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I look into a starry sky, mind space is in a decline
these clawing words scratching to be released
In time
gnawing at my soul, they biting,
To them it's a feast
I can hear them crying, wailing, these amazingly horrid beasts
they in control of my being, a puppet, diseased
They need to save me, they want this feelings released
in tandem moving, to these healing pages they flee
the negativity magnetically dispersing, it's positively unlocked
i now have the key, emotions boiling
this becomes it's scroll, it's a decree
words flowing in waves of wonder,
happiness, i'm smiling
flowing with glee
this is the words that i married, a match made in heaven
i feel,
without them, i would have been curse, on my knees
praying for my life to be scythed , the grim reaper
By the one....
They call me
Poetry is my outlet, to get my feelings out there. It's also nice to to know that, i can at least write something, that make you all care.
Faizel Farzee Aug 19
Living life to aluminate this hidden mask
Is no great task
If you lost all feelings to a bitter past
My minds racing directionless and fast
Outcast
The words enters my soul
Cutting my Humanity, so cold
My heart embedded in a cast
From all the places it’s broken
Living this continued farce
The one I wear with hated pride
The one I continue to brokenly hide
I confide,
These words to you
So please don’t deny
You feel exactly the same
With your damaged pride
Living in a censored dark
I now embark,
To win this war
Amongst all art
We en devour to hide our true thoughts, we only give it life through our painted words...
This poetry you are reading,
Came to me one evening.
This is just more than a poem,
It's a revolutionary anthem.

This poetry was sent from the deep
Via spoken words in my sleep.
This poetry was baked in the furnace
It's elusive, nobody will ever trace.

This poetry is so hot, it'll burn you
And probably shock you.
Yet it has the propensity to uplift,
So it's not something to play with.

This poetry will slowly creep
From the sole of your feet,
To the crown of your head.
This poetry is a didactic bread.

This poetry is a glitch
Yet it was sent to teach.
It will grasp your attention,
and stretch your imagination.

This poetry is a proclamation
Of our collective emancipation
From total mental slavery.
This poem bears the scars of bravery.

This work is the embodiment of artistry
And the blurry lines and meters of poetry.
It's a poem, it's music and it's a painting.
This poetry is a testament of my calling.

#IBpoetry© #Bassapoet
         <<5.7.2019>>
This poetry was inspired by a great poet.
Glenn Currier May 27
dings and whistles from the slot alert him escape -
sit before my image enter its wild wolf canyon escape

winding road in lofty forest landscape
beckon her - leave him for my green escape

triple x signs promise writhing bodies
heavy breathing and dark dank escape

the flute lay still of the silent table sparkling
sweet melodic memories of fingered escape

the frothy surging surf traces the seam of the sea -
bathe in my *****, wrap your self in my fluid escape

locked door soft light from below no sounds
inside creative energy sparks a poetic escape

on the placid lake he casts his hopes
awaits the tug - he and his prey escape

she stands eyes closed, smiling face turned upward
feels the breeze in her hair thanks God for this sweet escape

he runs in the field of goldenrod tears stream
and he screams a desperate entreaty for escape

the sylvan spirits flown from the mountain trees
into the green glen whisper as angels - escape!
Author’s Note: This is my first modest attempt at writing in the Ghazal poetic form.  Thanks to poet Rob Kistner whom  I met on HelloPoetry.com for the inspiration for this poem.  Rob is an extraordinary talent who writes with a free yet disciplined artistic brush.  This is the URL for his poetry on that website:  https://hellopoetry.com/Artheo/
James R Apr 23
I refuse to let my artistry
be ignored,
broken, beaten,
bruised, or forgotten.
These words hold my truth,
deeper than any flagship
can carry.
I must be butter today, cuz I'm on a roll. I hope to continue to find inspiration in the words that surround us all.
i'll paint this blank canvas
with invisible ink and
let these words i'm thinking
sink in to the very fibres
you can set fire to it
let the warmth fill you
that bright glow flow through
as you listen to the sound
of my thoughts crackling
right off the burning page

all these words are yours
to be heard for an age
annh Dec 2018
To imbue artistry with life invoke the multitude,
To imbue life with artistry invoke the muse.
Guðrið Dec 2018
Had life’s purpose been to dream
I would’ve been the queen

But ‘stead I am mere begger
melting in sun’s sweet beam
I see fine art when I look in your eyes,
And your voice sings in perfect melody.
E’en the thought of you I romanticize,
I read fairy tales in the you I see.

Your eyes a subtle pleasing pair in rhyme,
All history’s beauty found in your smile,
Your touch beats my heart in meter and time,
Your moves transcend every poetic style.

All of the poems written about you,
Inadequately composed by myself,
Are merely shadows of art that is true.
You are the words of a poem yourself.
Instagram @insightshurt
Blogging at insightshurt.blogspot.com
Buy “Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life” at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
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