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The Sun was a no show.
Raindrops begin to bead off the brim of my straw hat.
This beat continues until it slurs into a stream.
The thought to leave never crosses my mind.
Downpours are downright hypnotic, magic made real.
The eye of the heart opens to the rain's musical incantation.
And there it stands, the doorway to infinity.
Inside is surely unknown, but to have the great beyond exist,
within the turning of fingertips is unreality itself.
I suppose the power of this muse lies in its mystery.
Yet still, I forge endlessly onward to annihilate the enigma of it all.
I'm sitting here, in the rain, watching these words turn about.
have made a big decision
and I know that it spells death

I have realised that I am not I
because I am i
and i have to **** I
or die trying
because when I say “I am”
and when I feel like a man
I am wildly out of control
I have the keys to my very soul
and thus I must die
and I must become i

is gonna try
to see if i can bleed
because the priest
is convinced that i can
and when he chokes i by the neck
and the congregation hits the deck
and the stars begin to appear
and everything seems so clear
and i knows what i don’t know
and i knows that i don’t know

is gonna find
what i don’t know
and i is gonna conquer
the great unknown
because when i feel so very small
and there are no words at all
and the world is spinning faster
and all i hears is laughter
because i knows that i can’t breathe
and i don’t know if i believes

i has realised that I is not I
because I is i
and i has to **** I
or die trying
because when I says “I am”
and when I feels like a man
I is wildly out of control
I has the keys to my very soul
and thus I must die
and I must become i

has made a big decision
and i knows it’ll be the death of me

am an eye
gazing back at me
and i cannot see my reflection
i only see a stranger’s eye
because i is someone else
and i is not myself
and i doesn’t know what i’ll find
inside this stranger’s mind
and my fear is all that’s real
and my fear is all i feels
and that fear is that me is me
and me isn’t who i wants to be
and methinks me cannot see
and methinks that me is me
and methinks, but me doesn’t know
and I and i don’t know me
and if me must be me
then me will find the great unknown
because me is the great unknown
and me can be no one
no one but Me.
javert May 9
Laying low and waiting
in the grass, see the sky.
Light above is grating,
caught, perfect, in your eye.
How the moon guides you by
its untroubled movements.
Pristine, untouched, how thy
hand makes no improvements.

With the spear you’re weighting,
once again you will try
in the dirt translating
(caught, perfect, in your eye)
that unbroken line. Lie
that your own amusements
could hold that light. Each sly
hand makes no improvements.

While you stand hesitating,
I place your hand on mine.
“Look,” I say, “duplicating,
caught. Perfect, in your eye,
the moon reflected, spy.
Despite the light’s influence,
to your beauty, his high
hand makes no improvements.”

In vain we satisfy
our heart with our reply.
All of us are truants--
all of nature’s students.
form is double refrain ballade per lewis turco's the new book of forms

I think i thoroughly mangled the english language here and for that, I apologize
Heyaless May 8
She has those striking eyes of an Owl .

She observes, Her stare intense yet clam .
She can see through illusion , thrive beyond illusion .
She can see true self of others , their weakness , their strengths .

Do not scared with her stare but ,
Fear her wisdom , spoken by silence !
The more she sees ,the less she sound .

Her defense is her colours
She can blend into the surroundings ,
She's a nemesis
Difficult to spot even if visible .

If you are a threat to her territory
Better watch your back from her talons .
You surely don't want to be her prey

She is intense .
She will mantle you ,
Not to protect but to finish you off ,
Without leaving any trace behind .

Her keen hearing sense , you cannot escape .
She can hear you scuffling from outrun .
She can sense your decoy ,
Even if you're buried in snow .

So tell me how you will veil those eyes which can see through dark .
This poem is a indirect description of my unconscious self which is actually conscious but hidden from the world .
Elsie Plum May 1
As I drift to sleep
I’ll say this now
There’s no humanity no love
And IM used

fine, FINE.
4:02. Am now 4:03
annh May 1
I watch him tapping, from the corner of my eye.
Left hand. Pointer to pinkie. Sequentially.
Beginning and re-beginning.
Defeated, intent, scowling, jubilant.
In my imagination he is a poet, counting syllables.
Writing haiku in his head, as he waits in traffic for the light to turn green.

‘You've got to be kid-
Well, crud, what just happened there?
I ran out of syl-‘
- Rick Riordan, The Hidden Oracle
Xmas light angel sparkling bright
Walkin on the rooftops
Got someone in sight
Gunna flitter and flutter
All through the night
Eyeing a weary sparrow
till all is well
till all is right
till that lil sparrow
be ready to take flight

Bonnie Raitt &John Prine
Angel From Montgomery
inspired by an Xmas light rooftop angel perched atop a roof during an early April twilight
Meysa Apr 17
take me.
to where the grass is not green
show me.
things that the naked eye has never once
Salt lines stains tired cheeks
Passed by overused dimples
Like flowing steady creeks
Taking turns in their descent
Rushing very simply
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