These are the rolling hills, the clashing tides, the undiscovered, the mysterious. These are the whispering winds, the dew drops, the peace, and pride. These are the fires forging fierce peoples inhabiting this land. Here be the land of fierce beasts. Here be the land of dragons.
I've reached the edge and now it's time to say goodbye but it's not really goodbye forever just for now I love you my darling Goodbye
i wrote this poem years ago but I've been adding onto it and taking away it the poem is just its been in my head so enjoy seeing in my head even for a brief moment and maybe it will help you understand more. xoxoxo inspired from this "Never say goodbye, because saying goodbye means going away. And going away means forgetting. -J.M Barrie
My movements were eternally not my own My distinctions, decisions, discrepancy, Also not my own. The creation or establishment of a newborn, Covertly an awaiting infection of control and scare. Because only a newborn had nothing to fear of this world or district.
I fear the air, the sun, I cannot trust the outside, I belong far from fear. How must I walk if it’s controlled? Do I march or run? Do I look up at the sky or close my eyes in terror? Do I engulf the fear like a sharp knife or let it eat me up instead? Not knowing will do both.
I’m writing here because it’s my own words, Not a speech or sharing of my gospel. It’s a sin to my kind, But I am not like that kind. Please allow my independence hidden, I can't stand the scare.
Tyrant vandal Belly buttons born from tongue toy hammer whack shameless pantomime gold-digger jezebel ***** archetype bad product off food witchy fingers green fluorescent pink yellow ray of backwards twist mother truckers flat wheel tyre engine fire engine whoop weep tear tears down ripped up feeling face straight up to ceiling baby crib our tired little limbs break against the tide I want to swim away from here place island Caribbean holiday at Christmas I don’t want to be here when I get back lead trail hike walk up the stairs followed my shadow tie me up to lamppost dead flowers bouquet take give taker giver relationship spit out the blues by Benny and The Jets riddle saxophonists up walls and silly laughter clown faces you are a good morning stream streamer party thrower down sink lob me up pipes plumber broken loo place to sit and ponder on my **** think too many faces cherub fat little smile me a river bend down here we build a fort like kids and you’re home for ***** sake safety traffic cone orange still scares me to death bobby pins left on windowsills I chuck the memory out back it makes me sick pummel the cheekbones down flat face two face baby feet get into bins bin trash bag split when I picked it up I’m covered in rotten courgetti hipster you’re a stinking mess I hate your stupid shoes walk in a straight line you drunken ******* skip home with me hop scotch decanter glass slips off side crash pop Rice Krispy cereal noise white noise rain playlist through the walls I push through in pure stubbornness I leave us be lots of love, distance.
Manipulated stream of consciousness poem from the 'PERFORMANCE ARTIST POETRY...' collection.