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 Jul 2018 NvrMnd
Andrew Durst
My death will be liberating.

And I do not say that in the sense
that I am going to find a cliff
and take a good jump off.

No.

I am just trying to find a
clever way to tell you

that I do not know what is going
to happen next.

You see,

there is a
fine line
between
dreaming and
mortality

and

I am finding out for myself
that being in love
does not always
involve

being awake.

And for my sake
I fall in love with daydreams,
nightmares,
hazy realities
and

the hung-over idea

of not being enough.

It is all out of my hands.
                 It is all out of time.

And the only thing I have left to do,
now,


is decide.
Thank you to anyone that reads this.
 Jun 2018 NvrMnd
DaSH the Hopeful
Cautionary visions visit in viciously vivid fashion
I'm dead and my head is missing
Everyone is laughing
        
                     But me

And the sky is sorta dreary but I don't know
With no eyes you don't see too clearly

      Sew me a new one on,
Attached at the neck
Plastic instead of brittle skin and maybe then
     I can exist in some form above the normally gray and grim

    I pray to a faceless facade
            I made a "God" in my head
An eternal alternative to turn to and blame
   And claim to strangers that he works in mysterious ways
        My lips are chafed from singing unheard praises
  
        I'm tasteless and it has me thinking that maybe my mouth was only a product of my imagination
     Food for thought I chew and stop
           Its too **** hot for contemplation


      Still, I used to think my hands belonged to someone else
     Right up until I used them both to **** myself
 Jun 2018 NvrMnd
D'Angelo Eden
I'm still dazed by it all
Many a day I acted unfazed
My affections for you, I didn't embrace
I assumed it was just a phase
I didn't endeavour to get outta the haze
I didn't take the chances to regale
Now the ship has sailed
But my feelings aren't abated
Any effort now will be to no avail, you say
As you've moved on without restraints

I woke up too late
Even though my incandescent affection endures
Pangs of sadness are all that remain
I'll strive not to whimper and wail incessantly
That yer bewitching dimples won't be an endless sight

Perhaps the heartache will fade away
Time heals all wounds, they say
And I would have learnt
Not to throw it all away
Thus I'll carry the blame with me
Until I'm no longer lame
But if things do change
Choose to take a chance on me
Next time, I won't let it stray
I won't make the same mistakes
#love #affection #hurt
 Jun 2018 NvrMnd
guy scutellaro
she walks prospect avenue in the rain.
dead eyes, sore feet
the flowers have wilted into
the shadows of acceptance.

she finds the corner
and the last light lit,
wants a match for her cigarette.

a ****** that has found her god.
a needle and a bed of thorns.


the beep from a car's horn,
so a customer waits,
swings open a rusty gate.

and when that door

slams

shut

the prisoner of light asks,

"where have all the flowers gone?
 Jun 2018 NvrMnd
Mister J
Burned Out
 Jun 2018 NvrMnd
Mister J
My legs feel heavy
My muscles stiff
My eyes looking bleak
My heart barely beating

God I feel so tired
Every day has been a cycle
Walking in the same pace
As everybody else in this world

I need a break
An adrenaline rush
That makes me feel
Life is worth living

I need a change in pacing
I have to get over this phase
Gotta wake up and slap my face
And get out of this stressful daze

God I feel so burned out
The embers in my youth
Slowly dying out
I may cease to function soon
Stressful week
Stressful life
I hate being an adult
Haha!

Thanks for reading!

-J
 Jun 2018 NvrMnd
Valsa George
Through the country paths, I lazily loitered,
watching Nature in its changing hue
straying farther into the interiors,
sundry and sublime vistas came into view.

in response to zephyr’s warm embrace,
the silvery leaves joyously fluttered.
the bees busied themselves collecting pollen
and birds on tree tops merrily chattered

it was the *** end of verdant spring.
summer’s sun stood behind my head.
bleat of sheep was heard from far.
‘Good day to you’….. Someone said.

There stood on the hill, a boy around fifteen
obviously he was of tribal breed.
with a beaming smile, he greeted me
but on walking to him, he ran like a steed

I saw him disappear behind the trees
and enter into a hut tiny as a nest
he lived in the lap of Mother Nature,
far from the city and its sooty dust

being coaxed, he hesitantly came out.
my tone of assurance and pleasing smile,
seemed to have won his confidence
as to a friend, he shared his eventful tale.

pointing to the sheep grazing in the *****,
he said, he earned a living caring the flock.
he stayed in the woods all day long,
feeding and tending his master’s sheep.

from dawn to dusk, through woods and meads,
he leads his sheep, calling them by their name.
un vexed, with simple pleasures he is content
and with a nomad’s life, he seems to be tame

he said, at home he has his invalid mother.
bringing her back to health is his mission in life
on referring to his mother, I watched his eyes glitter
nothing other than her illness posed to him a strife

from every utterance, I could sense his filial love.
even in abundance, while shadows line many faces,
on his visage, hope lingered as a dancing flame
to me he seemed above many, rich in other graces!

While parting, I handed him a little money
pausing unbelievably, with moist eyes
he accepted it, when a breeze passed caressing us
as if over a kind gesture, Nature seemed to rejoice!
This was written sometime ago based on a real incident with a sprinkle of imagination ! The boy with his cheerful disposition in the face of adversities continues to be an inspiring memory!
 Jun 2018 NvrMnd
SøułSurvivør
R.I.P. Clinton Eugene Jarvis
~My father ~

The saguaro an altar
A tree stump a pew
He knelt in the garden
His church all that grew.

Cactus and succulent
Tenderly grown
Were all in his choir
For his ears alone.

From aisles of stone walkways
Stained glass in bright clouds
The sun was his mantle
The stars are his shroud

The lakes holy water
As a child he'd haunt
Skipping stones 'cross a pond
Like a Baptismal Font

Sat he 'neath the willows
To hear their prayer's sigh
The saguaro an altar

His Cathedral the sky.

SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) 5/31/2018
Yesterday evening at approximately 9PM  my father passed away. He was closest to God being out in, and working with, nature. He was a Master Gardener. A member of the Cactus & Succulent Society.  I will write more about dad later on... Right now it's 5am and I've had no sleep. I'm going to try to rest. I'm handling the grief by writing... Remembering him fondly with words. Isn't that just like a poet...?
 May 2018 NvrMnd
LizO
Today I will write with no ego.
Look at me, writing with no ego,
I’m amazing.
****!
#humour

My writing seems to be going through a being silly stage. I'm just running with it :-D
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