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Mysidian Bard Feb 2017
Bravery is not a trait to be learned,
but a decision that's yet to be made.
When standing against overwhelming odds
there's good reason to be afraid,

but despair does not ensure cowardice
and adversity does not equal defeat.
Every man still has a fighting chance
as long as his heart still beats.

Be always valiant and forever fearless
against what others may forewarn,
because the decisions made amidst catastrophe
are also when heroes are born.
Joshua Dougan Feb 2017
People should be a little bit brighter
A little bit happier, don't be a miser.

Why is everyone so quick to anger,
So scared of danger and sick on paper.
Get a life, learn to smile you fakers.
Nothing in this world is gonna make it safer.

Misery loves company trust me it's ugly.
They came to be lovely til their feelings need cuddling.
Coddling is more like it, insulating even.
They don't realize they're insinuating treason.

Inciting some violence by some violet snowflakes.
Protesting the silence with science and show dates.

Our heroes reborn, a new purpose and will.
All zeroes now scorned by the true service of skill.
Haych Jan 2017
pm
the problem
with heroes
is that everyone thinks
they're perfect
until they're not.

its almost as if
people can't stand to deal
with the dark sides of people that exist*

nobody likes discovering
the skeletons that we keep
they'll tell you they care
that they'll always be there
that there's nothing
that could ever
change their mind
until something does

then suddenly
curtains are closed
all good that has once been done
disappears into smoke

people love to say
tell me the truth over a lie any day
but when truth comes knocking
*suddenly they're the ones running away
Ashley Sagans Dec 2016
Heroes aren't perfect.
They are broken pieces placed together to form a beautiful mosaic and yet they don't give up.
Their heart hasn't always known the 'right' choice, for they too have felt anger, doubt, pain and in the midst of those negative emotions they choose happiness.
Heroes aren't fearless.
How do you think they became heroes? By facing their fears head on, looking them in the eye while saying, "you do not control me anymore."
Being fearless means that you have never loved anything so much that losing it could break you.
Heroes are brave.
For when the final battle comes, they look at the world with bloodstained teeth and tears behind their eyes with a crooked, sinister smile and say,
"is that all you got?"
You failed to understand my feelings thru and thru
My sweetheart from the very beginning  I love you
On petals of love your beauty comes like drop of dew
You are new in love pursuit so let me take it to pursue

My beloved life is just full of so many ups and downs
Lovers at times are beggars and at another wear crowns
lovers at times like clowns at another heroes in towns
They are the ones who pave there way from shutdowns

My beloved please take me in arms I am totally broken
Rivals laugh at me and take all this as a pun and a fun
Only you are my beloved in this burning desert with Sun
There is none but only you are my real love my passion

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Erin Suurkoivu Nov 2016
who told you
you were not beautiful?

does that mean
not worthy of their time?

but anyway
they stated as such

if anything
their actions proved otherwise

but no matter
I’m trying not to mind

that I was never real
figment of imagination

whatever you cast me
I betrayed love

and cast heroes into new moons
beached jellyfish

I’m learning to gather bones
painting a canvas

instead of
reading newsprint

sculpture of messy clay
ultimate opus

good gold
honest trinket

bees’ honey
I recognize my self

ageless blue
flame

in all that is
ugly

small practice
sunburst navel design
"B side".
Golden coin gleaming in hand.
All his hopes took refuge in that vestige of conjured worth.
The man with no name would buy his name this day...

The empire's burgeoning halls pressed in around him as he strode.
They would devour him in this moment if they had not done so already.
Yet, why the empire? There are more docile things to tame.
Everything is the same for the man with no name.

"People would apologize for stepping on me, but they knew not what to call me, so they went somnolently on their way."
I try to imagine these are the things he'd say,
instead these are the words of those I know,
those that I can hear, see, smell, touch... taste.
The man with no name's words are a waste.
He leaves no footprints wherever he may go.

The steps to the Hand of the Empire are steep.
Some will climb it, some will weep.
Yet, the man with no name will not turn back this day;
he takes a moment to fill and a moment to pray.

His memories are so vibrant, so full of clarity,
like crystals in the light, banishing insanity;
his tales will evoke the highest majesty,
entrance the gluttonous, deprave with vanity,
they'll bite the snake and poison its legacy,
they'll quietly rake the fields of the mind,
yet each soul is weary, cold and blind,
when he is gone, they pay no mind.

His steps are strong, hard, fast
throughout the night, will he last?
This is no simple, boring task,
the steps to the Hand do more than ask.
They take from you and more than due,
they make you fight,
they run through you.
When the night is cold and breezy,
you'll find the steps are dark and creepy...

Of course, the man with no name bears on.
What has he to fear, you can't hunt what you don't want,
for the hunt is a thrill, and trash is pleasureless.
The steps are perilous,
they hunger for blood,
his steps are thunderous,
nailing thud after thud.

Dawn peeks over the distant horizon,
and what a sight to see: the man is still rising.
In tandem the sky and he play their parts,
so does the Empire, putting bodies in carts,
for the night brings the dead, so many have tried,
to climb up the steps and in doing so, died.

The man with no name treads a feat all his own,
but see? A trembling hand. The ache of bone.
For the man with no name is tiring, tiring,
even in the face of his glory aspiring.

He would tend to the sick and defend the weak,
danger and challenge and evil he'd seek,
to vanquish the rotten
and save the damsel,
but he's always forgotten,
that he couldn't handle.

So this lead him to this fateful day,
to this fateful place.

Just look at the sweat cascading his face.
Look at his knees, how they groan and slow pace,
his legs seem to jostle and wobble out of place.
Where is his strong stride? It almost seems funny.
Many would do this sort of thing for money.
Yet, he does this for his own pride,
and that grim determination, from his face,
seems to slide.

He collapses and the jut of a step knocks his face,
for the steps are at his throat,
trying to crush his ebbing life.

I've known better men
to have fared far worse,
but this man looks on his life,
not as gift,
as curse.

Who is more deserving?
More than he?
Cowards! Be gone!
Pretenders, flee!

What's this?
He props himself up with ease,
the fire in his eyes would startle a lion.
The steps tremble with fury,
they quiver with disgust,
they lust for his end,
he must die, he must!

"No."
He speaks!
"Not today."
The gall!
Don't tempt these steps,
the Empire's nigh trekable wall!
"What I want more than anything,
is to be myself,
whoever I am,
so let me pass, you glorified shelf!"

How strange it would be, to be there that day,
for the steps let him pass, without delay.

He stood in the face of the Hand of the Empire.
Glistening in his palm, the token to buy his face:
his full life's earnings, polished, just in case.

He sighed, "All I've ever wanted is to be respected."
At the cusp of his one goal, the man defected.

One day, he told me this tale.
This he said, into my conscience: burned.
"If you fight death for a name,
you'll lose all you've earned."
It's a rare thing these days for me to feel puckered out after writing a poem, but this one had me panting... metaphorically... maybe a "little" bit literally, LOL.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this!
Let me know if/how much, you liked it :)

DEW
Crimsyy Sep 2016
We'll send our monsters
to their graves,
ten feet under our capes,
and they will never know again
the meaning of 'escape'

When they think they've
pulled the last straw,
when they think they've
nailed us to a wall,
and they start to believe
we won't get up at all,
Think again.

We're heroines,
sober on our scars,
drunk on the belief that
we could pull off anything,

Heroines,
more than just a pulse and spine,
we carry our nerve,
we carry on just fine,
drunk on the belief that
we could pull off anything...

*Even living.
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