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MalakF Jul 28
O, come a little closer - hear what I have to say,
I know that one piece of writing can be interpreted in so many different ways.
O, but do pay attention to my word-play,
To the picture I’m trying to portray.

O, I hope by the end of this you will understand the image I am trying to convey,
But do not get me wrong, the end of this is something I am attempting to delay.
O, it is saddening to know that sooner or later my rhymes will fade away
So I will replay, replay, replay.

O, how I pray that what we have will not decay.
Like all the flowers & bouquets that I watched wither/die a bit more every day.
O, but how pretty were they?
Sad to know that each & every single one was thrown out like the contents of an ashtray.

O, how you must have noticed the repetition of O’s - I think they are here to stay,
Unlike my pathetic, childish rhymes that I am struggling to hold at bay.
O, do not get me wrong - the rules to rhyme are so easy to obey,
They are so easy to slay.

O, like tray, cafe, puree,
For god sake, even JFK.
O, please tell me - do you see the problem on display?
Do you see what I am trying to say, what is coming my way?

O, it feels like a betrayal
No, no, no that’s not a rhyme.
I need to rhyme, I need us to be okay.

Ray, clay, Bombay.
Tray, fray, mae.
Ray, clay, Bombay.
Tray, fray, mae.

O, please stay
I need us to be okay.
O, I know repetition of words is not a rhyme,
Nothing more than copy & paste.

Ray, clay, Bombay,
Tray, fray, mae.
Ray, clay, Bombay,
Tray, fray, mae.

O, please I don't want us to stray
I hate how we went from white to grey.
O, please I don’t us to end this way,
I know I am barely rhyming but I will try my best, okay?

Look - ballet, allay, hooray,
Hay, weigh, olay.
Look - ballet, allay, hooray,
Hay, weigh, olay.

O, please stay
I need us to be okay.
O, I know repetition of words is not a rhyme,
Nothing more than copy & paste.

I’ll come up with more,
Dismay, replay, is-lay.
Tray, cafe, valet,
Delray, Alleyway, Chevrolet.

It is not that I don’t know how to rhyme,
I just need something to rhyme for.
Rhyming is synchronisation, it is compatibility
I just need to know we are.

Please, stay, stay, stay,
Don't go away, don't go away, don't go away.
Please, stay, stay, stay,
Don't go away, don't go away, don't go away.

Ray, clay, Bombay,
Tray, fray, mae.
Ray, clay, Bombay,
Tray, fray, mae.

I know I am barely rhyming, but I will do my best okay?
Please stay,
Don’t go away.
I always associated rhyme with compatibility, and although sometimes certain words that rhyme does not mean the same thing - such as "tree" and "flee", but in a bizarre way, they connect through rhythm. Rhythm can be such a beautiful thing, like in songs - where it can be jumpy, makes you want to dance and generally has a nice flow to it. Music is only one example of the input of rhythm. In general, a rhythm means consistency, a pattern in some way. To me rhythm (although it is not always the case) connotes good & happiness, like the act of skipping in a field of flowers.

Whereas with repetition, I always interpreted it as a point to emphasis, a dire need to be paid attention to, to be highlighted, acknowledged, underlined and to be focused on. In a way, it screams desperation to me. I don't believe it flows smoothly. Instead, I see it as pressing the car brakes quite abruptly & harshly, that your water bottle, phone and even yourself are yanked out of your seat - with the seatbelt suddenly burning your chest, or a child throwing a tantrum (crying, stomping their feet, throwing themselves on the floor & screaming).

