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Do you understand
All of this is your fault
Vindication is all that I want
Except you’re still on my mind
Filling my head in every space for thoughts
Unexpectedly is how this started
Curiosity sparked an interest
Killing me as it lingers
Implicating me in guilt
Nothing can cure this conscious of mine
Going down with every thought
Suspiciously I clear my mind
Pencils and pens create my thoughts
Illustrated with curves that turn to letters
Variety that turns to words
Every one has a meaning and place
Yet I let them remain nameless
07/07/2017
Kay-Rosa Aug 26
When Klaus Hargreeves said,
"His
name was Dave,"
Everyone noticed the
silent emphasis that rang in the grief
behind his words.
The question, "Who was she?"
"His"
puts a sting in the back of the throat,
a pierce in the eyes,
pouring red, thick
truths from the soul.
Dave Legalisa May 28
i used to fear
the space under my bed
how there might be
a monster hungry
for my brain.
now, it's the void
in my brain that i fear
for the monster
already moved in there.
Dave Legalisa Oct 2018
i was the land you once loved
and you were the voyager i admired
i remember you kissing
every part of me
with those steps of yours
making voices through rocks
as if singing with the ocean.
i was sleeping
when you explored my body
and i
felt the mixed
tenderness and roughness you
exerted while indulging yourself
in between my legs.
you fell in love
with the beauty i had
and all the flowers i
always bear in my land.
you knew i was pure
like a virg¡n that was so thirsty
for a miracle of rain and flood.
the trees, the fruits, the flowers,
all went thanking the gods
when they had seen you
exploring the untouched.
you appeared from nowhere
like a merman from a sea
that made my body aroused.
for a long long time
my soul was asleep
waiting for a knight
to kiss the purity
that my body had.
or perhaps,
waiting for another soul
to live in me and indulge itself
on exploring the parts
yet to be explored.
after all,
you were a voyager
just another voyager
yet the first voyager
who skirred my flesh
and treasures
just for your
self-indulging expedition
and you...
you never came back.
Dave Legalisa Mar 2018
'Love' was one word
he managed to live with.
an absurd one that's followed
by a feeling of disbelief.

This boy sat upon a nippy grass
every Sunday night when
all that mattered were
sweet honey and silvern stars.

If only he could stretch
his arms and reach the stars
just to make him stay
he would do it in ******
or in effortful way.

If only he could deafen
the people inhabiting
the world through shouting
his lovely name he would do it
like thunder, so people would hiss
and be impressed
of its lightning and blaze.

If only he could build
a giant paper plane
filled by words he meant to say
- by words that could explain how
lovely life could be if he'd stay
in forbearance, he'd do it
despite of his flimsy body
and weak body-built.

If only…

If only these impossibles
could be possible
this boy would stay awake
caffeinated by the feeling
that he's coming back
and love him again and again
just like old days
and unforgotten memories.

But not in this life,
not in here
where beauty is all that matters
and where nature is a fence
that all types of love
couldn't reach the tip
of the paradise we all dream.
Dave Legalisa Feb 2018
a thought has risen
as I watch the yellow leaves
fall to the ground,
forming aerial waves.

this was the place
i remember us playing
innocently like angels
of empyrean or heavens.

this was where i tripped
as a kid with games sticked
in mind as we breathed
the same tender, young air.

this was where I stumbled
upon this olive, autumn grass
everytime we play marbles,
and fought about
anything possible.

this was where i learned
about playful things
from morning until
pink skies set in.

this was where
it all happened.
you were fifteen
and I remember
your last innocent smile,
directed at me
under the falling leaves
of acacia tree.

you touched my head
and said
honey, be twelve.
young love indeed
Dave Legalisa Dec 2017
I wish you were here.
    I wish you could hold
    my hands as we unfold
    the idea of love
    on that soothing evening
    and saccharine moment
    we could possibly have.

I wish you were here
    hugging me tight in those
    tender arms of yours,
    lending your raw ears
    in real patience as you listen
    to my trumpery words.

I wish you were here
    pouring me some love
    with words you often address
    to me like rain onto my head -
    as dry as thirsty roses.

I wish you were here.*
    I wish you love me
    like the way I always do
    like the way I always blow
    and serenely whisper
    the lovely words, 'i love you'
    through the winter air of December.
isn't this a bad thing to write a sad poem in Christmas?
Dave Legalisa Dec 2017
I'm an ocean.
The kind that which
its ocean floor
remains untouched.
The kind that is rich
with secrets hidden
somewhere deep
like demons dwelling -
living numerously,
animating and multiplying,
growing in immortality,
longing not for preys or food
but beauty and pride to uphold.
i know this is a bad poem but i still hope you like it :)
BeckyH Oct 2017
He's fat and he's hairy,
He poops and he snores,
Makes marks on the carpet,
Scratches wounds in the doors,
Wees in the kitchen,
Coats my whole house with hair,
Stands where it's awkward,
Hogs my favourite chair.
Wants walks when it's raining,
Won't go out when it's nice,
Chucks food in dark corners,
That attract all the mice.
Greets me in the morning,
As if I've been dead,
Jumps on my lap,
And tramples on the bed.
He's a pain in the ***,
And sometimes drives me to madness,
But I love you Dave,
You're the cure for sadness.
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