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Find solace in solitude,
There is no shame in that.
We are unknown to ourselves
An ocean to which we delve.
Scarcely coming up for air,
Entangled in fathoms
Whirlpools of despair.
Waves of introspection
Spare us shallow reefs
Yet cast us into darkness
And the horrors of the deep.
I just want to write a poem no one ever thought of writing
It must have the same effects as walking on the moon
It must trend faster than a meteor as it  hurdles through cyber space

I refused to love any man, who dislikes my poetry,
My man must support my passion ..
not only the warmth of my body
but the passion within this poetess, my secretive mind he must be able to balance:
Without wondering why a woman like me is so naturally secretive
I am always embracing the dark side of my creativity
Dropping little hints here and there throughout the years,

Sidney   J. Harris once said something that left pondering thoughts
He said “When he hears somebody sighs,
'Life is hard,' he’s always tempted to ask them, 'Compared to what?'
I would simply say dog-gone it: Compared to struggling poets whose tries to make a living as a writer

While an upcoming rapper like Chief Keef
signed a several-million dollar deal
with offending lyrics in today music industries:

I just want to write a poem no one ever thought of writing,
With lots of intense emotion bursting through each line:
Because a poem can’t exist without a poet's multiple voices
and most of all his divine missions
I spent my life
trying to please my family

It didn't work

I spent my life trying to
Please others


I spent my life......
Be yourself
Human bodies are soft tissue
meant to be ravished
by love,
covered with soft kisses,
(or) not to be
disfigured
by hate
& jagged shrapnel.
I ripped open the night sky
to see the mysteries behind the facade.
But the constellations wrinkled
and the moon was torn
the stars winked out
and fell from the sky
and I ruined the beauty
looking for something real.
On it,
life and death are but mere thoughts,
but who has time to think
in the face of ice-winds
placing one foot in front of the other,
watching
the curvature
of the Earth
below the coming sun
fracturing reds
against the darkness.
O Jesus, how I miss the ridge lines.
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