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 Nov 2015 Javi Claycombe
ryn
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A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's the tears that trickle with radiance through words.
     It's a treasure trove that hides but longs to
     be found.
          It's a book shelved high that wants to
          be read.
               It's the freest of all birds caged but
               unbound...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't beat to the capable strokes of the artist.
     It doesn't pump in the most vibrant of
     colours.
          It doesn't wield a paintbrush to
          translate its thoughts.
               But it can see through the eyes of
               painters...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't conform to the conventional parameters of lyrics.
     It doesn't bind itself to the requirements
     of musical harmony.
          It doesn't follow the conventions of
          genres.
               But it sings its voice loud without
               restrictions of melody...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's an open secret, that whispers in metaphoric codes.
     It's an exploding universe, that merges
     back into galaxies.
          It's a sought after painting, that boasts
          of unfathomable beauty.
               It's an everlasting song, that echoes
               within the poet that embodies...
.
Dedicated to all of you...

If you're reading this...
This is for you...
.
I feel so useless,
so unappreciated,
over looked by most people.
Its like they dont notice the little things I do or say,
When I scream, no one looks,
Its like im a ghost in this crowded room.
Even when I act out, no one gets angry,
at the words I say.
police brutality.
no humanity.
Its like the weak are left alone but strong never grow.
seeing my reflection in a clear pool,
but not recognizing why I am here.
But when I say out loud im not happy,
all of a sudden im left alone,
but when I smile im flooded by hands
trying to grab on to my soul.
A man may drink, but not get drunk.
He may fight, but he may not loose.
Welcomed back with flowers and screams,
but no one really knows why he is back
and when he says goodnight.
its alright.
because every one thinks that goodnight doesnt mean goodbye
 Nov 2015 Javi Claycombe
Born
Sometimes I write words that I think are perfect and mighty

but when I read your words ,they ******* me ,they make me feel like a nonsense trying to make sense

They make me Wonder, why should i call  me a poet
With words that don't rhyme  
or flow

But again I believe that this words are perfect and mighty
they gave me hope
I found peace whenever I wrote them
I floated like a feather and forgot my permanent scars
with these words am a Knight and a hero
what are you with your words
You are standing in the alley
Smoking a cigarette
You hear my voice but you can´t hear me
I smell the alcohol on your breath
Your arm is reaching for my waist
Your kiss has that bitter aftertaste
Your blurry vision slowly has me erased
I leave you feeling like life is going to waste

I don´t think you changed, I just think I closed my eyes
Holding on to hope as I watched the smoke rise
Just love isn't enough for me anymore
I can't be your freedom and your cure

You are standing in the alley
Smoking a cigarette
You can drown your sorrows, but I can't drown my feelings
You pour alcohol down your throat until it stings
You hear my voice but you can´t hear me say goodbye
You drank all the alcohol money could buy
Your blurry vision slowly has me erased
As I'm walking away from what you chose to embrace

I don´t think you changed, I just think I closed my eyes
and I know it was real cause you regretted all your lies
Just love isn't enough for me anymore
Your cigarette burns out and drops to the floor
I got inspired by songs on the radio.
Copyright @ Johanna Magdalena
Alone I stood, against the stare of death
With head to head, I felt its gruesome breath
Its fixing crimson eyes igniting mine
Its scythe around my neck, which drew this line

I walk with pride, although the scar is seen
By everyone in every place I've been
Although I could give up, somehow I feel,
there are some tasks I must and shall fulfill

The urgent need of many things to toss
The cursed demons I have come across
As I have let them slowly drain my soul
So shall I use what's left to make them fall


*Iambic Redemption by João Massada is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
T'was my first serious attempt at iambic pentameter, hence the name :D
i wish
i were as brave as the rain
because
they are not afraid to
fall


©IGMS
when there is no one there to catch them...




they are the strongest, bravest and
saddest things I've known :(

PS:
-the thought "the rain are not afraid to fall" were not from me . :)
 Oct 2015 Javi Claycombe
r
Listen, it's a beautiful thing
when distilled to its essence;
reduced to its purest form.
A paradox and a paradigm;
a paragon of perfection.
Epic in its arythmetic
progression; poetic.
Like Chinese arithmetic,
so hard it hurts. Yet soft
and exquisite, like a bubble
of love caught in a beating heart.
That place where poetry starts.
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