Hidden agenda:
Thank you for following me .
My pseudonym is Li.
Feel free to message me anytime,
To refuse you would be a crime.
I am pretty much someone who is miserable.

Conor Blatchford:
What causes you
Your misery?
Is there anyway
You can be set free?

Hidden agenda:
Me just being me.
Only way i can be set free,
Is I am no longer who I was.

Conor Blatchford:
Talking to you like this
Amuses me so
I do believe
Our poetic answers will grow
Into a masterpiece
Of our talent
Speaking like so
A perfect balance

Hidden agenda:
A perfect balance?
Nothing is ever perfect.
A girl with many talents,
Constantly told she's a defect.

How can there ever be a balance?
When cowardism is valiance.
Heroes and honesty is incorrect.
When a socialite fails to connect.

Conor Blatchford:
You say nothing is ever perfect?
Our words in poems are
What they are about
Isn't perfect,
Not by far.

In chaos is balance
For balance rules all
Don't ever assume
That with imbalance you will fall

Hidden agenda:
Word in poems are relative.
The raven to an optimist,
Is more positive than negative.
The Telstra to an Optus.

The large and rich win,
The good are faces of sin.
The night lay await for stars,
While the stars spend on cars.

Speak of balance,
I'll show the negative outweighing,
Speak of union,
I'll show you utter absence.

Conor Blatchford:
We all sin for the good,
Or commit kindness out of devilish needs
So unobvious are we
When the Good do Devils Deeds

I do not find you a defect
For defection is an illusion
Of something far greater
Than a misplaced man's intrusion

You do not need to leave me
For i understand such pain
Humanity is give-and-take
One's loss, anothers gain

Hidden agenda:
Do what you must to succeed.
While you celebrate another bleed.
This is what Earth has become?
Soon enough trumpets and drum,
Will reign chaos and madness,
For how do we explain sadness?

Conor Blatchford:
Sadness is our deepest emotion
For this one, no cure, no potion
Yet it is natural, let it consume
And in your quiet darkness bloom
So when sadness finally does fade,
You'll be beautiful, many colours and shades

Hidden agenda:
Despair and sadness is our deepest emotion,
I agree with you but I despise the notion.
Let it eat you up, the monster will.
So consume past your fill,
Because behind sadness is a mask.
For some its an alcohol flask.

Conor Blatchford:
We are all monsters,
Are we not?
A bullet loaded
Into it's slot
The spin of the barrel,
The click of a trigger
Suicide or each other :
Which is quicker?
Sadness and Depression rule
The sickening truth; may cause one to fall
To the Demon that we have inside,
The inner killer we try to hide
It's a truth we can't deny
This sickness that we try to hide

And why?
Embrace who you are
For we are all all opposites
Of what we were supposed to be: a perfect angel, we failed it

So lay down the revolver
Give up on our affliction
Our sadness, jealousy,
Unneeded addiction

Hidden agenda:
At best all we can do is share the pain,
Celebrate our life and our death,
In a game of russian roulette.
Leave our minds to a permanent stain,
Which will result to our last breath.
Hands to fate and chance in set.

Are we all gentle giant,
Who stomp and destroy,
Over anyone defiant.
Or is there a different ploy?
After all we can't all be wearing disguise,
Some of us must go beyond and just rise.
To dream, to love, to see.
To feel and to cry with glee.

What I wanted to say: Alas, I agree with thee.

Star Gazer:
Unlucky overlord from sydney australia. Named hidden agenda before.

We conversed in only poetry remember?

For once where the tyre swing hung on the tree
Now hangs a broken noose....

Remember?

Conor Blatchford:
I remember, for our poetic talk
Became our poetry
And I always did enjoy
The leisure of a pleasant memory

Star Gazer:
A pleasant memory twas,
But memories get forgotten,
But I do send applause,
For a memory unlike cotton.

Conor Blatchford:
Applause graciously accepted,
No roses are thrown but none needed
That memory was but a play, one of many
That in life will continually be seeded

Star Gazer:
Until uprooted without reason
Dangling onto what is left,
And heart plays traitor in treason,
And memory is but a theft.

Conor Blatchford:
True, memory is not quite the event
But tend and care for it like any plant
And it will grow into something fond
Something that becomes more real and less like a mask

Star Gazer:
Humans are attracted to masks,
Cruel facades are what we have known all our lives.

Conor Blatchford:
A façade makes life worthwhile
A display of grace and eloquent style
Hiding what we truly are
Is perfectly understandable, not in the least bizarre

Star Gazer:
But where is the line between imaginary and reality,
Feeding false hopes and liee to banality,
It is just one step closer to hell,
And one stop further from heaven as well

Conor Blatchford:
Heaven and Hell are concepts designed
To induce goodness and quell pride
For even though evil creates a social reject,
An old saying re-written: no-one is perfect

So how are we supposed to climb
The stairway to Heaven with imperfection in mind?
Wouldn't it be just easier to fall
Into the Hellhole that awaits us all?

