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Apr 2020 · 264
Losing Inspiration
Sillva Apr 2020
I lost my self in this
Wonderless adventure.
Trying to find the way of my pen.
I drove my self into this endless cave,
Hiding my self from this world.
A continuous circle I need to break.
Beginning things an yet far from finishing.
Times like these remind me of when I left my thoughts and feelings
Not interacting with one another.
A fight between 2 Wild Dogs.
An my emotions poured into these empty bottles.
Turning my body into a empty shell.
Letting this Universe I call Inspiration Go.
"Its every where in something Creative".
Scratching the surface, crawling back to my feet.
Trying to connect all these dots,
Bringing me back to this Stimulated Mentally,  
That I Call being a POET.




                                                                                BY
                                                                                     ERS
Nov 2018 · 304
Letters To Juliet
Sillva Nov 2018
There are phrases that I cannot explain when I speak to you.
Maybe it's  just a thought or maybe I've gone soft.
Like the clouds thinking its cotton candy, passed memories made  
shadows

Tears that
made Rain.

Roses I met indeed,
but let here rose peddles leading my scents to other messes.
My passion became no more an made the seas quiet.
Juliet WAS the name for all my lovers.
Juliet WAS only a costume to hide there names.
An empire I created with flirts
But it BURSTED -
out into flames
an became my worse nightmares
an my worst pains.
Trying to cover the sun with just a finger
Blindly out shined by it's own beauty.
A Mystery
Where misery has chased me,
An started to become Happy endings.
Errors paint my screen beneath the dark
Unworthy to ever press spellcheck.

Maybe is a curse of ur endless beauty
or has my eyes seen through  your purity.
A world of matters
Where I have dissolved my pasted.
To tell my thoughts that they have never forgotten you.
An say opportunities come rarely,  an let me be your overcoat when NightFalls.
            
                                    Sincerely
                                          Yours Truly
                                                    Romeo
Nov 2018 · 376
Time Machine
Sillva Nov 2018
Has my soul woundered around in many different time lines
Trying to escape a reality that I have never wanted to see.
Trying to predict a future with out you.
The bad descions have been coming back to bite me again.
Karma has finally made it's descion to hit me.
Asking my self the same questions over an over again,
Drowning my self in a bottle of Scotch.
Asking my self on replay

Would I jump to the past to change things?
Or should I stay an have another dance with the devil?



                                                       BY ERS
Oct 2018 · 333
Moon
Sillva Oct 2018
There are times when I look up in the sky
Asking my self if I'm the only one
Crazy enough to look for this
Poisonist Sensation that it's called
LOVE.
Countless incourters I have with the moon
Communicating with her

As I sit out in front of my porch admiring it's endless beauty.
Like a diamond in the sky
that no light an dark can stop it's shine.

My nights have made the tides higher
As if the moon heard my words.
I say to her drift my lover to shore.
An make my lover see u as well
She replayed with a sweet whisper
"Someone
                  Somewhere
                                  Is looking at me as well"


                                                                   By ERS
Oct 2018 · 247
Meaning Of A Poet
Sillva Oct 2018
Has the bitterness of my lips reached
The aromas of spring.
My Dear -
I say
I open backdoors where doors were never ment to be.
I unfold the moon as if I drew it out of thin air.
I dissolve worlds an make new ones,
as if I was the true created.
I whisper in a soft voice an say
"I now live in pages written with my own blood".



P.S It's not how much you write,
It's how you begin to grow roots and gloom in darkest hours.


                                                            BY E.R.S
Oct 2018 · 398
A Writers Emotions
Sillva Oct 2018
Many have said why do I write so much.
I said
"I been listening to the flow of art of my pen".

The beautiful voices that have said to me to CONTINUE.
You can listen to my pen and
what it has said
to this piece of paper.

There are times where I can no longer see myself as a person.
Only what's coming out of my pen,
The ink I compare my self to.
But where has the emotions gone to?
If I'm only ink?

Emotions that I can never discribe.
Ink that crys on it own
For every movement my hand makes,
A different form of pain comes out.
Emotions that can only be  described through this pen.
Excietment, happiness, pain and sarrow,
all coming out at once.