In this writing of mine (partly completed), I speak about rhyming and how I do not want to stop - where at the same time there is the presence of repetition. And if you see repetition as a "scream of desperation" as I do right now, then as you progress through the page, you will be able to see that my rhymes become an embodiment of exactly that (desperation) - not only through stating clearly my urgency for rhyme but also by my rhymes themselves becoming repeated - thus my repetition of "O" fades away around the end - but that does not mean repetition is not there anymore - all that happened is that it took another form. Repetition becomes the only way for me to rhyme. Does that mean they are still rhymes or are they repetitions? If a word is repeated does that mean it rhymes or is it merely a duplication of the word? Can we distinguish between them? Is repetition more powerful or are rhymes? What do we make out of this?
Roland Jun 1
He showed up beaten and defeated,
A husk of a dream, used and discarded,
Orphan to the world and slave to its woes.

Who could love such a thing?
This rabid descendant of Adam and bearer of his sin,
Smelling of bile and **** and dried up tears.

He extended his arms as if reaching for the stars,
Only, stars don’t fall for dogs,
their warmth jealously guarded,
beneath a silky indigo cloth.

A stern and beautiful figure stood by the doorway,
clad in light and righteous vindication,
wearing the face of a goddess and brandishing her fury.

She looked down on that sorry scene
with sadden eyes and a love only she could understand.

To hold him then, would make Atlas twitch,
To look into his eyes would make martyrs cry,
To love him back would make even Christ sigh.
I made this after playing the game Disco Elysium, I was fascinated my the protagonist and his enslaving love towards his ex-wife
coqueta Oct 2020
Comfort me, Lord, my soul is distraught
My mind overwhelmed with all I am not
My body succumbing to destruction and rot
I’m aching aching aching

My Lord, my Lord, my soul aches to feel your presence
Please, allow me some rest
Allow me a little happiness
If you see fit, I’m longing for peace, and only you truly bring peace of mind, allow my soul to find contentment, bring rest to my tired flesh my Lord I long for the rest only your love can bring, because I feel beat down and worn

My body is battered, flesh beat down and worn
My mind day after day dwells only on their scorn
My God, My God, I curse the day I was born
Katie Jan 8
A loud crack
and silence
I'm cast into darkness
Falling to violence
My restraints go slack

And I fall

In my mind

Without my art
I'm nothing
Reshnia crimson Nov 2021
If I could
Pull my clockwork heart out
From my chest and point
To every gear that refuses to tick

If I could
I would dismantle it in front of you
To show you where
And why it gave out

If I could
I would show you the gear
Unattached to any other
Spining desperately
Because it doesn't know
It's spinning along and for nothing

If I could
I would tell you I think
That I didn't know
That clockwork was so delicate
I think I have clumsy hands
And I broke a few parts
Trying to fix it

If I could
I would give you the windup key
To stab me in the back and twist it
Hoping for something to click into place

But I can't.
I gunked up the keyhole
Hope and fear don't mix well
Like chewing gum they stick
And mix until they're both brown

I can't
Reach that little gear
Spinning so relentlessly

I can't oil it
And stop it from screaming
Screeching so loudly
At all the other gears around it
That won't turn no matter how fast it goes

I can't
Turn each gear by hand
I've tried
No one warned me
That clockwork hearts are warm
And bruise so easily

If I could
I would take up my clockwork heart
In my clumsy callous hands
Feeling it's hummingbird wing beats
Struggling in Morse code
Begging and pleading
To be held gently

If I could
I think maybe I would grip it
Feel it sputter and struggle
Like every time before
Just for clockwork gears
To grind together
To spark for all the wrong reasons

If I could
I would squeeze just a bit more
Until the last spinning gear halted
I would sob as I crushed it
Because it's already bruised and sore

If I could
I would be gental and lay it down
Let it hummingbird wings beat
And see that it's a cog in a dying machine

If I could
I would let it go cold
Numb it so the bruises stop hurting
I would put it to rest for pities sake

If I could
I would be soft with it
But I have clumsy callous hands
And cruelty will have to do
I would dare to call it mercy
If it would justify my tears
Something is not right
Everything looks the same
but has a strange smell to it
The burning candles emit no light
and the pale curtains
are no longer white

Something is wrong
The rain is embracing
the skin of the poor girl
The machines have stopped dancing
and the leaves are lying
on the sidewalk, green
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