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Sarah Lane Feb 2017
As I gaze into the world
I see more than eyes can see
There’s a beauty flowing surely
Through hidden veins within each soul
My own beating heart cannot escape
That special blood that burns for transparency
All it takes is the clarity of a simple step
To break out the confined colors of my spirit
Looking in the mirror, I see a fleeting image
It holds little weight as I grasp it for a moment
I only tune it for the grander picture
My physicality renders itself to my heart’s will
The warmth in a precious moment
Revives my inspiration for today
But my artistic passion has a hunger
That I feel so strong but can't be quenched
So, for this love I continue seeking
To even further depths of who I am
I always find a different place to unlock
And set myself free to sing the imprisoned song
Dance is the hidden language of my soul
That I must express with every measure of me
It’s who I was, who I am, who I’ll always be
If I should stifle the flame and fall silent
It’s like the sweetest dream that was never dreamed
Like a dire prayer without the faith to be prayed
Like a true love that wouldn’t be sacrificed for
Like an anguished tear that wasn’t allowed to fall
Though I must nurture and understand this voice
Before I let it go and the first chord is rung
Courage and vulnerability need melding together
As a tool forged in brokenness not perfection
Pain is just an old friend that holds my hand
Strengthening while reminding me of my humanity
When frustration winds itself around me
I won’t be hindered in pursuing higher goals
I know that no symphony can carry on forever
I only hope that what I create and leave behind
Is a clear, beautiful melody amidst the world’s complexity
That shows how meaningful and worthwhile is the journey
To be a dancer
Timmy Shanti Feb 2017
Don’t hate on me
Play along with me
Write a song for me
Ring a **** for me
True to your nature
Go on an adventure
Got nothing to lose
If it’s love you choose
12-2-17
#donthatecreate
Ace Sargent Jan 2017
Cross our heart and hope to die,
we will stick these needles in our eyes.
Create an earth with threads and pin,
visions dance through blood and pain.
Design this world my darling boy,
cut the cloth and make these toys.
Little humans and tiny bones,
malleable limbs and shiny thrones.
Make them selfish, make them cruel,
but none shall lie, not under your rule.
So as your blood makes rivers flow,
I suggest you learn to tightly sew.
For faulty words and drifter’s thoughts,
are something not all humans fought.
Chris Sanchez Jan 2017
The process seems long
and feels like the worst pain ever
but then comes gold
and that last forever
JR Rhine Jan 2017
i dream of you i dream with you,
following the musings of the aching poet
blathering hyperbolic verbiage
into subconsciousness
where we leave entwined mortal bodies
for the impalpable enclave
we have created.

i dream of you i dream with you,
in sleep our minds meld
over aching bodies
and lift our spirits
to the ethereal nether-realm,
where we roam
for eons
sauntering through the fields
of ecstasy.  

i dream of you i dream with you,
where the groans of the spirit
and its insatiable yearnings
find solace in the vastness
of the tangent universe,
existing outside our mortal guise,
alluded in our mind’s eye—
it’s heaven
built by you and i.

i dream of you i dream with you,*
in lucid dreams
where we know we are asleep,
but we just laugh whilst
walking through the gates of eternity
flourishing in the eternal splendor
we have created.
trf Dec 2016
Up high above in the dark nights of fall,
Shines a Star that’s more stark than other flashing lights that lure,
Burning since the birth of time, hazy hindrances still may obscure,
Like bait that patiently awaits the oblivious all.

They say one is born every day, but only you illuminate bliss,
You can escape from this infinite space and when shooting make a wish,
Radiate through the hate, create a new fate, you are unique- Not a spate- and amaze everyone,
Oblique where I gaze you are nigh shiny sun.

She came, she saw, she wondered in awe, “where will I be?”
Are the words that pierced Stella’s skin written as a scrawl? Time will tell and we will see.

-TRF
Written on two cocktail napkins for a sad stripper who was stage named Star and who's real name was Erika. She was only 20 years old and had "Veni Vedi Vici" tattooed across her shoulder. She may have come and she may have saw, but I wanted her to conquer all and to free her from this despicable place where bachelor parties and creepiness blend in with the smoke and glitter. This Soul Snatcher of 20 year olds. Bouncers getting ******* and still keeping 20 percent. Using that tip money to pay off the cops so they can nearly **** Bachelors in the half empty parking lot for "getting too close and rowdy". **** this sinister industry for existing to allow even the option for people to make decent money. It's costing them too much for too little.
Colm Dec 2016
We are not entitled to exciting things.

Neither sunrise, nor sunset waits for any human hand.
It simply is, and you must be there to capture it, if you want, and you can.

Lest you complain, that you have been given a lesser chance than another man.

To live your life without the sleep you need, and sacrifice your hands and feet.
In pursuit of something far short of eternity.
I call that a distraction.

On your game again, you cannot help but play again.
Obsession mixed with practice, is but a single means of expressing passion.
Which may or may not be, for you, a form of extraction.

Pulling yourself from the reality of a dissatisfactory life.
Softening the blow to take, and heading down the wrong direction.
Time and time again, for goodness sake….

This life, this journey, will always be full of such mistakes.

But to let your doubts drive you away,
To let your fear of the unknown, leech the very passion of your life away,
By means of distraction.

That my friends, is a failure of action.
A surrender to the reaction of taking a check, and spending your small fraction.  
When every day, you’d grow in spirit, if you'd only renegade with your your passion.

Staggering home after half a day, while trying simply to escape, the prior day's’ inability and inaction.

But I digress. Remember this.

We are not entitled to live exciting lives of interaction.

We must first create and encourage, not inhibit,
The excitement within others,
Which motivates them towards their own action.

This my friends, is the very nature of passion.
a strong or extravagant fondness, enthusiasm, or desire for anything
Hakiim Nov 2016
i am lost,
in an abyss of never ending confusion,
coiled in thorns of hollow,
rooted in fertile soil

the days before twelve haunt me still,
expecting those to die on the eve of my hallow soul,
it is reborn nine days afterward,
i am afraid,
i am drained

i have lost all hope for the things i hoped
my body has been at war with itself,
physically and mentally

i sit long days staring at walls
thinking of failed dreams and aspirations
as i struggle to live the life i lived before my nightmare began

i am here,
writing,
not fully healed but forcing these wounds closed,
taking my steps back into this sanctuary as if it is my first time,
as if it is my first step

i cannot let these wounds remain opened
i cannot allow my soul to be ****** from my very being,
i have to live,
i have to stand in me and you,
and live,
and love,
and learn,
and be,
strong
ever since the Trump election I have shut down and done nothing creatively, I have to force myself to get out of this bad mental place and get back to doing what I love.
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