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AB Ess Dec 2018
Look at the girl with flowers in her hair
And birds in her chest
She screams
She says she knows why the caged bird sings
For she is that caged bird
That sings of dreams she’s never dreamt and places only her subconscious goes
K Balachandran Jun 2018
one grabs many things,
wanting to be something;
on the path to naught!
Neuvalence May 2018
How marveling it is—beyond the bustling town hub,
deep in the forests, reserved on the bravest hills
The cadence of the bird's alluring symphony
echoes from stone, overflowed with daffodils

I venture through time effortlessly, walking
The gentle breeze erases my sorrows and fears
Sometimes the stone pyramids are haunting,
Yet magnificent to see where humans once were

As I gaze opposing monoliths from a king's throne,
I wonder of his essence and his diligent rule,
I wonder of the people he led who’d home,
in this place seemingly claimed by nature

Luckily the residue still thrives: red on cobble;
The waters and the plants breathe in serenity;
The beds, once covered in western blankets, now rubble;
They all whisper stories and poems into my ear
BSeuss Sep 2017
the light of the Creator is tattooed into my soul; as it looks at its reflection, through the window I call my eye.
XNtricity Sep 2017
at some ***** second
         not quite between twelve and twelve
                    blue planet dust particles dream
                                suspend midair
                                 while sunbeams dance
                        across minute hands
                   in your eyes

            **** carpet melts into lush
       dark grass
      and azure electric runs across petals
         of daisies dipped in glass

                 air swims carelessly about in a tropical heat
                          and shimmers curiously like
                                  glitter in rain or
                                        paint splattered koi
                                                beneath oil spills

                                                   you stand at the
                                                      precipice to purple
                                       and curiously ask the darkness
                            "what time it might be"

                   soft words of loved ones
echo faintly in distance

                    copper willows generously sprout
                         industrial light-bulbs
Maya Deren Salvador Dali Steampunk Coexist Environmentalism
Poetictunes May 2017
Music was my refuge. I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness.
Mara W Kayh Apr 2017
And today
Let us remember
That of all the illusions
Death is the deepest
This is almost a repost of an earlier shorter version which simply read "Of All the illusions, death is the deepest" . Today, to acknowledge Easter ( though I don't assosicate with or distinguish between religions) , this is what I have to say :)
Mysidian Bard Dec 2016
I come from a place
Where reality's a dream
We sleepwalk awake
Silent are the screams

Uncertainty is certain
Lies are absolute
Destruction just creates
The vital and minute

Consciously unaware
Of our intended mistakes
Reminded to forget
That giving only takes

I come from a place
Where eyes never see
Through the mists of illusion
Surrounding you and me
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