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Deepali Aug 9
Walk, the way you talk,
Talk, the way you walk!
Originality hurts,
But its pure.
'Im'..  Said.
Philomena Jun 1
"I never thought I would ever escape
At times, I wanted to die
Feared that it all was just a little too late
For then, I wouldn't survive
I let you in and let go of the hate
My heart recovered now, I
Owe you a debt that I can never repay
I still believe 'cause you're mine"
~

dark early pre-dawn

body suspended between the-dark ochre earth tones of night,
and the teal pealing notes of warning of an impending morning,
signs aborning, me rising with urgency of the leaden half deaden,
torn from the bed casket to venture into a different kind of twi-lights,
nature demanding both intake and outtake, a restoration of balance

but first a bumbling wobbling, the body as carnival bumper car,
installing soon-to-be-bruising for later examination-exhumation,
lurching from handhold crevices in the walls like crazy cliff climbers,
my balance disturbed, eyes try  tearing apart the sticky glue of night,
my sense of direction keeping me from free falling into green glass
edges of glass tables, barely, and not always, red cuts evidentiary

“my balance disturbed” words fresh formed, and a poem expulsion
required to balance the unjust scales of spirit soul and the body cage,
patch an negotiated agreement between warring cousins, just a
twenty four hour ceasefire to retrieve the wounded and the
corpses unfounded in the small copses of false shelter,
like my ancestors expelled from Spain, making escape to be
strangers in strange lands, or remain hidden in place neath disguises
of clothes of new poems, prayers for old and new gods

this new poem comes quick like a young man making first love,
for the poem has been written by thousands nights of practicing,
so ready for quick retrieving in a smattering of a few minutes,
expulsion expulsion
what a perfect verbiage to capture the night terrors, the differentials,
the procession path between what was and what will be,
when my balance restored and this poem’s completion installation
in the body of my work, as a nail disguised in the works of my body,
entering by command of the pitch black gods
5:29am April 24th
things may not go the way
you've planned for today
be thankful for the life anyway
feel blessed for each passing day
time may be dark or gray
but the sunshine is not far away....
Just reminder to  self..When things go haywire...
Celaena Jan 25
He waits in the night
Such a glorious sight
With fingers like claws
And a crow that caws

He waits in the day
So he'll be at bay
With hair like the void
That no one can avoid.

He waits in the moon
It'll be over soon
With eyes like coal
That will rot your soul

He waits in the sun
It's almost done
With wings like fire
That suits his attire

He waits in the night
Such a glorious sight
As he goes by
You all will die
quinn silverman Nov 2018
aimlessly reaching for it
not quite grasping the meaning
of what it is as it’s slipping
through my needy fingers
the texture is lazy
slithering beneath my sad nails
planting itself in the dirt
that i was too pathetic to clean
claiming itself a flower
but y would a flower make me cry?
leaving me wet, rabid, reaching
still aching for the slightest hint of it
like an addiction scratching at it
trapped in inevitable incomprehension
The little voice begging for love and freedom from classroom is mine
I  a child
Who harbours unspoken words and wavered feelings in my heart
If you let my spirit out of this cage, a beautiful world I'll paint
Now I am bound by chains of failure and mothers unemphatic nature
Every invisible second steals a pint of blood and bucks of flesh off me
Mother is now the pain I see, an undying tormentor she turned to be
On my skin she left her palm slaps and upbeat attitude that gets me grounded
The unpacked toys on the shelf describes me, a missing puzzle lying on the counter defines me
Jack and Saldy are now my favorite mares, the spirits by my window at night they are
On a daily I receive the backlash for not coming down for dinner
A loner in a busy house I am, neither living nor dead
Everyone thinks I am reserved, NO
There's peace in returning to my bed at night, a reviving hope of not seeing another rising sun
Mother can you look at my future, you've murdered my dreams of playing cricket
Do you even notice the pain in my eyes, or the numb little robot you've created out of me
I am complaining to the deaf ears of nature, broken and cold my spirit have turned to be
The wind is upon me, I shall sink my ship to let the sailor live
Whoever sees my body at the graveside should know I was a happy child
Before my demons haunted me.
Emphatic: How we treat and react towards each other adds worth or reduces their worth and self-esteem. Families, friends and society plays a vital role in building a person, just be yourself and true in any dealing with any person. What matters is how you left them not how you met them.
Pep Sep 2018
There has been a disturbance in my mind,
And I don't know how to fix it.
Matter of fact, there is a disturbance in my mind
Right now.
It won't go away.
Voices speak to me in yes or no kind of questions.
School starts and then they go away,
Only to come back when I'm alone again.
With no friends around, because the mind is...
Disturbed.
You can purchase my book CONTROVERSY @ Books2Read https://books2read.com/u/4DAAeQ
Amanda May 2018
Revealing twisted thoughts that emerge in my head at night
Needlessly pouring my heart to you
The cold chaotic chess game that lingers
I wonder if you feel disturbed sometimes too
I can't be the only person who is this kind of crazy
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