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DaSH the Hopeful Jul 2014
Hues mixing under a blank sky, I look at all I've done in wonder
Was that me
Or did someone steal my hand for their own poetic ruse?
You see as of late I seem confused
And stay in the atmosphere of here and there
My location wasn't given much care
Physically or mentally
And the moon im under stays blank as the sky
And I ponder if it's meant to be
Ask myself why the ink has all but dried from my well

See

I used to constantly change
Now I stay the same
Uttering words in patterns that are always absurdly similar
Pricking myself with my pen to no avail
Because the blood had too many stories to tell
Most drug on and on for mental miles
That many would cover in a single step,
But I sat frozen,
Observing like this pain was a film

But on nights like this
When I have dissembled myself to the point of belief
Something catches my eye
The eloquence of a blank sky waiting to be filled with ideas, dreams, and possibilities
And sometimes, its enough to wake me from my doubts
Ivy Haegan Jul 2014
you are my blue
you are my serenity
and my buoyancy
my happy skies,
my comfortable denim

you are my yellow
you are my optimism
and my bliss
my incandescent sun,
my summertime glow

you are my green
you are my resurrection
and my liberation
my vivacious budding,
my sturdy oak tree

you are my red
you are my passion
and my fortitude
my pulsing heart,
my ceaseless flames

you are my white
you are my solace
and my relief
my unperturbed clouds,
my blank slate

you are my hues
you are my spectrum
and my exuberance
my opaque neon,
my life-altering colors
Dedicated to the beautiful boy
I

Everything is cast asunder

Chopped like waves

A scintillating shattered mirror


II

Memory is an ache in the mist

Settling into a backward moving river

That snarls into an ethereal past


III

Quivering in the skin, an embodied seer;

Flesh with entropic and generative visions

Alive with terror and imaginative beauty


IV

A burning longing is cooled in the waters of grief

Where space is apart and falling; When time cuts eternity

And all that was, and will be, is here, broken


V

Pulling colours out of a boundless light

Severing into the spectrum

Tearing hot white nothing into variegated hue


VI

A depth of shade holds together layers of truth

Concealing the unknown in echoes of shadows

Contours and grooves, carving out reality


VII

Loosener of holding; shaking catharsis

Bittersweet, uncontrollable chaos

Bare and raw and momentary and changing


VII

Like the fall of a giant old growth tree

that lays to waste and nourish

an abundance on the forest floor


IX

Like the blossom of a wild flower

tired of tight closure, breaking open, petal by petal

to expose it's heart to the sun
Nickols Jun 2014
In a world full of black and white.

Where not a soul could be bothered within their mundane ways.

There was a single girl, shining in full blasted, techno-color.

In this world of dark hues of haunting shades.
Vacant entity's, refuse to look up from scurrying feet.

Day in and out, they mooed like cattle.

But not the vibrant Crayola girl.  

For all she had to do was look up,
and she could see her rainbow arching in the clouds.

While everyone else, passed her by.
I had to edit this. Sorry. I posted it really early in the morning. *face-palm*
Blake May 2014
I was colorblind
And I’ve yet to see a splash of color
Vivid as your mind
A shade of coral like no other.

That pretty smile
Paints the walls of rooms into rainbows
As blue as Nile
And as red as a heart any man may know

Just as the sun
You are bursting with an orange fire
A loaded gun
You are black powder loaded for hire.

Every wildflower
Lays a yellow pedal at your feet
As a reminder
That brilliance can be seen.

Never may I ever
See someone else just as beautiful
However severed
May I never see another color dull.

In greener days
I’ve yet to find something so true
In so many ways
I love every last hue in you.

**-D.B.H
for Brandi.
I'm not nor have I ever have been one to create love or affection-inspired writing, but this one is one of the very few I've ever been somewhat proud of.
Annie May 2014
You don't need to pretend anymore,
Look at me,I've become so strong,

And I never wanted the sympathy,
Even in my worst nights full of misery,

You can't kick me down ,you see
I'm the sky scrapper,look at me

With just a little faith in myself,
I abandoned each letter on the shelf,

I no more want love from you,
I'm colouring my life with blazing hues
Martin Narrod Apr 2014
I have a blue blanket, it looks corduroy but it's synthetic polynesian cotton.
Considered by some to be polyester. After the ninth year of ownership I started
Telling house guests it had always been mine; but secretly knowing it came from my
Ex Kristina who left it with some of her other things in 2005 in my grand deluxe Evanston
Apartment. In like some really awesome way, I could fold the corners together to see little blocks
Of the Universe form cubes in the fourth dimension and gain a better understanding of my own
Little black shmata. Top drawer, white dresser, in the back with the leftover girlfriend underwear between
My first ever stuffed animal dog/rabbit.

Amazing how these thinned and frayed azure threads had held so many midnight conversations Together- maybe fifteen other girls had nuzzled with Kristina's blanket. Last year the guilt set in. You Watch a girlfriend, say, ratchet through your room naked for something soft to put over her to listen to
Some half-stanza from the new Yeats critical and that, do-I-tell-her feeling comes over you. Blue Polyester really had a way with women. My last serious crush, the one of six months, the one from the place that was close to where I worked six days a week, would you believe, she had not interest in that heap of thread, under my pillows spying on us sleep for twenty-four long weeks.

"Drop in the bucket" the sixty-year-olds say. I say, bring me my ******* fourth dimension blocks and cubes *******. I want to visit the existential, I want to experience the hoo-ra and Ga-Ga those kids throw around on Milwaukee waiting for $150 NBA slippers.

Wednesday is my day for telling the truth.
2:00p.m. sitting in the front of her alizarin El Dorado.
"I have something I have to tell you,"  I said, my mouth practically filled with marbles as I barely could Utter the words: it's not going to work out.
Written For Jeff Sherfey

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