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 Apr 2018 Marshie The Mellow
enn
mornings--
they aren't always
pretty.

sometimes,
it's grey
like the rain
going over
your head.

at other times,
it's complete
darkness,
like the difficulties
of life.

how ironic it is,
that bitterness
can make it
better.
 Sep 2017 Marshie The Mellow
Pax
I was the star
who lost his
glow -

automated
as I function
living for the
sake of living
as my heart
has stop breathing
the love he
suppose to
give.

so...
I burried my own
unglowing star
thinking
its hopeless.

I've been reading, reading,
watching, watching,
and working, working
same old, same old
until I lost my glow
and stop being wishful
as I know time has stop
as I drop
my dream,
sometimes....

I lived because
I can still pretend.
I guess this will be my last post for a while but I will not be gone just around. writing seems so away now, I guess that my life becomes dull as my heart slowly turning to a stone. this piece pretty much explain what ive been doing. I will write again when im back in my own country, it's good news to me that im exiting suadi Arabia, soon...sigh... another big challenges will come to me, another big step i'll take....
 May 2017 Marshie The Mellow
Pax
A piece of my heart
has been sliced
to where its been crushed
to blend
something new.

I've grown to
understand
the big sea
to where I was
afraid of being aware
this might
happened
.
.
.
then, it already has
as so I let it be
for a time
that I never forgot
nor forgive
what they
did.

I know my flaws
are evident,
it is what makes
who I am, 'not perfect'
as I improved,
honed and
proved to feel
the understanding
of the big sea
but it doesn't mean
you can freely capture
someone's heart
to tear apart,
*a sincere poet
never steals the
life of others.
Not sure where to start, as to the poem itself speaks volume, I've been away from writing because of my busy schedule when i came back i found out that one or two of my work are stolen. I was never really a great writer to begin with as to i wonder why they would steal from me. And there's also stories that uses my quotes without crediting me, sigh... Perhaps this is the reality. sad, disappointed and distraught to myself, but everything is a risk, so posting in all writing/poetry sites, your words are bound to be stolen when someone liked it without you knowing it. sigh.... "i write not!" was one of the stolen.
 May 2017 Marshie The Mellow
Pax
I've left my feelings
unanswered.
just a quick shout out, short but it says what is just needed to say. Less but not much. Sorry for being away, its seems like i just bottled up my feelings yet again and stow it away to be a faded unanswered feelings... sigh...

i hope everyone(my literary friends) are well...

thank you for reading...
Shoutout to the unsung heroes!
Whose noble swords still rise higher and higher
In this world where broken shields are dire
We disregard our weapons of steel. Oh,
And bards who sing of loot and money
Gems, precious stones, and gold a-plenty
Perhaps if I sing of these unheard vigilantes
The world would be so very jaunty!

Fame, loot, tales and territories;
Unsung heroes have never earned any of these
Despite all efforts to bring about justice,
Despite dispelling all forms of avarice…
Alas, no recognition to lay up front!
No form of appreciation, only gaunt…
Gaunt expressions, an unwelcome chanting of desolation
That's what an unsung hero faces - tribulations.

But look at the bright side!
The future isn't dark, nor no grim eventide
I will sing of these unsung heroes
In short, sweet verses as mementos
For that fleeting moment in time
When they took up the courage to halt crime.
So again, I'm calling out to all the unsung heroes!
Who rose from the bottom the others called zero.
Just thought I'd make this one for all of those people who were never given recognition for their humble actions. Nothing special :^)
The pressure keeps building.
And although I've never failed them,
they keep going and going,
Pressuring me until I'm at wits' end.

Ashamed, rejected, revoked, repressed,
like a whale distinct from the others
by its own, unique tone,
I'm forced to wander alone
in this vast, ocean of people cold as stone.

Indeed, I'm at my wits' end
The pent up emotions of which I cannot contain
are all about to burst, but still, I refrain
because who likes to be pressured
under certain circumstances so mundane?
So mundane, that in fact they can never, EVER
Weigh as much as I can contain.

I'm a bomb. And indeed, I'm about to blow up
the fuse within me is already lit up
in a minute or so, the culprits who had set me up
Will be blown away by my sudden rage.
But if only they had the courage to douse me
with their water of forgiveness,
then perhaps in a few seconds or less,
My fuse would cease in its track.

Still, they were careless, careless in my handling
It seems my fuse will still keep on going
Once I explode, they will be loathing.

The pressure keeps building.
And although I've never failed them...

...they WILL keep on going and going.
flaws are not just mere words
that come out from the shallow openings of our mouths.
they start at the surface of our skins
from the day we were born,
crawling up to the very insides of our bones.
that's why they sting so deep
when used against us.
but,
once you start wearing them,
smiling,
maybe it won't hurt so much anymore.
the sum of your flaws does not equal to your worth
I fear change and of being forgotten, but I’ve come to realize that the essence of transcending my own life is not merely limited to that of memory, trinkets and remembrances. Similar to a mother tree, my roots will go deeper and the seeds that I have created will continue to plant seeds of their own. Essentially, as I go further into the past and the future, I am connected to almost everything through my ancestors and through my children’s children. My children will remember how I was good to them and hopefully pass it on to their own children. The people carrying me within them may change and may forget who I am and the things I’ve done. However, the values I will have instilled within my kin will become my essence and I feel that that is enough to validate my existence and my worth. It is enough for me to commit myself to make at least this possible.
not even a poem.
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