Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Jun 2015 PoETE Poet-Pete
Emily L
I thought I could hold
the world
on my shoulders
but all I do is give
beneath the weight of
countless choices that I've made
Still, strangers faces seem
so much kinder then
the ones I call my own
but faces change like reveries
and people fall like dominos.
How far can I go?
without a messenger to save me,
or a magic spell to cure what ails,
since I'm never on the mend.
I've been searching for some hope
or someone broken
at the the start
Where all of your pieces,
shift with all of my shattered parts
and you'll shoulder the weight
of this world I hold
or tell me too keep going.
Oh, and if not you then give me
peace by showing
all these messy matters
a life good enough to serve
on a silver platter
because
How far can I go?
without a ghost inside my soul,
or a shell to communicate with the sea,
This world is just to big too
accomodate someone so weak and
How far can I go?
If I don't know if there's
hope for me.
Tell me,
how far will I go?
If there's no hope for me.
Wisdom emerges, compassion transcends
Logic refuses to accept there's an end
Life seeks meaning, people seek love
It's all the way down and all the way up

Imagination stirs the ocean
Dreams surpass the sky
Words flow forever
Through a universal mind
Traveler Tim
Re 2017 Jan
 Jun 2015 PoETE Poet-Pete
Emily L
I want a mouthful
  of truth
without you sugar coating
  every word
but those lies that lie
  behind your pearly whites
only goes to show
  you can't ever tell the truth.
So, I'll keep my mouth shut
  bite my tongue so hard
My lips touch
  like a kiss from you
Never open, only
  Blowing our love out of proportion
because I can't give
   my heart to you
with no proof,
just changing gears
  and shifty eyes.
You whisper, "Honey,"
  But that's your disguise
Executing every syllable and consonant
  Like a devout man
but baby you're not heaven sent.
  So, pull me close
until you start to fall apart
  and to be honest I can't wait
to hear you talk your way
  Out of this one
but I'll be sweet enough
  to watch you rot
From too many
  candy covered lies.
No One Knew His Name
The dead man lay silent, no one knew his name
but still he lay moaning
life oozing away, falling into nothingness
he was much farther out than they thought
life so easy to loose, so easy to be lost~
Poor man, always was lurking
always trying to have fun
but fun found a way, to take his life
for another day...

But it was cold so cold, and still he lay moaning
and she stood crying, silently fading into the background
into the darkness she must go, she didnt want to know~

Shadow man steals the night
nothing is safe from the disillusion and fright
fallen from grace, takes heart in hand
finally beats to a different band~

Time takes you to a different place
wide spectrum's once known for limitations of grace
if dusk would have it, then bleed some more
final days of New Man of Shadow forevermore~

Darkness takes what is left, tempting rays of broken sun
dawn would flirt of nocturnal things that bleed and burn
grievance with darkness blinds the light
solely spoken from each night~

Does the New Man emerge?
yet then, he
has been wept over before....

But No One Knew his name.....

Debbie...
... and WHY.


I write extemporaneously.

Now there's a million dollar word!

What does it mean?
It is defined as working, writing
or speaking without preparation.
Anything that is off the top of your
head. Off the cuff.

Is there anything a writer would like more? To be able to sit down and let those words flow like a spring. The subconscious fully aligned with the conscious mind. This is the very essence of inspiration!

What is the derivation of the word inspiration? To inhale. To breathe in.*

It is like your lungs are your conscious mind and the subconsciousness is the very atmosphere around you!

When I write the words are inhaled. They just come. Very seldom do i cogitate. I want my words to be cogant here. I don't want preconcieved cognition!

Are you totally confused now? Why?

Your vocabulary. There are words you don't understand in my last paragraph. Perhaps the words cogitate, cogant and cognition?

LOOK THEM UP!
Use a good dictionary and get the definition. The CORRECT definition. Read ALL the definitions and use them in sentances of your own making. That way they are in your head. They are not only part of your conscious mind but your subconscious mind as well!!! SO NOW THEY ARE IN YOUR ATMOSPHERE TO BREATHE!

Am I making sense? Let me know via the site message system if you don't understand.

Look it up. R E A D. Voraciously.
And write. WRITE. W R I T E!!!

Why do I write?

To release pent up feelings. When you're able to tap into the subconscious mind it is a release.

AND

For the sheer joy of doing so!

You will understand once you start writing as I do. Anyone can do it.

*A N Y O N E.
Other advice I can give is to write gobbledygook. Ummhummdumm.
Whatever comes to mind first. This releases your subconscios mind and helps the flow of words.

If this writing has been helpful please contact me via the site message system. Or comment.
I can write about it at greater length.

THANKS FOR READING!

---
An optimist will see the cup half full,
A pessimistic will see the cup half empty,
An opportunist will drink the water while the other two bicker.
 Jun 2015 PoETE Poet-Pete
SMILEY
We all go through rough times
And that's good
We need it
It helps us
Helps us learn
What to do
When we're lost
And can't open our eyes to see the light
Too afraid
All we see is night
No light to guide
And sometimes,
All we need
Is somebody
To hold the flashlight
Upright.
It's only as tough as you make it.
 Jun 2015 PoETE Poet-Pete
Chris


I read a poem today...
it was based on a wonderful dream,
two people were madly in love,
holding each other tenderly as
a lemon sherbet sun rose
beyond a blooming hibiscus
being visited by a hummingbird,
bringing a soft apricot glow
through the white lace curtains
flowing on cool morning breezes
as they kiss passionately,
greeting the new day

It was an extremely beautiful poem,
one that I wish I had written, but...
more than that, I found myself
wishing that the dream
that inspired it...
had been about me
Good morning Beautiful

True story...sort of.
My words try to escape
But my tongue is unwilling
They stick in a spiderweb of fear
Entwined in the sticky silk of terror.
Never to be devoured
They linger.

Would it be worse
If they somehow
Worked themselves free
And found the ear
they had been searching for all along.
But still they're stuck

Hovering, these ghosts,
Of passion once felt and feared
And words wished said,
Keep me up nights.
Knowing and not knowing
What would you have said?
Next page