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Louisa Coller Nov 2014
The unique buds of magic, the wondrous feeling of scents.
I can't bare to stay here in this abyss, the abyss of isolation.
The flowerbeds grow from despair, witheringly when they finally gain,
the feeling of yesterday being poured away.
I should never have bothered with grace, graceful elegance left me behind,
I know it's impossible to do the things they proclaim, I know it's impossible,
to be the way I always see my face in the fabricated world.

Listen daughter, in the future of mine, never let these people push you behind.
Curiosity sometimes rightfully takes over your will, for I was curious too on how I live.
I never wanted you to fall down this hole, please return to me in my future arms.
I couldn't bare to see the desires I once had be wiped away from me.
Scattered like ashes, of used-to-bes, nobody deserves pure hatred,
nobody deserves to feel alone.

I know daughter of mine, when I see your hair shine in the lights of the world,
slowly forming into the explosions of used-to-be life which will be left behind, please hold me tight.
There are too many flowers in this garden, the ones who grow violently shiver those who cry, the ones who are left behind to wither into nothingness should be the ones remembered internally.
I can't hold the thought of desperation, the feelings that I wish would go away from me.
The hands that I once wanted to caresses me are now the ones I wish would bleed.

I no longer want life to be, a spiraling act of infinity.
Please.
I wrote this poem a while back and I often write poetry to instrumental meditation music or just general nice piano, violin or general beats, it helps me think better.

This is slightly inspired by poetry mostly written in the viewpoints of future selves or going back to our past selves to tell us things like "Don't give up" or "Don't do it". Nobody should feel like they deserve to lose it all and fall into an endless infinity of spinning.
RW Dennen Sep 2014
Earth is my bedroom and toilet;
an empty cup, my self employment
Days of empty stomach churning,
a forced sermon at "Sunday Breakfast"
Fast-food places are my kitchens;
Shelters,my free hotels and free meals
Police are my nemesis;
human rights, a foreign fantasy
Jail cells are my places for philosophical,
contemplated thought
Filth is my every day attire;
alertness, my only protection
Weather is my lover or enemy;
cold empty stares, my other human contacts
Loneliness is my constant companion
New horizons are never sought
by this man-of-no-land

,
I'm addicted

Something I can't cure
Simple and pure
To touch and watch it melt
Mmmmmm
How so good that felt
Warm, pleasing on my lips
In little strips it drips
Under the wrapping, so strapping
****
Its a victimless crime
In my prime, it feels sublime
In my mouth, moving all around
Tastes so good, need to lie down
Creamy center, nothing so delightful
Its beautiful, insightful
Mmmmmm
Delicious, begging for more
Just need another score
Addicted to the taste
Can't let it go to waste

I'm Addicted
If you think it's just about chocolate,
Then you're an angel.
Like me. :)
Maggie Emmett Sep 2014
He weaves slowly between the tables
at Buongiorno's

stooping over each diner's ear
close and intimate as a lover

He asks if they can spare a little
money for his lunch

He's gaunt each cheek shadowed hollow
his skin bleached white as bone

Each vertebrae is marked prominent
Each finger skeltonic thin

Unsocked, in shoes laced with knots of string
leather uppers baked, cracked and crazy creased

His hair is dry-straggle stalks of corn
Eyes hold a stare that fixes fast the lies

He cuts a powerful figure under that cosy awning
though some name him worthless beggar

Fearless of taunts and titles offered from shamemongers
and well-respected-men-about-town

there is no guilt in asking for your basic needs
from the latte-ccino mob who have so much to spare.

© M.L.Emmett
Buongiorno's is an Italian Caffe on the Norwood Parade, Adelaide, South Oz.
Kate Lion Jan 2013
I can’t stand that I can’t understand
Why my heart heaved its contents into your content hands,
Tearstains dripping through my fingers as we [danced].
I remember the days I’d [collapse] in crowded streets,
Because my heart would [skip] too many beats.
Then you’d [spin me], kiss my cheeks and whisper
Something sweet about my [feet’s] defeat.
But I knew then that I couldn’t [keep rhythm],
So I must’ve suffered from heart failure.

And once you left in October, and my soul was sober
Not drunk on my tears,
I would wonder what could’ve persuaded you to stay,
But once my heart attempted a [pirouette]
I no longer questioned my place.
.. I don’t know if you watched after that,
But I’m sure you saw the {snowprints} I’d leave in your yard,
My only way of telling you that I hated being my own {saving grace},
Because a {fallen angel} drops too hard.

