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 Jun 2015 jemishiback
Luna
Dream
 Jun 2015 jemishiback
Luna
Can a poem be a dream or a dream be a poem?
Does it work that way, where one is another?
The seams between so tightly sewn
That you can’t unwind without ripping
Tearing
Destroying the simple beauty that resides within
Or are they cold and estranged
Untouching
Apart
Or are they both?
A distance so small they almost touch
Filling each others gaps
While being polar opposites
A faulty draft, nothing more
 Jun 2015 jemishiback
AP
You bow at the feet of an invisible crown
That you place atop the head of an underserving king

Who sit in a makeshift throne constructed by your misled lips
Inside concrete castle walls sculpted by your misguided praise

Shielding his spoiled name with emeralds and rubies
False gems and jewels

He treat you like jester
Your only purpose to play his tune

Where you see god
We see less than man

For he who cannot recognize a queen
Shall not reap the benefits of your royalty
And for he who cannot build you of a castle of your own
Shall not deserve your majesty
 Jun 2015 jemishiback
AP
3 Days
 Jun 2015 jemishiback
AP
In the mind lies a field
Where dreams and wishes walk to their death
Where sensation and emotion inhale their last breath
And as demons play with shovels and dirt, all these thoughts are sealed

                                                                                      In your eyes there is light
                                               That has nay flicker, for it only glimmers bright
                   The sun that provides warmth for the poor citizens of my mind
                                                          Is trapped in irises of aqua tints, confined

                                            Meet me in the middle
                        Somewhere between mania and depression
                     Let your medicinal tongue solve this sad riddle
             For I can't look at another calendar and ponder this question

             *Will tomorrow be the day that the sun rises without me?
 Jun 2015 jemishiback
AP
Is this what it's like to be dead?
Wielding graphite lead as I write sad poems that will never be read
Thrashing and writhing violently in bed, but merely in silence as these words are unsaid
Watching white sheets as they soak up cherry red
Looking on from a distance as weeping people don black threads
Overhearing hesitant and shaky whispers about a boy who bled
Whose overwhelming thoughts were all too much for his head
Now open veins breathe oxygen for the first time and showering streams fall overhead
It's in this stained water I tread, shouting towards the collapsing sky as storm clouds spread
A shaken voice, once again said
Is this what it's like to be dead?
 Jun 2015 jemishiback
AP
lavender lilies deceive
for it was merely the color i was sent to retrieve
instead i come up with lilacs, at least i do believe
holding onto the wrong shade of purple while i grieve
but then again, we've been through this before, i am naive

blue skies mystify
wandering innocent eyes
in our youth we hid in simple spots
proving quite unwise
wrapped in disguise, we had to shield our unwanted sapphire cries

green blades rest in your gentle hands
as we've grown old enough to resist parental commands
sharing cold cans, i send a kiss in your direction, confident in wherever it lands
we laugh, and soon enough, my favorite toy had become your delicate blonde strands

red love sears on my skin
burns that leave joyous scars thin
but at any moment an obnoxious grin
can quickly turn to "where have you been?"
i buried those bad days with glasses of gin
but even through hard times i knew if i had you, i could win

but one day under a yellow sun
disheveled doctors told me there was nothing that they could've done
your days were limited, and i cried every last one
i lost my appetite and only craved the metal of a gun
but i knew that your favorite flower would help me outrun
these demons who weight on my vulnerable shoulders in tons

so a lavender lily i sought out to explore
but instead i found a lilac, in the valley near the foam of the shore
reminding me you were never just one thing, but so much more
so let these petals sum up what this poem speaks for
all the colors i saw in your,
heart
 Jun 2015 jemishiback
AP
Moonlight
 Jun 2015 jemishiback
AP
Weaving through a path of dusted rocks and invisible insects
The moonlit earth gleams bright enough for wilting branches to reveal the complex webs of arachnids' homes
Beads of pearlescent rain get lost in translation with tears and streams alike
Skipping monochromatic pebbles and identifying the illustrious ripples that their smooth bodies create
Flightless creatures sit perched on exposed logs, waiting for a chance to reach clouds that taunt them with messages of rain
Stomping elk cause blankets of terra firma to wrap around the approaching claws of wolves
And a distant yelp serves as another's song
The forest at night, an elaborate portrait
Each whipping stroke, a new memory evoked
And this one becomes cast astray with the rest
Lost in translation with tears and streams alike...
 May 2015 jemishiback
Fon
Heart
 May 2015 jemishiback
Fon
Heart is wild
Stubborn
And selfish

It wants
What it wants
Without second thought
Of consequences

It hurts
When it gives away
Its feeling
To the void

But it never learns
About the past
It keeps going
Oh wild, wild heart
 May 2015 jemishiback
Noah Mytho
Gone are the days of "Goodmorning" to "Goodnight".
Gone are the days of smiling and being "Alright".
Gone are the days...
Gone are the nights...
There's hope for the future, for no one knows what might happen in 5, 10 or even 15 years.
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