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At times
The rain relentlessly rains
And might seem never
Never to rain once again
But it does,

At times
The sun incessantly shines
And might seem never
Never to shine once again
But it does,

At times
The moon dims its light
And might seem never
Never to shine once again
But it does,

At times
Stars effulgently shine
And might seem never
Never to shine once again
But they do,

At times
The wind relentlessly whistles
And might seem never
Never to whistle once again
But it does,

At times
Life is circuitous
And might seem never
Never to be straight once again
But it will,

At times
You're at a low ebb
And might seem never
Never to hold a penny once again
But you will,

At times
You're engulfed in doldrums
And might seem never
Never to be solaced once again
But you will,

At times
You're drenched in despair
And hope might seem never
Never to come your way once again
But it will,

At times
You wail
And might seem never
Never to smile once again
But you will,

At times
You're heart broken
And might seem never
Never to love once again
But you will,

At  times
You're lonely
And might seem never
Never to be happy once again
But you will,

At times  
You're lover parts from you
And might seem never
Never to be the same once again
But you will,

At times
Your're in a daze
And might seem never
Never to know whats right once again
But you will,

At times
Failure engulfs you
And success might seem never
Never to come your way once again
But it will,

Every thing will
Just on cue.
#Hope
At the end of a hill there is a ***** hence never despair in life.
The best is yet to come your way whilst you keep the faith that everything will at last be alright despite hardships. 
Only then you shall have failure vanquished.
 Jul 2015
Sherry Asbury
Old women are forgotten wombs
whose graceless bodies have fed the world,
then been sent to sit in its shadows...
not quite seen, unacknowledged
and without nurture.

Old women are crucified with the nails
of oppression and poverty.
Invisibility swallows them when
age freckles out-number the fresh
patches of youth.

Old women have scarred and calloused
knees from kneeling in submission to
lesser minds that felt bigger for the
looking down.

A rosary of sorrows is strung through
the weary fingers of old women.
They are hung on the crucifix of youth
and beauty to wither into dust.

Old women have crabbed and ruined toes
from shoes worn too long - that a child
might have new ones.
Alone in cubicles or corners, frayed photos
beneath their coats, old women remember
children that have long forgotten them.

Old women do not seek a man’s arms...
for that is not a refuge, but a honeyed trap
where souls are flayed and burned.

Old women talk to themselves because
no  one else has ears to hear, or words to share.
Even their echoes are faint and whispered.

Such wondrous minds...libraries of living life,
vision and experience...left untouched because
they are not behind a pretty face.

Behold the woman....she is a wealth of wisdom
and power, beauty and courage - to those
wise enough to touch her power.

Her reckoning will come...

Until then - she endures.
From a series of poems written about old women not fortunate enough to have the wealth or stamina to keep themselves fashionable.
 Jul 2015
Mike Hauser
I'd love to be your room
The one that you run to
To get away from the stress life makes
The room that makes you feel safe

I'd love to be the golden ****
The first and last thing that you touch
In your comings and your goings
Where you'd feel safe under my lock

I'd also like to be the key
That opens up that door
Or where you lay to paint your nails
Just to be the floor

Oh to be the window seat
That you sit upon
As you look out on the day
Dreaming of the one you love

To even be the vanity mirror
The one that holds your gaze
The music from your stereo
When your favorite song is played

The sheets on your bed, your pillow too
All of this and so much more
What's most comfortable for you
Is why I'd love to be your room
 Jul 2015
SøułSurvivør
---

4 AM

the sky
dappled and wet
like a dark horse rode hard

spread branches of trees
dead black like bone and veins
etched in relief on its withers

stars like sparks flying
from its hooves

the moon a bullet hole
in its flanks
rendered in

photograpic
reverse



soulsurvivor
(C) 7/6/2015
missing you
 Jun 2015
The Whisper
Guns are expensive.
Pills take too long.
I can't tie a noose.
So what's the use?
I'll light up a smoke
and smile as I die.
I found peace under a willow tree,
A state of mind only for the tree and me to be:
Our sweet noisy silence of serenity.

The shadow of a wing covers me
A blanket to answer my call
Feeling
Permeating
And surrounding us all
With understanding

Yes, its true I found peace under a willow tree
The sweet silent noise of our totality
You can be there too,
Seek solace
Sanctuary
Serenity
 Jun 2015
ern kingham
I remember the first time someone explained to me what the word gay meant.
We were in middle school
Playing on the swing set behind Stoy Elementary
"He’s so gay," she said
Bitter disgust poured out of her mouth with every syllable
I could not think as to why being happy could be such a horrible thing
And so I asked
My exact words being
“Whats so wrong with being happy?”
Now both my friends looked at me weird
“Don’t you know what gay means?”
“Doesn’t it mean to be happy?”
“You’re such a little kid, gay does not mean happy. Gay is a boy who likes another boy”
I stood there wondering why it mattered so much that a boy liked another boy;
why it was such a distasteful thing.
And why it meant gay couldn’t still mean happy.
Reposting this because equal marriage on the U.S. Now!!
sings a bird in the open
sings too a caged bird

one to forget the pain
the other to make its freedom heard.
 Jun 2015
Jeremy
-
The stars won't appear,
When they know you're about,
Because it's you who they fear,
Knowing they can't glow as loud.
I like Netflix
And poems
And i bet ppl judge from my dp
 Jun 2015
Alice Baker
I see his name and my stomach plummets
Not in the way it used to
Not in the way that made my face glow
And my knees weak

Its sinking
Screaming
The blood drains from my face
And I gasp for air.
 Jun 2015
Megan Kendall
I believe
That we become stars
Part of constellations

We watch as everyone goes on
And they have no idea that we're watching
Beautiful
But lonely

Planets thrive around us
Full of life and new adventures

From death
We create new life
And it isnt so lonely anymore

— The End —