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Chris 12h
Of everlasting wars

Bleakness surrounded by
Weakness in blackest form

Serpentine flows of
Glowing rivers by waterfalls torn

Rebirth in broken heights
Take this body thrown
Plunging off the edge
The state of mind
Individuals blind & bound
The bones of the
not yet murdered,
hurriedly re-dressed
by the hands of the guilty.
Creating a cloak of invisibility
that no one can see.

Whispered words of
the guilty liars,
drowned in their own
breathy stench.
To conceal the truth
that no one can hear.

Words once tearfully written
still undiscovered.
(for time cannot heal)
that only I can feel.

The reaper knocks,
One, two, three
and I ask he call again.
Maybe tomorrow,
but I don't know why.

Poetry by Kaydee.
Curious, mind, core -
Tell me, not with words
I wish to know, so enlighten
Look at me, and tame my eyes
And let your soul speak to mine
And if you cannot understand
Or if I do see yours there that
Yours wouldn't care to know
that you are not mine, then
At least the truth is so set
By eyes, they don't lie
As do this, my heart
Half yours, of mine
Let seeing blind
And blind see
If I, you can't
Then let be,
To bid bye
O eyes,
Spicy Digits Dec 6
You are my lover
My only lover
Whom the world
Shows its colour
And when you need
A tasty other
I am yours to smother

You are my well-girthed king
My only king
Hotter than a thermal spring
Pull on my apron string
Undress me
And impress me
****** me with your violin

Play me like a pan flute
My lover, my brute
****** my ego
My resolve is dilute
And you, my broken parachute
Will be my demise
Dating a psychopath
This isn’t about the Sun anymore.
This isn’t about being the Earth anymore.
For once it’s not about being walked on.
It’s not about false hope.
It’s about hurting.

This is about burning.

Not because of the Sun.
But rather, the fact that you blindly followed a torch in the darkness and now—now you are lost.

And no matter how long you stare at the plaster on your ceiling, all of the lines and dots and weird shapes, the map isn’t clear.

You wanted to grab the torch to bring the light closer, to see better.

But you went to far and grabbed the flame.
I'm sorry, I'm not perfect
Don't you see that?
Are you that blind?
Why do you expect me to be perfect?
Since you are not perfect also
Forgive me that I'm can not do it
I hope I'll be perfect
For you
I promise
I'll be
I need time
A lot of time
It's not that simple
Have you tried?
I don't think so
I'm sorry I'm not perfect
I'm sorry
Her hair, the colour of the sky
When the sun says goodbye
That falls like sheer silk
And flows so easily
Like dandelion seeds
Her eyes, so round and curious
Filled with the absence of vice
That crinkle oh so shyly
How could she be so blind
I yearn to clean her mirrors
Her glasses and perception
How could she not see
How she keeps my attention
Her childlike qualities
That keep her youthfulness bright
Her smile, her laugh, her empathy
The way she falls sometimes
I fell for her, and still falling
The more I get to know her
The more I know, The more I love
And for that I couldn't be more sure
Blindly Feeling Walls
This false positivity is too bright.
You are blind.
Feeling the right wall of
The maze as you continue
To lay your barricades,
Leaving roadblocks,
Leaving potholes,
Building walls;
Never allowing anyone
To get close.
This false positivity is
Which is stronger?
The mask you have placed,
Or the wall you’ve struck
When you blocked them out?
Kaitlin Evers Nov 29
***, piece me back together
Will it ever not hurt?
Dearest blindfold, hide me
From the truth once again
Believing the lie
Was my happiest path
Is the truth really worth it
When all it gains is pain?
Aaron Elswick Nov 28
How many centuries have we spent now,
bent down?
Brown mud caking these
brittle knees.
Unmade in the eyes of a perfect being,
and he won’t die,
and lie in that grave with the others.
His forgotten brothers.

A welcome emaciated mass of sun bleached death.
Tossed without ceremony left to be lost like the rest.
Frail and undone when the cleansing light sends its test.
Pale and empty of substance when exposed.
Set to rest and decompose.
And we’re unimpressed.

These hypnotized liars walk lines along cliff edges.
Lost in their mind because those before them said it.
Handed a song, ages old, told to walk in faith alone.
On the precipice dancing on the edge, but they forget it.

Stone erodes and poses pressing tones below
Stressing more and more the floor supporting guests, upon depressing roads.
Paths corrode as cracks along the edge show
growing tortured gravel patches,
bound to pour out scores,
when rainfall carries
laughing dancers to the bones.

We’re fed up, jaded, and broken,
so let us take a moment.
Leave the solemn words
we’ve spoken on the graves.
Turn the token cliche prose
we lay on corpses into social currency for future days when those who question us impose an accusation;

“Why didn’t you help”
“By myself?” replies the bystander
Surprised to find the eyes
of a man turned squarely into his,
with tears colliding with his hand,
as fingers press into his eyes again.

“You watched as masses shielded vision and passed
Not but an inch from within the wind of your breath
Without so much as a whispering bid for reason.

You laughed in the ignorant faces of men and women perceiving yourself apart, or above, and seeded in yourself a pride that grew out into treason.

Leaving your fellow man unbreathing now.
Hallow and bleeding out.
Just like the fallen deities you love to mock so ******* much.

Mock them when they pray too hard but stay just as blind as they are because not speaking is just as awful as appalling preaching and you know such”

The bystander feels
Shaking ground, though metaphoric ground this time,
below his euphoric purpose driven apathy.

“This is how it has to be”
He pleads. Recedes into himself and pleas for respite.
Left to wrestle his own fears of king or despot selling wishful vials of lies to those, without the question in their mind to test it.

“They won’t listen. Days go missing in their heads consumed with blissful ways.
They chase the wisdom
Fray the threads of truth to suit the pictures kissed with wishes for filtered existence away from criticism and pray for a view assuring their faith stays”

Before the next reply could pour out The
Depths retort a horrid sound that cuts the air
and ground, denies the sordid pair their discourse,
and sorts them with the rest of who’s around,
with waves of death abound.

The recently brittle mountain
with what decent little strength had been reserved,
turned temples into rubble descending caverns and burning up. The lessons lost and briefly learned, before the the fall,
were all but echoes in the minds of the dancers who returned,
to spurn the non believers who couldn’t use their faith and find lessons to be discerned.

“Heed not the words of heretics.
Fear not the shrinking mountain.
This lack of faith produces bile that strives to pollute our drinking fountain.
Search within yourself to find a mind that lends its self to sway.
Allow these soothing songs
of ours to heal and wash the pain away.”

And they will.
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