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Who love the LORD they fear,
Enter and worship here.  
Who love or know Him not,
Enter, but fear a lot.
midnight sun Jan 15
and in our battle of words,
yours succeeded to wade its meaning straight across
and with a solid one at most,
i have once again been rendered lost
jan. 15
midnight sun Dec 2022
you’ve grown to live behind my eyelids,
and in every nook of where anyone else is
midnight sun Sep 2022
my feelings are the splattered inks
bold, italics
threatening to spill
weighing on every meaning
words could carry
scrambled up, juggled
those who’ve yet to feel
shall not speak
and pray tell, words
do you realize what you amount to?
what’s behind was for a reason, a person
clear as day, solid reverie
what lies beneath shan’t remain between the lines
and if it reaches you, we’re alike
sept. 26
midnight sun Jun 2022
you are
my dreams’ reel
frequent inhabiter
rarely a bypasser
feelings lost
sight, almost
midnight sun May 2022
my feelings are a mountain
i have yet to tackle
detached of my body
way ahead of me
in a sense it may have manifested its way of life
now it is a head, with a heartbeat
i’ll let it grow a hand of its own
perhaps two, even
limb after another
& who am i but a shell?
The past two days were recklessly engorged with alcohol.
Intoxication has become habitual. Each weekend, drowning one's self in an illusion of joy and folly; The jester entertaining not Kings nor Queens, but the ****, the weak, to deceive the empty crowd in my mind that I matter to someone. But matter is fleeting and we, myself and the abyss, understand the plight of today; waking up to nothing-- the empty abyss for which I am well acquainted with. Simply put, I am revisiting my old home from a not so distant past. The only difference between then and now is the relentless bottoms of empty glasses and a false sense of security and composure.
1 page of my thoughts a day to prevent my head from exploding!
Spriha Kant Apr 2021
When fear flutters me I close my heart's shutter for preventing its entry inside me.

Quiet Justin Nov 2020
I honestly really mis high school. When I moved to the UK a few months ago, I really though I was going to start off my new life in university meeting new friends and having the time of my life.

But so much happened that postponed that and now I'm at home in an area where I have no friends and nothing to do. Hopefully, that changes soon.

On the topic of missing people, I look at social media a lot and see my friends having fun and that reminds me of something else I read online once. It was about something called FOMO, which I didn't understand back when I first saw the word a few years ago.

Nowadays, I get what that means. When I see people my age having fun and doing things, it makes me feel upset. Kind of reminds me that I'm not living my life the way I really want to. But social media does that to you. It shows you the really happy parts of people's lives, the boring parts usually being left out.

It really *****, but I have next year to look forward to so I won't worry about it too much right now.
These are nice. I can be honest and don't have to go through the effort of being poetic. I like this
Dante Rocío Sep 2020
good riddance,/
no lyrical sides/
their call, heaven/
with cigarette word-
boat too close to the wall/
circumcising by verbals done/
up dying,/
Child us a sandbox of sense/
stretching holding/
out on a ghostly hand/
We are the walls/
place Poetry finds acute vivid lining/
verses, our eyes meshing/
hole unclenching/
Killing lectures about it, how dictionarising/
And Le Clézio’s wing alive/
Taking flight/
An entry, presentation, to my own self,
With a beige new paper crusting made,
Enduring  benevolent ego  for any who
that paper will find..
Entrust my sense showed again
In my 5 minutes on a lilac,
fragile like old Chinese art,
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