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 Nov 2016 kian
Patrick McCombs
Poets are assassins
Words wound and ****
Cut open arteries
Spilling life blood
Sharpening and refining words  
Honing them to a killing edge

Poets are sorcerers
Words; their incantation
Grammar; their arcane ritual
Sentences turn into spells
Transforming you into someone else
Teleporting you to a distant place

Few poets are prophets
Gifted and cursed with visions
Vessels to be filled
Conduits waiting for lightning to strike

Poets are codebreakers
Deciphering life's enigmas
Translating experiences into words
Skilled technicians
Finding the right words
For exactly the right moments
 Nov 2016 kian
JDK
Yikes
 Nov 2016 kian
JDK
Perhaps I should've thought twice before partaking in this hike.
My legs are killing me.
I'm tired all the time.
My dreams only remind me of all the trips that I've had.
Those are stones and these are bones and one day you'll have a grave to call your own.
 Nov 2016 kian
Eman
Perfect Match
 Nov 2016 kian
Eman
-
You were the inspiration behind everything I would desire
like Embers, I was once discovered by your fire

In my darkest hours you'd always give me reason,
like wildfires in unexpected seasons

Every part of me learned to radiate,
ecstatically exposed to all your burning states

Then came the day I turned into dust,
and like a volcano you annihilated my trust

I was the property of a ****** arsonist,
and starting fires is how his wickedness vents

It's hard to fathom that this started with little ignition,
because it grew so fast into a vicious obsession

I asked you to stop smoking that day and it wasn't because I was simply sick of it,
I just hated the fact that I saw myself in your half dead-cigarette

-
Sometimes your perfect "match" can perfectly burn you.
 Jul 2016 kian
Commuter Poet
When does life really begin?

If I were to ask the trees
They might say

Push your roots down
And steady yourself
The stronger you are
The longer you will live

If I were to ask the birds
They might say

Never settle in one place for too long
You should always seek
Something better
And push on
To new places

If I were to ask the sea
She would sigh and laugh
And perhaps reply

Life has no beginning
It has no end

If I were to ask the moon
It would say

Shine brightly while you can
For light fades to darkness
And all is changing

And if I were to ask the winds
They would moan and tell me

That is for you to find out
17th July 2016
 Jul 2016 kian
Joel David Liscio
You.

That's all I really need to say
Not much more
but I guess
it would be good form
if I
elaborate.

Sense we've met
never once
have you been wrong .

That's a little different than being right.
Let me explain:

Being right means you actually fought
for
something
or
in your case
....anything....

Which you haven't.

Everyone wants to believe that
love
in all its
wonder
is actually
worth fighting for.

I've yet to see it.

Silent opposition
is a lie.

Now
being wrong...
that's a whole other story.

That means you put forth effort
and somehow
in some
way
shape or
form
failed!

You can't fail unless you try
unless you fight
unless you oppose those
trying desperately
to steal your
dreams.  

So
you can't be wrong
because
like so many other things
silent opposition
is
a
LIE!

You're welcome


I hope you find this
so you can
silently oppose it
and waste
more time worrying
about things that don't matter.
 Jul 2016 kian
Speaking Sorrow
I’ve been writing words
Alone, in the early hours
Of the morn.
But every time I do
They always just turn
Into letters to you,

And I,

I know I made mistakes
But you know we all do.
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