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Cailey Weaver Feb 2016
Almost everything in life is controllable, except for time.
It’s something that is endless, never pausing for a moment to wait for you to catch up.

It’s something we are all victims of.
It’s what gives us life and it brings our own demise closer and closer every day.

Destruction is a result of human existence through time.
None of us want this to end; and anyone would admit to wanting the ability to hit pause and freeze time itself.

Time is unstoppable.
It’s something that brings us all down to size.

No matter our age, gender, race, or religion, not one of us can halt time.
Some, however, can create the illusion of time standing still. Closing your eyes, and letting everything disappear.

Take my hand.
Don’t let the time go by.
Don’t let me lose control.

Never fear.
It’s only time.
Hales Feb 2016
Pride os a strong  word
So many people use it
They have pride in their clithes
Their appearance
Their hair
Their homes.
However for me
Pride comes in some unusual forms.
Pride comes from text on a page,
And ugly ink splotch on a stark white dress
Pride comes from poetry
The elegant ways it dances from the poets mind as it plays its way across their lips or to their finger tips
Pride comes from new words
Never seen before combinations
New ideas and new arrangements
And endless sea with no boundaries but your own.

Pride comes from within me.
Pride in my poetry.
EMPstrike Jul 2014
Time, as it's measured, within lengths in-between
Wondering things.
Like "How much can i see?"

          "I think too much."
       "Stop trying so hard."

Confusion, insight.
Am i done with this chore?

For every thought we have thought,
More time has been measured.
And all the measurements passed,
Moving on, never tethered.

Every new idea, arriving in this sea of perception,
Adds more and more still,
And no limit is given.

Each seed sprouts more.
Hundreds it seems,
In pursuit, never ending


On eternity's wing.
words elude my breaking sight,
dream, and dreams of forms
bear might.
built and forged upon the light, now -
it fails, consumed by night.

aloof the babe at mother breast,
forged a world, upon its flesh.
lines and form, subdued in sense,
amorphous matter - cracked and rent.

are true the words, which mask seeming?
or void held gaze, and lack of dreaming?
a man, a man, in restless slumber,
context born of lust and hunger.

can we see, a world past sight?
strip away the egos might?
a star, a star, throws out its light,
grasping for
the endless night.
semiotics and zen
AfterImage Jan 2016
My greedy heart: an endless stomach hungry for your affection.
Alan S Bailey Jan 2016
A story 2,000 years in the making...

Sparkling, beautiful vivid hues
Totally amazing stunning array,
The sky a deep blue with the sun
A vibrant white gold, whispy, cloudy
Haze, misty and peaceful, eloquent,
A piece of nature in your own backyard,
In endless awe, all of us watching this amazing
Clear blue day, whether the building and filthy
Trash dumps and rusty cars are in your way.

Such a desolate scene, temporarily blocking what
Was brought about by someone's envisioned dreams.
Lost Jan 2016
A poor lonely girl,
trapped in an endless cycle,
struggling to survive.
Ishita Jan 2016
10w
Wrote endless poems for someone who didn't even know I existed.
5-1-16.
10w poem
Nay Jan 2016
Love is Square
it is equal in each corner

Jealously is Triangle
sharp in every edge

Longing is Round
endless
the correlation is real tho
Anna Jones Dec 2015
I am the sky
That's forever falling
I am the plant
My seeds are sprouting
Basking in her summer sun
Taking in her splendour
Oh, how she comes undone

I see the day
Twinkling at the night
Feeling her endless distance
A constant companion
Urging her to shine so bright

Starlings
Bury and swoop
Upon the horizons
Making meaning
For the senses
Sea licking salt;
She yearns for that
No pretenses

There will come a time
When she no longer questions
Or calculates good intentions
Her arms grasping out
To nurture earth
From up above
A heavenly birth
Will fall and rain
A billion drops
Of inspiration

Smiles
Tiny shards of light
Radiating her true reflection
Like simple words on a page
Reaching a familiar end
Scribbling
Screaming for release.
The writing comes in waves.
*Hello, old friend...
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