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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.
Love-evans Nov 2016
Bring your own juice.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
How is someone supposed to put into
words that they feel/ have been made (self)-aware(somehow) there personality adapts (naturally)?
to the people they are around and even beginning
to mimic the interacting persons emotions and personality traits
to create a, sociable personality.
because depression has taken a dramatic toll on their personality and they know longer know how to
Be there own person:
I often forget about the things i actually enjoy doing
because I'm not surrounded by people that enjoy doing the same things.
I love to write
I love to read
I like to play the guitar
I like to create art
and
I love making people happy!
So what could possibly be wrong?
Why do I loose my sense of self when I'm with others?
I don't know what this is supposed to be about but my hands had a lot to say.
Lunar Oct 2016
how can she, an artist,
make him, her own artwork
when the art itself
is an artist himself

she could only stand back and watch
as he sculpted his past
and sketched his present

until he reached out to her
with a paint-stained hand,
gestured to the blank canvas
of the future and said,
"would you like to create
a masterpiece with me?"
to wjh-- a fellow artist whom i love.

6/13 of the Pocketry Series
Debra Lea Ryan Oct 2016
It amuses me how I often thought of the Colour Green
As simply Hue stained leaves that dressed the Trees
Or Carpeted parts of the Earth
Like Seas of Turf
Also taking Flight
In the Sky
Certain Birds
Distinctly Green
And a number of Reptiles
With such a Glow
However now I know
In our World
When Human Beings Create
They may tap into the Stream
That Flows Green....

DLR
08/10/2016

Mosaïque de vert

Cela m’amuse comment j’ai pensé souvent à la couleur verte
Simplement comme teinte coloré des feuilles qui habille les arbres
Ou des parties de la moquette des mers comme terre de gazon
En prenant le vol dans le ciel
Certains oiseaux
Distinctement vert
Et un certain nombre de Reptiles
Avec un tel éclat
Mais maintenant je sais
Dans notre monde
Quand créer des êtres humains
Ils peuvent puiser dans le flux
Les coulées vertes....

DLR
08/10/2016
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