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I steel myself for the familiar
--the dark cylinders
of half-smoked cigarettes,
I can feel it in my lungs.

"Magic begins with blood," you said.
"Don't get stuck on a dream."

That could never be.
I dream of someone new each time.

"For me, I'm your sorrow
calling in your dreams.
For me, I'm your shadow
howling in the streets."

My hands, they close
around the throat,
until that whispered plea
becomes a silent sonnet.

"You'll be happier in your grave."
N E Waters Feb 12
That vulnerable place in you? When you’re cracked wide open, that tiny thin trembling part of you? You take your instrument of art and pull it across that part of you, like a bow on a violin string, and it sings.
zz Dec 2019
I want to paint you
with my lips

Mark your skin
with my colourful love

To make you
A masterpiece
Rory Mels Tims Oct 2019
Create to start day
Relax by midday
Learn by late day
Contemplate to end day
Read when it's not day
Dream it all away
Six steps to happiness!
Owen Cafe Sep 2019
When I was young, I could fly.
From thought to wish to dream to the sky.
When I was becoming, I could think.
I thought I'd thought that they were thinking,
that I was simply thoughtless.
When I was discovering, I could feel.
I could feel the feelings of earth of mind of soul,
those feelings connected though fingertips and goosebumps.
When I fell, I couldn't see.
I could not see that they could see that I was blind,
the view is up when you are down.
When I was climbing, I grew strong.
Could see the bumps in the road, the connections,
the grips, the traps, the full scale of the map.

Then I saw it. Not far now.
Just another corner, my branches are full of colour and life.
I can see the flowers ready to bloom.

Spring is coming, and I am too.
Reflective appreciation of realizing the future.
Purcy Flaherty Jun 2018
"Make lots of noise ~ Stamp your feet!"

Garlic is the **** black, all squares are red, dance the colour blue,
leave your prejudices at the door and let us start anew.

It's not just wrapping paper, yellow triangles or the trappings of wallpaper,
it's radical art; challenging the norms and provoking change!

"show me how you party and I'll show you who I am!"

In just 14 years of faith, form and function; we unleashed the utopian spirit, drinking, creating, laughing and loving, whilst building a Bauhaus for you!
We can embrace the desease that's consumerism and mass production, or choose drinking, creating, laughing, loving and building the bauhaus.

Stamp your feet *******
Justin Aptaker Aug 2019
do you like poems?
Well, here is a book of them
I made it for you
with all the tears and blood and **** and **** and spit I could muster
isn't it beautiful?
I hope you'll love it like I love it
Written ca. 2008 - 2009
Jack Radbourne Jul 2019
not crayon not water
but watered down
to drown that claw scratch
of its taste it is
most marvellous
sometimes a shocking
mark made here on the page
here here here here
just where my finger points
to whatever past
symbol we all agreed
on then when need
made need obey
for everyone
sometimes a mark memory
asks for from its past
sometimes a real jewel
that fell to earth and
rang as a star and rings still
so get it back
it’s written down
it can’t be difficult
unless you’re blind
unless you’re dead
and even then it is
most marvellous
East Wind May 2019
The wheels may never
start turning,
nor the stars aligning,
or the winds whispering,
to guide me to where I need to be.
But may I be able to
gather the courage
to dust off my boots and
bandage my wounds to keep trekking,
clearing the trail that I should lead.

-Amen!
eryssi Mar 2019
every moment captured line by line
line by line comes as easy to me as breathing in and out
each and every line, an opportunity to connect

this gnawing, exhausted and angry soul grips my chest
I am barely living with all the passing thoughts
passing thoughts that keep me up at night

putting those thoughts down line by line
helps me find the quiet and peace I need to heal

I am reaching out to you to be vulnerable again
line by line my soul heals
I am so difficult on myself and the poems I write. Cliché, but true, we're our own worst enemies. I get so consumed with the technical parts, criticize myself for not capturing enough imagery... then I just don't write. When I am not writing, I am not working through my thoughts or emotions. I shouldn't consume myself with what other people think and just write.
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