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Tracing the outline of your scars
Is like reading your soul.
The stories they can tell.
Just more parts to your whole.
Never cover them,
Do not be ashamed
Your scars show the truth
Of life filled with love and pain.
They are a part of you,
What makes you truly whole
I'll trace the outline of each scar
To better understand your soul.
For a friend.
You know who you are. :)
 Oct 2014
KA
THE day began as many before, the normal fog rolling through my mind.

hiding feelings, scampering evil hiding.......

BUT then mid day the sun slowly lifted up over my head and I was basking in the potential of the me and the day.

alive . finally alive. born as myself...finally.
 Oct 2014
Xan Abyss
A light in the dark shadows burn with a spark that ignites to a bright shining flame. The dead lie in groves of lost winter souls that wander with visionless aim. A rising relief ensues in the reef of the green and colorless gold. A raven takes flight in the deep death of night to escape from the black hell of old.
These wandering, murmuring, children of god storm wrath from the heavens and **** what is good. Devour the light as they drain all the life from the world we once called our brood.
Take us away. Drain us, defame us.
A whisper in the void.
Take us away, lock us away, **** us.
A whisper in the void.
Psychonatural Antichrist, bleeding the truth from false prophets. Summoning hellfire, demonic intrigue, desecration and violence. Infernal release, a smiling god weeps and a glare of rage seeps from beneath.
In an eternal sea of stones will they forever reap.
Death will be paid to the ones he learns to hate.
Black velvet draped across the coffin of grace.
Take us away, far and away.
A whisper in the void.
Take us away to destroy and remake.
A whisper in the void.
A whisper in the void.
Enter the darkness. Into the abyss. Far away. Thermonuclear enslavior.
Stay awake. Remaining.
Give your soul to the unknown, bleed into the black night air. The savior will come soon, to take you to His room, and liberate you from despair.
Suffocate quickly, quietly. Swiftly, so no one may hear you, or catch you dying. Slip away faster and faster the tighter you squeeze the noose around your neck.
Give yourself away. Death is your escape. Death does not betray like life will.
Give yourself to they, the keepers of the fade with intent to save and desecrate. And as they say, they will be they, and they will **** and humiliate. Break you down, drag you around, deny, defy and utilize. Every last bit will wallow in **** from the hate you created and ate from.
Suffer in pain, annihilation.
A whisper in the void.
Burn alone, in isolation.
A whisper in the void.
A whisper in the void.
A whisper...
Stream of consciousness piece from two year ago. Have fun trying to figure it out, I know I do.
 Oct 2014
Haydn Swan
What is it we see and so often despise,
when we view ourselves using only the eyes,
that distorted image inside our head,
the old snakes skin that we’d like to shed,

dare we look from behind the frame,
beyond the self-loathing, repulsion and shame,
our vesture is woven from the beauty inside,
so take on its mantel and wear it with pride.
I wrote this for anyone who struggles with accepting how they see themselves in the mirror, which is often very different to how others see us.  It sounds like a cliche but beauty really is what we are on the inside.
**
** will never write poetry
His senses are too occupied
With his surround’s passing scenery
Holding them in gaze wide eyed!

** has no time to think and write
Letting so much meanwhile pass him
Not counting the sleeping hours of night
Eyes’ plenty to fill him to brim!

** can’t spend whiles typing away
While the sky turns her blue into red
Can’t afford to waste an already short day
Counting words creating riddles in his head!

** is too busy to set his mind
On begetting inky wordy ***** poem
With nature calling him to see and find
The beauty of the morn in sun flame!
If at all I reach that age

would I retain my faculty
my vision to read a book’s page!

If and when I reach that time
would my mind be still that keen
could this hand pen a few more rhyme
this ink could some tales spin!

Would you still surround me
light my path like north star
or leaving me with my poetry
you would be then gone far!

How would I feel at ninety
contented fully fulfilled?
or sitting alone and empty
only death each breath would will!
 Oct 2014
SG Holter
I fear no living thing, nor dead.
No monsters hide beneath my bed.
I've heard and seen my share
Of ghosts. I find them harmless;

More than most of all that
Walks and thinks and breathes,
That carries blades or guns, and
Bleeds. But all I find a fright to be

Is resting deep inside of me.
There's Weakness there, it's hiding
Well, it's cunning, slippery, strong
As hell. There's Fury too; a

Juggernaut -awakened by a single
Thought. But enemy to them is Soul,  
Its agent's name is Self Control.
It cages them with Love and Care,

And ties them down with
Self-Aware.
 Oct 2014
Traveler
Lazy little dancer
She leans on me and sways
I hold her in the depth of night
And lose her in the day

Lazy little dancer
I feel her spirit yawn
I wake her when it's time to go
My longing heart sleeps on

Lazy little dancer
She leans into the wind
Her sorrow is a part of me
Until I sleep again...
Traveler Tim
re po
 Oct 2014
Poetic T
My
Mind
Bleeds
Many
Thoughts,
&
Paper is the plaster
 Oct 2014
Just Melz
The written word
Should help us heal
All it does is hurt
By stating what we feel

It's confusing, reading scribbles
Knowing the authors heart
Realizing it means nothing
Typing your soul apart

The ink splashed on paper
Not really meaning a thing
Just random rants
About absolutely nothing

Expressing your heart
Exposing your pain
To the cruelness of people
With nothing to gain

But hurting your soul
And bruising your mind
Someone who expresses truth
Is way too hard to find

In this blank world
Where feelings are condemned
Tears are weakness
It's just better to pretend
 Oct 2014
Jack
~

Chalked up to experience
erasers pounding in a sea of dust
     white marks on black thoughts
over and under the text book meanings
  torn pages litter lost feelings
     and no one cares what the teacher’s name is
as the bell rings and hallways fill
  with empty stares and blank expressions
          dialing forgotten combinations
*of locker stashed dreams
 Oct 2014
K Balachandran
In my deep state of awareness
an apparition strikingly similar
in form to me in many ways appears,
"What are you looking behind me still?
I am an ancestor of ancient, in your linage,
countless generations before"I hear the words
"But I see myself far behind you too
we are all one, so no confusion in multitudes
my quest for noumenon has only begun,
isn't it what you tell? Time to break loose,
from all the illusory identities, bindings.Adieu"
Past and future are inherent in present; no other time is there other than present.What we in our ignorance perceive as many is in fact one..
Go deep down in self , meditate, all dualities  will merge.
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