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LAICEY Aug 2017
I feel everything
that isn't there.
I think everything
that isn't true.
I try everything
that isn't me.
And my head and heart
both pound as one:
it's the rhythm
to my daily anthem,
accompanied by my feet
dancing - no,
creating tsunamis of bones
trying to keep still,
with my fingers tingling
a sort of white dust
that create a layer
of pure emptiness
all 'round me,
separating me from
all of reality.
I wish you knew
how scared I am
when you try
to save the me
who isn't here.
© LAICEY Poems August 2017
LAICEY Aug 2017
it is:
when lovers sit underneath the stars
and talk about promises;
when we let ourselves taste
the bitterness in rehearsing love,
only to learn to let go.
© 2017 August LAICEY Poems
LAICEY Aug 2017
My mind is this raging hurricane and
you can't calm a storm down lest it wants to be stopped
but mine never seem to want to stop.
Every gush of wind pushes me over
to the edge and forces me to look down
into a never ending medium
where nothing exists.

I'm sorry I'm not lazy, in fact
if you tore apart this facade and
looked inside this skin,
you will find a girl searching
tirelessly for her self worth
and for happiness for
she wants to prevail, she
wants to be loved and she
wants to never stop believing.

But my hands and feet don't stop
adding earthquakes to my storm torn
body. My brain races faster than my
mouth can speak so I'm sorry
if you can't understand what I -

No, it's not that I don't want to see you,
it's just that my heart is running a marathon
and I'm already worn out thinking
about the way I'm going to say "hi",
the way I'm just waiting for the ground
to swallow me whole just to be saved.
© 2017 August LAICEY Poems
  Aug 2017 LAICEY
A Thomas Hawkins
Never fall in love with a poet
for their words are sometimes lies
on occasions they're a shield
on occasions a disguise

They will take you on a journey
upon which they bare their soul
in a bid to ease your burdens
in a bid to make you whole

But in every word they choose
for the stories that they tell
lies a little piece of heaven
and a little piece of hell

Tormented souls we poets are
sometimes quite broken and despaired
in search of lost expressions
missed by others who once cared

Never fall in love with a poet
unless you're prepared to share their pain
to hold them close on the darkest nights
over and again
Follow me on Twitter @athomashawkins
http://twitter.com/athomashawkins
  Aug 2017 LAICEY
Maya Angelou
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my *******,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
LAICEY Aug 2017
Your ink stained mouth
knows how to spit out
lovesick poems and coherent lines
that would keep me on my toes,
have my body bent and arched
for you.

My skin is painted with
the colours you gave me;
and though you gave me colours,
I sometimes talk in black and white
with words that I know can
heal, break, curse and bless
any canvas.
Your canvas.
~ part 1 ~
this is the first half of an originally written two-piece poem,
the beginning of what was called “a colourless masterpiece”.
© 2015/17 August LAICEY Poems
LAICEY Aug 2017
Our every word that comes out
has the potential to **** when
your seemingly fragile but villainous
lips caresses my weaponed tongue
encouraging the venomous noise to be
reborn again and again.
Soft yet viscious touch.
I demand for more.
I urge for attention.

Patience is running thin!

I never even looked away from the
light in your eyes
but you were watching my entire flesh
burn and rot in the colours you gave me.
Dead.
When you left, all went dark
for the light in your eyes were
fires that burned too bright
and couldn't last.
It was then
when I was standing all alone
in the black hole you helped me create,
the one that ****** away everything I loved,
I realized that I was colourblind,
that your touch and your words
were bleach that sunk into my core,
leaving me only in black and white.
~ part 2 ~
this is the second half of a two-piece poem,
this is how the masterpiece ends.

"Masterpiece" and "Colourless" can be read as two entirely separate poems, however, they were originally written all in one poem but due to further alterations, they were suited to be split in two.
© 2015/17 August LAICEY Poems
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