maybe calm will follow and fate will be kind Or maybe my life will turn upside down My anxious smiles will become a frown The eternal flame of hope burnt out with an everlasting shower of disappointment and doubt Or maybe happiness will step right in take away the shadows of the night that crawl around in my brain until daylight My lust for life will re-appear, and drive away that lonely tear Hope will never fade as long as I am alive For a better life I will continue to strive Maybe this, maybe that Who knows what will happen to me I'll just make a wish, cross my fingers, then wait and see.
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Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 3:04 PM UTC
Maybe