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Jake O Apr 2015
We spend too much time
With our feet planted firmly on the floor
Never wondering
What if feels like to fly

Even if we can't fly
We have the next best thing
We can jump
We can leave these two dimensions of ours

Even if it's for a second
I want to leave the world behind
And believe I can fly

The problem with jumping
Is the landing
Some crumble on their knees
While others take the impact fine

But you can never know what it feels like to land
If you never take off in the first place
So jump with me
Jump away into an ephemeral flight
Where seconds are eternities
And the ground will never haunt us again
This poem was inspired by Little Busters by Rita
princessninann Apr 2015
why is it always raining on me?
All I want is to see that rainbow.
Rain after rain. Waves after waves.
They are taking me under.

Why is it always dark?
All I want to see is the end of tunnel.
Wandering, looking for that ray of hope.
I'm calling out, fears pull me down.

Every moment I'm starting to believe,
I'm not broken, I'll keep hoping.
It took everything for me to see,
that my life’s not ending.

*This pain will make stronger.
I have to hold on a little bit longer.
poem while listening to Mandisa's song "Stronger"
Jake O Apr 2015
You're ******* when
Her face makes your heart flutter
Her name makes your skin tingle
Memories of her bring a smile to your face

You're doomed when
She lives far away
You don't have her number
She doesn't remember your name

You're in love when
You're determined to see her again
You're convinced she recognizes you
You can't get her out of your head

And then you know:
You're *******
This poem was inspired by Piano Man by Billy Joel
Pat Adamek Apr 2015
Like coffee in the morning
I grew used to you somehow
It started bitter and without warning
  it is ending that way now

Like Gene Kelly or Sinatra
You have Marlon Brando class
Went to pop music from the opera
Now I cant stop thinking about ***

Like two stings out of tune
We always seem to clash
Bring your beauty to the room
Where the music doesn't match

Art is ever changing: lke w/e idc
People rearranging: Thrz no bEutY Ne wer3
(Jaha baha LOL
They prolly tlk like diz N h3L7 )
Commentary (or will be someday) on how Pop culture exchanges art for ***, deep thinking for big butts, love for physical interaction.
Jake O Apr 2015
No friends to leave behind
No family to wave be good bye
I'll walk away now
And give up my final try

It's pretty easy to leave here
It's not that hard to go
I'll walk away now
Out in the blistering snow

The frost comforts me greatly
As I tread on through the cold
The white encourages me to go on
And justifies my being bold

With no one to look back on
With no one to pull my slack
I will walk away now
And never come back
This poem was inspired by Brave Song by Aoi Tada
Tryst Apr 2015
The peace and goodwill
Of Christmas -- Pitch invasion
At final whistle.
Jake O Apr 2015
The wind blows through your hair
At much higher speeds
Twenty stories up

The world scales down
Like a model
Twenty stories up

Two hundred feet drops off
In a surreal fashion
Twenty stories up

You think you can survive the fall
Landing on a soft pillow of cement
Twenty stories up

I told her not to leave
She never came down the stairs she used to go
Twenty stories up

It feels great to let go
Of both the world and your self
Twenty stories up

My life wouldn't feel as empty
If they wouldn't let you go
Twenty stories up
This poem was inspired by My Soul, Your Beats by Lia
That sort of song
does not recollect the shadows of passion
                                                            it is
Nadia Apr 2015
I had always thought of myself as an artist of some sort. That is, until I met you. It was only then that I learned what art is, where it comes from. When I met you, I only wanted to paint with the browns and oranges I saw in your eyes. I only wanted to write the words that fell from your lips. I only wanted to play the notes your voice guided me to. And when you left, I couldn't paint, couldn't write, couldn't play. I could only sing of my heartache, but even that wasn't art.  There's no beauty in sorrow.
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