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Man Nov 25
that we may fall
to arms

blades sharpened
on the grindstone of hate
atlas stands

shouldering the weight
that their words
were willed to do wicked deeds
he weeps

at the long suffering
at length and still here
Ksh Nov 2019
'La
First among many.
That was me, to you; the first from the last.
The last among many.
That was you, to me; the last from the rest.
Quite a nice position, wasn't it?

A woman of many talents,
of many stories that were too late told,
of hardships in silence buried.
A lifetime of rollercoasters,
of standing on a pedestal
and being struck to the ground,
heel to skull, teeth to pavement,
threatening to never let up.

Yet you did, and have not spoken of it since.

Do the words 'too little, too late' ring any bells?
Does the phrase 'less is more' still hold true?

In my mind, I see you in an ocean of darkness
Helpless, and friendless,
suffering in silence.
Yet, you're hardened by years of experience,
of hurt in the dark, of scars in the night.
You, an old dog,
and one of your oldest tricks --
licking your wounds in isolation,
willing the world to do its worst
as you weathered the storm,
one that you've already withstood before.

I can only describe you as an Inverse;
a woman who,
ignoring her own palms skinned to muscle, to bone,
built ramps and laid bridges
to give children enough space to run;
who, turning her back from a life of rejection and hate,
showered everyone with only gratitude, and love,
and everything that she knew she deserved but never received.

You, who brought words to life
in a language so deeply underappreciated,
have rendered the world speechless.
You, who have shown strength
in the face of adversity,
have rendered your blood weak.

A woman of contradictions,
contradictions of the best kind --
for even in death, we celebrate life.
To my late grandmother, who I wish I could have shown more appreciation to when she was still alive. I love you, lola. I wish with all my heart that you knew exactly how much.
violetstarlights Apr 2019
bravery is but
another, fancy word for
painfully stupid

yet coward, is not
intelligent either. you
must balance the two
jee Feb 2019
I am paradoxical;
an oxymoronic anomaly.

all my nightmares are made
of daylight,
but I’ll still sleep to escape
the darkness.

I am paradoxical;
an absurd abnormality.

it’s a chaotic peace,
loud with it’s bated breath
and bittersweet ring.

I am paradoxical;
an irregular oddity.

my counterparts are contradictory,
and I change to chance
the possibility
that opposites attract.

and we’re all just paradoxed;
argumentative attractions.

there’s no stopping at the end,
when the sun is low
in the soft red sky.

where my nightmares are made
of daylight,
but I’ll still sleep to escape
the darkness.
this statement is a lie.
Joe Aug 2017
In Greek mythology, the god of love, Cupid,
is the counterpart of Thanatos, the god of death.
You’re probably thinking, that’s an odd pair.
The Greeks were all about odd pairs.
Are you really surprised?
Because love is contentment and happiness.
Whereas death,
Well, no one really wants to talk about that.
But these obviously contradictory themes
Are more similar than we think.
One, At some point we’re gonna experience either.
Two, you don’t want to experience either on your own.
No one wants to die alone
Nor have unrequited love.
And three, the sensations of both are eerily similar.
Now I know why you take my breath away
And why my heart palpitates
whenever I see you;
The same sensations that someone gets
When they’re having a cardiac arrest.
Falling in love is like being on the precipice of death
Maybe that’s why they call it “falling” in love
Because when you fall from something,
You will splat on the ground,
With your insides out there for someone to see
And you’re wondering
if they like what they see.
love and death's eerie similiarities
Jayantee Khare May 2017
They say they love rain, they seek shelter
They say they love sun and open umbrella
They say they love wind and close windows
They say they love light, but have darkness inside
They say they love nature, but they stay in city
They say they love me, now what they are upto?
Adrian Newman Sep 2016
An intrinsic detail on the tip of my nose
A fork in my tongue with no words to say.

Just shady tress and shady things
Less confusion and more hope for me.

A tear every now and then to shelter my eye
A body in my hands and no personality
A hair on my head that falls every hour
The last moment of my life turns around.

I don't want you to see this other side
The grass is greener here
The restriction is protective, the pain is adamant.

You aren't the only one, keep your head down
Pull up your pants while I put my charm on.
You can interpret the meaning of this poem any way you wish.
Rick Warr Aug 2016
Lately I feel
I am being crushed
between tectonic plates
of Impossibility

The advice of those around
contradictory and senseless
The constraints offered
leave no possible solution

Then I see
that it's not me
The game they gave
has no salve

I'm in the wrong game
This game is actually
Theirs
A work sentiment
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