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It doesn't make any sense how everything juxtaposes
But i'm a model that makes no poses
I don't want to be an impose
Unless it's dire
Unless someone is in danger
Then i hope i'm not the Lone Ranger
In my efforts and intentions
I hope i get some help
To perpetrate this evil off together
We seem weak now but we can become menacingly powerful against our worst enemies
This means war
Paradise is meant to stay
So try to come my way
You're going to tussle with the wrong people
We'll see the results at the end
Pauline Morris Feb 2016
You act as if you hadn't a clue
You act as if I hadn't talked to you
You act as if I hadn't tried till in the face I was blue

I did, I tried
I did, but you only sighed
I did,rivers of tears I cried

Why are you such a *******
Why is your agony dispread
Why did you not listen and ended up mislead

I beckoned you to come near
I beckoned you so I could make it clear
I beckoned you but you only looked at me with that sneer

So I let you do it your own way
So I let you become the prey
So I let you crumble in just mere days

Now i'll just set and watch
Now I'll just set while all of it you botch
Now I'll just set as you make another notch

If only you had not just listened but heard
If only you hadn't let things get so blurred
If only you hadn't acted so absurd

I sat and I watched you expire
I sat and I watched as your situation got dire
I sat and I watched as you set yourself on fire
Äŧül Jan 2016
Who I took to be my saviour,
Was the very one that killed me,
When I felt really terrorized.

Nuke of loneliness imploded,
Not caring it was not the time,
Night now feels as if eternal.

Contained is this explosion,
Tears haven't fallen since long,
Of dire loneliness it's a gift.
My HP Poem #983
©Atul Kaushal
Firefly Mar 2015
Fire is inside you,
Inside me,
Little one,
Born at the bon fires at night,
Born of greed; greedy lust.
They all took me here,
Took your mother away,
Flung her sweet face to dirt,
Where she tasted the moss,
And felt the fire;
Pain; pleasure rain.
I used to fear, you'd born dire,
The cleft lip that marks a sad life,
Being born with no legs!
How I feel now, legless,
For I am unable to move,
Except for a little cringe,
As fiery rods were forced inside me.
But I must confess,
That I started to like the way that felt,
But that was before,
Before the last of the cuts opened within me,
And a gore and blood mixture drained.
But my sweet child,
You were also born to the sweet scents of night-woods,
Born of the moon and stars; dark and light.
And your cries made me regret,
No! No! Never did I regret you; my life,
I regretted my thoughts,
Those of penetrating myself with cold, steel rod,
A real one, mind you,
And I attempted to pierce your developing heart,
To **** you and end my fears,
I feared in my mind you would be born with the features of sin,
But lo! It is not so, my sweet, sweet baby.
I was not impregnated by those men,
I was not impregnated by the weak trickle of life,
That spews from their desire-rods.
My dear boy,
I was impregnated by the lovely night!
Sweet, sweet night......
A fantasized version of a dire secret my mother shared with me.
Firefly Mar 2015
I am who whispers to the stars,
For the little stream,
I cried to replenish everything now down-wind.
Many saw me,
Playing sweet lyre, my fingers blue,
Under pale moon, my hair silver.
They all stood a ways away, watching,
All seemed lifeless statues, grey in the moonlight,
Solemn and austere, blue and unyielding.
The cold never seemed to bother them,
Standing there shell-shocked, eyes-locked,
Lo the wonder in their eyes.
I now slowly begin to enjoy myself.
'Twas easy to pluck the strings of their hearts,
I'd give them a gentle caress,
Then suddenly a catatonic strum.
But as it always turns out, I am the one truly shell-shocked.
It's just the way the indifference mingles with increasing fear,
As if this is all okay, but there is something wrong,
Something sneaky and dangerous,
And that their minds are nearing th'inevitable conclusion,
To near-see truth behind their mindless crave,
The truth of how beauty creates such awe,
And leaves them all in such dire, treacherous need.
4, March, 2015, by Z.Carter or MoonFirefly
J M Surgent Nov 2014
We stayed up all night,
Drinking wine, listening to Dire Straits.
I told you I loved you like Romeo loved Juliet
You told me to get more creative,
So I said it again, in French.

— The End —