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Caroline Roche Dec 2017
A quarter-life is twenty years,
Forty marks a half,
In forty years you’ll be a stone,
With a stick-on epitaph.

“She was a force of nature,
Brave and bold and bright!”
They’ll say - who never knew you -
As you’re borne into the night.
When really you were old and tired,
And didn’t care to fight.
Oculi Dec 2017
It's been a fun time, hasn't it?
I've been all kinds of people for you and I.
But my tears are at a loss.
A dry desert, if you will.

So I take this pen and jab it into paper one last time.
I enjoyed being all kinds of spirits.
You really let me release myself.
We got past such great milestones.

The world has changed and only I remained.
You're not the same and I'm not the same.
But I feel like I'm still just me.
So I'll blame it on the world.

All these scribbled words have been attempts.
I've been calling for help.
And help came for me.
But I didn't really need anyone but me.

These last tears, they're important to me.
To others, they might seem like...
Tears in rain.
But to me, they're my powerful last breath.

I've dreamt so much in such a short time.
And it gave me wings of hope.
I've never been better.
And I've got myself to thank for that.

I grew out of the armor.
I don't need it anymore in this world.
We're at peace, everyone's alive.
The womb keeps us all together.

The questions are answered to an extent.
I've exposed myself to you.
You know all of me as well as I do.
I'm bare naked before you now.

I shan't try to cover myself.
As the rain washes over me and covers my tears...
I'm not the same person, I can see that.
Nothing remains the same.

I've reached the end of rebirth once more.
This time the end is but an end.
There's no new beginnings here, nothing can change.
Embrace the past, young shepherd, for the future is set in stone.

Lead the people who have my legacy.
My armor, my pen, my tears, my soul... Goodbye.
Eighth of five.
IPM Nov 2017
A monumental solemn soul
one golem told an untold legacy.
In need of change
I stay intact.

An island drove all shores
aback.
And the mountain spoke
no more.

The seeds of rage
they sway intact.
Skye Marshmallow Nov 2017
The metronome of doom hurries you fast along,
Don't want to be nobody in a crowd of  millions,
Carving out a fastfowarded masterpiece,
Made of hurried brilliance,
All you've ever wanted was to make a footprint.
Legacy. A strange desire. (Extract from an old one)
Seema Nov 2017

On this solid rough edged paper like bark
Picking my writing tool in a haste
With ink spurred over the edges like an ark
I write a legacy for people living in the waste

The wrath of my writing caused bark to asunder
Writing stays as scrolls of eternity
With the heed of good serenity
Where emotions and actions here, I surrender

On narrow bark willing to dig deep
With the clarity of characters and notch to keep
The barks swallow the liquid while the writer reaches zenith
The story here my friend is not a myth

Picking up a glass piece to carve out my own name
So my shadow would recognize that my submission is no shame
I am not a profane impression
But seeing the suffering of people puts me in great  depression

Designed the lesson with this stainless knife
A dream come true of my entire living life
If my writing is be of any worth
I shall make it more subjective with example and take it forth

If the quick press only sanctioned my rights
I wouldn't be worried or sound down as I write
If only they created a constitution with a candor
My work shall be a piece of legacy for the people, I always adore...
*


©sim
(Please read in slow pace)

PS: A legacy written from the view point of a "so called" Billionaire for people living on waste/slump lands (I'm no billionaire, just a write :-)
CC Nov 2017
I am not going anywhere
I have the path ahead
It still seems to be threadbare
This old way is where I'm lost
Under the stars I navigate
Hope has been my surrogate
Then when hope bore a child of fear
Reality became something clear
It has a cord I cut from home
It has a cry I have heard before
I have known this path ahead
I still imagine I can take this road
This pavement made with utopian soil
It cements itself in the soles of these red shoes
There are no places I can go
So elsewhere from the path is where I'm to
OnyxSea Nov 2017
From the dawn of time,
To the break of day,
Beings which live,
progress day by day.

Be they small,
or be they tall,
all humans are characterized,
By the way they fall.

The steeper the *****, the bigger the fall,
yet that elusive goal, becomes better for all.

Some fall fast, while others stand tall,
Some stand with others when they know they'll fall.

Filled with ambition, or the need to survive,
All strive their best, regardless of the grind.

Lofty goals abound, reasonable ones flourish.
The ones who chase after them,
like moths going to perish.

Seeking simple paths, some never fall,
yet the joy that they feel, is not something for all.
Living life with regrets, with things left undone,
they abandon their beliefs for that which has none.

Others aim high, reaching for the sky,
Even without ability, they believe themselves to fly.
Not percipient of danger, nor grounded by truth,
Even if they succeed, it is entirely a fluke.
In time they fall, as things cease to be,
thus dwelling on the pain and anguish of this,
They ultimately perish, emptiness within thee.

Yet others remain reasonable, firm and strong,
Striving for goals, ideals yet in reach.
With a plan of action, they move step by step,
Falling continuously, yet continuing without rest.

These men of knowledge, wisdom and strength,
know what is of value, goals and when.
They do what is needed, no more no less,
Understanding their limits, they progress where they can.
Picking the time, date and place,
They progress ceaselessly at their own pace.
Walking a path, no other dare face.
Eventually they succeed, doing what no other has done in their place.

Fulfilling their wishes, these three types of men,
lay down paths which all can comprehend.
The path well travelled, is one documented,
yet it remains one, for those simply content.
Their paths are normal, insignificant to most,
yet within contains tranquility beyond those foremost.
For what is deep is simple, what is profound, penetrating.
Those which are simple, may have seen all paths converging.
Seeing the truth lying within one single space,
he walks the shortest path, where the truth stays in place.

The path next travelled, is one filled with fools,
those with ambition, and the guts to pursue.
Lessons abounding, it is a path less travelled.
For the bravery you need, cannot be unravelled.
A path with a victory nowhere in sight,
one can only hope what he does is right.
Yet at the end of the day, be it success or may-day,
There will be those happy in this day.
This self-made goal, with no end in sight,
That is what makes these people fight.

The final path, is the path of the sage.
Penetrating the light, they are endowed with what’s wise.
Without an end in sight,
Nor a beginning to be seen,
They enlist the help of others, to make what should have been.
Combining the efforts, of all those who are wise.
They lead everyone, to the very next sunrise.
Paving a path, slowly but surely,
All hardly fall, yet are brought with surety,
A final destination that everyone seeks,
Creating a future that none will call bleak.

What is left behind, are many paths men will find,
Stories and legends, tales of success.
Goaded by what they are driven in life,
All will ultimately choose, what legacy they leave behind.
my heart
is bona
fide and
wait till
the moon
is astride
a phase
well appear
with their
haunt there
and arise
vocally as
I'll arrive  
with much
than sleep
a time
and again
note appear  or "appear with"
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