lavenderlemurian - Hello Poetry

*Another morning Blistering with iron self hate 'Dear, why must I wake?'*

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lavenderlemurian

Nov 24, 2016

Nov 24, 2016 at 6:58 AM UTC

ajcampbell

Mourning Haiku

*Another morning Blistering with iron self hate 'Dear, why must I wake?'*

3

*You swam in the ocean of tears. You stayed in the forest of death. You ate the fruit of hatred. You killed the one of love. You spoke the words of hell. Kept all of the tears in one place. Protected the nature of death. Kept eating all hatred. You killed the one that you love. Only you can bear the words from hell.*

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lavenderlemurian

Nov 24, 2016

Nov 24, 2016 at 6:57 AM UTC

DarkDelusion

The Keeper of Emotions

*You swam in the ocean of tears. You stayed in the forest of death. You ate the fruit of hatred. You killed the one of love. You spoke the words of hell. Kept all of the tears in one place. Protected the nature of death. Kept eating all hatred. You killed the one that you love. Only you can bear the words from hell.*

10

Stare out Into the skyline. Look at The wavering distance. Where the illusion of The sky on fire, Hinders the word From hearts of ire. Golden silver, Midnight blue. Let the storm, Bring morning dew. Crashing waves, Flickering lights. And off into the distance, You let out the sigh.

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lavenderlemurian

Nov 23, 2016

Nov 23, 2016 at 3:51 PM UTC

bluemoon

Distractions

Stare out Into the skyline. Look at The wavering distance. Where the illusion of The sky on fire, Hinders the word From hearts of ire. Golden silver, Midnight blue. Let the storm, Bring morning dew. Crashing waves, Flickering lights. And off into the distance, You let out the sigh.

16

Again and again, I tried again. Again and again, Tears fell once again. Again and again, I snooped on a whim. Again and again, round and round, Love is my weakness, this I have surely found. They tell me theres too many lined up for me, Im intimidating, Im going to leave, Im going to cheat, you say you are exhausted and going to deplete. Again and again, Just stay my friend then! If you will not be here until the very end. Again and again, You see me as an again, nothing special just the same as them. Again and again, I yearn for passion, I yearn for the same love in return. Again and again, How many more will ask me to fight the fight I won't ever win? Again and again, I will never stop loving, surely in the end I will find the one who doesn't just give in.

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Nov 23, 2016

Nov 23, 2016 at 11:49 AM UTC

lavenderlemurian

Again

Again and again, I tried again. Again and again, Tears fell once again. Again and again, I snooped on a whim. Again and again, round and round, Love is my weakness, this I have surely found. They tell me theres too many lined up for me, Im intimidating, Im going to leave, Im going to cheat, you say you are exhausted and going to deplete. Again and again, Just stay my friend then! If you will not be here until the very end. Again and again, You see me as an again, nothing special just the same as them. Again and again, I yearn for passion, I yearn for the same love in return. Again and again, How many more will ask me to fight the fight I won't ever win? Again and again, I will never stop loving, surely in the end I will find the one who doesn't just give in.

22

There was a dream. A dream of a long road that led to a rock. Beside the rock was a snake and the pigeon were meeting there, the hummingbird and crocodile were resting before the grass, and darkness was behind us. The hills were flat and the deserts was covered in roses. The land was filled with animals of every kind in perfect unity surrounded by a lights of beauty and wonder filled all along the rivers and trees, calming the world with grace and glory and awe. My mother were there and father, my friends some which at a time were my enemies, and my people gathered waiting for me. I was home. I was home. The eternal honey from the rock, poured upon our feast, love and light overwhelmed the atmosphere. In turn, fear's face was crushed, tears and pain was a forgotten memory, illness and disorder was alien, and the colors of seven thousand rainbows danced in the air. The surface of music sounded so perfect, flowers sung around our yards and rivers of waters between our mansions that we lived in, and perfect praise was upon our lips. We were robed in glory and our hearts magnified the living Lord, our thoughts were pure, and our bodies were perfectly whole. My house was filled with glory and perfect love, perfect love. I was home. Then I saw fire which echoed the sound of the world before the room where the Lord stood, and there was chaos in the land before where He heard the Earth's cries. The movement, and passion of the Lord's tears filled this one room, and brought me in such distress, what room was this? I heard people's homes were torn apart by rage and hatred, men were slaughtered and women ravaged, echoes of countless babies tore through the Lord's heart. The sound of curses stung his eyes, and rebellion ripped his veins, we heard the devil's laughter, and people worshiping evil. The Lord wept. I shouted, "Lord what can we do, we must do something, is there something we can do?" He said nothing. And the river of blood in his eyes, filled with such compassion and heavy warmth, almost like honey. He held my hand, and then finally replied, "I sent my only son to save the world, for how I love them, so that no one may fall but have an everlasting life . " And then suddenly I woke up with His tears in my eyes. Filled with perfect love, I arose from my bed. I ran outside picked up a rock headed toward that road.