To Speak of the Future....

Conor Blatchford:
The future isn't clear,
Don't assume failure is near
For the future is uncertain
So to speak, an Iron Curtain

Hidden agenda:
The question was 'To be or not to be?'
Even Shakespeare had a glimpse of doubt ,
For when he wrote a word of sea,
He always found a way to swim out.

So me calling myself a failure is a premonition,
On a future event so far in the distance,
That if I did succeed it would be a mere addition.
To lose is to win in such a cruel existence.

Example if your claiming victory,
Should you achieve it , you may bask in glory.
Yet if you don't achieve it, you have failed.
Then that would have been ship set sailed.

Conor Blatchford:
Ship set sailed it may be,
But failure remains unclear to see
No matter how hard ones tries,
Future sight-seeing is usually lies

Usually

Hidden agenda:
The green light is dimming and the orgastic future is gone,
Yet I still stretch my arms and carry on.
Simple as is , I know a failure to be made,
But I'm still working in hopes of getting paid.

Conor Blatchford:
Failure is always destined to be,
Yet mostly
Impossible to see

You wish to be paid from your mistake?
The only thing failure can rake
Is misery; emotion's most deadly snake

A snake with fangs
That does bite
Whence you give in
To this devilish sprite

You will lose
All you had
And never gain
What you desire so bad

If failure is certain,
Then so to is victory
Yet both continually
Elude me
This is the future
That I think I see

You will never understand the contribution you have made to my life,
You are the friend that really came through for me when I found myself in strife.

No-one else could see past the mistake I had made,
They chose to ignore how I felt and fixated on my darkest shade

I have always looked up to you, you have always inspired me
You've always been the one I've looked at when deciding who I'd like to be

Please don't throw your life away,
I really count on you
I know that being here for me is something you can do
I love you, I appreciate you.
- Brianna Carter

You look up to me,
Quite literally,
But in this case you mean metaphorically
Yet similarly,
I looked up to you,
Size doesn't matter just a point of view

You are a better person than I,
As pure and beautiful as the stars and the sky
In harmony, elements defy,
The birds and the planes that roar or sigh

No matter what happens, you always come though
Shrug it off, move on, it's just what you do,
This is why I wish I were like you

Yet despite all this you look up to me?
I am blind, can't really see clearly,
But even I can tell you are a rarity
A treasure, and thus better than me
-Conor Blatchford

Star Gazer:  
How are you fellow poet?
I hope the burning sun is keeping you
Warm without knowing it
Through a thin veil of sky so blue.

Conor Blatchford:  
A pure veil of blue
It is beautiful, white fluffy clouds
Keening wind and lapping waves
The most pure of calming sounds

Star Gazer:
Waves rush the rocks
Though the sun pierces the clouds
Crashing, smashing and rumbling
Till the mountains come crumbling.

Conor Blatchford:  
Sun sets and darkness falls
The stars show themselves at night
Calm waves rippling
Reflecting that beautiful starlight

Star Gazer:
Though bright a light may be
The touch of a star is all but lost
When we ask of fun and glee
Amidst all the chaotic costs.

Conor Blatchford
17 hours ago


Maddii... where you at? <3 if you want me to explain what there is to love about yourself, here I go:
1: You are a mother-******* poet. That's cool. Making words rhyme is hard for a lot of people. Expressing emotion in those words is even harder
2: Caring. You keep talking to me, that's casual caring. You ask me how I am, that's caring. You are willing to listen to me, metaphorically listen to me because this is typed, so... and that's true caring right there
3: Friendship. You are one of a select few that consistently makes me smile. Also, you listen to me ***** about my life
4: Loyalty. You're still here, right...? <3
5: Humour. Ties in with friendship. You not only make me smile, but also laugh. I laughed in class once. Especially just earlier, when I read what you did to that kids' nose. I imagined the pause between him laughing and having his nose broken, it was so comical I laughed out loud. Everyone thought I was insane.
6: Inspiration. Some of my poems wouldn't have even been written were it not for you
7: "Sneaky". Manipulating me into giving you ideas. Why? Because I love you (reference to earlier conversation) <3
8: You are one of the few reasons I take pleasure in waking up each day. I have people constantly saying **** about me, knowing I have a short fuse and taking advantage of it, but not you. Also, I look forward to talking to you. First thing I do when I open my laptop is send you a message

I would keep going, but this is long enough. Oh, and I feel guilty. I'm not sure I said happy birthday on your 17th. But Happy Late Birthday from me. Once again, I apologise, I felt/feel so bad

Love you Maddii. Stay safe. <3

Hidden agenda- Secrets form a bond between two.
They allow each other to trust.
They let us see what is really important,
As well as let us see beyond the crust.

The softness and sweetness within.
The true and raw inner emotions.
The personality and the behaviour.
To taste their cure and their potions.

Conor Blatchford   Trust is warranted for those who deserve,
Keeping others secrets can cause me to burn
I hate when I'm trusted with something I can't keep
In fact it causes me to lose sleep