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J Super Star Feb 2015
Let's stay in this prison of blankets
and un-remember our meaning
to this existence.

I have walked all the parks
and I have swam in all the seas.
I have slow-danced in all the bars.
I have seen all the cosmic dreams.

My bones are tired of adventure.
My soul is tired of the new.

Let's ignore the changing colors and trends.
Let's arrest ourselves in this bed.

Somewhere where the jazz is fine
and smooth kids wanna spend time,
I had lost my ignorance and my pride.
Patience bit me. I grew a mind.

The world is a vampire and we only knew
after a thousand cups of coffee
and a thousand classrooms.

Let's forget. Let's die.
Got this poem out of me in order for me to concentrate better on homework. I originally wrote it on paper but as I typed it out I can see how not a poet I am.
Àŧùl Nov 2014
The creator had created this world,
Not specifically but only randomly.
There're just so many of loopholes,
Negatives're so many in this world.
All creators leave some holes agape,
Even Eliot was unable to cover it all.
He can't be blamed for it - perhaps the world is like this,
Maybe things go on depreciating along with the clock.
Eliot York must give enough attention to this subject.

I am getting to know stuff about some jerks spamming about some immoral websites promoting ****.

Eliot York, if you are reading this, then we need a new moderator who can be contacted and emailed screenshots of such spam messages and then the morality moderator can get such antisocial ****** users banned from Hello Poetry for good.

My HP Poem #687
©Atul Kaushal
Jaanam Jaswani Sep 2014
Round and round, it wouldn't even matter
Go catch monkey's bars, like the beast you are yourself
Tragedy is that you will never be able to look at light
With your frail eyes and flaccid heart

I purge, I clease
Away with the torment of calling myself a fool
Your fool-
Don't you remember what shakles are?
There's a vacuum in your mind-
Is this not true?

Swim in the ale that consumes your youth;
You won't know tomorrow, anyway.
Michael McLean Jul 2014
I am of water still thinking I'm in it

there's no ripple it's internal

body temperature thick and dark like black marker or pen ink

writing yourself poisons you

but I feel fine

maybe I read it wrong or heard it for too long

this love song in the chambers of me
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