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 Jul 2015 Chaos
Helen
for your words excite me
beyond mere imagery
I'm ****** thrown
into a universe
that drowns me
in soliloquies,
sonnets and haikus
10 words painting
thousands of pictures
and a very personal view
of a free verse
where words flow a waterfall
tumbling against rocks
smoothing a path
that cuts like razors
but smells like rain
on cut grass
that silently lays
in the cavern deep
a well of pain
a gentle river feeding
dry hopes and gifting
life to those that repeatedly
suffer the excess
of one who seems insane
but sits beneath the winter tree
devoid of capture of the suns rays
and the gentle mist of tears
that fall through barren branches
tickling the cheek of agelessness
counting on a single hand
the many years
it took to get here
never going to give it up :)
Does anyone know what it's like to burn
To have your flesh blister like a white hot sun
To feel your nerve endings popping
Skin ablaze with the fire not stopping

Your left leg on fire, wish you were dreaming
Your foot a ball of flame and you keep on screaming
But exactly what was your crime
Only being at the wrong place at the wrong time

So years on this is how the story goes
You got severe scarring and lost two toes
This story is true, it's for me to tell
It's left me slightly unhinged, I've been through hell

So life's a mess, getting women? I'm out of luck
If you don't like looking at me, I don't give a ****
It's okay for you, you can just walk away
For me, I have to live with it every day
 Jul 2015 Chaos
AJ
They say a semicolon is used by an author
when they could’ve ended a sentence,
but chose not to.
In a way, we’re all authors,
writing our stories out as the days go on and on,
as they fade from as golden as a crown,
to as dark as a melanistic fawn.
You see, I’m the author of my life.
I had the choice to force a period to the end of a few sentences
as my short life moved forward on countless occasions,
to stop the clock from ticking,
the heart from beating,
but no.
Because my story is far from done.
I will forever keep adding semicolons until my pen runs out of ink,
or until I can’t find the courage to keep on writing.
I have more fights to keep fighting,
mountains to keep climbing,
a million lies to tell, and a million sorry’s to
bandage the hurt,
a thousand kisses to receive from strangers
and family and friends alike
until the word “suicide”
is nothing but a fading page in my life story.
And if I ever want to add a period,
such as when I’m when I’m feeling as blue
as the eyes of the boy who shattered my heart into pieces,
I’ll remember the semicolon,
and how my short little story doesn’t need to end just yet,
now does it?
cheesy semicolon poem for english, *******
it's the draft version, cause it's too long and missing a lot of pieces needed but hey oh well
 Jul 2015 Chaos
Irish
A Semicolon
 Jul 2015 Chaos
Irish
The world has not ended.

But, to her, it seems like it has.

She's beaten and wounded;

She wanted it to stop.

A semicolon-

Her story is far from done.

But, before it reaches the end,

She has already had enough.
 Jul 2015 Chaos
It's Been Years
A semicolon is used by an author when he could've ended a sentence, but chose not to

But what if I'm that author
and the sentence is my life
and when I could've ended it,
I chose not to

Then the semicolon
that helped me
save myself
is you
 Jul 2015 Chaos
Lochlan C
Do not call after me; I am gone.
Just like the tumor of hope
Which once rested on this man's
Weak spirit: now crushed.
Not harmed by sound nor sight
But woken by this troubolous world,
In which man's opinion serves only as
Folly for this totalitarian hierarchy.
The hierarchy of needs: the needs of pigs and
Swine who rob us blind and order cuts only
On those who cannot speak for themselves.
These vultures target the weak.
Not us who call for what is right; but those
Whose sense of right is blurred and hazed
By these high positions of power and praise.
Such zeal for the wrong cause; such a shame.
Be gone such parasites; be gone.
 Jul 2015 Chaos
Lochlan C
One inane cyst on the heel of this once beautiful planet,
Us parasitic worms slowly deflate our ballon of necessity; oblivious to the destruction.
In our absence this terrible moth could cacoon and metamorphose
Into a wonderful creature, and return to how it once was.
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