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Sajeer Shaikh Dec 2016
Like water held back
By reservoirs.
Like a reckless tsunami
Leaving no survivors.

Like ferocious winds
Engulfing small cities.
Like a broken mind
Trying to be less gritty.

Like a torn out page,
With a lot to say.
Like immense outrage,
Finding its way.

Like oceans with worlds
Hidden beneath.
Like a universe - vast
But also discreet.

Like pen to paper,
No holding back.
Like a mind unleashing
An open attack.

Words that are struggling,
Constantly fighting -
To see light of day,
Such is her writing.
Erika Soerensen Dec 2016
Inside my brain lives a lush, multi-colored
garden full of blossoming word play
and ancient discoveries.
As Venus magically touches my lips,
mind and heart, I am reborn.
She is the fiery spark that
ignites all the fireflies slumbering in my imagination,
gleefully waiting for my siren’s call.
When I’m in tune with creation it’s like
riding a wave made of all that is truly me,
and I meet myself over and over again
capturing with words the reality of my existence.
But, when I am disconnected, scrambled, fuzzy, blank, numb….
it’s the worse abandonment I’ve ever endured.
I don't know if I have any talent.
Or know if what I play, write or draw;
is of any value.
Most likely not;
to the world at large.
I just do that what I do.

Will it bring me my bread?
pour me my water?
No, not at all.

Will the money flow to me?
No, clearly not.
So what does it do?
why is it worth it all?

Because; it is my reason,
my love, my need.
The spark, the birth,
the seed.
My lover, my heart,
my child.
Sajeer Shaikh Dec 2016
The edge of the balcony
Keeps beckoning my name.
The gun in my closet,
Under layers of clothes,
Has felt my hands brush along its sides -
A bit too often,
No - way too many times.
The knife that I cook with,
Seems sharper than most days.
Not sharp enough, perhaps -
Not yet, anyway.
And they have all told me,
The feeling will pass.
And yes, it really does -
More often than not.
But when I think about,
All that I've really got -
I start to imagine:
That extra step,
The pull of the trigger,
The serrated blade.
Setting me free,
Burning me down,
Dragging me away.
My angels will lose,
My demons will stay
And come out to play.