There are nights where I close my self to the world, while under the night light preferring to open up with my Pen.

The last drops of ink has spilled
An said out loud

A Pen without ink is a Pen without it's owners soul.


                                                            By ERS
Oct 2018 · 345
A SOULESS COLOR
Sillva Oct 2018
I have reached a breaking point
that has slowly led every thought of you on to the ground.
My tears have reached onto this paper,
Before this letter surfaced up to the light.

Day by day
This message has become a nightmare
And maybe this will fall onto Depth Ears.
Maybe you'll never read this,
Perhaps you'll never find it.
Maybe one day, you will see
I  was sincere with my words,
spilling them out like  a waterfall.
It's a unwanted power
As if a Queen left golden strands of hair behind.
All these years of assumptions
have become worse
A Gore to bare with.

A Lost color for my soul

                                                BY
                                                    ERS
Oct 2018 · 290
Mother And Father
Sillva Oct 2018
I write to u in metaphors
As if they were hieroglyphics.
A different langue that I do not speak,
But I write frequently In disguise-
Away from the moon
Where the sun doesn't want to hug the earth.
That's how I begin every day without the light.
Just a blissful word that speaks to my ears to get up.

I have wounder around in my own writings
speaking to people that I dont know.
As for the both of you
I have become more than a stranger
A distant son.
Like a needle in a hay stack.
Wondering if my lips will ever speak out my true feelings.
Figuring out rhymes without a sense of tone,
Because I have surrendered to silence.
An became death to nature.
Have I lost my heart?
Have I been blind to never open up?
I have called my feelings Hiding beneath every word.

As tears shower this paper because I have extended my vocabulary to spell out love.
An I  write what my voice negates to say
"I Love both of you,
An I shall Stay
until my last living breath".





                                                            By E.R.S
Oct 2018 · 390
ALONE
Sillva Oct 2018
After all this time I can now sit an write
Forgetting my pass years of endless flights.
Desintations among the shadows,
Where images cannot Appear.
For some reason
I closed my self to this lonesome fog.
Making my ink
to stop.
My Agony becomes extensions of deadly Airs,
For dying leaves to settle in my grave.
My lonely nights
Are poems in a difficult times
Turning beautiful flowers to gloom
In cemeteries.
It appears me that I have open my self to a word of emptiness,
An rumours to me became a curtain for eyes to never see happiness.
As I say in between my words
An call out
"I feel Alone among millions"…..



                                                 ­          By  
                                                            ­    E.R.S
Oct 2018 · 825
A DREAM
Sillva Oct 2018
I have committed a crime,
The cine that I have made
when my eyes saw you for the first time.
The first time was like a star has strucked me.
Zeus's bot has no impact like you have had in me.
It's like sleeping became a recipe for all my fantasies  with you.
A dream with you I had many times,
Then I wake up bathed in sweat
And seeing you werent next to me.

A dream i had with you,
Ment dreaming with my eyes open,
Am I dead or alive?

Made you a main character that I can not chase in real life.




            
                                                    BY ERS
Oct 2018 · 396
A POETS CRY
Sillva Oct 2018
There are many times where I close my self to the world
An reveal a part of me
that's full of anger,
Because these emotions
are all bottle up in every dark corner of my body.
Its as if the mystery of the ocean has been
finally revealed out to the world.
I know it the complete opposite
It doesn't need to rhyme nor make sense,
It's called crying
Like the little bit of rain we all need, but
Doesn't let a rainbow to show it colors when it stops.
I over think alot
an over analys things
An create walls in me.
It's called inslavment of the mind.
Everyone says open up,
But the insecurity hits me like a brick wall
I know that's what I believe, but those are called tears.
Mean while the sun blinds me with its beauty, yet I have no senses to let my bottled emotions out to the light.
The darkest corners of my body
are yet deceiving, but that's how I made them feel into.
Shallow waters  I've been there, an made it my playground.
This is me in my final hour, crying all out
because I don't want these bottled feelings any more.

It's called crying this monster out…..


                                                BY ERS

— The End —