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Cash Carlos Jan 15
You open up the book,
and there it is,
waiting for you
like an old professor
with a furrowed brow,
ready to beat you over the head
with a ruler, as he tells you,
"This is great,
This is genius,
This is tradition!"

your mind shifts
to the girl who sat
next to you in high school English,
her bright eyes,
her a floral dress,
her shinny shoulders,
her dark hair like a waterfall
cascading into the desk in front of you;
And just as you take off your shoes,
and prepare to take a leap
into those deep, dark,
and tangled waters,
the professor smacks you on the head
with ruler,
to remind you Keats wasn't great
because he chased skirts
and drank liquor,
but because he knew meter
and form,
and proper punctuation;
and you will never be great
because all you know
is how to daydream
into places
where you don't belong.

You close the book of Great Poetry,
and never read it again,
then go for a walk
into the late afternoon
where the sun shines,
and the wind blows,
just as it is.
mc ish Jan 15
it fills me with warmth
i don’t remember feeling
ever since you left.
Seanathon Jan 10
When the sun and moon and stars align
And the darkness is most bitter sweet
On the backside of our turning time
With inches meaning less and less
It's where our two perspectives meet

And when the rolling river cuts its path
Down beneath the deep, the grand abyss
As the ages pass on through and trough
That's when I will recant
That’s when I will return to you

For as the arrows fly and pass you by
So the winds of change flow steadily on
Both forward and through every tree
Yet inching towards to former fount
Only when in stillness will I ever be

For it's between this heaven and this earth
Between the sun and moon and land and sea
It is WHEN we only care about
When it ought to be the man to be

Heaven our impatience
Earth our wonder
Wind a wandering mind to keep
Between is no other
When? WHEN.
He laughs at me
Daring me to take him in
He curses my home
With Blood
And Poison
Which escapes his skin

I'm hungry
And broken
Deep down
The ****-fire burns
Beneath my skin

Let me be
Who I am
Is more than
What it seems

So I carry my load
Across this wilderness
I am going to miss
The delights
Within these trees
So, it's destiny
To fall

And fight
Can someone
And release me
From this prison

All may be my demise
As God holds me close
Tells me not to weep
To my muse
As long foretold

I am a vagabond now
Seanathon Dec 2018
Breathing smoke
Blowing mist
Missed mornings passersby
And then
And then
A coffee hiss
A quiet whisp
Another day gone by
Days go by. Quick quick.
Rose L Dec 2018
the peach-grey behind the clouds. those opalescent seconds
don't you remember that day
when we held hands and it felt okay
and I cried because it stormed and
Neoprene vastness of vision. I watched you sleep and you didn't feel human
I'm not free this evenin g and I'm sorry
Those hours in the morning where early birds speak and tell me
go to sleep
Hands hot and bristling
And forced to
- 'and she painted throughout her life-'
And we have to talk?
Because I feel like I've lied
but when you're not here I feel
Cold. The Cold that spreads and burns
and tell me h-
"I don’t see how Henry, pried
open for all the world to see, survived."
She sat across from me, on the other side
of the room
A gentle flood of blood that felt to me like drowning
and agreed that I'd reached Inner Peace.
on the way home it stormed, and I cried.
anotherken Dec 2018
I would cry
Until my eyes dry.
I would feel mercy
Without knowing
what should I see.

I would love
Until that love has lost.
I would share
Oh, I would dare,
With people who don't know me.

I would sleep,
Knowing that I did wrong.
But what could I do?
It's already been done.
There's no turning back.

If I restrain myself,
I would never see the light of day.
I might as well hit the hay,
Away from the fray
But I don't want it.
I want to be who I am!
No more spins and turns,
No more colds nor burns,
I could feel a slight yearn
To go into a repeat of patterns
But no more!

That elegiac feeling came to me,
A wonder-filled wonder of ecstacy
Like a fraudulent father confessing to thy brother
Like a sickening sick sicko hurrying over the slippery slide into the well.
Like an adult ant attempting to attempt the actual act of impossibility,
It's all coming to me!

I would cry out in joy.
I would cry out in shame.
I would keel over and shed a tear.
But I always know.
That we're in tow.
mc ish Dec 2018
my life is a draft
i am a draft
i was enlisted without my own permission
to a life of love and loathing and so much pain
youve caused me so much pain
"you treacherous
lovely creature full of ache and sorrow
who hurt you?
who made you feel that the world couldnt give you anything but pain?
who destructed everything you thought you were
what are you?
what have you made yourself out to be for them?
have you found your colors yet?"
and she realized in that moment
that years of paleness has measured out to
perhaps she isnt void of anything
Micah Gerdes Nov 2018
The night sky is bright
So alive and so busy
Unlike her dark eyes
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