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 May 2016
Rapunzoll
most nights
i'm only loving you
in fragments,
i'm only loving
you in death

i wander your
mind like a child in
search of it's mother,
but you were
orphanages
not loving homes

only drugs can
compare to
the feeling of
disillusion
i had when i was
with you.

i love you,
i crave
you
© copyright
 May 2016
David Ehrgott
one little poem
can heal a hurt
one little poem
in the pocket of a shirt

a shirt that's ripped
with a spot of dirt
has a poem in its pocket
that could heal a hurt

a hurt can't heal
if a heart can't hear
the words of the poem
that create the cure

the cure for the hurt
it begins with a verse
but you need to read the words
so the cure can be heard

be heard all ye poets
check the pocket of your shirts
and speak of the poem
that can heal a hurt

a hurt can be healed
by the power of a verse
one little poem
in the pocket of your shirt
 Apr 2016
Aeerdna
I cannot find the words to answer your lines,
it's been years since my skin touched yours at night
it's been a long night with no dreams
I am poor when it comes to writing about memories
and though our roads are separated now
you're still in some of the glasses I have
and in the cigarettes filling up my lungs.

I loved you the way I love
the sun touching me with its golden lights
the way I love waves crushing the shore at night
I had you with all my body
and with all the light
I was able to hold inside.

You had a way of digging in my heart
and make bluebirds fly in my evening sky
you were in my coldest nights
the blanket covering my heart.

time has passed and I know,
feelings get older everytime the moon shows her pale light
but believe me when I say
in my mind there are still memories
calling your name.

I'll keep you in the drawer of my mind
you've made me cry and you've made me smile
all in all we are just an ash blowing in the wildest wind
I loved you, I hope you know,
but it is time for us
to find another sun
another glass of poison
from which we'll drink and cheer
till in our dreams
we'll die under the  layers of our skins

I am sorry, dear,
but we had to pack our things
before destroying our souls,
I am sorry the love we shared so painfully died

I still hope you know
that
I loved you

the ghost of your name still haunts me sometimes
I know you still love me
and I wish one night
you'll find some other dreams to live inside
https://youtu.be/ZfW4-nP2G1Q
 Apr 2016
Stephan
Faded faces on a poster,
smeared lipstick and messed up hair,
burglarized of their dreams
by a modern day masquerade
A lonely disguise pleading endless attention,
outstretched hands offering peace,
playing house beneath the dinette
draped in crocheted tablecloths
calling to the foolish
with pretty words
and overused catch phrases

Offering tainted tea and stale biscuits,
chuckling behind faux teardrops
painted pale blue for effect,
luring the helpless,
promising friendship,
pinky rings and throw pillows
softening the blow
before bearing claws, ripping flesh,
shredding hopeful hearts
till ****** remains drip
into little grey circles
of vacant farewells
 Apr 2016
Rapunzoll
i like angry poetry
the kind that churns
in your gut,
with razors for teeth
and gums bleeding.
i like the violent sound
of verbs clashing
on a decaying page,
like the shot of a gun
on a quiet day.
i like the poetry that stays,
that lies in waiting
like a dog in a cage,
words that creep like
voided birds into the
wired tress of my brain,
that pay their rent
like drunken travelers
and trash the place.
i like angry poetry
the kind that sears it's
screams to my lips,
which spirit echoes and
moans for eager,
****** eyes.
words that hit like *****,
giving their reader
a killer hangover.
i like angry poetry,
the kind that leave you
with a smoky exit.
© copyright
 Apr 2016
Aeerdna
I hope you'll write me letters
from the land
where poetry always dances in front of your eyes
and music never dies.

You left without any notice
no word goodbye
you flew in a second
when I thought you were feeling alive.

You left me with the memories
of some drunk nights
when we were stupid and young
and didn't know
that life is just a dream
of the everlasting death.

Now I am sitting next to your forever bed
feeling the cold ground
and dreaming
about one more day
some last words
a kiss on the forehead
your bright eyes
shining upon mine.

and I wish
you could hear me as I whisper amongst tears  

"I hope you'll write me letters..."
'cause you were the one I could find myself in whenever I'd feel lost.
 Apr 2016
Traveler
I lost her voice in silence
In the breaking of the dawn
In depths of white noise whisper
She quietly sleeps on...

