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Daylight 4U2C May 2014
I get the crust and the gristle of a thistle once a missile shooting out into the sky and I cry, wonder why. Never sure what I feel for the meal of a deal and then words more like air slip the breeze in my hair, butterflies in the skies killing what kept my alive. Oh too bad, well how sad, if the songs last lines din't matter it'd harm, it'd make the soul so very mad. Here I fall, there I stand like a robot dancing to the tunes. It's demand. Hear I laugh, hear I cry. I hear the screams and feel the burn, so why? Why unsure, of what's telling me my life is so impure. Threatened heart, from the strings that wrap it, tearing it apart. Feel the clench of a bundle of what you yourself have drench and so benched. And you threw to me the horror show, I never so have thought would reckon me to be. I, to be, it's master and it's longing family, here I cry. Hear "I" cry. For I exist in heart, but never, not in mind. There I stand once again as a memory of all that I pretend. If I tried, to be real, the pieces fall apart inside. So I hide, then I quiver and I shake as 'me' is inside. I can touch to the shelter covered in the unbelieving, underachieving to be who I know I am to be. Or at least what you see. I crush the old me and start anew, though I grew. I, immortal to myself have stomped the true. And I become something greater than simple little shrew. Do not lie! For I see with one eye, the look through me. What you see is a host, not the ghost, that lives on. "Awh, look at me. I'm so strong!" Laugh along. Child there. Where? Oops, forgot to care. Now I stare, towards the end that's never ending like this script. Never ending. Twist and bending. Don't kid me, I'm no kid. I'm the body of a youth, but I am dead. I've destroyed myself, if others didn't do a perfect job. Hold up stop! I'm letting go, a bubble that will pop. It will burst, destroying me, if it doesn't **** me first. Here I stand. Hear I cry. There I go. I have died.
I don't know if I posted this before, but I don't think so.
kailasha May 2014
I am a lot of things.
But not everything I'd like to be.
And in this I find myself
To be worthless. Boring.

I am not the crashing waves
I'm not the burning fire
Or the rumbling, sturdy ground.
Or the breeze or wind.

Why, oh why, can I not be
Everything that seems so exciting.
Why am I stuck,
In this flesh and blood?
Far away from my dream.
And being me will never be enough.
Daylight 4U2C May 2014
"Grow up tall,
little kid,"
said grandpa Joe.
And so I did.

The watermelon grow tall too.
The sunflowers look to the sky,
keeping their chins up,
raised real high.

So maybe it's silly,
watching grass grow,
but if you never try,
how could you ever know?

So maybe it's crazy,
chanting for the rain,
but if it never comes,
how could I grow the grain?

I'd prefer to stare at clouds,
than sleep forever like a rock,
skidding by life.
Why, that would just ****!

So, if you ask me to leave this here place,
you better shove it,
before you wake up
in an unknown space,
******* with lace,
with a disfigured face,
completely full of mace,
and a strange case
of something poisonous.
Mia Goopy May 2014
I want to breathe,
Breathe in the night,
Ice/fire burning/freezing
My lungs.
Steam and snow expelled in a puff.

I want to breathe,
breathe in the smoke.
Musty sharpness,
Life giving death,
Death giving life,
a second chance at comfort,
A witch's funeral pyre.

I want to see,
To watch the stars,
slowly meandering about,
vital duties forgotten in their paths,
Darkness in the light,
Light in the Darkness.
Enlightenment found in the void,
Tiny pinpricks showing everything
n
o
t
h
i
n
g
Daylight 4U2C May 2014
People diein' on the streets.
****** puddles at our feets.

But we could be a family.
We could be a whole.
We could be together.
But no one could be cold.

If we could live on an island,
no hate,
no guns,
no war.
We'd look back and wonder,
what was it all for?

People diein' on the streets.
****** puddles at our feets.

Gangs,
tempts,
nudes,
exempts.

We sit at desk,
eating or eaten.
we laughed at or laughing.
beating or bleedin'.

We know the truth, but call it cruel.
The cruel one is we, the blind fool.

People diein' on the streets
****** puddles at our feets.

Who shot the most guns?
Who then killed them all?
Who didn't mind a casualty?
Who could be responsible?

