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A pace of life.
A metronome is set.
To rush with a crowd.
Or walk alone.
Or in-between.
Resetting the metronome.
There is too much verbal
Hate in this world.
Which results in physical
Hate in this world.
Cause and affect.
The ripple affects afterwards.
With doings that cannot
Physically be undone.
After the fact.
Everyone knows this.
But the people who
Live these damaged lives
Would never wish
It upon anyone.
When everyone knows
The inevitable outcome
Of war is peace.
(or extinction)
Everyone should be intelligent
Enough to never start any.
Every person carries their own
Legacy of lies and
Possible untruths.
To live with unknowing possibilities.
Some structures are ceaselessly
Being formed with needless
Complexities
To barrier communication and
Understanding.
It’s still great to be alive, don’t forget to breathe (air).
A poem written in the mid 2000's from a self published book - 'Poetry from the wilderness years { Or slices of thoughts and emotions :-{}' - I added one edit line today. Background to poem - living in the country side at the time - still abusing drugs and alcohol - nearest village was a mile or two's walk away and i had no transport but that meant the walk to the village was beautiful but then having to jump into 'human active space' after previously just being around mind settling nature used to inspire heightened senses of fear and I could feel my mental state disintegrating often but what can you do but struggle on (or break down and be hospitalised)  - if my memory serves me - in the end I didnt want to leave the house/room I existed within and even my own thoughts of human interaction really frightened me - luckily enough a cousin down the road had a pet dog - Luka - a beautiful animal and I was asked to mind him some evenings/days/nights - I think this was the start of me coming back into 'your normal usual human society' - still now I can reread this and see the hints of my general paranoia to the whole world outside - I still think mental institutions should have organised and 100% supervised animal therapy visits if possible - it would help bring your thoughts out of your own head and into another truely non-judgemental animal form and can definitely ease anguished souls/minds/bodies. Cheers - will try to post a few more poems from this collection over the next few weeks but with hopefully some happier themes (I didnt really write about insanity during this collection because my confidence was in minus figures :-)  )
 Jul 2015
Mark Parker
The world continues spin
even when all noise ends.
Skipping like a broken record,
dancing to the same tune over
over over over.....
A play on an old poem of mine. You wouldn't find it on here.
 Jul 2015
brandon nagley
Sometimes,
When we cometh
Us angels afterward's must goeth.....
And though we seeketh not to leaveth...

It's only for those humans
To open up and believeth....
 Jul 2015
N Paul
Introduction:
What is *Preludium
but a time to reflect on what it is we know;
What has gone before, and how it might shape those things to come?

Preludium, or, what has gone before:
An entire world,
A great big steaming musty living breathing screaming world and-
For all we know-
There’s but two souls that care to fill it:

Sly Squint, our latest hero,
Swinging through his city like t’were a steaming jungle
And him the proverbial Ape,
He crouches in shadows on rooftops,
Directing his lust, forceful! At all
That kneels before him.

Then there’s our mysterious wanderer-
One hell of a sorry, stinking, sulky sort is he.
No Name to claim yet garbed in rags aplenty
Travelling on an endless quest
Towards a dying dusk.

Yet we need to draw a Third.
See, in this strange place we find ourselves, riddled with danger and loss,
We need one who knows some things;
One who is up there;
Better yet, one who helped to shape this world.
Because for now we are clueless, vulnerable, shambling in darkness.
And that will simply not do.

So, with haste, dear reader, with haste,
Let us ride for the one with the answers;
The one with more Names than you can count, even if you had a lifetime in which to do so;

The one who holds all the strings.
The Preludium (a sort of 'previously on') to Part 3 of an ongoing series - The Stealing of Names.

If it piqued your curiosity, be sure to check out the entire story so far in this collection:
http://hellopoetry.com/collection/10685/the-stealing-of-names/
Remember to follow the collection as it's the best way to stay up to date on the adventures!

Also check out the rest of my work on my profile:
http://hellopoetry.com/l-n-p/
And follow if it interests you!

All feedback welcome. This is an evolving story based on both improv writing and reader feedback so if you have ideas leave a comment or message me!
 Jul 2015
brandon nagley
Humbled
I boweth mine knee,
Seeking one
To taketh me to interdimensional rocketings....

Blasting off
In hott sensuality!!!
 Jun 2015
Lauren Leal
Can be so painful, but I find myself wanting more.
Once experienced, it's like a drug.
 Jun 2015
Ameliorate
Rising, like a Phoenix out of the ashes.
Burning  the skies strike a match to the tarmac.
Holy water, sprinkle a dose on your sins;
Remember not to let the poison win.
A short little blurb
 Jun 2015
Rare but Relevant
She is cold, pale, wet and tired.
She is the same on the inside as she is the outside,
and she will forever stay that way.

Maybe she could be something more.
Except something stands in her way.
You and everyone else that surrounds her.

She is popular.
She has friends.
She makes mistakes.
She is not forgiven.

Maybe if she didn't make mistakes then they would see.
They would see how true and pure she really is.
That is only a dream of hers.
A dream that shall not come true.

She then stares at a sink of blood and crushed veneers.
What has she become?  
She used to be filled with love.
It must of been skinny love.
Love that was fragile, love that did not last.

She looks at her reflection in the mirror and sees nothing.
Then she soon realizes that it’s always been nothing.
She’s been stuck between four walls with no doors, and no windows.
In those walls there is nothing and she is nothing.
This is my first poem. I apologize if it's not good. I have just got the interest in writing poems and I have a lot to learn.
 Jun 2015
Chris


The morning sun
     in your hair,
  a new blue dress,
geraniums blooming
  on a terra cotta veranda,
    a sparkling mimosa
  in your hand,
   pelicans float silently
  above melodic
     aqua marine waves...
Yet, all I see is your
  eternal deep brown eyes,
    for perfect beauty
  is what I seek
*on this morning
Good morning beautiful
 Jun 2015
Natalia mushara
Tink I needs a break
My own essence breaks.
 Jun 2015
niamh
The clouds hug
The diamonds of night sky
Possessively
Like a jealous lover
So none other may
Look upon their beauty
And so I am left with
Harsh synthetic light.
No substitute
 Jun 2015
brandon nagley
Mine heart fluttering
Pivotal to all feeling
Mine scepter is beating
Like a drum of tribal momentous,
I crawl as a beast to belly
Tasting soot and ash
Mine aorta sliced in half
As a serial killer to mine trauma.........
Shalt one feeleth such anguish?
I relish the good times
Yet bad seem more good to me
Since I'm soo used to it
Yet,
I shalt not be broken
Mine catena's hath been hacksawed
For now freedom hath wrapped mine heavied head
Gratis instead.......
I shalt not be one to be left to the wind
As if I'm just its fatal breeze
Tis I'm me
And unearhtly shower of blessed beauty
Raining fiery hott
On old lit cities....  
Mine marvel plateau do I awaiteth....
Wherein I shalt be noticed
Not flicked aside
As the trash of the earth!!!!
Not for noone just wonderful masterpiece (:
 Jun 2015
LoveLy
I sat in the dark and listened to music that felt the way I did.
I sat in the dark and looked at poems and quotations for those in the same dark place I was in.
I sat in the dark and wished for the pain to stop....Because months before i had sat in the the dark and thought the pain had ended....I was wrong.

I sat in the dark and wished for him to be mine.
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