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ryan-bueler
ryan-bueler
Just wait to release your brilliance. Hold on to it ...Just a little longer Don’t let it get lost in the seas of irrelevance, and drowned in the wake of your work Let them feel your words and taste your passion. swirl it around in their mouths and breathe it in and rub it all in the pores of their skin. Let them taste your genius and ask you for seconds.
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Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 2:23 AM UTC
Your next poem
My cheeks are cold and my hands are oh so lonely                                                                     …My shoes are strolling all alone She's humming soft and swaying oh so slowly                                                         ...Making those moves for moving home I better walk you there before the sun goes down You know its easy for souls to grow cold alone out here tonight.
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Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 1:57 AM UTC
Home
Planning a life for the autumn is trying like trying to plan for when autumns due the evidence of her is up on the counter, lines for the life inside of you. well where is the cherub bearing the witness, bringing the news to the tired men? she’s right here, she’s next to me she’ll be stilling my restless heart again Well you can be on my mind but we know we are in His hands and we can tell all our friends that we know now when life begins Can you think of a time when the moment was just right for all of the challenging times ahead? they say that you have to be older, smarter, done with school, when your moneys made. but when all of the wicked call that we cant hold our home together the Word speaks its Peace to me and He’ll be whispering to you too in time You're always on my mind but please know we are in His hands and we can tell all our friends that the autumn is when our Life begins
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Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 2:06 AM UTC
Life for the Autumn
Well this is the spot where you'd bury me six feet down and lay a stone. And these are the woods where you'd walk sometimes to think all on your own And this is the box where you'd keep your ring that you could not bear to wear and this is the spot where I lost my footing right there... I almost died, and nobody knows I almost made a break right there for the last coast. I almost died, and nobody knows.
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Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 1:45 AM UTC
Almost
Bless the poets of the past who wrote all without the applause of ten thousand clicking mice who poured out souls on paper in dimly lit rooms ... alone who spoke the world through rhyme and verse to bless and curse the meaning of it all who first haunted your heart with words and lifted your spirit with prose only for the sake of putting thoughts to the pen            ...who made us out of 26 letters.
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Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 8:02 PM UTC
Poets of the past
A voice whispers words into my veins A voice instructs me, strut this way And that way too, don’t stop...I’ll never shoo. By the time I’ve made it to the train My heart begins to                                                             Thump                                                                                                                                                 Thump                                                                                      Thump                                                                                                                 Without a moment to choke                                                                                                                      I hop on the station                                                                                                            Headed west, with barely a breath                                                                                           A thought in this head that steals any concentration Sleep eludes me, you penetrate me Enrich me with the echoes of your mind Bare with me, let us intertwine                                                A path paved over by the ways of the world                                                Still hot and sticky, I mold it with my toes                                                  Imprinted with my wishes and my hopes No traces of intervention No substance of prevention Sitting atop the stool Painted by the artist Within his palm Lies his instrument Prepared to implement Painting shadows of time and space Strokes back and forth Lines united by grace                                                                                                 A picture varnished                                                                                               A piece of time caught                                                                                                As quick as created, it                                                                                                                                                                                  dis..                                                                                                                         si..                                                                                                                                pa.                                                                                                                                          .tes                                                       Fading with all its glory
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Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 7:20 PM UTC
A Sketch in Ash
A voice whispers words into my veins A voice instructs me, strut this way And that way too, don’t stop...I’ll never shoo. By the time I’ve made it to the train My heart begins to                                                             Thump                                                                                                                                                 Thump                                                                                      Thump                                                                                                                 Without a moment to choke                                                                                                                      I hop on the station                                                                                                            Headed west, with barely a breath                                                                                           A thought in this head that steals any concentration Sleep eludes me, you penetrate me Enrich me with the echoes of your mind Bare with me, let us intertwine                                                A path paved over by the ways of the world                                                Still hot and sticky, I mold it with my toes                                                  Imprinted with my wishes and my hopes No traces of intervention No substance of prevention Sitting atop the stool Painted by the artist Within his palm Lies his instrument Prepared to implement Painting shadows of time and space Strokes back and forth Lines united by grace                                                                                                 A picture varnished                                                                                               A piece of time caught                                                                                                As quick as created, it                                                                                                                                                                                  dis..                                                                                                                         si..                                                                                                                                pa.                                                                                                                                          .tes                                                       Fading with all its glory
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36
Well i've been driving on my own i've been stuck on rocky time and i've been praying for a signal I've been begging for a sign ...from Colorado maybe that's where i'll go She's been flowing over passes She's been moving through the trees and I can hear her on the wind oh I can feel her in the breeze ...Colorado maybe thats where she'd go.
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Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 11:16 PM UTC
Colorado
I am content here with our voices low. When we breathe I feel Life in the sighs In our hollow of soft lights and pillows Saying things slowly and sweetly.
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Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 11:18 PM UTC
Breathe
I must have been blind, or else very unfortunate to have missed what I know now to have lived my life until this point in the shadow of a cloud that is life without the knowledge of your smile, our your laugh, or your touch But then you came, not like a flash of lightning, surprising me with its intensity and force but like a gentle sunrise rising steadily over everything I know and bathing the world in a light and beauty I felt I had always known, but never been awake to see and when I finally did awake to the warmth and glow of your presence my eyes were dazed for I knew no beauty before you. I must have been a child, or else extremely frail to have been idle all this time, to have been contented until now without digging the foundation and hammering the nails and tying the knots on the beams that hold together a man, and his faith, and his family But then you came and you did not come like the warning of a harsh winter making men dig hasty footing in hopes of surviving only the worst of times. You came like the promise of a beautiful spring waking me from my slumber to plant and sow and nourish the ground of our love and home to last through all the trials of time, and all of the seasons of our life And when I had seen what we had built together with only faith, hope, and love I was amazed for I knew no strength before you And now here I am swimming in the light of your beauty and surging with the strength of your heart and where else can I go, what else shall I do but spend my life in this place for I knew no Love before you.
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Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 10:36 PM UTC
I knew no Love
I must have been blind, or else very unfortunate to have missed what I know now to have lived my life until this point in the shadow of a cloud that is life without the knowledge of your smile, our your laugh, or your touch But then you came, not like a flash of lightning, surprising me with its intensity and force but like a gentle sunrise rising steadily over everything I know and bathing the world in a light and beauty I felt I had always known, but never been awake to see and when I finally did awake to the warmth and glow of your presence my eyes were dazed for I knew no beauty before you. I must have been a child, or else extremely frail to have been idle all this time, to have been contented until now without digging the foundation and hammering the nails and tying the knots on the beams that hold together a man, and his faith, and his family But then you came and you did not come like the warning of a harsh winter making men dig hasty footing in hopes of surviving only the worst of times. You came like the promise of a beautiful spring waking me from my slumber to plant and sow and nourish the ground of our love and home to last through all the trials of time, and all of the seasons of our life And when I had seen what we had built together with only faith, hope, and love I was amazed for I knew no strength before you And now here I am swimming in the light of your beauty and surging with the strength of your heart and where else can I go, what else shall I do but spend my life in this place for I knew no Love before you.
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35
Lay my soul out on the table, I am Cain and my brother is able to please God with the things he brings and oh my jealous heart won’t sing One cold day out in the field that devil came and I felt him reel I took a stone and I threw it down now my brothers blood calls from the ground. Now the Lord came down along my road I hid my face He could not know "Bring your brother out to Me" but I do not keep him now You see. A thousand years have passed and burned and my bones to dust have long returned and scatter over fields that grow to do what I did with a stone.
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Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 9:41 PM UTC
Cain