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BarelyABard May 2019
Seductive little lies
escape your lips
like lullabies.

Truth is but daydream
when I dance between
your thighs.

If morning comes,
I'll greet the sun
and wake
from toxic
ecstasy,
but until then
I'll say amen
and worship
every second
with a lustful
apathy.
BarelyABard Feb 2019
Observe and absorb
             that which
         forges strength of heart.
                 Acknowledge and relinquish
                       toxic shackles
               of your soul.

                          Be aware
                  of what you bear;
              and immerse yourself
                        in honesty.

                                               Gaze into
                                        the parts of you
                                 where fearless men
                       still quake with dread.

Determine
      what will nourish
          tales and pathways
    yet to tread,
                and cast aside
        the demons
              planting venom
                        in your head.
BarelyABard Feb 2019
What can you hold,
with hands made of fire?
Attempting to warm
those lost in the cold;
pining to dispel
the darkest hallways.
Do I help,
or do I harm?
While intending
to inspire...
am I setting lives
on fire..?
Lonesome embers
leaping from my lips
and fingertips
of flint and steel...
should I keep them
to myself?

Passion spreads
like a forest fire,
Forgive me
if it burns,
I have so much
left to learn.
BarelyABard Dec 2018
Lovely paths
aren't meant
to last.

The splendor
of a lily
will always
wilt away,

but...

perhaps
you'd prefer
a plastic one?

A forgery
of sincerity?

Meant to last
forever
on a shelf
collecting dust.

Tell me,
do you want to feel,
or lapse
into illusion,
imitating something
real?
BarelyABard Dec 2018
How do you lay flowers
on a grave
of something still alive?
Haunted by
the amogheist,
do we mourn
or
should we rage?

To be aflame
in the throes
of passion,
warm and comfortable
only to remember
how cold
the world can seem
when fires
are extinguished.

Memory can be
a blessing,
or a curse.
Do we haunt
or are we haunted?
Left with words unsaid
and eyes
bathed of
fading moonlight.

Grateful to be reminded
of a flame
thought dead,
but lamenting
the knowledge
of how fleeting
it can
be.
Love *****, sometimes.
BarelyABard Nov 2018
Silence of the forest,
             enchant my soul.

                           Halt the gears
         of want and worry.
                     Muffle the
                 machinery of man.

Fill my ears
         with bubbling brooks,
my eyes of
         saplings in the shade,
                        instead of
                plastic devastation,
                         a toxic counterfeit
           of perennial progression
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