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I forgot to bring paper;
on set there was a broken pen.
When words spill from mouth to page,
magic begins to transcend.
And so he sat,
Afraid and alone
Waiting for her
To come back to him.
Waiting for her to finish her shower
And walk through the door
in her towel
And say to him,
"Its your turn now",
In her kind loving voice
And he would have a shower too
And it would be okay
written 17 January 2015 18:58
why is it so hard to share a poem sometimes?
It's freaky late
We feign ate
Boring chats we're eating
With boredom as the spice
Hoping tomorrow would be pay day
I'd say no more
Only than i'm a second banana

That thought
,
Thought of being a second banana
Not to any other but the one i dream
l stopped dreaming and saw reality
T'was real life with bad breathe
written to aid sleep when I was sleepless
 Jun 2015 Jesibell arz
Charlie
My body, soul and mind divided.
Split by an unknown, pestering force.
The constant war waging between the sides for superiority.
The pain and hopelessness battling comfort and joy.
I cannot see a resolution to this endless war.
The only way out is to destroy them all.
 Jun 2015 Jesibell arz
JT-TJ
I use to think that being on the outside looking in,
was the perfect life for me.
I did not love, or care, nor even hate,
I was completely free.

It was so much easier to be,
on the outside looking in.
There wasn't anyone there to hurt me,
or keep me from sin.

As the time had slowly passed me by,
sadness entered my empty heart.
I had become so very lonely,
I realized it's been there from the start.

And in the glass I was looking through,
my reflection I did see.
A sad and lonely, broken man,
who definitely wasn't free.

The pain was visible, and all to real,
in this reflection of a man.
Now he's older, the time has passed,
this wasn't part of the plan.

Though he see's a need to change,
and he knows it must be done.
It seems so much easier,
just to turn around and run.

No matter how hard he try's,
nobody want's him there.
They blow him off, and ignore him,
very few seem to care.
There’s broken glass in my foot
clear symmetrical triangles
dangling off my foot
like a dazzling chandelier.
But pain.
like a dragons claw,
like a witches fingernail
cut deep
and the oozing, dripping,
thick scarlet liquid
seeping over the bathroom tiles,
reflects my dazed face.
Where am I?
My pale, white, finger
extends and dips into the
red
and now the lines on my hands are all
red
and my eyes blur with the color
red.
I walk down stairs.
Isn't everything romanticized?
Red flowers,
      red skin,
              red lips,
                            red breath.
But the eyes,
the eyes are red
and I suppose that is
what really impales me.
cut by what?
interested to know how this is interpreted
The golden streets in my dreams
Show me the path to redemption
Silences the screams
Hides the shame
And rips everything that I've ever known
At the broken heart seams
Ropes and strings, pulled and tied
Nooses and knots, the reason you lied
More likely than not
The causes of why I've cried
Giving in and giving out promises
That only last until I died
Yesterday
And there was no sighs
No questions of why
The path to the ghost of my soul
Disappeared with the blood
That endlessly flowed
But I didn't know
I couldn't see
The transparency of my misery
There for everyone else to see
Everyone could have guessed
I'm sure they all knew
Life flew past my pain
Skipping over the doubts and regrets
Of all the things I didn't do
It's amazing how death can finally
Get you through
And life is something
You never really knew
Taking steps forward is easy
       Standing still is hard
    Embrace what you have
              Stop
           To look at the stars
  Take a deep breath
                 Look,
      You've already come this far
             I'd bet my life
   **You're stronger than you think you are.
 Jun 2015 Jesibell arz
Just Melz
All these knives in my back
         They don't even hurt anymore
   I mean, I'm sore
                 And it's intense
      But it doesn't make any sense
I must be at war
         With myself
      Tearing apart the insides of my brain
Have I gone insane?
           Why do I
Keep letting these things
              Happen to me?
       Is there a sign taped to my back
  Saying "Torture ME"?
            "Take Advantage Of ME"?
        "Love Me And Leave ME"?
    What's wrong with me?
            All this backstabbing
        Take this pen
And drag the ink into my spine
   Use the blood drops as a tattoo design
           The scars from all the knives
     Will just make it look more divine
Maybe some Angel wings
           With a sash torn apart
      and "Nobody Loves ME"
Written across the heart
            Might as well throw it all away
       Throw it all out the door
    I'm sore
          But all these knives in my back
     Don't even hurt anymore
 Jun 2015 Jesibell arz
Mike Essig
You were born,
as was I.
You are dying,
as am I.
What happens
in between matters.
Too many spend
their time as
they spend
their money,
straining for more
than food, clothes,
shelter until
they suffocate
under attachment
to the unnecessary
they have made
necessary.
They try to buy
meaning with toys
and feel uncomfortable
at the boredom
they have become.
They want the whole
world zoned commercial
so they can work harder,
buy more and feel better,
but they don't.
It is a hard thing
to admit how much
of our lives
we have spent
being full of ****.
Remember:
You were born,
as was I.
You are dying,
as am I.
What happens
in between matters.
We all stand on
wobbly hinges
that can give way
at any moment.
The question becomes
not about death
but about how to live
before the hinges snap
and the noose
breaks our mortal necks.
No easy answers.
It is hard enough
to have your foot
in one world,
let alone two.
You were born,
as was I.
You are dying,
as am I.
What happens
in between matters.
Instead, meditate
on the nothingness
that was and
the nothingness
that will be
at any second.
Do not **** your life
away on nonsense.
Find your way to make
what is in between
matter. Me?
I think I'll go fishing.

  ~mce
Another koan?
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