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probly a few minutes
and i was done
writing wasn't feeling the same
i stood on top like
bricks around disaster

i was looking up
i took my shoes off
threw them aside still laced  
i wasn't being funny
i know where this is going

where i write  
where i see cracks in perfect paths  
where blood taste like metals of purity
with every year burning
where these flowers like to live
die on vines from inside
allowing ivy to climb my back

i am a length of fence
in a yard with no dog
on a gate without reason
sitting on a post during live events

i am a fool for giving into seasons
romancing everything like a poet
following every inch of broken glass

nodding to my friends that i'm willing to mend
but waiting for them to laugh
outlined with chalk on the sidewalk
where blood stains concrete my convictions
flowing from the curb to the overpass

in the night like candles floating water
under tree branches ready to crack
formatting clouds to sky write, come with me
a man in the park on his back
a note
1/6/2024

this poem took on a life of it's own.
a friend of mine heard a lady in Berkeley
reading this as her own. it was hash tagged, and all over the internet. it gained attention.
even to this day, someone has this up as their own on a long ago since vacant Facebook page.
it's funny where poems end up.
it wasn't my favorite. but the feelings of this day are true. lost and dreaming at Wright Park, Tacoma Washington. ♥
there must be a place where broken words go
the ones without a limb
not fully formed
not spoken right
not heard

there must be a place where broken words go
the sentences left uncompleted
the trailing words that never left the lips
the "but" and the "and"
that were always left hanging

somewhere between silence and speech
there must be a place where broken words go
full of stutters and writers block sufferers
somewhere between the "i love"
and the "you" that never followed
or the "wait"
that was whispered into the air
the "please come back"
that made peace with dying
on the corners of a turning mouth

there must be a place where broken words go
the words spoken but never heard
the letters written but never posted
the train of thought that crashed into the clouds
the words in the bottle that traveled the sea
but sunk to the bottom before it could ever reach

there must be a place where my broken words go
the stains on my diary that didn't come from a pen
and the letters on my thighs that don't make sense
the things i could never say
and the things i said that came out all wrong
all the broken alphabets in my song
that cry for salvation
for one more chance

there must be a place where broken words go
there must be a place i can call home.
The time has come
to show them what you hide
beneath your cape,
the time has come
to remove the
"DO NOT CROSS" barricade tape.

It's time to step out
from behind the big old oak tree,
it's time to stand tall, hold your head up,
and let them see.

It's time to show the world
who you are,
it's time to show them
that you sparkle and shine brighter
than any diamond or star.

The time has come
to let your inner voice be heard,
it's time to spread your hidden wings,
among all of your other beautiful
unique things.

It's time to let them all know
what you've been holding on to,
the list of many extraordinary things
your soul is prone to.

It's time to let your soul shine,
step out into the light, it's your time!

It's time to let them know
what you feel, and what you think,
it's time to express yourself - your wisdom
and experience could be their missing link.

It's time to introduce them
to the 'Warrior' in you,
it's time to do what you need to do.

The time has come
to show them what you hold sacred,
deep within,
the time has come
for you to use your divine words
and to let your soul sing.

The time has come!
Show them that you are
a 'Warrior For Life'
and then some!

By Lady R.F (C) 2016
I said I'd wait a thousand years
A thousand years I've waited
The fragile seeds of hope I've hewn
Have blossomed forth-
And faded.

The span of time, the falling sand
That journeys down the glass
Has shivered down to rest against
The last wish of the past

Words I've writ of you by night
Have lightened now by day
Would that I could read them now
I'd not hear what they say.

Truthfully, the beauty of a newly conjured flame
Undeniably must end
When met with winter rain.
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