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Talc, with no time
Appropriate to simplify another's wish
Since, in a senses chew, the crusp and the rhyme
Letting the sun wind its way around a finger, a subtle is...

Weight of an argument, in future language
I have seen a whole dilemma, in love
The thought of strength, the taut and strange
Has a quiet answer for us...?

Tomorrow is my future, the tale of youth in song
Reconciliation, to work a liberty's magic
In the name of distant courage's, a heroism among
The place of desiring a fame, is it ours for the tragic?

Today has such a cold stare, for each
And beloved above, for any soul able to mean
The voice of redemption, a clash in the fate of reach
That has become but food for thought, with sincerity to glean

Yesterday to step forward, toward the patience we, sake
Welcome to the city of the sun, a praise of misery
And the coming mention of worth, from lips to fury, make
Me the truth, a halt of wishes in secluded lines, lived in history

The dance and the stone of cleverness?
Sides of worlds in love with me, not the avoiding heart
We saw make the story of wantonness, a presence of dread
Adding but the voice of summation, are we a new day to start?
travelling the world once over, earns a second look, at itself...
writerReader Aug 2018
Every day I see this guy pass by my door,
he never steps off the path.
His hair speaks of his woe.
His steel eyes arrange the sky into a box,
the blue is not enough to keep him idle,
he requires the chains of logic.
It keeps him grounded when he could be flying.

“Why should I fly,” he says,
“It’s much too cold for me anyway.”
“Wear a jacket” I might declare.
He would reply, “I don’t wish to sweat through
my sensible clothes.”
(Only twenty dollars on sale.)

He is much too sensible to be any fun,
but fun is not all there is.
“There is science” he would suggest
If we ever were to talk,
I know he would be an excellent conversationalist

His dusty shoes tell of his wariness,
His jacket of his adventures.
(He keeps dust on his clothes to speak for his cleverness.)

“Conversation is for the simple-minded,” he would say.
“I prefer books,” would be my reply.

He would have nothing to say then,
(He doesn’t like conversation anyway.)
but he’d be too logical to let me know
Of his human blunder and illogical flash.
So he spoke to me of his action figure collection.
(“Most extensive, I’m sure”)
Colm Mar 2017
Some days I just don't have the words
So I ask him to provide for me
All the pros for my failing verse
And unfailingly he does this for me
Because he always simply is
As I will never ever be
Half as clever as my God can be
Truth
Poetria Oct 2015
Prodigious minds

Burning inside

Chasing their lives

Drowning in tides

The mind of a genius

Fungusified

The madness has died

It's unjustified

Because 'they' never learn
That it's not all about grades,
In fact sometimes it never has been.

But if you were to invent
Some ingenious contraption
You would become famous, you see.

So many bright minds
But most of the light died
On the way to adulthood, from their teens.

I've never felt pride
When my A's, they shine
Because it hasn't a link to me.*

Side note:

Just a little poem to rant about how unfair life can be, when your brains are only thought to be clever due to your grades. Think about the ones who basically created the subjects, added those complicated formulas they thought up. They were thought of as idiots, some of them. Until they made mind-blowing discoveries. I
recently watched this video called 'don't stay in school' by boyinaband on YouTube, and despite its name, it's actually a pretty intelligent argument. I fully agree with its statement. (The guy explains in another video that he didn't literally mean don't stay in school, it was to strengthen his point and catch the attention of anyone interested.) The video argues about how some things we learn in this education system are completely pointless, and useless if we compare them to other things which will actually help us prosper and understand this for our future.
-I'm not calling myself a genius or prodigy,
but others seem to think of me in that way, which I hate.

I'm horrible with titles...

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