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gypsy-poet
gypsy-poet
36/M
Spoken word, It's not a grand gesture of nouns and verbs Or elegant speech you've never heard It's the embrace of freedom Saying what needs to be said And if you don't agree, Then off with my head But words will remain Like a stain on your brain A ***** little secret that you can't contain And when you take a deep breath, My purpose fills your lungs A'las my will has begun Because the work of a poet is never... /G\ypsyPOet
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Apr 16, 2020
Apr 16, 2020 at 5:50 AM UTC
Immortality
I am attached to nothing Neither controlled, nor tempted, nor distracted, nor enticed In a place where I have no desires because my wants are my demons Giving generously all I have Nothing was ever mine to begin with Constantly reincarnated into the present Thoughts emerge and consume me Then wither away never leaving a trace Why do we hold on to what we can never touch, feel, smell, see, or taste forever It’s all illusion Nothing is real Where is my reality Dormant beneath my inherited thoughts Mislead by misdirection Buried beneath the infidelity of my fragile affections Consciously stained by the conception of my speculation Awakened to my path I ask myself, but what do I know It was subjective from the beginning Where did I get my name, my beliefs and my morals Who am I What do they mean They were never mine to begin with All I have, I was given All I have been given, was never theirs to give As it never belonged to them who gave it Neither do they belong to me Liberating myself of their attachment My soul yearns to live I want die free
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Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 5:53 AM UTC
Unpolished Mirrors
I’m sorry when my pen breaks your heart hurts Ink smudges the pages when you realize we won’t work I’m sorry that your picture perfect wasn’t perfectly as pictured Pages cake up from the break ups Truth is… It’s only perfect when I am not with you and your story doesn’t have me in it I’m sorry this is not who I wanted to be because hurting you is hurting me But to desert hurting you results in deserting me I’m sorry, because the truth is I don’t like hurting you But it’s strange because it seems the only moments I am true to myself is when I am hurting you I am sorry I can’t figure it out, so I smear the pages in attempts to start over and work it out Only to realize things work best when I tear the page’s out I’m sorry it’s **** me then **** you It’s ****** up, but then we get ****** up Then fuck-fuck **** we ****** up Guess what I really mean is I am ****** up But wait, I am not sorry I never told you I was perfect only told you I was worth it You are the one who wrote the book with no pages in it Skipped the intro, fast forwarded to a happy ending only to find out there was no happiness in it **** I’m sorry…
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Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 5:51 AM UTC
I'm Sorry
Last night Swinging from my cerebral tree Cast alone in this universe Was just my thoughts and me Memories, old and new Waves of emotions Crashing upon shores of elation, regrets and anticipation Late night, under the moon light Mind wide-open for the world to see But you never Not for a single moment Unlatched your eyes And noticed me...
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Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 3:03 PM UTC
Transparent Silhouette
Listen, Now I could tell you That, I actually believe you The world is indeed flat Banks start wars And we actually landed on the moon But, Then again, I Only lust for the fragile and jaded kind of truths A particular flavor of strange fruit Bitter to the lips Yet, sweet on the tongue Gowned in emerald green lies Draping graciously over the eyes Imprinting my soul Like the fullest Moon's lips Kissing the darkest of midnight skies
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Jul 25, 2016
Jul 25, 2016 at 1:00 PM UTC
Psychological *****
Mother of dragons Warm me with your ferocious spirit Resuscitate my dying heart with your gentle hands Sweetness of your kiss delights my bitter soul Hide me in your womb That I maybe reborn into your loving nature For your desires give me purpose Rest peacefully amongst my suffering I pray, dear Universe, hear me A thousand tongues for just one whisper The deepness in her Gypsy eyes Are oceans of nostalgia in my thoughts I dreamt of eternity Only to awaken to the present of her presence To a love saying, "Now or never!" And an enchanting embrace promising forever...
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Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 3:50 AM UTC
Down on Abbey Court
The substance is diluted but tasteless because the flavor is psychological How many sips must you experience before you realize the essence is mythological? In theory the idea was beautiful but solving the equation became impossible It's impossible to equate to such a beautiful conclusion when the variables are just not logical That's my way of admitting that you and I are just not possible An inverted fraction, not solvable A mixture of oil and vinegar, non-dissolvable Always willing to try again but the chances of success are just not probable If I were you I'd just walk away and let the heartache slowly follow you Because if you stay you will be slowly following heartache and that's just not logical The light is dimming in your eyes you don't have to tell me, I see it and I know it Guess it’s just one of the many dangers you encounter when you fall in love with a poet
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May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 6:10 AM UTC
In Love With a Poet
Can you see me? In the back of life's classroom with my head down Life so turned upside down that I don't know which way is up now So I walk around starring at the ground, looking at my future wishing for some hope It's getting harder to cope in the land of the lost and society's illusion has my mind in the kaleidoscope choke Praying for the sun, but it looks like rain One life sentence without a life so I can't complain Doing my best just to maintain My sister told me school should have been a class on life Now everyday I wake with one purpose in sight Love, truth, and peace... Leading my people to the light
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May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 6:09 AM UTC
August First
It wasn't until my acceptance of the fragility and temporariness of life that I was able to embrace the obscurities of the universe Although, Its nature, incomprehensible I begin to understand The anatomy of all life is as extraordinary as the number of grains of golden sand And that even I, A mere spec in God's eye Am just a man...
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May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 6:33 PM UTC
Dust in the Wind