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Penny Yilmaz Feb 2017
She had everything under control
so She thought
This tough as nails-
Lived through hell-
Fought for her soul-
Type of girl.

But,
The grey saw her gloom
Her gloom saw the grey

She couldn't shake it
The brimming,
The stirring,
This Thing,
wielding with intensity on its way
up and up and up.  

The Stomach always feels it's presence first
Coffee, that'll help.
Right?
Get focused, get organized, get all American Dream-ed out.

Up it travels,
No clarity in this coffee.
The Chest is next,
and with it greets Denial.

You silly, ever fruit-less human
Denial FEEDS this.

And so The Heart,
That perfect victim.
Oh,
She's ****** now.

And there it hits,
Stirring her coffee.
the heart that’s so weak
it gave way to the throat,
as if it loves defeat.

Stirring her coffee,
the Throat concedes,
that familiar rock-hard lump.
It's all up to the Eyes now.
Her eyes that see,
strangers and vulnerability  
can for sure **** this thing,
in a coffee shop that stands for corporate greed?

Hers are no ordinary eyes either, you see
for their beauty is what,
made countless men weak.

But her eyes, it proves,
are powerless
once met
with the truth that now screams
as tears, stirring her coffee
at the coffee shop they first met.

--PY
Solaces Feb 2017
I miss the phantoms of you..
I miss you haunting me..
I use to be afraid of your ghost..
And then you left..
I could never leave..
I wish you would come back..
But you left because of me..
And I stay because of you..
But time one day whispered into my ear..
And told me I was the phantom, I was the ghost that scared you away..
It seem like only days..
But truly they were years..
And you returned to me..
Silver and gray..
And showed me a way to heaven..
Are we the ghost?
Kevin Feb 2017
there's hope in words even when hope cannot be found,
even though they are just words, hope can still be found.
when words are written instead of spoken,
there is an in-between.
of the things i'd say to you and what you'd say to me.
and in between where i write and where you chose to read,
know that i will try to be the hope you cannot see.
and in the gray of where we are, you'll remember what you found.
that words and hope will never die,
even in the gray.
UNiTY Feb 2017
outside the window, there is a sky
it is not blue
it is not bright
it is gray
just like the inside of the room
the table is solemn
the chair is uncomfortable
I wish I was outside
I stare at myself in the mirror
I know they see me
I cannot see them
why am I here
is the window real
it feels like night
how could it possibly be day
I've counted the hours
since I got swept away
the room is gray
my eyes have lost their pretty blue
to this alone
where will the rest of me
eventually
go
if you like this, check out my other poems
cloh Feb 2017
Today the world was painted a lovely shade of gray
I could have sat in the rain and watched it all day
As the strange, fickle hues of gray sky changed
But life doesn’t allow me to live that way.
Alan S Bailey Jan 2017
I awoke each morning, without warning
They came from the front door,
And at night the candles were barely well lit,
They were silent and yet I couldn't
Ignore, this is...what is this?
A vile voice and angry specter
Filling my night with gloom,
Now all that was left, my empty space,
For horrors I would brace ,
I couldn't get them out of my face.
This each night they came again,
Banging cupboards while I slept,
Spinning sofas, shooting rubber bands.
They kept invading my dreams,
Upon my shoulder I saw a hand,
A reflection in a portrait of skulls,
A face of an old graying man...*
All of this and more. All of this sent me off my rocker,
I lost my nerve but couldn't settle the score,
I had no idea what they wanted. I was scared
Within inches of my life they were everywhere,
Like the scattering tiny feet of mice.
And a small little puppet twists his face up
Upon my bed, then a native over the same area
With Tomahawk ready, swinging over his head,
Huge spiders appeared upon the ceiling overhead,
And still I was somehow not aware at that,
But they drove me over the edge.
Her feet in the air while lying on the sofa, long hair,
A glaze in her eyes, hate behind the dark disguise,
It's sad to say I had no idea what I'd seen back then,
But it kept going on and on and on.
Close they always followed, they wouldn't let me be,
But I tell you for once a real haunting thing or three,
All I really know is they just wouldn't let me be free...
No matter what I know, no matter what I dream,
Every now and then something moves to scare me.
I know that it's weird and can't find proof or come close,
But all through the years it appears it was a "Gray Winged Ghost."
Adelle Stone Jan 2017
Everything around me is gray
People phase in and out
Friends just kinda are there
Your family stands in the background
Like an old, grainy, black and white picture
Rain falls in time with your tears
Who can tell you're even there
Like a ghost you flit in and out of life
A spectator to everything
Participant in nothing
Life just seems...kind of bland
Hey guys, sorry I haven't written in a while. Life has been kind of hectic.
if i could
i would trace the skyline of your body with my lips
and colour you in sunset with my fingertips

i would etch sonnets into your back
about the days and nights
that i lack your presence

my words would paint pictures of grey skies
because you are the sun
and all i see is rain when you are not around
Neon Robinson Dec 2016
Delicacies of darkness,
Intricacies of energy;
Witches of woe
Insinuating that nothing we pass is past,
As all beginnings were long since begun.

Protecting an abnormality,
That would rather be condemned,
By self-centered ambition of men.
An insanity that turns her right, round again.

Now if now only.
Living by wick and glee of natural ability.
You would come and dare,
Old sentimentality and whimsicality,
Rampart of myths and misconceptions.

To indulge in mischievous play
Under the indigo sky,
By the light of a spiral of far fire.
The journey starts by stealing hearts
If only now you would come I should be happy.
Mused by Lia Ann Kaai
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