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Undead Nomad Dec 2019
the smell of smoke
and all is burning
windows melting
gears stop turning

the touch of dirt surrounds me
looking out but can't see
and this fractured place above my shoulders: an empty space...

when did we fly away?
When did we lose ourselves to fate?

I felt your halo burning beside me
you traveled far away
but I am still here drowning in silence
counting away the day

the smell of hope
my love is burning
I'm still melting
world is turning

wish we could turn back time
back to the place where we lived
where we were holding hands
breath in the air once again

wish I could reprimand
bury all of the pain
within in the sand

the smell of smoke
asphyxiating
colours melting
wheels still turning

wish I could understand
hold all of your love
in my hands
once again
A song I wrote about losing a Loved one in a car crash.
Sydney Nov 2019
Waves                             they                     happy
     call me.                          call                       when I
       They crash                    out to                     see them
        and laugh                      me, with                 dance. They
    with the wind.                their beauty            beckon me
Beautiful and elegant      and shine. I am       towards them.
this is my first attempt at a concrete poem
Marri Oct 2019
The car flips.

Over the railing--
Down the side of a grassy hill with hidden rocks.
I let go.
Arms up like roller-coaster fun.

Glass flies through the air;
It's perfect.
The light reflecting angelically.

7 year old sister still laughing--
Baby brother with a gap toothed smile.
Mother soars through the windshield;
Finally free.
Dad hits his head against the dashboard, and seems not to mind.
Our family blood mixes together;
Staining everything it touches.

The radio sings the latest haunting pop song.
We bicker over what station to change it to.

The car stays rolling, and with arms up.
Like good ole' fashioned family fun.
c Sep 2019
I am riding in the backseat of Desire
Lust rides shotgun, mocking me
It would be nice to see you
Growing distant in the rear view mirror
But the headlights coming towards us
Are just a bit too bright
I’m tired of asphalt burns
Nigdaw Sep 2019
A Jet
In a clear blue sky
Leaving a faint vapour trail
Pure white across azure

Perfect summer day
People shopping, driving
Leaving the house with claims
Of “Be back soon”
Not knowing they’d never be fulfilled

A crowd, in anticipation
Packed like sardines
Around an arena, waiting to be awed
Wowed by the spectacle of flight
One man among the clouds
Mocking their gravitational prison

But today, worlds collide
Are destroyed
Man finds that fragile flight
Ends on a road at traffic lights
Not the spectacle expected
But no less dramatic, a ball of flame

The crowd take pictures for the press
Hoping for a mention on the news
And update facebook status
Under a sky of clear blue
I witnessed the crash at Shoreham Air Show on 22 August 2015.
Orion Sep 2019
Your lips move as though they are going hundreds of miles per second-
As though they’re on fire,
the driver is dead and the only way to stop is to crash in a ball of flames
I can’t tear my eyes away,
I watch,
morbid curiosity making me waver-
My mind is swimming,
hands shaking,
my breathing stopped-
Time has stopped.
Your words are suspended in midair
Their arcs aiming for my ears but they miss entirely
Instead, they crash against my face,
forehead,
eyes,
nose,
until I am buried in debris,
In your words and their meanings and I can’t dig my way out.

tickticktick

I'm sorry that I’m not quick to understand
Pardon my pauses,
my fidgeting,
my wide eyes
Pardon the way I twist at my bracelets when your words almost immediately blur as soon as they leave the confines of your cheeks
I scratch at my face because the record needle of my brain can’t find a pre-recorded song to match your pace
So it scratches across the wrinkled pink surfaces instead
And nothing but a stutter and incoherent sentences are played and I’m left to fend for myself
Against your nonstop talking at me because this stopped being a conversation a long time ago

tick.tick.tick

Call me surprised when you say that you understand
That I must delicately balance my medications on the tip of my tongue with ideations that get out of hand
In order to get out of bed the next morning because sometimes it's hard to rise from the grave when the dirt above me is each minuscule thought
That has accumulated over the course of the nightmare that lives in the tension in my shoulders.

tick. tick. tick.

I am alive, but without sleep, I am a lie
With whispers and rumors dancing with my worries across the ballroom that is my mind
Worn shoes scraping up the floors,
rude guests pushing my own thoughts off to become wallflowers
And I dance with a single mutter in a black mask that asks how you’re doing.
It asks if you really love me
as it guides me through a waltz
It asks if you’re lying
as it lets go of my hand to lead me through a spin
I don’t answer a single question as the song’s long, drawn-out metronomic beat continues to reverberate in my head because


tick

No matter how many times I ask

tick

No matter how many times I crash

tick

You’ll be there.
Erian Rose Sep 2019
Your poison seeps into my veins
Crashing in like hurricanes

Every bone numbs and shakes
By the sound of your name

When you see my face in scattered rains
You end those hurricanes
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