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lavenderlemurian

Nov 23, 2016

Nov 23, 2016 at 11:30 AM UTC

aaron-combs

The Road to the Rock

There was a dream. A dream of a long road that led to a rock. Beside the rock was a snake and the pigeon were meeting there, the hummingbird and crocodile were resting before the grass, and darkness was behind us. The hills were flat and the deserts was covered in roses. The land was filled with animals of every kind in perfect unity surrounded by a lights of beauty and wonder filled all along the rivers and trees, calming the world with grace and glory and awe. My mother were there and father, my friends some which at a time were my enemies, and my people gathered waiting for me. I was home. I was home. The eternal honey from the rock, poured upon our feast, love and light overwhelmed the atmosphere. In turn, fear's face was crushed, tears and pain was a forgotten memory, illness and disorder was alien, and the colors of seven thousand rainbows danced in the air. The surface of music sounded so perfect, flowers sung around our yards and rivers of waters between our mansions that we lived in, and perfect praise was upon our lips. We were robed in glory and our hearts magnified the living Lord, our thoughts were pure, and our bodies were perfectly whole. My house was filled with glory and perfect love, perfect love. I was home. Then I saw fire which echoed the sound of the world before the room where the Lord stood, and there was chaos in the land before where He heard the Earth's cries. The movement, and passion of the Lord's tears filled this one room, and brought me in such distress, what room was this? I heard people's homes were torn apart by rage and hatred, men were slaughtered and women ravaged, echoes of countless babies tore through the Lord's heart. The sound of curses stung his eyes, and rebellion ripped his veins, we heard the devil's laughter, and people worshiping evil. The Lord wept. I shouted, "Lord what can we do, we must do something, is there something we can do?" He said nothing. And the river of blood in his eyes, filled with such compassion and heavy warmth, almost like honey. He held my hand, and then finally replied, "I sent my only son to save the world, for how I love them, so that no one may fall but have an everlasting life . " And then suddenly I woke up with His tears in my eyes. Filled with perfect love, I arose from my bed. I ran outside picked up a rock headed toward that road.

71

I tell him that three of his freckles disappeared today and that I can’t help but notice that his eye twitches twice before he falls asleep. He sometimes wakes up to an empty bed at 2 in the morning. It is not because I can’t feel comfortable with his legs tangled in mine but, because I found the sight of not knowing where my body ended and his began so poetic. Some days, I feel as if I’m living life in the shadows. Always noticing but never seen, are words supposed to scream this loud? He says that when we kiss, he has to dust the commas and colons off of my eyelid and that he repeats his sentences four times because he knows that during the first I was catching a thought, preventing it from flying away and that when he speaks for the second I’m trying to take notice of the exact degree he tilts his head and that by the third I’ve already crafted a stanza about the way he licks his lips in the cold. I tell myself that I will not carry a pen wherever I go, but it doesn’t matter because on certain days, even my bone marrow writes poetry about the cells dying and being born in my blood – supernovae of molecule scale. My brother tells me that my quadratic equations are written in limerick form and that he does not know why I’m taking Calculus and Statistics if I already know a formula for the perfect novel. The truth is, I don’t know why I notice the way my love wrings his hands twice when I ask him where he’s been – is that lavender I smell? I know that he tells me the truth, but the other voice in my head can’t help but make me ask him why he drank his coffee with milk instead of creamer today. He tells me that he loves me by holding me far too tight when I’m sad, so that he can crush the blue out of me and by barely touching me when I’m happy, afraid that he’ll break my spirits, he knows that my pink is a Porcelain Doll – fragile. He doesn’t use any words, and for once, this is enough for me.

