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Bones of ebony ivory drunk ate sing
Shaping the plates numbered nailed
Narrows nine hanging sneakers.
A fading necklace
Tying her laces.

Know yourself to the wells of valleys,
She sang, her voice was swelling
Understand yourself like the
Valleys leading wisely
To the eternal tides.

Cliffed-edge hanging dresses blowing
A flag below her waist over wheels
Of her brave weathered suitcase.
Crystal wing bends portraits of
Dinner plates in place.

Lush hair lady ebony-pale ivory sang Through the valleys dressed like
Her portraits of dining plates
Which weathered storms
She would have chased.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
Sometimes I don’t do
What I like doing most
Held up
Stuck
Oh!! the mind blocks
The blocks
Which could have been building blocks
But instead, they lay there as the roadblocks
Traffic and Jams
No, it’s not the sweet jam
That you savour on a toasted bread
Instead it’s roasting your head
Everything comes to one big
Halt
The
Mind blocks
Amanda Feb 23
Breathing empty air just to pass time
Sometimes scribble on the wall I am stuck behind
I am ready to break through thick bricks
They are a mess of emotions mixed
Prefer to sit idly as they fall one by one
They are stacking up and there's nowhere to run
Each piece of my heart tumbles down
A multitude of building blocks scattered all around
I've built a wall to see if anyone cares enough to break through it
Isaac Oct 2018
If letters on a keyboard are building blocks,
I want to build the most beautiful masterpiece.
Fitting different letters together into words,
And words into sentences.
I want these sentences to deliver thoughts that will make people's lives better.
Written 21 October 2018
Mercia Sep 2018
My story.
Where do I begin? Normally people would say at the beginning, but what if the story has no beginning or the beginning has been forgotten. What if every lie is the beginning and truth is the ending, would that complicate life? Or would it be understandable. Confusion is humans main language. Before we speak we confused whether we should or not. Before we say our words our minds are confused whether it's right or wrong. This confusion is accepted if not said, but when uttered is a disgrace. But a disgrace to who actually? Is it a disgrace to those who assume you understand or to yourself for being naturally confused. Anyway that is not the story. My story is dumber and simpler then that. It's the typical boy meets girl, girl meets boy. Okay, its not that simple cause it now sounds stupid. Let me spice it up, maybe you will be able to identify too much spice. He was or should I say is a normal yet complex rubix cube. I could read him till I thought I was smart enough to scrabble him up and set him back again. Yet he has one flaw, a flaw that made him smell like garbage. This flaw was, that he lived flings, loved flings, is flings. His cube had a missing part. The red part. It was all black. Even when questioned his master mind was quick to come up with lies. How we met is forgotten yet lied about. We told the world that we met at school, but what if we didn't. We told them we liked each other. Yet we couldn't drink water without telling one another. The beginning was forgotten. My biggest flaw that he could see is that, I lived love, I love love and I was built on pieces of a buttered heart. Yet I remained with him. He would shoot fireworks of heartaches yet I would smile and pretend I'm not choking on the smoke. He would slice my buttered heart yet I would smile and say you would be a great butcher.. He never understood me and I always let that slide. I was a continuous joke and he the comedian. What was left of me at the end was truth. That no matter what, I am willing to go through it all till I find my Valentine. The world called me crazy. I was confused, am I crazy for believing or crazy because I am strong. I'm made with love. Something unbreakable. No one can take that away. Even He, couldn't
Em Jul 2018
i can’t find them
i can’t find anything
i’ve lost them all
in piles
of clothes
or pens
or paints.
i just saw them
why can’t i
just *******
grab them.
people say organization is important
and to them it makes sense.
i tell them that i know.
i do.
i know.
but if my brain is a mess
as it has been forever,
will i lose myself if i organize it?
I don't know. I'm going through a rough, rough time of lacking motivation and inspiration. My head is whirling with ideas but every time I get them out they aren't good enough.
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