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Chandler Ames Jun 11
what good is the strongest motor
if the boat is sailed into the rocks
thus, what good is our desire
if it motivates us to destruction
humanity, all hedonist and epicurean
every pleasure exists, to man, in a closed palm
as fists **** the butterflies of pleasure
in an attempt to make permanent
what is by nature fleeting
let go
open your hand
admire and enjoy
M G Hsieh May 28
The ebbs and flows
of withered grass and moss green skies

Alone
I still hold your hand
watch seabirds fly
The pond searching between my toes

and i fly with them
Still holding your hand
Chandler Ames May 24
I can’t wait until I’m                      content.

                                          older
                                       married
                                          rich
                                         better
                                         wiser
                                  in the heavens
Zander May 23
Raw
And this is it,

the life I want.

I thought I couldn't have it all.

I thought it was too much of a price to pay.

I thought it was all for nothing...

but here I am.

I made it, and by my side-

Is You.

They almost made me forget how much I love you.

But how could I possibly?

You are My Breath, My Life...

You make me who I am.

You taught me how to be me.

And yes, some things I have to do alone

But today, I'd rather be with you than to be anywhere else.

Thank you for showing me how to love.

And even though I haven't figured it out yet,

Maybe one day you can teach me how to love myself too.
He's burgeon from mind and soul
Trivialized only by what folks sow
A man I hope, life grows to know .

His mettle ways can be so sore
Meddling with one's heart like an open court,
But chafed love knows not of caulk flows
And I'm of trepidation of growing old,
without his love.

But assurance made, cue's all doubts ever feared
Leaving me assuaging in the satiation of life
I had closed my door on him
He knew why,
A thick layer of grime covered him
He had not bathed for many years
And stank.

He was the poet whose poems
People knew by heart,
While he did not retain them
For more than two days at the most
His publishers called for more,
They needed him to survive,
Therefore, fed him intermittently.
He was still alive incognito
Battling his wit with surmise
Wondering as to why each year
His birthday drew maximum attention worldwide
Of people who did not personally know him
And did not invite him
As they celebrated.

I was aware that he dreamed of a brighter future,
Strived to spell out a new world
Without destroying old relations,
This was just not enough.
He who cannot take care of himself
Cannot be my hero,
He should not meddle with our future.
Also, I detest ***** people,
I cannot tolerate their stench.
Her
Shes a young woman in a red flower dress.
Surrounded by a charm of hummingbirds.
A young girl full of forbidden energy flickering in the gloom.
Ardent to compensate through the indulgence in sense of pleasure. An attempt to extinguish dissatisfaction by gratifying desire.
The approach gives pleasure, but the won is gross, transitory and devoid of deep contentment.
She prays but gets no special dispensation for this believe now.
A sobbing whisper in the throat of a mermaid.
All is left is to transcend by recognition of the futility of desire.
She found her middle way, now she must give rise to vision, which will rise to knowledge and lead her to inner peace.
Steve Parker Apr 28
Nectar of the honey bee, serene
My light wispy treasure in the sky
If all the stars turned to glass and shattered
For just one more moment on your lips
The morning is perfect for the moon

....and you are perfect for me
Seanathon Apr 19
Reteach me the lesson
Not greatest of all
But most pertinent to me
Which dissolves all resentment
Teach me that of contentment
Ambition needs its limits
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