Till 12, I was with the Moon
By 6, appointment fixed with the Sun

And, the diary repeats
Genre: Self
Theme: Autobiography || Being Naturalist
Aihara May 19
The imminent river,
inevitable ride;
unwilling passenger,
whether the strap snapped, disconnected;
Or stuck till final destination, rock bottom.

Was all this necessary
Im great, Im happy
Stop misdiagnosed me
Im no other than me

neuroses and religion
who i am to wish for oblivion
one opinion define none
On seeking whats the norm and what is wrong.

Im trying to live, to fit in
Just normally like everybody
Normal to me but it isnt
what am I, Who I am without

I am, was, I will be okay
Why it felt like a replay
No choice but to compelled
Who said its mine to choose
Cause it wil be forever replayed

For now the strap hold on
on repeat, hitting rock bottom
Its true the only way left is up
no in between, stuck in a time wrap.
I hate it when I couldn't accept myself for who I am. My scars, my illness.
Its not my fault I was born with it.
Aihara May 19
I walked home on my own
Stayed after you said you're not fine through the phone
I spent my lifetime to make you feel better
Why couldn't you see me?

Said you love Cardistry
Coding for a living
I gave my time to learn both
so you have someone to play with
or at least Im something to you.

I love you at point I couldn't even say
something or anything that will hurt you
whenever you told me you need me
I always trying my best to be there

Running, stumbling made a fool of myself
Just so I can be there with you
So you won't feel alone
Even its just over the phone.

Now you're gone
No goodbye not a thing
Tell me you're fine
Tell me to let you go
Tell me you hate me
Just tell me something.
I can't even hate him, I just need a closure.
Aihara May 19
Laying in my bed,
In my head neurosis hit again;
Greetings! Just like an old friend,
That one unwanted, pretentious man.

Got a hint I won't be breathing again,
One last chance to make it last;
Forever green I missed my old grin,
From back when I was younger;
Where I never stop to wander.

I remembered barefoot on my way home,
Alone with no one to walk along,
Mom said I should be capable to be on my own;
Looking back no child should walk alone,
Many could go wrong but it decide to wait for its turn.
part 1
Lyn-Purcell May 18
Your life is a diary.
Each day is a page.
Memory is the pen.
So write your
own story.
I've been surfing the nostalgic wave lately.
I forgot how beautiful 'Diary' is by Alicia Keys.
That was my jam, and it still is!
When music still had beauty and meaning, man.
The feels are real!
Be back soon!
Lyn x
River man takes his journey
through mearending reeds,
he's  got truth in his pocket
a diary of promises unsated.
For a shilling he take you to
hangmans corner,
a place to clear your head,
for a throw of the dice
he show you
the secret of life itself,
but beware of his wry smile!
April Apr 11
fill the mug with coffee to fall asleep consciously
close the windows to vent out my delusion
put on a red sweater to render rainy days a blush
stack up the clocks to overlap the tik toks

compose a song without giving it a name
take pictures without inserting a memory card
An old-fashioned way to say “I think about you” is to say
“I keep my diary everyday.”
It's about a fantasy of being in a relationship with someone you know you will never be together with.
Jenny Gordon Apr 9
Prolly will too, judging from afternoon's frore air.


Blue skies are but a memry now fr'intents,
And is black even littered with stars' tale?
I canna look.  Twas frore when we'd avail
Our selves of talk where afternoon was thence
Chance for rehearsal, late as we'd for sense
Put cafe tables side by side, light pale
With greyish region clouds nor blue's detail
But gone ere dinner was put on, and whence?
Ah, how all we'd enjoyed is lost as twere
To wasting hours which never but sift through
Sweet minutes spent with brothers, and in tour
Dear friends.  I had espresso with Dad too,
Spent two bucks on a cuppa coffee fer
The chance wi' friends, and did I, LORD, seek You?

Yes, I really did elide a syllable in the original title...cuz my page was fresh outta room.
Aa Harvey Apr 6

Art is yours to interpret.
Poetry is yours to hear.
A diary is yours and yours alone to write.
Music is always near.

(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Next page