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Neelam 2d
Scornful gray walls,
mocked and derided
my oxygen starved lungs,

I'm a hollow shell,
A dehydrated soul,
yearning for the light,
divine warmth,
longing to rest on the palms of Certainty.
A weary soul waiting to discard the mortal
shell to join the Heavenly Father.
Johnnyqu33r Jun 2
Swift punt to the soda pop tin
Littering the low lit path before me
Flash back to kick the can
And hopscotch jumping rope
To wittled cans from which to smoke
And losing family to knotted rope

Years pile on tense shoulders
Bearing zirconium smiling teeth
Finding diamonds in my grief
But always pacing forward

To flash back on bronze days
Glowing like bonfire embers
Finishing the last of the thirty rack
Never realizing I was drowning
Just sad and aloof and smiling
Smoking bad **** from a PBR can
Leifa May 31
I woke up one night
And I cried:
"Papa, I don't want to die!"

It is so sad when I look
To that child of the past-
Long forgotten and still
He weeps.

I am but a feigned rendition
of the boy inhabiting this soul.

We are so different
As oil upon water.
Yet how can I say
I was never him?

As now nothing
Seems more sweet.

That delicate snowflake
Fell into streams
Long spent, and yet
I sent for him.

Little did he know
His ending was not in death.
But he cannot be found.
Silent is the child's cry.
Anmol Mago May 26
Empty meaningless words
hastily scrawled over
half torn - bits of paper
Still reek of a heart,
long lost to despair
prey to twisted tongues
and shallow sugarcoated taunts
(reminiscent of an innocence
relinquished by years of growing up)

Sometimes by the moon light,
a pale trembling hand still
reaches for them instinctively
(trying to resurrect a poet long dead.)
Just a random muse
Johnnyqu33r May 10
There are no children laughing
Playing hopscotch in the driveway
With a manicured lawn and pretty
Flowers in boxes attached to the windows

There's no degree framed in my office
Actually there isn't an office at all here
Inside this lived in two bedroom flat
Where I spend as much time as possible

There's no sleek foreign sports car
Candy apple red glimmering in the sun
Or vacation home nestled somewhere
I can't pronounce to go once a year

There aren't six figures in my account
Or country club lunches with the girls
Black card shopping sprees in the city
Or box seat opera season tickets

There is glitter on my eyelids
And an immense feeling of gratitude
When I wake up happy and free
Unapologetic and authentically me
I'm sure we all have/had extravagant plans for ourselves when we got (older). I find myself content with the here and now, which isn't something I ever thought could happen. I am 30.
Carlo C Gomez Apr 26
~
In her sulking-place
alone and naked

framed in soft sepia
—the vintage, harlequin hue

at this supposed faded hour
she sits looking back on memory

she sits and stares
into the boudoir mirror

at herself
at her embonpoint

yes, at these *******
—at their landscape

how they fall
(like Niagara)

where they point
(like a compass)

what they tell (so fondly)
when pressed together

about their time
—their work and play

towers on the precipice
of judgment

both callous and
uncharitable

if the mirror
truly be her reflection

her vision is turned around
as illusion

—a study of tonality and tolerance
for one's own flesh

the room
an invitation

or perhaps
a lockaway

where she even keeps secrets
from herself

~
avenoir - n. the desire that memory could flow backward
Ahmad Attr Apr 22
I close my eyes to visit my safe place
It’s a town that welcomes me
Every time I need it,
it pulls me in
But lately it’s slowly decaying
Naked roses
Silent birds
Washed out colors of my orange shirts
Unripe sour fruits
Melodious winds ambling all mute
Day without clouds
Night without stars
My back against the,
Blue paint peeling off the walls

And maybe you can join me
Take my photos with your polaroid camera
Drowned in the unblossomed daisies
Gentle shadows of glassy fantasies
Slowly drifting in my backyard
Where we sit humming to our untuned guitar

But you must go
Only I can stay
You are just a figment of my imagination
Maybe everything is, I don’t know what is true
I’ve lived here for far too long
But now this town is throwing me out
Maybe I should go too

But I know I am going to stay
My perfect world is slowly breaking apart. Is it my time to leave now? Is it too late to leave?
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