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Poetic T Jan 2019
I couldn't find the pocket knife
in my pocket, I wanted to etch
                 us in eternity forever.
Our names growing in time but
that was never meant to happen.


I planted seeds that never grew,
one was for me the other for you.
Wanting us to blossom over time
        but all that flourished was
time that never really grew.

How could you never see the space
             that was between us separate.
Even though we were inseparable
          we were couldn't reach to
                                  touch the other.

I planted seeds that couldn't  grow,
one was for me the other for you.
Wanting us to blossom over time
        but all that flourished was
time that stood between what grew.

But when I look at you
      and your gaze back at me.
I know that it doesn't take
                         words etched
or for a flower to blossom
to show the connection between us is real.
I couldn't find my pocket knife,
so I kissed you and love grew from that
to what we are and this is us me and you.

Why wouldn't the moments stay
with us, it passed like we weren't
even in the same time zone.
when I wanted you the phone was
                                                     silent.

"This is the answer phone of my life leave a message,

But you never got back to me?
               Are we still that message on a tree,
               one never etched but meant to be.
poemsformysake Jan 2019
What do I do about her?
About the one I cannot reach
About the one I cannot be with
She is right ******* there
She is so close
I can see her soul in her eyes
I can see her smile, frown, cry, laugh,
I can see her
But she is so far away
It's a canyon between us
It’s deep and it's dark and it’s filled with all my despair
And if I fall I know I cannot come back
I cannot see her again…
And so I stay here.
Colm Dec 2018
Ripples beneath concrete feet
Falling all around the trees
Are the days of lightful shadows still
Are the scenes unseen to me
Quietly
Softly
Mostly
Between ivory keys
Are the pulling, plodding, plucking leaves
Which kiss the earth like a butterfly
And depart fluttering with bus stop wings
To no other earthly springs comply
Between Ivory Keys
I love you

Dot

Dot

Dot

I miss you

Dot

Dot

Dot

I need you

Dot

Dot

Dot

Ellipsis are meant to replace thoughts unspoken

So maybe you're the reason I'm so good at reading between the lines
Em MacKenzie Nov 2018
I read a disturbing truth someone questioned on the internet,
“the world didn’t end in 2012, but since then have you truly felt alive?”
I don’t wish to presume, but I would be more than willing to bet
that you feel the same, that you’ve fully lost your drive.
Marking calendars like clockwork, each box an imposing X,
but you’ve lost your absolute and essential favourite red pen.
We live as NPC’s but I’d like to believe we’re far more complex,
though we make the same mistake over and over again.

No sun burnt out, no moon fell,
but I swear the galaxy has changed,
we’re dazed and living under a spell,
our lifestyle’s completely deranged.
There was deviation from the reservation
that fate held out for us.
Abandoned salvation for sedation
the golden pastures have turned to dust.
But there’s got to be a link between worlds.

I know there’s growth in destruction
instead I loathe interruption.
Can silence be considered a confrontation?
I know there’s redemption in healing,
but I take each hit without showing feeling.
Can violence be considered mediation?
Decipher every word’s meaning
while performing spring cleaning
we’re all the same; we just want a good purge.
Ignoring every clear right sign
but complain about the fuzzy line
the one that’s crossed when you can’t resist the urge.

No sun burnt out, no stars died,
but the dimensions sure are blurring.
Auto pilot’s on and gravity’s been defied,
and no one sees this all occurring.
There was deviation from the reservation,
that fate held out for us.
I trade motivation for inebriation,
the golden pastures have turned to rust.
But there’s got to be a link between worlds.

Time isn’t so strong when you can break the clock
you know it’s possible to push back the hands.
For fate is chosen but destiny you can mock
from the deep seas to the hottest sands.
The past is already written
the ink is already dry.
The fire’s already been lit and
the flames are reaching towards the sky.
I’ve explored every emotional cave
and I’ve trekked through every lonely field.
When you’re scared it’s the only time you can be brave,
so grab your sword and don’t forget your shield.

No sun burnt out, no seas ran dry,
but the world suddenly stopped turning.
the world’s a game and life’s a lie,
but we must keep internal fires burning.
There was deviation from the reservation
that fate held out for us,
I replace meditation with self deprecation
the golden pastures I no longer trust.
But there’s got to be a link between worlds.
Bryce Nov 2018
Cool blanket of sky
Life holding a bated breath
Wishing new seasons
There is this
ancient friendship
between
our souls and destruction,
and in between
lies a tasteless,
mysteriously giant
mother ******* waterfall
scattered like a suicide!
&
You all are,
You all are standing,
tragically cold,
freezing like a dead rabbit and
stationary, like that one undernourished artificial snake,
whipped from time to time.

Do you now dare to make the jump?
to break on through the other side?


- Samar Charulingah Godfrey
stargazer Oct 2018

Oil on water

Sliding over me
This slippery
Never-ending reality

Grasping at nothing
Downward cascading
Hardly even breathing

Silk on silk

Words die on my lips
Things falling from my fingertips
My world caught in apocalypse

Everything gliding away
With each passing day
Everything fades to grey
Sliding away
elle Oct 2018
I see myself, over a blue pool
teetering on this slab of elevated plastic
an invisible hand covering my
insatiable mouth
something tricks me forward-


a dome over our heads, we all wake up in sleeping bags
who am I now?

young and waiting

looking out at the
train graveyard, tracks like teeth
the mouth of a shark
an underbelly roars
below me,
the cogs of a machine.


I woke up in a dream again
of my dad, young and in love
of the beach at sunset
of someone warming my hands in theirs at a bus stop,

waking up between nights
to the smell of summer and
lost time
I ask my self:
Was I the only one
to ever love you?
Between us two?
No, no, you loved
Yourself too, all the while
leaving me unloved
Both by you and
As it happens, by me too -
All this would not have
Changed had you not left
And now I slowly
After  breaking saw too
That I can love my self so.
Even after you after all.
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