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Brooke Olthouse Apr 2018
♡M@k€ M£ W@N@ @cT                                                  Ryht♡       ­     
♧B0d3
                           ♧XtrA            
                   ♧T¥T  
♧A_n't Tr€i£Na
                        ☆Fyght                          
­ ♧Must+R        
   ♢AL MI
      □WiL        
    ♢AL MI    
                      ☆Myht              
         □Not Tryna Go    
                                          □UR             ­                                         
                   ☆Hyht        
    □Jus W@n@ t@K3               ☆Flyt                    
            ♢W@lk              
       ­                  《Lyft        
  ♢W@lk
Ryt 》
I Own Copyrights
Go Steal Someone Else's ****
Brooke Alison Ilene Anselment April 17th 2018
Carl Webb II Feb 2018
Tie-dye shirt and all black sweats.
Can hippies have depression, too?
Or should we all just be much too entranced by the magic of burning grass to understand what it feels like to live in a world of dying thoughts, or thoughts of dying.
I apologize, I can’t quite get my thoughts together.
Forgive, me.

It must be the drugs.

These broken dreams can break the promises of life.
The promises that broke the wall and built the fence that still can never ever be climbed, that still can never ever be conquered...

and even though, they are just fences, we can never seem to stumble our way over them because we won’t dare to stumble near them...

because we can’t ever even see them...

I’m thinking...it must be the drugs...

See, we can’t jump,
no, no,
we can’t get off the ground,
no,
we can’t even run,
we can’t take steps,
we can’t even move,
we can’t sit still...

but we go everywhere...

...and we go nowhere...

At the same time...?

It’s gotta be the drugs.

cause see, we’re stuck in this time,
and this time...
when it goes by...
I pray...
maybe we’ll go with it...ya know...?

or maybe we’ll go against it...

or maybe we’ll do both...

...it seems, to me...
like it’s gotta be the drugs, eh?

It must be the fault of all the flamboyant Conceptions Created this Chaos, this Desolate Destruction of Emotions that are Ever so Evolving into Freedom! Freedom!
oh, we Give it all away to God for it is He that Hath the Heart to Heal, but, see,
I am not I...I can never be I...so I...Just Jot with no Joy...

so I just jot with no joy...

I am no king of kings...

I am no lord of lords...

I am only me...


but I’m guessing
that can only be
because of the drugs, right?
...if it works,
then I am a Genius?
If it doesn't...
then what good is,
a -Dead Genius?


<a beautiful crow>

<beautiful crow>

crowe
33'
Brian Hoffman Sep 2017
There is this girl, blonde hair blue eyes.

Her stunning blue eyes get their color the same way water and the sky get their true rich blue color. They scatter light so that more blue light reflects back out.

Her hair shines so bright, as bright as the sun in the sky. Warming my heart during the daytime.

When I look into her eyes,
I see a beautiful ocean, peaceful and at ease.
I see gentleness and her personality coming free.
It's ever so engaging.

I tell her her beauty and personalities flourish.

She's a flower child.

She's the sweetest hippie bringing me peace and tranquility.

Her words can not describe her smile it's so contagious.
It's no wonder why she leaves me ever so speechless.

If I could be with this girl,
I'd do my all to give her the world in which she deserves.
Falling for this beautiful flower child. For once I've found someone who truly understands me. Our personalities and similarities are so alike. I'm hoping she realizes because we've become good friends I want more than that with her in the end. <3
ashley Jun 2017
she dresses down during the day,
a pair of swearpants and an oversized flannel,
her soft, curly locks bouncing in a high ponytail.
she's seen as the class hippie, an activist and a seemingly air headed girl.
but what people don't know, is that
this girl is the top of her class.
she's a ditsy, fun girl
by day,
and a baby in lace for her lover
by night.
Vexren4000 May 2017
Scars upon mother earth,
On open wound, that festers,
Humans the bacterium.
Thriving and carving away at her,
To pry out precious metals,
Glorified rocks and stones,
Mother nature forever wounded,
For some impotent human creation.

©BAS
mark john junor Feb 2017
Quixotes is a dream,
It's a fireplace and songs
Its strong friendship and
beautiful moments shared
It's a thought that guides souls
to a peaceful way
It's wood and brick paint and posters
built with gentle care and loving soul
Quixotes is a world away from the world
where dance is freedom
Laughter and joy are the air we breath
Song a rich tapestry that tells the tale
of how we came to be
Song a river that has flowed thru our lives
in this palace, in this beautiful dream
Quixotes is a sweet jem
sparkling in the sun
forever home for our hearts
Quixotes is a music venue i used to work at, i was the nightwatchmen
Krystal Lèleck Nov 2016
The earth beneath my feet
Mother nature surrounds me
And I..
Am complete.
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