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Eric Aug 2019
We always dream
We work to live those dreams
Until we realise that we're right where we need to be
And our canvas is still blank
Eric Jun 2019
I stumbled to the bathroom
And as I stood there
The walls spoke
They told me
"You can change everything"
This poem is about so many stories. "Everything" has it's limitations, different for each individual's "everything"; Collectively, everything. .
Eric Jun 2019
It took all of the slightest moment
A few meaningful words
A lotto's winnings,
VS. a lifetime's work

The End
Eric Jun 2019
Do you know why I love you?
A long time ago, we went bowling at the disco lanes
I liked you, I didn't know if you liked me
Sure, we held hands, but I was young
I knew nothing
In ordered fashion, I was polite
I did as I was taught at home, or by society
I respected you, so I didn't cross lines
Thank heavens you did, for when you kissed me
My opaque future became transparent
Now, before, and later, life has, does and will challenge us
And as front as our perils may seem
They will always trickle down the umbrella of the girl I once knew, know and will always love
Eric Jun 2019
First, it lay by my side, stained and chilled in condensation
I said, "leave me you rusty old burden"!
Without a word, it remained heavy
So I pushed it away, over the edge

And I ran, in search of disguise
And it sank, colder into deep indigo
I saw an infinite horizon
It saw what was true

I explored, and wandered, and grew, so much, I grew
A sponge larger than an ocean
I was massive compared to that weathered old metal
Yet it was greater still than Me

I pulled and pulled, I couldn't break free
But I've travelled the world, what else can there be?
The stars? The planets? The endless still time?
Those are simply not, no, those are not mine

The trees are not mine, the mountains, the sky
The ocean, the city, no, most are not mine
I'll tell you what is though, a place I once lived
With a barn, a house, and a great big field

And down in the centre lies glossy still water
In it, a rope, and a calm rusty old anchor
It lies at the bottom of the most serene pond
It's the missing piece to the puzzle, to my home, my heart
Eric May 2019
A good poem is one that's read, and even before it's understood, it's loved
Eric May 2019
I didn't think about it
It wasn't planned
Well, not by me
But who's to say that I decide anyway?
That we decide?
Not sure, just spilled out.
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