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Blade Maiden Aug 20
I'm an image in your head
flickering lights, yellow and gold
I'm the idea you once had
a dream's promise you hold

I'm a burning desire
not only in flesh but in mind
one you admire
the most tender of its kind

If you make me real
there will surely be
things of lesser appeal
no longer a vision but an actual me

But if you're bold enough to take it all
the harsh and the pure
I'd make sure to go easy on you and to fall
For the most simplest lure
congratulations on this special day

remembering the gain of freedom
from unjust monarchy
after hard struggles for democracy
and universal human rights

today we also need to be aware
of new dependencies and tyrannies
that have since come among us quietly
and with deceptive lures of easy lives and riches
of glamor  reputation  millions of virtual followers
& other such amenities in our age
try to persuade us that these are the only worthy goals in life

the most decisive loss of independence
is when we do no longer feel its absence
and happily embrace the bars of our golden cage
myrrh Oct 2017
You're a lure for the impure
When its half past nine and you knock on my door
She asks, "Do you mind if I see you once more?"
I'm like..."I''m not sure. I'm fine 'til you're in my sight"
This break gave me time, so my mind wondered away and took flight
I think I have vertigo now because:
When the image of you pops into my headspace,
I know i'll start falling for you again and hit the floor
I can't remove you from my mind; I can't erase
But then again, I don't stop falling for you
The height of my love for thee is infinite so,
I'm forever suspended in a space with no place to go
Ghostlizard May 2017
Her nostril bled a blood bright red
Though no one was there to hit her head
The magic loomed luring ladies into traps trivial that happen so fast
It drew her close with a cutting corrosive blast
Essence emanating, evaporating, caressing her linen
Luscious power lulled her leaving senselessness
Pacifying pulling, a force so perfectly relentless
She fell to madness making murmurs in her mind now muddled
As she rot away rare conditions rendering her useless
She lay slowly dying singing songs spiritual sensual and subtle
Tehreem Sep 2016
To tell you a story
I plucked the stars
Displaced the mountains
Words float with thee
Wandering mad and alive
Yet it kills me
Your distraught face
Hidden beneath a mask
Treacherous ways to lure
Mark and hunt a naive dove
Pure white Angel of love
The devil you walked
Devil in blue.
Ami Shae Aug 2016
I heard her calling out to me
tried to ignore her,
begged her to set me free
but her scent, her taste
kept calling to me
I ached so
for her to just let me be
but the lure, the pull
her enticing ways
kept gnawing and eating at me
for days
and finally I gave in to her call
and drank in her aroma, her scent
tasted the essence of her elixir from ****
and I sit here now
trying to tell
which way is up--
is the room spinning (or is it me?)
I should have insisted
she let me be,
but I'm weak and her taste and lure is strong--
I should have known better--
giving into brandy
has always been wrong...
I'll probably have one **** of a hangover tomorrow... :(
congratulations on this special day

remembering the gain of freedom
from unjust monarchy
after hard struggles for democracy
and universal human rights

we also need to be aware
of new dependencies and tyrannies
that have since come among us quietly
and with deceptive lures of easy lives and riches
of glamor  reputation  millions of virtual followers
& other such amenities
try to persuade us that these are the only goals of our lives

the most decisive loss of independence
is when we do no longer feel its absence
and happily embrace the bars of our golden cage
Ami Shae Mar 2016
It's pulling me
this need
this ache
this grinding
all consuming addiction
that I thought I had overcome
only to find
that it's slowly
causing me to be
quite undone.

I crawl, literally crawl
to move away
to stop myself
from trying to say
please, just please
come back to me--
I used to hold you close
used to always have you
at my beck and call
and oh, my ***,
what I would give
for just one more draw,
one more puff
a long, slow, lingering
inhale of your taste,
and yes, your scent--

too bad I'm broke
have not a dime
cause I spent
every penny I had left
on wine and bread
you see, I truly thought
my love for you was dead--
but now that you're not available at all--
I find myself wishing I could just
answer your lingering call...
Sometimes I just miss smoking those ****
cancer sticks, you know?
I hope I can stay strong and not give in...
it's been years, but somehow
the urge hits me again and again...
does it ever just STOP? (the urge to smoke?)
Nicole Bataclan Oct 2015
That is what poets do

They romanticize pain
They idealize the torment

There is solace in darkness
Which they craft to enlighten;

Lure with words
The forlorn is adorned
Guilt is charming
Mistakes rewarding

That part that is revolting
The best line in their poems.

That is what poets do

They embellish heartbreak
To cement the heartache

But as soon as they leave their paper
and beautiful words captivated readers

Life can no longer render
The adequate metaphor
Agony is agony;

There is no substitute for it.
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