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Daniel Wilson Nov 2014
Stapled conscious to the floor again
and wrestled with warped wood panels
on paint stained cement.
Briefly for a moment, a paused paradise
emerged just beside the swinging rope light -
cobwebs.
In the basement their thin beams are darkened -
ageless art and ancient evolution converging in ****** of creation.
Sit still my friend and watch the leg ballet.
Tiffany Norman Oct 2014
It wasn’t my intention
to collect your love
and place it on a shelf.

The dust makes you sneeze,
and I’m sorry, I’ve just
been busy.

It takes a lot
for me to climb my step stool
to break up

the cobwebs that
have settled on you
and Paul and Chris and Jake.
Poem published in Glass Mountain's Spring 2015 issue. www.glassmountainmag.com
Poetic T Aug 2014
My heart was mechanical
Oiled always by love
Cogs moved independently
Springs always moving in rhythm
This was love in my heart
Intricate pieces moving as one
Affection,
Emotion,
Trust,
Was what fuelled this love
It beat strong
Never wearing down
Always would it beat strong
But then betrayal
Disloyalty,
Sorrow,
Neglected
Dirt had entered this heart
Oil contaminated
Springs oxidized
Cogs bent out of shape
Broken parts,
littered the floor of this heart
What once ran smooth,
Started to go cold
Cobwebs,
Vines,
Empty,
Was this damaged heart
Where once movement
Who could mend
This once loved heart,
Then the tinkerer entered her life
Full of friendship
It took Time, for her to let him in
But what once was reclusive
Friendship,
Blew the cobwebs away
Companionship
Cut the vines away
Loyalty
Filled that empty space
Love
Was the catalyst, that started
This clock work heart again,
Some piece, still lay
On the hearts floor,
For if a clock work heart is broken
It will never be as it was before,
The rust faded oiled once more
A clock work heart is a fragile Piece,
Only give it to those who will
Hold it gently in there grasp.
Born of Fire Jun 2014
Come child,
Wash those cobwebs from your eyes,
let not that sadness clutter your vision.
I know your mistakes and faults keep you up,
wrap them away, your silk thoughts, and bury them
within you.
We all know misery thrives on sorrow,
and infected hands handle peace.
I see the black veins in your gaunt hands,
and soon we will all know ,
the messenger of mercy, is the heart-
becoming silent, only speaking with a language of tears.
And not even you my dear,
can escape from the sticky entanglement
that murders beauty and passion.
kris evans May 2014
LOVE was just a word  to me
until you came and gave it meaning.......
i was just FLESH & BLOOD...
.until you came and made me alive.......
my heart was empty.......
.until you started to live in it......
my mind was covered with cobwebs.....
until you came and dusted it up.....
my visions were all a blur.....
  until u came.....now its crystal clear.......
YOU MADE ME WHO I AM......

— The End —