Would you trade
For a better way
Or is familiar what you seek
The perfect placement
Of every footstep
On a path
That's on the brink

The road you know
Of jackals and trolls
Do you aimlessly commit
To a limited roll
Where the soul never grows
In orthodox conclusions
Of those old myths

Let her sleep
The harlot's beast
These institutions
Of trapped minds
The establishment
Of government
Has left their souls
Behind...
 Apr 2016
lluvia de abril
After you left
                         I moved to a bigger house
as if I needed more space for my thoughts of you
as if I had the strength to
remember you

I measured the size of each room
and touched every corner
                of that tremendous place
                trying to guess how many moments
                how many of our early mornings
                                                       in embrace
                                                       it would take
                      to repel the shadows of emptiness
                      to turn the color and shade of my contempt

I opened each window
and closed my eyes, shutting out the
                wailing of a so tired heart
                holding the silence
                                              in all its weight
That day, I listened for the sound of your steps -in case you remembered to return what was once everything to me.
 Mar 2016
Sjr1000
Perpetual generations
Perpetual retaliation

The walking wounded
Wounded walk

Inflicting wounds
Through words
And
Sparks

Break the cycle
When
You
Can

Healing glimpses
Nature's land
Sorrow filled
&
Sorrowful

Forgiveness
Not forgetting
A comforting
Daily blanket
For the
Wounded soul
Whose
Commitment
Is
To
No more
Wounds to go.
 Mar 2016
A Lopez
Some poets will
W
   R
  I
T
  E,
Just for the
F
A
M
E.
Having
To
Send
Requests,
For someone
To like their poem's
Again. They'll befriend,
And put on a smile,
While asking by inbox
'Can you share my poesía for a while'.
Yet poesía isn't inboxing
To get a quick like,
That's just new
Age poesía, sickening to my
Dislike, I understand if one
Wants to get known,
Though just send us your
poesía, other poet's who like it
Will surely make you known.
I will speak out
Against this invasion-------of the sending and begging
For the liking
For the gain of many's
Own self wanting ambitions.
I will no longer share
Anyone's writes
Who beg for me to share,
If one has to beg
poesía isn't your fair.
Noone else will speak out
So I will do dare.
Poesía, if we like
We'll click and we'll compare.
Poesía isn't sending a write
To every rhymester and
Imploring. Poesía shares itself
In the world of poetry
That's been mourning.
So please I ask kindly
No more entreating me with inboxed writes,
If others like, we will share
As we're together
In this fight.
I have seen noone speak out on this I don't hate anyone who does this though it happens to me alot and know it does with so many people, there are a few here that the only reason they do get a like, is by sending their poesìa to every man and woman here, and to be honest that isn't poesìa, it has nothing to do with trolling as many have sickeningly called me that, this has to do with poetry as a whole. In poesía if anyone studies old world poetry the will see the best poets who ever existed never considered themselves as poets, and never asked or wanted anyone to like their poems, they just wrote to their little hearts content. And people years later decided -hey- these speakers are amazing and made for the world of poesía, I have no issue sharing ones piece that isn't known, or wants to get themselves on their feet. Though to be honest, my inbox is filled with more than one person, many know who they are, that send us daily on a scheduled basis, the poems they create, and say please read, meaning you got to give it a like, as why many get the popular votes on hellopoetry, while the unknown artist starves and doesn't get one daily or even a view . let's stand up to this. Yet respect those doing it. And letting them know poesía isn't begging for a like, it's helping another out in this community by sharing.
Gracias

Quick note taken
If get unfollowed or unliked for stating facts, OK with me. I will still continue to like their writes, if I like their poems and choose to do so. If one doesn't like my poesía for this, I say oh well, and won't exchange hate for hate, but replace hate with love. And share others writes that deserve to be shared . even if they don't like mine. Every poet has their own preference. =D
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