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lavenderlemurian

Nov 21, 2016

Nov 21, 2016 at 7:13 PM UTC

solar-hugs-and-lunar-kisses

Of love and words

I tell him that three of his freckles disappeared today and that I can’t help but notice that his eye twitches twice before he falls asleep. He sometimes wakes up to an empty bed at 2 in the morning. It is not because I can’t feel comfortable with his legs tangled in mine but, because I found the sight of not knowing where my body ended and his began so poetic. Some days, I feel as if I’m living life in the shadows. Always noticing but never seen, are words supposed to scream this loud? He says that when we kiss, he has to dust the commas and colons off of my eyelid and that he repeats his sentences four times because he knows that during the first I was catching a thought, preventing it from flying away and that when he speaks for the second I’m trying to take notice of the exact degree he tilts his head and that by the third I’ve already crafted a stanza about the way he licks his lips in the cold. I tell myself that I will not carry a pen wherever I go, but it doesn’t matter because on certain days, even my bone marrow writes poetry about the cells dying and being born in my blood – supernovae of molecule scale. My brother tells me that my quadratic equations are written in limerick form and that he does not know why I’m taking Calculus and Statistics if I already know a formula for the perfect novel. The truth is, I don’t know why I notice the way my love wrings his hands twice when I ask him where he’s been – is that lavender I smell? I know that he tells me the truth, but the other voice in my head can’t help but make me ask him why he drank his coffee with milk instead of creamer today. He tells me that he loves me by holding me far too tight when I’m sad, so that he can crush the blue out of me and by barely touching me when I’m happy, afraid that he’ll break my spirits, he knows that my pink is a Porcelain Doll – fragile. He doesn’t use any words, and for once, this is enough for me.

10

I'll be the pyramids you'll be the sky The clothing shorn In wasteland we are born Where do we go now Forgotten places Forgotten time Love and love me not Wilted flowers and lost thoughts The radio is in the street Columns creaking in defeat We're feeding ourselves to the fire Injecting dreams self dissonance We walk in the desert calling it home In fire born In wasteland The clothes are shorn I'll be the sky you'll be the pyramids

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lavenderlemurian

Nov 21, 2016

Nov 21, 2016 at 7:12 PM UTC

Mosaic

Too Close to tell who is Who

I'll be the pyramids you'll be the sky The clothing shorn In wasteland we are born Where do we go now Forgotten places Forgotten time Love and love me not Wilted flowers and lost thoughts The radio is in the street Columns creaking in defeat We're feeding ourselves to the fire Injecting dreams self dissonance We walk in the desert calling it home In fire born In wasteland The clothes are shorn I'll be the sky you'll be the pyramids

18

Patterns spiral on like the hands of a clock. My mind dissects the mechanism to learn where I fit in. I fear if I should find myself, then I shall be forgot. Where will I fit in? Sometimes I scour the walls of my room desperately searching for where I fit in, If I lost count of all my lovers & my very dearest friends. I'd always be waiting for the bottom to drop & wondering where I fit in. Twelve moons have passed with you & I do not know where I fit in. Like twelve years ago in school, I did not know where I fit in. The twelfth I shall pack to travel North, a brief moment of time to fit everyone in to a world where people love me precisely because I stand out.

0

lavenderlemurian

Nov 21, 2016

Nov 21, 2016 at 7:10 PM UTC

kayla-anne-schneider

Fit

Patterns spiral on like the hands of a clock. My mind dissects the mechanism to learn where I fit in. I fear if I should find myself, then I shall be forgot. Where will I fit in? Sometimes I scour the walls of my room desperately searching for where I fit in, If I lost count of all my lovers & my very dearest friends. I'd always be waiting for the bottom to drop & wondering where I fit in. Twelve moons have passed with you & I do not know where I fit in. Like twelve years ago in school, I did not know where I fit in. The twelfth I shall pack to travel North, a brief moment of time to fit everyone in to a world where people love me precisely because I stand out.

23