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Conor Neuhaus Jan 24
By Durance Vile, my mind is moored

Its waters ebb and flow

The backwash-break brings back

bright balance

-Uncovers one swash stifled rope

...........................................................­...............

This earthly anchor, untying with the tide

Holds hostage, half aquatic

Guarded grip makes docile, God! moreso, dreary

Hard choices hold chains for the static

      ...................................................­................

In absence of any ascent to dry land

Docked, I'm doomed to dally a while

'Til the noose tugs undone, or I sever it short

And set sail for Durance Vile
Poetry is the voice chattering in my head...
Never lets up... It is the voice for when I'm afraid...
Conjured up from deep looping thoughts...
Vented out through written words when the voice could not.
Necessity forged by the mind and heart.
Feelings and emotions that the core wouldn't carelessly discard.
Poetry is an outlet of sorts, tentatively I can afford.
In this realm, the pen be my sword.
Poetry is everything... Beauty spanning multiple universes...
All we do is try to have it harnessed and channelled into individual artful verses...


An outlet, escape, my hole in the wall,
where I can hide from the Hell in my heart.
You're learning to walk, I'm just trying to crawl
beneath the flak; as it once tore me apart.
I've got my demons, how about you?
Faceless legions strung through my soul;
with ink and paper, they often bleed through
From lines and verses, I regain some control.
So, if you're asking me what poetry means
I won't say much, but I'll show you my scars.
Words and rhymes slash stitches and seams,
but in my unraveling, I see shooting stars.


My escape from the world
A distraction from myself
Instead of a mark on my body
I place a mark upon paper
I watch the ink flow from the pen
Happy that it's black
And not red
It bleeds into the crinkled paper
Mapping out the story
The story of my life so far
I don't think
I just write
Emptying my mind
My messed up mind
But the mess will never truly be gone
Just temporary relief
This is my relief


Poetry doesn't mean something,
Poetry is telling somebody who knows the truth, a lie and making them believe you anyways.


The air I breathe, the life I lead, everything I believe, poetry
The truest, permanent written form, at its finest
Even if it doesn't rhyme, every word is still the dearest
It's my relief from anxiety, my calm when I'm panicking
It's a sight for sore eyes when I wake up with a hangover and a headache
The only way I can express myself, show my deepest heartache
The only happiness I have when I'm depressed, my only friend when I'm lonely
My poetry and yours, day in and day out, is like oxygen to me
I can't breathe without poetry


A poet sees rivers where veins
run, caged birds where hearts
beat against ribs, stellar explo-
sions in place of emotion.
To be a poet means to breathe
through your eyes, to find life
in the weeds suffocating your
lungs, to build an ocean
of metaphors and memories,
never knowing which is which.


Poetry is art in itself
It is our passion that is slowly dying out throughout humanity
Because humanity is slowly forgetting what makes us human
What we survive on and die for everyday
But not us poets...
Our poetry is the chain to what we are
What we fought for all these years
What we die for trying to protect
For poetry is our mortality
Poetry is our life.
This is our first attempt at a "family" collaboration. I'm the only one who knows who wrote each part, maybe you all can have fun guessing, i know they all will.  :)
Conor Neuhaus Oct 2014
You fit into my hollow heart
Like a bird into its nest
On my lap, in my arms
Head on neck you slept.

A jigsaw of two pieces,
That's how I felt we were,
Irrevocably intertwined,
It felt so safe and sure.

But the puzzle you were making
Was not the same as mine.
You saw two different images
Imperfectly aligned.

Little did I know, my dear,
As we lay Together
You thought not of hugging spoons
You saw no forever

Only fools rush in,
That's what Wise Men said
But I was in a hurry
I ran too far ahead

Now that you've gone
I'm on my own, you see
A hand that's held another hand
Or a lock that's loved a key

Or any peg in its hole
Will most certainly know
Once you've found your other half
It's hard to let her go

The choice was not mine to make
She took away her hand
Now my hollow heart and empty arms
Are more alone than they began.
I wanna find someone who fits me, like two atoms in a molecule inseparably combined.
  Oct 2014 Conor Neuhaus
Ekuu
Someone who feels everything in their life has led them to you.
Someone who loves your flaws, sarcasm, giggles, stupidity and at times immaturity.
Someone who would find answers in your hesitation.
Someone who falls in love with you despite the differences.
Someone who finds love of their life , the closest and truest friend in you.
We crave for these, but the facts say... we are asking for too much.
Conor Neuhaus Oct 2014
My chest constricts
I cannot breathe
I knew the risks
You said you'd leave

But hope latched on
Only now it's fear
It's consumed my life
Every minute's a year

It feels like there's a hole
Where my heart used to be
I sit in the cold
Just waiting to freeze

But the only things frozen
Are the tears on my face
And my love, in its tracks
I simply can't keep pace

In this life without you
The pain is too much
All I crave is your kiss
Or your gentle touch

Gone with a bang
Chips fell where they may
Now the pieces are ground
It's been only two days


I can't fight this feeling
I've got to let go
If I don't do it now
I'm going to explode

And hurt someone else
I can't handle that ****
Another person get harmed?
Cause I'm too stupid,

To control my emotions?
No I'll bid you farewell
The towel is thrown in
En route - Highway to Hell
Sometimes kids, life is ****.
The rest of the time it's worse.
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