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lionel-craft
Your laugh, my soul That arch of your brow A tear, on your cheek Your grief, my hole My whole being In your hands Now and forever You I am seeing Seeing that smile, Cheshire Those eyes, glint with gold My hand, on your hip My mind, on fire Fire and care This game of love Long we have played The tortoise and hare Hair, that curl My stomach, in knots Our lives, only ahead You, my Girl
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Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 6:00 AM UTC
My Girl
A haiku for you You ruined so much of me But still I had fun
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Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 2:31 PM UTC
Untitled
Unknown To where we go? For what purpose? Are we even we? Or will you be you? And me be me?
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Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 2:12 PM UTC
Questions
Shadows They flicker for the light Dancing for their source But ever shielded from view How depressing an existence A goal unattainable But persistence is needed To keep the goal alive For a light needs shadow Lest it be drowned by its surroundings Separated from its partner But the separation is eternal For a lit shadow ceases to be But perhaps that is the most noble of endings A goal attained A dancers bow
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Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 10:59 AM UTC
shadows
When your smile goes to your bottom eyelid When you say it meant nothing When I was there What does it take to be sincere? Fight, desire, confrontation, stubbornness You have missed the list
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Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 5:18 PM UTC
Fake
Well it seems she was hungry Very hungry But what can be expected when she is left out in the cold? When things get hungry they will eat But is there still an ally behind that blood soaked snarl? What type of delusion am I in? Brought on by a loss of blood or the hypothermic cold? Can you even be aware of your own delusion? Still, she appears skittish Despite what has to be a satiated belly I mean, how much more could she possibly eat? What a delusion Should I let the cold take me? It seems inevitable And now the wolf approaches, to finish her meal? Or to curl up and warm me on this frigid night?
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Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 10:13 AM UTC
The Wolf Returns
I cannot always be mending sadness Sadness is like a dog It can whine and scratch But you must let it inside A dog may slip between your legs When your hands are full of groceries But if you can't expel the beast Then you have no right to a dog, nor bird, nor cat You say you only give? You are never in a position to receive anything besides sympathy Weariness is the only outcome I grow weary in you stupor
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Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 10:10 AM UTC
Mending
Endings are hard There is no truth to them Always more to be seen or said How clich'e Beginnings are easier But still they sprang from somewhere I hope for the best of beginnings Because the best soil comes from well churned dirt
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Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 10:10 AM UTC
Beginings
High tide and low Ebb and flow Wax and wane Yet sometimes there are floods Floods that do not recede Some floods that overwhelm Floods that you want to be swept away in Floods you never want to end Floods that bring you somewhere new Floods that change the landscape of where you were That seem to change the world That seem unstoppable Yet somehow the waters recede Wet, damp, dry, parched What could have happened to end this flood? Indifference, lack of acknowledgement Ignoring the onrushing torrent has taken the strength from the all-covering ocean When all it needed to flourish was the smallest amount of encouragement Is this the end of the water Or has it pooled somewhere Waiting for the moment to rise again
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Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 10:09 AM UTC
Water
Contradiction Impossible, it captivates: Alone while surrounded, Crumbling while steadfast, Contentedly miserable, Actively apathetic, The lazy activist, Cynically optimistic, Knowledgably ignorant, Falling from support, A teary smile. It is all of us; But mostly it is me, Out of balance with no direction to go. Then there’s my reference; Wayward and fleeting, It has arrived with new purpose. It is hear to stay. Yet my reference is also a contradiction, As unbalanced as I. But where I am black it is white, Empty where I overflow, Floating when I sink Yet, as chaotic static can become equal to silence, Or many waves will calm each other; So is my reference. My mirror And how better to see yourself but through a mirror? My reference is my mirror Oppositely identical; And so we too are a contradiction How unlikely? How fated.
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Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 2:04 AM UTC
What You Do