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Dez Apr 9
I was asked to describe myself
So took a dictionary from the shelf
And I read the definition
Of a word I thought best fit my disposition
Failure was the word I thought best
The descriptions said, “lack of success”
I closed the book and looked at my questioner
And confessed I am on the road to no where
And in faling to prepare
I have prepared to fail
So I guess this is the way I say beware
Even good looking trains derail
Even those who look like they have it together are falling apart. Many people have told me I am a good young man and I will go places in life. But I feel as though I am not that great and in truth I have not prepared much.
I have always expected more from life
Yet the dude never fails to fail.
Getting carried away by all the hails
I left my dreams in jail
Sail back to your shore!
That was a cry from my soul
She has gone too deep to turn
But that which she runs from
Await her at her peck.

S. O sther.
A cry from my soul.
Passion Apr 6
Life is a stormy sea
And waves of sorrow is all I can see
I drift without oar or sail
And often my heart almost fails
For there is no silver lining
And never will I have a happy ending
Cayley Raven Mar 30
What is a boat good for
where there's no water?
A coma tied to dockside
missing it's blue waves.

What is poet's purpose
when he's a lousy knotter?
A lack of words on paper,
his mind is short of tales.

He's fishing for ideas
on a ship that won't sail,
oblivious to his surroundings,
he's only bound to fail.
Let the boat be the poet's attention.
When the leader fails at their job,
The people become angry,
When the leader makes a difficult choice,
The people decide that it was wrong,
When the leader gives it their all,
The people are filled with spite,
In the end,
The leader can't please everyone.
It’s only fair
We fail
And pretend
To sail
Already sunk boat
******* the tiny hope
Might save from
Drowning and
Stay afloat
It isn’t as if
I must put on
the Queen’s English
to be around you.

It isn’t as though
I should feel
the need to rebel, or
that my solitude

is a luxury
instead of a right.
Rather, these are
the whale-bone songs

of a well-worn battalion,
poised as I am
at every solstice,
footsore at the door.

This is simply
the ebb and flow
of ambrosia
that sets the pendulum

to swing
in different arcs
of fool’s gold,
the soft footings

at the edge of my radar.
This is the culture shock
of living dead girls
undergoing a seismic shift

in the round
mountain ash,

in a sea of voices,
while shadows cast
a romantic screen.

For every one that succeeds,
millions of others fail.
So tell me
how it should be,

that I could live
on my knees
and weep honey tears
as my dreams escape me.

Because this is
a death of sorts.
The phoenix rises,
only to burn again.

is a personal Shanghai,
and just as vast.
I want to believe

that wealth can be
weathered beauty,
Elizabethan colouring,
and a pirate smile.

You get my most
gorgeous parts,
my flaws,

in blind spots,
hidden in ivory,

are discovered
again and again,
as I live between what was
and what will be.
Lianne Jan 14
You may be a mess,
you may fail,
but remember once you give up
nothing will happen,
have faith.

So please do me a favor,
stand and give it another try,
you are a beautiful disaster.
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