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 Jan 2015 Similoluwa
Lina
You and Me
 Jan 2015 Similoluwa
Lina
If my heart was a bouquet of flowers,
The pungent smell from sitting too long would be their scent.
If life was a box of chocolates
Mine would be left with only white chocolate and mint.

If you were a type of wine,
You’d be the dry kind that burns my throat.
If our relationship was coffee,
It would be tainted with burnt espresso.

But I…I’m like a bird.
The type of bird that comes back home.
And you are the eagle.
Always wanting to be alone.

All I ask for is attention…
Love isn’t money, it’s time.
Lonely, sad, unloved…
All of these feelings are mine.

You never seem to care.
I could cry and you would laugh.
I guess I could leave again.
Just to turn around and come back.
You told me that her chapter was over
You told me that I was a new beginning
How could you whisper so delicately
When you were keeping me from the truth

You anticipated a short story
But you promised me a novel

You tore out so many of my blank pages
I didn’t know how to keep writing from there

I was thrilled when I found out
Someone had picked up your story
But quickly replaced it
Just like you had done to mine

Though you tried to pick up writing
From where you bent my page
I will not let you ruin
The few pages I’ve managed to save.
 Jan 2015 Similoluwa
Haydn Swan
Love
 Jan 2015 Similoluwa
Haydn Swan
Love is like an olympic torch,
it burns continually,
is never extinguished,
kept for the briefest of moments,
then simply passed on,
person to person,
lifetime to lifetime,
generation to generation.
 Jan 2015 Similoluwa
Hayleigh
I refuse to follow a trail
Where others,
carelessly crush
their individuality firmly
into the ground,
willingly hush their hopes and dreams
so they no longer make a sound,
bury them so deep,
they no longer can be found

You do as you please
but darling
listen to my hopes
bellowing below the seas
listen to my dreams
echoing in the breeze
because me?
i'll be blazing a trail so bright
it'll dull the suns light and
bring the trees to their knees.
The mighty storms that blow, but intervention you will stand
God’s true followers are under his command
The heavy rains that become a terrain
Yet with wisdom and understanding no need to complain
God’s word is the target of aim
The Lord follows us all in where and no one else can compare
Situation storms are made to force people to abide
But God sits high, and carry’s all above a meaning less stride
Struggles by and by
Yet it’s Heaven’s strength that keeps telling us to continue to try
However these same evildoers try to hide
But God knows where to put the tide
You have nowhere to run
God is faster than any firing gun
The Lord see’s and knows
He is his own show
Conflict doesn’t stand a chance
God’s praises in how you will advance
Yet the enemy wants to attack Joy in being a prance
But once again they don’t stand a chance
A storm is an ongoing test
But it is the Lord that says it best
“Through the storm don’t be alarmed, as I am the Lord God and will not harm”.
Life flew by in the blink of an eye
That is, my life with you
4 months or 4 seconds
I can no longer tell the difference

Tick tock

1 Mississippi
I'm entranced by your eyes
Writing poems of melted chocolate
Does my name fit with yours
How perfect our life will be

Tick tock

2 Mississippi
I've never felt the way I feel
When you look at me that way
Like I'm a fish, on a rod that you reel
I could never leave your side
And you could never leave mine
But I'm afraid
Scared to death
Of what the future will bring
You say to trust you but I just don't know how, but I'm ready to open to you

Tick tock

3 Mississippi
You get better everyday
It's all down hill from the first kiss they say
But to me that was a bold faced lie
You're arms wrap around me
Filling a gap I never knew was there
No longer do I fear
You are me
And I am you

Tick tock

4 Mississippi
We are getting so close
Ready to be soul mates
But as the milliseconds tick by
It's starts to open my eye
When you say this
I say that
Maybe we aren't that right
Suddenly
You hugging me
Doesn't feel the way that
It should be
And as the clock strikes four seconds
Our life is over
Because I cut it, ended it
And wether it be our life or yours
It seems all the same
Since I feel like I'm standing now
Over the body of the boy I killed

Tick tock
Goes the broken clock

5 Mississippi
The rest of the world
Counts on
As I lay
Broken
Haunted by your endless echo
Why?
Yet deep down
I know one things true
We were never a five second thing
Please comment I would love to hear interpretations or any comments you have in general.
 Jan 2015 Similoluwa
Willow-Anne
"Always become the one being hurt
Rather than ever hurting another"
Words I have strived to live by
The philosophy left by my mother

I've always tried to live my life
Standing up for what is right
Helping others no matter the cost
Being everyone's shining knight

What a horrible way to live

Even when I was on the verge of breaking
Even when the burden seemed too large
I always took it onto myself
And it was always free of charge

They all need to pay

But lately there is this voice
Echoing from the back of my mind
That is always fighting to take over
It wants to punish the unkind

Maybe I don't want to forgive

Tell me who is that inside me
Those thoughts can't be my own
Even when there's no one around
Somehow I am not alone

Just let me come out and play

I'm trying to keep it at bay
Am I past the point of no return?
I JUST WANT THE VOICE TO GO AWAY
But.... *Now....it's my turn
I tried so hard to get this done before December was over :/
There goes the whole "post at least a poem a month for a whole year...."
Oh well.
ANYWAYS....this took a much darker/creepyer...twist than I originally intended....So....oops. sorry about that. I hope you all enjoy it though!!!!
This poem was inspired by the show Tokyo Ghoul....just...for the record. Anyways. Hope y'all like it.
 Jan 2015 Similoluwa
Clare
The writer's table is vacant.
The Poet's papers fly amok.
The Painter's brush is stuck in hardened paint..
Pictures have been pulled down
and burnt with the fire of intolerance.
Theatres have been vandalised
and stages are silent, empty.
The jobless critic looks for a prey,
hence, there are fewer flies and mosquitoes

The point has been proved
You do we say, we say you do
for our feet are sticky with squishy remains
of pens and easels and words...
No songs will be written, no tales told
We live with fire, in fire, by fire
What else can we do but burn?
We equate Force with Peace, so,
Don't ask - where are the Artists?

The Artists are dead.
In light of recent occurrences across the world pointing towards rising intolerance with art and artists. #CharlieHebdo #PerumalMurugan #PK
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