©sajeershaikh
Apollo Hayden Dec 2016
I can sense the flame is getting dim, will we lose or will we win?
I much rather we tend to this fire then to start all over again.
Some things that are lost can be found but we haven't lost a **** thing yet, and I would hate for us to lose the love and forget how we ever became friends.
Cuz that's how it started and then you got in my heart and made yourself at home, so they'll be remnants of your beautiful soul if ever you had to go.
Please don't go, let us not lose this flame or its glow,
because ever since we've connected you and I have became one soul.
There goes that dim...and the flame is flickering, are there demons in this room trying to **** whatever's left?
Well I'm calling on angels to help by coming to fight for us, because this battle we've been facing is more in the unseen dimensions of our love.
Come fight for us...
Holey Nov 2016
Welcome Miss. Poet to this land of fun
Welcome you and welcome all to this land of imagination.
Welcome Miss. Poet to a world inside your mind.
Welcome you and welcome all to this never ending story.
Welcome Miss. Poet to this land of difference.
Welcome you and welcome all to a world full of creativity.
Welcome.
KB Nov 2016
I am what you’re alive for, and I’ll let you start over,
And over again, before the last chance you have is done.
My name is life; though it’s not always fun.
I live in your veins and breathe in your heart,
My name is passion, and I am very smart.
You were born to use me,
To live by me,
And to inhale and exhale me.
My name is love.
You can’t run away from passion, life, or love
But this might inspire you to bring out what’s underneath to above,
To let your inner Van Gogh out or maybe, just your soul.
Pleasing anything and everything but you,
They made it your ultimate life goal.
You may still think that’s exactly what you want.
Engineers, lawyers, doctors with crazy fonts.
But you come to think that maybe that’s not for everyone…
And for that, they all make fun.
But maybe, you’re good for something that doesn’t need you
To memorize formulas, letters, numbers, symbols alike, it’s true!
Maybe you, need to be memorizing shapes, lines, colours, and words that rhyme.
Despite the way no one else has your kind of flow, it isn’t a crime.
Don’t worry about judges or surgeons, with their fancy titles and big pay,
They have their own light, their own great ways.
If you’re better with a paintbrush, then stroke away, or splash, or stipple.
Anything to show them that art is not that simple.
Its takes courage to speak out what the world craves to be said,
If one doesn’t write books or poems, there’s nothing that will be left to be read,
And children rely on stories, it’s what keeps them innocent.
It also keeps the rest of us wide awake and vigilant.
So the world bursts at the seams,
With people aching to fulfill their vibrant dreams,
Of being the ones who can finally fly; oh so very high.
The world is bursting at the seams,
With people craving to feel the colours in ungrouped teams,
That pop and crackle and spark when touched.
Turn into stardust and glitter but in the hands, are tightly clutched.
But there might be a need of people,
Who love dandelions more than roses,
Who stand strong, even as every door closes.
Who play with ice rather than fire,
Who from their risk takings, would never retire.
And who rather they feel the softness of the sand
When the wind blows it around on the beach in their hands,
Than the blankets that they sleep on.
Who look to clean the chessboard of their enemy’s pawns.
But what we see is mainly what we hope to find,
And if we look at life with love we can find it to be amiable and kind,
One can achieve their goals if they let go of the headaches for a second.
Impossibilities should never be counted, thought of, or reckoned.
So breathe; you don’t have much left of your fast travelling time line.
Recite; you don’t have much air left but your voice is just so fine.
Write and your fingertips will never stop screaming,
Just like if you run, you will never stop beaming,
Never hitting the pavement with the steps of wraith.
And if you can feel... then you will always keep close faith.
You have not badly slipped, or played the wrong note.
Because even in the midst of beautiful gardens,
Weeds were never remote.
And then you walk through the streets of love.
Hand in hand with a culture fitting you like a glove,
As the smoke draws you in a feeling not unfit;
Feelings your heart clenches; at least you can hold it.
Some have lost this rare, valued treasure,
In the waters of functions and formulas, always measured.
So never swim with them if you are one to tight line,
At the end of your life you can say, “This life is mine.”
Always one to dream, never one to follow
Never let them tell you the mind is hollow
Always experiment, don’t be the child of a shadow.
And they put art at the lowest hierarchies,
Displacing the solution to locks on creativity.
Saying art is nothing but they don’t know where we’d be
Had shapes not evolved and paintbrushes never
Met paint and gave birth to an image you can see.
That you mixed and threw together, you’re clever,
No canvas should ever be empty,
Odd reasons say still… there are plenty.
And only an artist can solve that problem.
Breathing life into objects, one can make into an emblem.
So now what you do without math, science, or neither?
Yeh… I wouldn’t give up either.
Seb Tha Guru Nov 2016
I Never imagined this.
Everyday I'm getting older.
This California weather and myself both just got a little colder.
Deja vu.
My whole body see through.
Don't even want to go outside anymore.
Wishing and living Godspeed for my existence.
I'm far from perfect, which is why I can only speak to and relate to the lost and distant.
I Love You Through Everything will get my back consistent.
I've been a historical disaster for longer than this instant.
I had to leave before the summer was over.
Pack my bags along with my heart and threw it over my should.
Move forward.
Find yourself.
A cross between being too emotional and being emotionless.
Bottle it all up and put it in the cold keep safe is all I know to not crash the ship.
But defense wins championships.
Make it to what feels so close.
To only find out I'm loosening my grip.
Can't even trip.
Pick up the pieces.
No Life in November, that's the feeling and date ironically the thesis.
I lost a lot.
I need more.
I need more drink.
Need more ice.
They say take chances in life so for once I rolled the dice.
But I lost one major but I'll forever at least try to fight and stand tall.
Was I working too hard?
Not enough...
Or not at all?
CE Nov 2016
I live vicariously through artists more talented than me

I steal their words, their look, their fashion

Their trends and their beliefs and their lives

Because I hate myself and my art
I hate my look and my fashion
I hate my trends and beliefs

And I hate my life!

So I've found it much more preferable to be a shadow of a great

Than the shape of something small and pathetic yet original

There isn't a creative bone in my body

I just replicate things that are better than me
Where's the creative spark gone, eh?
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