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Donna Jul 2017
On a blank canvas
The clouds gathered together
Splashing on windows
Tis rainy day in England today x
M Harris Mar 2017
Iridescent Charms & Atomic Raves,
Raptured Revelations In Her Bulletproof Grave,
Impassive Frequencies Of Her Reflections Engraved.

Ionic Ribbons Of Her Artistic Trance,
Neon Contrasts In Her Stellar Stance,
Starry-Eyed Rhapsody In Her Censored Glance,

Vaporized Fractals Draped In Her Past,
Crystallized Specters Sterilized To Last,
Perpetual Panic Triggering A Blast,

Sedated Phantasms In Her Paralyzed Voice,
Isolated Collisions & Distressed Noise,
Overrated Memoirs Of Her Tainted Reprise,

Liquid Shadows In Her Moonlit Dreams,
Theatrical Schemes To Her Grand Regime,
Enigmatic Queen Of Turbulent Screams,

Shipwrecked Effigy Resonating Duality,
Overtuned Spirits Illuminating Reality,
Metaphysical Anniversary Of Her Romantic Fatality.

- 04:28AM -
Anders Thompson Mar 2017
cut these hands off
take the knife and saw
separate the sinews from my bones
disassemble my wrist from my palm to my fingers
if i cannot use these hands
to tell a tale by the dying light
or splash color and feeling across
a blank page then cut
them
off
silvervi Jan 2017
I can't help but at times
I just need my expression
Words, songs, dances or smiles
They are all my obsession
Art's my drug and my best friend forever
I can't help but at times I love rhymes.
James Walker Nov 2016
Double down
stumbling
through mountains
of my own assholery
enjoying the range
of ******
left in my wake

once upon a time
they apologized less
men were men
and
able to test their mettle
of courage and bravado
but
now emptied of all
filled with remorse
the only word they know
is 'sorry'
Stop apologizing for standing to close, almost touching me, and for looking in my direction. Have you no shame? We all have a right to exist you know... people seem to apologize just for being there these days
Mims Oct 2016
my bed,
how do i begin to describe,
the cotton sheets,
fluffy pillows,
and failed art projects,
yes they collect on my bed,
next to half empty water bottles,
that one loose yarn ball,
is where i feel at rest.
i can't help but be drawn to,
my constant resting place,
and it makes it so much easier,
with everyday hardships i must face,
clean clothes,
half scribbled notebooks.
that one book i haven't finished yet.
my laptop,
has all collected where i spend most of my time.
where midnight inspiration strikes.
my bed
CE Oct 2016
my life is sadness

As if you didn't already know that,
I'm a teenager after all

But this isn't a poem about a sad wasted life

It's a bland poem about a sad artist

Nothing I can ever do will make it meaningful

There's no point to it

I can create,

Write some profound or empty poetry

Make some genius or contrived music

Paint some ugly or beautiful pictures

gentrify my sadness,

make it pretty
make it art

It doesn't make it anything more than a black hole

a black hole that throws out a portrait of a boy with a million eyes that can't see anything

I realise now
that sadness

no matter how much I dress it up

Is sadness

And even if it's pretty or artistic

it's never going to be more than that
I realised how much of a little poseur I am. How terrible.
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