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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
A work sentiment
ForeverNo-One May 2016
So close yet so far
So thin yet so fat
So kind yet so horrible
So pretty yet so ugly
Why are you so contradictory?

So warm yet so cold
So positive yet so negative
So alive yet so dead
So happy yet so sad
Why are you so contradictory?

So tall yet so small
So right yet so wrong
So even yet so odd
So simple yet so complicated
Why are you so contradictory?
I hope this has the desired effect, no it is not about a crush/lover
archwolf-angel May 2016
Take my flight away from me
Remove the pride I own
Sell it to the world you've concluded
To be a reality I need to know

Persuasion into a kind of love
Trying to build a bond
Then take it away from me again
And closing up my doors

Take my traits away from me
I'll like to see you try
Because till the end of time
I know what will remain mine

Seal up my doors
That was opened for you
Seal it good
Don't let me through

Because I'm locking myself up
Safe and sound
In my own little world
Without you around

I will never speak again
Even if I do
It will only be the things you want to hear
To fulfil your *
I love you, but I hate this contradictory.
C Cavierre Apr 2016
Illogical, crystal clear--
this contradictory of fear--
I am caught for one precious moment by
the horrible visionary
of my grotesque fate
as promised, the continuation of Fear
"We fight war for peace!"
"Their evil won't cease!"*
Based on what I see,

You bomb these countries,
Making refugees
Who just want to flee
This whole travesty.

People helplessly
Leave all these cities
Because you destroyed
Everything they've known.

With sinless lives, you wrongly toyed.
It seems "their evil's" not alone.
I realize people can debate on the topic of sin and who is or isn't guilty of it. However, there are a countless number of people who've lost their lives to war simply as casualties. What crime did they commit, exactly? Why should innocent people be punished for the wrongdoing of someone else?
Sorry to trouble you,
but there’s something I ought to tell you now that you’re here.
If you came here looking for an interesting poem to read,
I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong place.
Because this is not a poem.

This is not a narrative detailing a certain someone doing something in a certain time and place.
This is not a series of lyrics longing to be converted into music.
This is not a picture made up of a thousand words – or thousands for that matter.

This is not a fancy epic or tragedy or comedy bound by the treacherous laws of stanzas.
This is not an ode to a pre-existing memory – or several memories for that matter.

This is not a set of verses born free from the daunting laws of stanzas.
This is not even a collage of pre-existing poems mixed and matched to the heart’s content.
Simply put – this is anything but a poem.

Even if it was,
I doubt that it would be the kind of poem you would want to read.
You would most likely find better poetry somewhere else.
Here, there is no narrative, no subject matter and no context.
Therefore, if this was a poem,
it would be about absolutely nothing and have no meaning whatsoever to anyone.

That’s why I’m telling you that this is not a poem.
That’s why I’m advising you to look for a real poem elsewhere.
But, no matter what I say,
you wouldn’t listen to me anyway, would you?

I made it clear from the beginning that this is not a poem,
but you read it through to the end regardless.
Why is that?
Why would you take the time to read something about absolutely nothing?

Were you curious?
Did you just happen to stumble upon this while minding your own business and decide to take a peek out of curiosity?
Or were you bored?
Were you feeling desperate to find something completely different from the poetry you would normally read?

Either way,
this was never meant to be a poem waiting to be read.
And yet, in spite of that,
you read it anyway.
For that, I feel that the least I can do in return is say this:

Thank you.
No comment.


© Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude
Kari Sep 2015
If my bed was bigger would you have laid with me
Will you excuse the squeeze in the place of comfortability
Our bodies close, replace our blankets with the heat
flowing, mellifluously reverberating, from within

My heavy mind, spiralling in self abhor
Dawdles on a pillow, simpering with decay
Solace I discovered in your arms instead, taming the uproar
The bane of your predicament, your spirits sway

The twilight of distraught tickles the hairs on my arms
But now comes the noon of melancholia.
My Ivy legs cripples your limbs, the bruises I see- constellations
Contradictory you lament, the cries a synergy of appoggiatura

A long time ago, you asked for my hand
Belittling the shards in my bossoms
Dismissing my remonstrance; to Hell with it
“I can bear it, I know I can.”

But you couldn’t. No, you wouldn’t
Your body has began to gnaw
The dilapidated bed creaks, your temper peaks
“I’m out, loving you isn’t the law.”
Drove away, broke the breaks
Closed my eyes... where am I now?
Perhaps I've sailed
too close to the sky.
Rowing and rowing,
unminding the splinters.
To bleed just a little
And bleed more and more.

If I'd fly an airplane,
I'd explore the seas
To chuckle underwater
watching a submarine burn.
Went a little insane
or so I was told.
Said they'll build me a fortress,
but they'd call it an asylum.

They'd always visit
when most are fast asleep
Running back and forth
as their tails touch the floor.
I love how their eyes glisten,
clustered stars in a black hole.
But they only saw me once
through the window on the door.

Freed at last!
Or so I thought.
They gave me shelter -
the finest they had.
Pinpointing I was happy
whilst their words deny
So mute the sound,
see how they open their mouths.

Maybe I was stable
so they let me be.
But the more I stay,
the more I drift away.
They may see the goodness,
but I only see the sins.
Crawled back to my asylum -
**the place where I should be.
© Cyrille Octaviano, 2015
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