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Z Aug 2019
Her breath was halcyon
We were my axiom;
I was her peace

Piecing pictures out of nothing
Pretty words, I caught her bluffing
Then the release
MaxiM Mar 2019
Nothing in life is made, only re purposed.
MaxiM 23
Words' Worth Feb 2019
If I had prayed for every time I wanted to become a wolf. I'd have become you and you'd become me. A wolves cry howling "bon appetit."
The more I look, the bitterer I become.
The less I look, the wiser I become of things seemingly out of my hands.
I’m afraid of loving you
My blue eyed boy
I’m afraid of losing you
of you thinking you’re my toy

I’m afraid of wanting you
I already want too much
From you, from myself,
From everyone

Is your understanding for me gone?
Do you hate me? I don’t know.
Is my love for you a theorem or
an axiom of my being?
After all…

I’m afraid of knowing
the answer to my questions,
I’m afraid of losing you
to that I have no answer.

The ending of this poem’s near,
yet I have no conclusion
Is this really love,
or my premature illusion?
someguy Oct 2018
Is there something you believe in?
Is there anything you think is verity?
How does this world treat your dreams,
When you face the ash and terror of reality

Lustful, greedy, hatred souls,
Millions of them, trying to reach their own goals,
They’ll put all others into dirt
And sell their own mothers for a piece of sparkling ****

Would you’ve really wanted to be born again,
Into this world of horror and demonic pain,
Seems that God has long ago forsaken this cell
And Satan rules in his newly born Hell

Would you really want to live in this agony and misery,
When you learn that nothing is an axiom, a verity,
No morality’s left and none follows
In the future light of the suicidal merrows
Learn envy—
For it does so exist.
And then uproot it from your garden—
For it renders one blind to the fragrances emanated by other flowers.
Jamie L Cantore Jan 2018
Loving in axiom, and eager in Poetry heart to show, that she may reap some comfort of my pain: joy may animate her to read, which may allow her know, understanding may charity win, and charity beauty obtain, I sought right words to draw the darkest sight of woe, surveying devices fine, her thoughts to entertain: often tossing others' wits to check if then it's flow some new and healthy rains would come upon my desert brain. But words sprung stopping forth, needing devices stay, Device, a poet's young, escaped Knowledge's blows, and strangers feet seemed obstacles in my way. Thus great with kin to speak, and defenseless in my throes, gnawing my fugitive pen, chastising myself for spite, Twit, said my inspiration to me, peer into thine soul and write.
ryn Apr 2016
Axiom does not lie upon the
plush bed of the words I've said.
It doesn't flourish under influence of the
flowery texts I've written.
Axiom does not fully exist behind the
actions I've deliberately displayed.

It is ingrained within the subtle folds,
inexplicable nuances
and playful innuendos.
It is present in the lull you find in between
fleeting memories and faltering heartbeats.
It is scored into the unlyricised songs,
sung when our breaths do meet.
It's in the unplanned gazes that
stray into nothingness
only to be caught by yours.
It's evident in the void... The silence we've shared
without ever feeling awkward.

Is the fall that you had anticipated
only after having taken the leap.
It's that feeling of not knowing where the bottom is
but yet still certain that you are safe.

Axiom is...
My unseen heart as it beats hard
for none other than you.
Fizza Abbas May 2015
Isn't it axiomatic that
my mind craves for my
seeks pleasure
in roaming around
it, and in the end
says that,
heart is my foe!
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