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I came here to tell you something
But forgot what it was...

I guess I'll wait for tomorrow
and see if I remember.

Oh I do now,
and Tomorrow brings a new day.
The springtime, she's too nice.
But this is only a glimpse- a glimpse.
It's incomplete.
The day goes in a circle, I see patterns,
but wait for Beauty to take its form.
The morning I go take pictures near the lighthouses,
     tip the magicians on the street,
     find a patch to sit on,
     and see the grey hounds play games.
     For a demented hour.
     Impulse begets my nerves.
By noon, I drink soda around the cinnamon blocks, I see someone reply
     to my poems, "Bah, you strange child, you naive fantasy!"
     I typed back, "I’ll see you in New York, man!"
     Yes- I am obsessed with you America, there it’s said.
     I’m an angry child…
After I went to the putrid-pale terraces and saw my bohemian friend,
     talked of his twelve cousins he had in his cocky country.
We talked of our visions, I made a pact with him, and gave a toast:
     To the prescience of minds,
     to dreams that stand still,
     to our wavelengths of vision!
He then left, and I bore myself to ache in the biting afternoon, so I write some more lines;
     I imagine the insides of the wrinkled boots of ragmen,
     the loveless pregnant child with cigarettes,
     the rebellious voyagers at sea,
     the pensive Pope pleasing his saints,
     and the begging men in love.

Then revelation strikes. It says, "Divine love tips the scales of wrath"
     Oh man, o hell.
     I sit in baked silence, clicked my boots, then wander the streets some more.
     I’m as quiet as a dead man, I daydream.
     If anything I’ll be like the jugheads,
     the clowns, the lonesome folks, I'll play my part.
     I have understood them through my dizzy youth, the fools,
     like my kind, I sense the agonising hero in their foolish laugh,
     their mediocre jobs, I squat in expectation, that you lads
     inspire me to find Beauty on your lap!
Any American can count the measure of my love for dejected poems.
     Born shy, I dissect my own distinction from the start,
     I grow indifferent in the night-time.
A buzz, a stab to my synapse. To love, to dream, but I will never be able to let Love to fall on her knees!
     It is knowledge mingled with eternity.
I walk faster. The dawns are loose and every sunset ghastly…
Many identities stir within me, my manic detriment lets me see landscapes
      rise, pastures grow, garlands widen.
      I’m near the café’s again.
I turn into a fangirl, like the eternal roleplays of damsels, because near the
      evening streets, I hear girls talk of their wild lovers
      in bathing suits, who gave her a Zelda flower, just now…
      She squeezed it by her side. The couple looked like
      pretty minerals grazing each other.
In minutes, the absurd night pierced my brain! I headed back home.
     Moonlight nearly gave me a papercut.
As I walked I asked Spring to wait for me. It passed me as if I was dying.
     I say, ‘As if a poet could be alien to springtime!’
     The mood is set. Spring is reborn.
     We were only seventeen.
     We’re never serious. We’re overcome by it.
I wanted to scream.
     What is this anchored burden? What are these horrendous sleeping pills? What is there left to do?
     I must perform the farce of life. The music will play on.

Bah! Don't you see Ginsberg? Nobody writes these long-ass poems anymore....
I live among string fairytales and dreams, at fourteen, I ate the gospel with a black gulp.
     I learned of Paul's teachings, Èros love,
     and Lazarus redemption, the bishops of the diocese.
     Should I throw them out the window too?
It's just another night,
      Another dead man in the hospital,
      another train to catch,
      another wailing rant.
I arrive home. Sleep lays the last gentle blow on me.
Take it from me America, it's lovehate, I lovehate you…
I rest.
A good day
comes and goes,
and for most
not a thing is thought of it.
But for me,
a good day
causes bells to chime
a cheery ding,
and the world fills with color
for the first time in awhile.
And even if its just for a second,
that dash of color
makes all the difference.
Little cheerier than normal
skin slips away skin escapes
again she flies by plane
again she runs away from all of us
again she runs away from me

but was there love whether she was
was the beauty of the moon of that day
was I and were those moments
o all escapes all runs away

bad days happen and thats okay
we make mistakes
but we learn
and i like learning.
so if that means i trip
and fall down
and maybe i might take you with me sometimes
for you, I'm willing to learn how to stand up again.
because you're worth it.
One bad day does not ruin a week
sometimes i fail at being the anchor i try so hard to be
and thats okay.
we're learning.
because maybe today wasn't perfect
wasn't good
but with learning
with time, with mistakes.
we can make tomorrow that little bit better.
In between the floating
day and night
that keeps this sublunary
planet live.
It's still an unseen night
from where the sunrise.

If only one can tell
from where the things dip out
only to scurry away.
I wanted to ask
but every one I see
is another punter
knows not when
that's time is up!
Knowledge still growing
Man, social media has
alot of power
Third day down! We learned more about Social Media today. Man, it was a long day. I have a trip tomorrow and after that, my first week is over! ^^
Lyn xxx
Alex 3d
She gets up from her bed,
Her demons in her head.

Last day, last day, last day.

She brushes her teeth slowly,
Knowing she is forever lonely.

Last day, last day, last day.

She stumbles through her classes,
Going no faster than molasses.

Last day, last day, last day.

Her bullies and fears,
Forces her to hide with her tears.

Last day, last day, last day

She pulls out a knife,
Knowing she had one last strife.

Last day, last day, last day

She closes her eyes,
And whispers no louder than a sigh.

Last try

woke up to the alarm snap,
ate around noon, cleaned the car.
took a short break, took a long nap,
cleaned the kitchen and the bar.
took a shower, still felt bad,
in bed early, unusually sad.
what's with me
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