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 May 2015 blythe
Mercurychyld
Only you can translate
where you are
on your voyage through
this varied farce
called “life”.

No one else can dictate
to you…
or should even dare…
how to phrase
your feelings,
your thoughts,
your personal moments.

Who is anyone to
cause another to feel
inept or inferior
for wording their
experiences as they will?

We are all both
audience and poet,
consumed by the
powerful spell of words
and meaning
we are bonded
in ink.

It takes gumption
and courage
to give voice to
your vision of
the world.

It often requires
resilience and nerve
to open your heart
and peel back the
layers of skin,
and let others take
a long look at the
inner workings of YOU.

Be brave,
take courage,
let your soul speak
in its very own
language.

People will read
your words and
listen to the sweet
whispers
and thunderous shouts
that flow from pens
and keys
to release the
inner demons and angels
and the lyrical
vines that bloom and live
in our individual
landscapes,

fluidly coursing from
our own rabbit holes
with fortitude and grace
and our neverlands,
where we need never
grow up,

to share with those
that need to see
and hear and feel
and wonder.


-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
 May 2015 blythe
Àŧùl
Damn she is so cute,
Resting so gorgeous,
Off I take my eyes,
Not able to touch yet,
And I long for her.

Where I lost my sanity,
Amritsar was the name,
Saved I have been now.

Lot of things known,
Or all was unknown,
Shall never drown,
Then I forgot my town.

In her city is lost my heart,
Now painting the lovely art.

Kind & cute she is,
Royal & loyal too,
In all of these days,
Putting in love ink,
I**t is a poetic fable.
Thankfully, I am not known as anyone else anymore.
That girl was surely very creepy.

My HP Poem #871
©Atul Kaushal
 May 2015 blythe
Seán Mac Falls
.
Light as air, windy, freshly,
As music, wafting with sun,
Through an open window,
In sleepy choir that beams
Are birds, wistful, warmly
In faraway song, arriving
With new day and gardens
Quake, little wings, starting
Things in flowers, colourings,
Which are strummed by touch
Of airs and light and new day,
She wakes and earth sings.
 May 2015 blythe
Cold-Bones
insomniac to the weight of regret          
           I'm inclined to withhold.
 May 2015 blythe
Cold-Bones
Decency is very  immaculate.
Yet these women lack it.
Showing so much skin that the men can probably taste it.
These men  insinuate women into *** objects.
But pushing them
to become a despised icon.
Now a days reputation seems to be the stereo type.
Males are pigs waiting to be slaughtered.
Girls will rant consistently about how they use and manipulate them.
Yet you live up to being a back porch baby,
as well show off those curves anonymously for lustful eyes.
False alarms wont save them. Cause they burn their own bridges.
Yet others wear  their pride
and keep what most are not aware of, which is class.
Women who stay loyal to the core and Share their soul with nothing but a Heart full of
ravishing intentions are indeed very rare.
Beauty that would petrify you were you are standing.
A delightful dream
that you're scared you will wake up and suffer society's standards of a female.
The lesson of this is nice guys finish last.
My amazing charm and mentality of a gentlemen is ignorantly ignored.
Nothing but remorse can be felt with this situation with them.
Sorry that they will never feel the vibrations
of the overrated word named "love".
Things that would make Hester Prynne disgusted.
But in all words,
my sail with no compass will not be over.
The storms might get heavy periodically, but then the waves will sail properly in my favor.
My search will be fulfilled
So on this long sail I'll never acknowledge these indescent
sirens.
So when they pass  "X" will mark the spot.
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