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I am many things.
Mostly,
a beast of burden.
I am everything.
Mostly,
painful consciousness.

I am pain.
I am detriment
to my own health,
as well as
I am detriment
to my others.

What do I want?
Alexandria fell.
For what more could I want?

Then, may the flame
burn, ad infinitum,
inhale human conquest.

What do I want?
To keep grandiosity
from obtaining starships.

Or,

Just turn to dust,
As is the prophecy,
Happy the motes
ever did arrange.
onlylovepoetry Jul 2017
a companion piece to
miniskirts & high heels vs. poetry & yoga^
<•>

a couple of buds at a local dive bar, drinking Buds,
talking loud about technology
and other manly man stuff

attract attention for our conversation isn't bout sports,
get approached by long legs in high heels and a miniskirt,
with the best come on line ever
any woman invented,
"you guys know about computers, huh?"

later after reading twenty or so of her poems,
and learning the degree of difficulty of the
downward facing dog pose
(adho mukha svanasana)
she said:

tell me again how I
clear my cache,
change my font,
add more memory for new memories,
stop auto correct from making wont into want,
so I can happy write


"wont thy thoughts to my heart thereof"

so I obliged and then
the geek in meek wrote
his first poem

after first clearing the catch  
in his throat
Eleanor Sinclair Nov 2017
A world unraveled by sorrow
A sun that will not rise tomorrow
A tear soaked pillow and sheets
A bright bubbly smile for every person she meets
A life full of pain
and dread

Her heart full of stains
and her brain all but dead
The anxiety rips her to shreds
fed up with the woe
Through the thick haze she treads
Many miles a minute
her mind races
In her own silly way
herself she disgraces

Autopilot set on repeat
the verbose emotion chills her
Down to her feet
Heavy limbs hang at her sides
as the long days go by
Her willingness subsides

When the clock strikes the hour, she abides
the torment and exhaustion she feels
keeps her pensive in thought
As she reels

Another day gone by in a flash
hidden emotions
Stored in the cache
scar Jun 2015
Quelquefois
Je me réveille
Je chante, je ris
Mais cachée.

Quelquefois
Je te connais
Je pense, je lis
Mais cachée

Quelquefois
C’est comme tu fais
Partie de moi
Mais cachée

Et quelquefois
Je lis, je vais,
Je ris, je vis,
Tout cachée.
scar Jun 2015
Je vois les ombres
Peut-être j’en suis
Le cœur tout sombre,
Cachée, je vis.

Mon âme s’est perdu
Mon espoir aussi
Donc sans aucune aide
Cachée, je vis.

Je chante des poèmes
Des livres je lis
Silencieusement
Cachée, je vis.

— The End —