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I am in a place where I don’t belong
I tried to get out but couldn’t break the cage
Am I too weak or is the cage too strong
Why can’t I be free like the birds in the sky.

I am in a place where I don’t belong
I tried to swim for my freedom but couldn’t break the glass.
Am I too weak or is the glass too strong
Why can’t I be free like the fishes in the ocean.
Ivy 3d
What is this feeling? I feel pain and sadness for a man whom I never really talked to,
a man who ends up back where he started-
Who is always left with the feeling of loneliness and constant regret
I use to see him in the halls, now the only time people see him is behind thick glass-
    Does he try to change, or does he want to stay the same-
Only He can answer that
He is put in a cage like a bird, who wants to be free, but has been dependent on the wrong people for a long time
    He lets drugs and alcohol control the way he thinks-
Once he is given some freedom-
He ends up back in those cold chains
And put into that cage, once again
Will he break this cruel cycle of fate?
I wrote this one quickly in class
Oculi Oct 4
While plucking feathers, while plucking feathers
The black tar envelops my unmanly sigh
A cigarette in the moon's light with a stranger
And the howling of an unsightly beast

While plucking feathers, while plucking feathers
The fog obscures everything in sight
I'm questioning the night sky on its numbers
The forest looks in disgust and curiosity

While plucking feathers, while plucking feathers
I'm bleeding out, I'm bleeding out
While plucking feathers, my ear drum pops
I say my goodbye and flap my bare wings

An ornate door leads to the mausoleum
A huge crack showing the entrance of grave robbers
The youths wander inside to belittle their ancestors
And my ballad softly floats above the ground

While plucking feathers, while plucking feathers
The young man rests near his anvil
Opening his book of poetry on an empty page
Only to find the blood of the martyr seeping

While plucking my feathers
Will the youth remember my name?
Will I be forgotten as a nameless man?
Or will I be the poet of the next century?

Pluck my feathers or don't!
Pluck my feathers or don't!
Pluck my feathers or don't!

But do not forget me and the steps which I took
Do not forget my babbling, my bish and my bosch
Do not forget my gifts, you, receiver of blessing
Pluck them rhythmically, slave, rhythmically

My feather falls, slowly to the ground
It is the last of its kind
And as my breaths draw to a close
The children laugh gleefully
Unknowing the end is near
Extinction on my name once and for all
Pluck my feathers no more, slave,
I've just blood to give.
Ars poetica.
RR Silva Oct 4
– What is happiness? "Would be this little thing that enchants me with its singing?"
– With a gray-blue feather? "Saturdays, at my window spying?"
– Who my heart burns; who frees me from me? "Which makes me go crazy when I don't see your look without guilt and greed?”

– Oh! what would be happiness? "Is it you, soft-feathered thing, who stares at me out the window when goes late at night?"
– Is this happiness? "Little bird that leaves me at night, flying away, not knowing how to return"
- Singing my name, telling me it is me "The bird who lives trapped in the cage."
A feather light,
A feather dark,
A feathered sight,
Like a hawk,
Who's the night,
Who's a lot,
For fish or fry,
Here it's cry,
A shriek of brave,
A shriek of grave,
A flutter of danger,
A flutter of passerby,
A flock alone,
Together be,
Shape of V,
They see,
From high above,
A hawk,
A seagull,
A dove.
A crow sees you,
But you don't know,
Perching quiet,
They sit a row,
Then the caw,
Look around,
They saw,
Now you see,
On the house,
On the tree,
Lined up,
On a line,
Along the ground,
Nibble and hop,
Hear a sound,
Then they stop,
See something,
Fly away,
But they all come back,
One of these days.
Falling, Falling, Falling
Through the fluid,
With breath,
In sleep,
It never ends,
Falling, Falling, Falling,
A soft motion,
A lighter,
Past the sailing clouds,
Not yet seen the ground,
Falling, Falling, Falling,
Loose friction,
Peace in one depiction,
Only feel,
Do not think,
No contradiction,
A strong affliction,
Get drunk,
Lost in the air,
Surrounded by it,
Live by it,
Always by it,
Falling, Falling, Falling
There is now goal,
Feathers light,
Hunger whole,
Now soaring,
Speed was storing,
The dive,
The spread,
The curve,
In the talon’s grasps,
Something from the ocean,
Now being carried,
Through a more fluid ocean,
Gliding, Gliding, Gliding,
To a rock,
Feed the ones chirping a good bit,
And now rest,
That’s it.
I wanted to write something about a bird.
Jon Thenes Sep 22

dead by predator

once sky upon the mighty

now fed to the ground
Anti  Haiku
You are the best I ever knew.
You are the lifeful like a one bird's fly.
You are the lightfull like a light on street of Avenue.
I'll keeping your image to make that true.
When I am in the darkness I wanna see the light of Avenue.
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