But icicles hung from your eyelids that winter,
And splintered your vision.
Looking back, I believe you cried as much as I did,
And the tears froze across your eyes.
Because you never looked me in the eye as our minds ran to pieces
As we raced to find peace with ourselves.

You spun me for a loop,
My skull kissing paintball splattered remains of my left and right brain
As they bled all over themselves,
Knocking my sanity off of the shelves
In an attempt to explain whether love is history,
Or chemistry,
And I didn’t want to ponder the prospects
So paper was my band-aid fix all.
I wrapped my mind around it,
Concealed my soul beneath my words,
Until I was my own mummified form,
Too afraid to rip them off.
Because what if nothing had healed at all?
I rotted beneath my façade.
My smiley face band-aids the only hands of happiness that hugged me for
Months,
And I
Sunk
Into depression,
Not unlike this current recession,
Not knowing where my silver lining would be;
Wondering if it would come only when withered lines worked their way across my cheeks,
A gray hairline visible in the sun,
As proof my time had come,
To be happy.

But something better came sooner with the rains of May,
And a new boy painted smiles back onto my face.
Removing the bandages that had bruised my body,
And punctured the skin of my poetry.
So I was free to bleed again,
With fresh pieces to breathe in.

Was it happiness, or freedom that flushed my cheeks?
Or was it the uncomfortable spider that would weave my stomach in knots
As another part of me was lost
To the boy who painted my peace
For a price?

I didn’t mean to hand so much to him, love,
But a measure of pleasure came with a cost,
And at some point my beliefs were tossed to scatter in the wind,
And the spider of guilt in my stomach sunk its teeth right in,
Sadness seeping through my veins,
The venom of regret.

Because you were the only one who ever held all of me and none of me at the same time,
Who never asked for what I claimed to be mine.
All of me was yours,
Even the things you never asked for
Were stamped with your name for a future date.
But mail gets intercepted sometimes,
And my contents were spread
Before someone I hardly knew
And I-
Missed-
You…

Because you never asked for too much to touch or too much of my love
I loved you the only way I was able to.
And now…
I’m just a tainted tin can on the side of the street.
And I know you don’t have use for me,
But I’ll do my best to undo the dents of my past.
All I know is that yesterday you told me you hate it when I don’t say what’s on my mind.
But my tongue was a sponge that soaked up the ways that I’ve wanted to say
That I’m sorry.

And I’ve skipped my own beats for a year and a half,
Letting my turn to tell you I yearn for you pass
Right over
In an endless drum roll.
But-
I feel a –rhythmic- rattle-
In my –beaten-aluminum-body
As your footsteps
[Stop].
Please.
Don’t let me suffer for my heart failure.
Shaded Lamp Aug 2014
She sits there by the cash machine
with her coffee cup of coins
Punctured skin displayed
Braille spelling
"I need to take away the pain"
She is sat where I sat
Not exactly there
But... well
That was long ago
The haze of the night... what is my card number?
Third attempt failed
The machine takes the card
The bank takes everything
It is a long walk home
To a warm home
In cold rain
Numb
A splatter of memories from a night many moons ago in London...anywhere!
VENUS62 Jul 2014
Begging, considered
an utter humility
The ultimate indignity
Giving, regarded
An act of charity
Of utmost nobility
One hand raised
The other lowered
Sheltering a kernel
Of truth on the whole
Humility, and charity
Virtues two of the soul
the seeker and the giver
are nothing but an evidence
Of divine existence!
Danziel Jul 2014
Half truths
Creates whole pain

Finish the story
I'm curious
I have nine lives

I love folklores
Josiah Wilson Jun 2014
You have the most beautiful smile
I haven't seen it in a while
But you know I miss you so bad
When you're not here I get so sad

It'd be nice if you'd come around
All the time I'm wearing this frown
It's so grey since you went away
And it gets worse everyday

Please come back
Bring color into my life again
Please tell me
It's not over, this is not the end
Please come back
I'll do anything to make you stay
Please tell me
They're all wrong and we won't end this way

You have the most kissable lips
You make my heart start doing flips
I can't be sad when you are near
You make me smile from ear to ear

It'd be nice if you'd come around
'Cause since you left I've been so down
The sun has set and gone away
And it gets darker everyday

Please come back
Bring color into my life again
Please tell me
It's not over, this is not the end
Please come back
I'll do anything to make you stay
Please tell me
They're all wrong and we won't end this way
They're all wrong and we won't end this way

Not today, please stay, don't go away
Please stay, don't let it end this way
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