"Not me!" we cry,
"I'm a good soul."
But even if we declined,
can I be told where they go?
No one WANTS to die. For someone to do it, there will be an opponent. A THREAT.    That's what this poem is about.
Daylight 4U2C Feb 2014
Sleep.
Sleep child,
til' the light overpowers the darkness inside,
where I secretly cried.
I secretly tried,
but no one would guess,
and I never put my cards face up.
It's only ketchup.
Used to patch up,
the cut and scratch ups,
caused by the dull
of my pencil,
and my soul.
I fell,
but I dragged myself up again,
back into my daily skin,
and I'm that burden.
That one whose not fully there,
told by everyone, "you just don't care",
with a random shudder scare.
The words I despise you all think,
even the shrink,
and it drowns me to the sink.
I'm that disaster,
everyone's after,
maniacal laughter.
"Am I losing my mind?"
"Is this mind really mine?"
"Would dying be fine?"
I'm not so refined :)
I can see the things in perfect imagery,
things I don't want to see,
always worried everyone hates me.
I can't see,
I'm not me,
I'm not even a somebody.
Maybe inside is some other ghost,
I'm the host,
at my death let's just have a toast.
Til' death do we part,
take it as a new start,
buy the roses to my grave from walmart.
I didn't think I mattered anyways,
sleeping through these pass-me-by days,
my mind playing simon says.
I always secretly try,
but I am still I,
and now simon says ".....goodbye."
please comment
LN Apr 2014
"Use more symbolism in your works," they critiqued.
I replied, "I don't need to,"
because he, who i write about,
represents a far greater part of me
than they ever cared to comprehend.

My works are what I believe in,
and that is in writing about
what means most to me.

He is enough.
he is enough.
this is a weird 'poem' but its 3 am and my eyes are heavy
heart is heavier as i let it all sink into my chest
A little picture frame fell
Full of innocence, youth, ignorance, bliss
It’s me in the millennium
I wasn’t
Too Tall
Yet
While in my clatter it crashed from the mantle
Why is it even here?
Wasn’t that yesterday?

The past will never go away
The past will never go away

But only a dream, a conscious façade
A memory is only a faulty tape
And we find we recall love not time
The things that child left behind
Were mended by grace
And cast the lines from his face
The future grieves, what is mine?
What's time but a coffin of sin
Yet I heave the shining frame to the mantle again,
Hoping to gain a childlike grin
It’s not about the past or future
It’s not about misplaced winnings
It’s the chance a man has for a new beginning
wrote this one in rehab too. To a name unknown.
www.eugene-moon.weebly.com
Some people
They take life seriously
Experience only once
Not afraid to feel everything
Never frayed or afraid
To them
Tomorrow is just the end of another
Day?
Tomorrow is just the end of another
Day?
I remember it wasn't so long ago
I was afraid
Desperately yearning for everything
I gave
It’s been five years now
I could give it up any
Day?
I could give it up any
Day?
But I guess I take life seriously
Never tried anything
But once
I think I've felt everything
This
This is kind of a different
Day
Just an end to another
Day?
Some people take life seriously
Teetering off the edge
You only live once is what they'll say
Never admitting
A fear
Tomorrow
Is just the end of another
Day?
But I kind of feel different today
Today
I learned no matter
What I say
I'm a fool to ask forgiveness
From someone who has already left
At least figuratively
I miss those
Days
I miss those
Days
When we were so young
All we did was play
But now we're all gone
At least figuratively
You can't ask forgiveness from
One
One who has left yesterday
I guess I could give up any
Day?
I guess I could give up any
Day?
And go to some place
Some place that feels like a family
A home that feels like
Family
Maybe
Just the end of another
Day?
Just the end of another
Day?
Or we could realize
The years that lead to time
Maybe could unwind the mistrust
After all the
Lies
The lies that time leaves behind
The lies of who we are
Maybe some believe all these
Lies and time
Are better off
Sticking to whiskey, gin and wine
Maybe to them
It's just the end of another
Day?
The past has already gone away
I could give up any
Day?
Tomorrow is the end of another day
And I know I just can't
Stay
I'd be honored if you checked out my portfolio, I go by the pen name Eugene Moon. www.eugene-moon.weebly.com
I'm that girl,
whom everybody seems to rely on.
They know they have me,
where they want,
because I'm a puppy.
They know I'm not letting,
their,
***** little secrets,
out.
They know the can count on me.

''It's our little secret,''
they say,
with a grin on their faces,
showing the attention seeker side,
of them.
They wanna be heard,
and listened to,
so they come to me.

But what about,
when,
I need to be heard,
and listened to?
Who can I tell my own,
little secrets to?

(e.k.j.)
secret, secrets, rant, rants, me, personal, sad, depressed, unhappy, ****, ****** poem, love ,*****, rely, relate, relatable
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