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 Aug 2015 Stella
Eccedentesiast
I said I didn't care
I said I'm happy
I said I'm fine
I said I could live without you
I said I didn't love you

...But I lied
heartaches be like
 Aug 2015 Stella
Christina Maria
Sensitivity of my mind
frights
Hurt
in a snap
Feel my heart quake
Sinking into the core
Negative words
show a fear
Crying many tears
One comment
Fail to stay strong
Sensitive mind-
sensitive heart
don't make for positive response
Loner most frequently
from negativity
 Aug 2015 Stella
rained-on parade
We have lived our lives on clotheslines
and antiquities; I carry my home
in the soles of your shoes:

home is where you are,
and happiness is where my arms
always find yours in the dark.
-
cause loving  is the best part of falling
cause falling is the painful part of waiting
cause waiting is the best part of hoping
and hoping is the painful part of bleeding*

©IGMS
 Jul 2015 Stella
rained-on parade
Today I wrote a song about your teeth.
They are crooked and imperfect.
Just like this. Our hands. And these
songbirds are all liars. We haven’t learned.
Flesh memory is overrated. Last night
I felt the linen, and it whispered to me
nothing. Not even the shape of you
reminds me of happiness. What is the use
of these metaphors if they can’t
beautify you anymore. No longer as fierce
as the inferno I allowed you to become.
Drowning in bedclothes, trying to understand how streams of consciousness
are becoming bodies of water. Today
I wrote a song about your teeth. And I
read it aloud to the voiceless, and now
they know what love tastes like.
Does hating your own art make you a better artist, or just stranger to your own hands?
 Jul 2015 Stella
rained-on parade
Under the clouds of hope
I married your kind eyes with the faith
of a million flowers bringing
back the spring
to the wild gardens
of my left atrium. I swear
I did not know that you were born
of rain and alcohol, because every one
of your touch could douse the flames
your kisses light on my skin.
I tried to write more about how every
time you said the word “halo”, your mouth
would curl like a serpent waiting to attack;
how your hands always were a warm
reminder of thoughtless touching;
how your feet are tired from all the walking
down flights of a paradox of stairs
and still wanting to run
away with me.
No longer the wind on my face.
Mutual destruction,
    ultimately assured
      by complicit lovers
   who pursue duplicity
 Jul 2015 Stella
brandon nagley
The cop's cameth into his poetical room
Pills were scattered in that moribund tomb....

The young man's body was **** on the floor
Like a baby he was once again rebirthed....

Poem's spread all abroad,
As the boy's veins were pumped by ****** cause.....

His eyelid's still open to see,
But he's now joined his ghost family.....

The spirit's sat and watched the cop's
Whilst the boy was with them and God.....

Mum and dad cying a sorrowful tune
Singing hymns of the depressed and the blue's....

The young man left a note on his bed,
Telling them he Gaveth all his love, and the one he loved left him bled...

He was scholar of the angelic ones,
Now he floats somewhere by the sun....

The only romantic around,
A poe enthusiast, Shakespherian amare clown.....

And because he hath given his all,
His expectations were broke as his wall.. .

The coroner brought the Hearse
At thirteen the boy was CURSED.....

Now twenty-seven he hadst let go,
He wasn't meant for this world anymore.....

In his time he saw who was worldly and not,
And through this time it was him they forgot...

He preached love of the star's above,
Now he returned with immaculate love....

His journey and strife was over far gone,
So he left in a hurry to his own song....

He feeleth no remorse, nor guilt,
Who wouldst with such wordly nilch...

At the funeral the crowd packed inside and wrapped around the block, he was more loved, just the demons made him think not...

People cameth he hath not seen in year's,
He was in the room with them, shedding some tear's....

He forgaveth them long ago,
It want them, just this place wasn't his home...

Though the ones whom he watched below,
Didint understand that or even know....

Now he's dressed in a celestial earthly black,
Wherein inside him the universe doth match.....

A halo he weareth once again,
Because in his past life he kneweth it wasn't his end....

But he continues to spread his amour',
To the lost, suicidal, and murdered galore....

He writes poem's now for God,
Wherein he belongs, no reason to sob.....

As everyone left his funeral room,
The young man stayed behind whilst crying a fool....

He yelled why didn't thou all loveth me back,
He preached of forgiveness and love, that's a fact!!!!

But he kneweth it was far to late,
Now to the serpahim he hast a nice date......

He's smiling now feeling the warmth,
His cold abode never couldst light that torch....

And now the world wilt remember his name
Twenty seven , forever young and a cherub flame........



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
This isn't about noone just good writing,
Btw in poem I use word nilch which means nothing for u who don't know thanks...
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