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Deadwood Jawn Nov 2018
A S K  M E
W H A T  I S

W         O  
         R            N  G

Oh, creature of torment!
Come forth and allow me to feel again!

Strike me with your silence
Show me the distortions


Inflate, exaggerate and corrupt what I see.
                        Cause strife.
             Cause dissensions.
     Tell me I was cast aside!

Messed about.
                                                    Toyed with.
                                         Bottom priority.
           This is irrational.

I wish I could write a little bit clearer for you, reader
but it appears as though I cannot fully express properly.

Watch this:
Taste this.

D I S C O R D.
Eric Babsy Oct 2018
Learning to fly is irrational.
Logic is trying to be something your not.

We spread lies everyday.
Just to be a shroud the illusion is ***.

How can we act?
On what is at fault, that is fact.

Can we all just use the right time.
To bring forth our sharing; our love so divine.

Can we act without prejudice?
Someone hooked on hot bliss.

Help me survive.
I call out, because the shadow has no name.

To divide and conquer.
To sacrifice blame.

Where are the answers.
As we as people keep spreading the cancer.
Fiel Sep 2018
You are my phobia
The darkness that covers the night
Who obscures my line of sight
And the reason why my courage took flight

You instill this crippling fear
Everytime when you are near
I could not help but cry a tear
Even my strength would not adhere
Avery Glows Jun 2018
I want you to know that
no matter how
                           ­      brusque
                   ­               fickle
are your emotions.
To me,
they are valid;
they are whole;
they suffice.
you are only as absurd as you believe you are.

And absurdity's boundaries stretches linearly,
into immemorial time.
2018 June
As I decompose, don't decipher the
depths of my pain. I was indecisive, in life and
death, defining my problems deformed my
whole purpose. And maybe I was too delicate
for these demised decisions, deflecting and
deluding recovery, instead; I delve into these
delusions I'm too scared to deny in my head, its
density dented me, depleted my happiness,
and feeds off my doubt, all inside of me-
I get so fascinated with one letter, I don't  know why, and odd poems like these come to be.
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
Susanna Arambula Feb 2018
I will never lose faith in humanity
Faith is illogical
And I try my best to be logical
I never had faith in the first place
Roopali Arora Feb 2018
They were each other's apparently,
Shrouded by the words: "Till death do us part".
They actually meant: "Only until-
Someone new crosses our path."

What happened to honesty?
Where did loyalty disappear?
Replaced conveniently by deceit,
Morality sits in the rear.

With ulterior motives,
Promises are made; I've seen a million.
I'm not being cynical,
Just practical in opinion.

The heart, hence, is ******.
Steered purely by dopamine;
And that's why we have a brain.
Do not dwell into the irrational,
Tread carefully,
Life is a tricky mind game.
Be sensible.
Do not trust your heart. It can be diabolical.
Brent Kincaid Nov 2017
He has little sense of sorrow,
He thinks of fond tomorrows.
He’s a fabulist, a dreamer.
Not quite a true schemer
That would be too hard.
More like a half-awake bard
Making up poetic outcomes
For a reality that never comes.
Mostly he’s a ***.

He’s a moonbeamer,
Sliding down colorless rainbows
That he paints himself daily
Proclaiming about how gaily
The emptiness of his canvas
Has so sadly missed us
And somehow we are to blame
For not managing to be the same
As he is by appreciating
That which is not there.
He has daydreams to spare.

He shares his hopeful possibilities
That are not always practicalities
Made of unborn actualities
And fanciful surrealities
Painted over his shortcomings
Hoping nobody will see them
And talk too badly against them
Ahem-ing and coughing phlegm
When he orates and pontificates
On his latest boilerplate stories
Of his imagined future glories.
Lost in his own thought stream,
He’s a totally hopeless dreamer.
Emily Miller Oct 2017
Tick, tock,
Thump, thump,
As the minutes go by,
The heartbeats seem to grow more strained.
Up at night,
Weary from the constant movement,
Never resting,
I sit,
A temporary reprieve,
And then up again.
That at any point,
I could stop and wait to hear what I always hear,
And it will be silent.
Hushed is the house,
Creaking in slumber,
Like a great breath in the foundation,
And all else is silent to my broken ears,
Save the ringing when I strain to hear,
The inhale,
Of my loves ones.
I go to each door and stand,
As still as can be,
Watching for the rise of the chest,
A stirring hand,
A fluttering eyelid,
To remind me-
They are here,
They breathe,
Their hearts beat.
Every night,
I cannot rest,
Haunting the hallways,
Peering around doors,
And I wait,
For dawn,
For the time when life is clear,
And the nightmare of death can be put to rest,
And only when the sun rises
And my beloved speak
And laugh
And move,
Can my restless limbs,
And shallow breath,
Be put to rest,
With the moon.
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