Poetic T May 11
The king is dead he never rose
from his resting place, chose
instead to be the embodiment
of a false fable writing the copyist.

Within a cave of delusions that kept
the image of false motives hidden.
An off spring of a method not unkempt.
this version the kept reasoning now forbidden.

Delusions of two reflections not seeing that
one is not a king but a falsehood sat on divided chat.
Neither were a failing, but reflections of a belief
that were conflicting upon a tree with a twinned leaf.

But when one must fall, both will simultaneously
greet the earth with a momentary spontaneously.
Always will one be ahead of the other claiming divine
leading, and others follow this moment of design.

But every king has a past that is woven in misbelief,
for all false kings can bring is an unethical belief
that they are the true monarch of a world run by many
where brothers & sisters there just spinning a single  penny
And maybe just maybe at that fleeting moment my heart started to grow

How did I never notice at that moment your words truly reached the bottom of my untamed soul

And now everything flows so smoothly

Looking into the sky’s I could hear birds sing and the winds blowing breeze brushing along against the trees

We watch as the light of the day turns into a beautiful starry night

Constellations scattering along you and I

Deeply lost in your eyes

Laid out on the grass we watch time pass

We tell each other our deepest dreams unwinding us from the seams of the blanket we lay upon

But I believe that time is an overrated thing

Yet I narrate the time that you spend with me  

And then it all ends as time tinkers away

We both go our own separate ways

We grow apart like night into day

Like sunset into sunrise with such dismay

Things were so clear with you, but now it’s gone

I’m sorry even when we tell each other our dreams I can’t keep my eyelids shut

You pick me up, but I let you down

And I’ve caught you running through my head again

Trespassing in my mind

You steal all my thoughts away

You do it all the time now
Poetic T Dec 2017
Within a casket of echoes
does the mirage of
      truth become stained
into a conciseness of delusions.
                 But still they are slaves..

Altercations of past inclinations
that merit, reflection of
                          misguided minds.
But with no morals they digress,
      standing on illusions of nothingness.

Where another doesn't tread,
                      fed to others delusions
of negativities prompting lies upon
lie with no merit only golden goblets
drinking upon the weakness of others.
Hal Jul 2017
Do not confuse attention with affection my dear, that boy would just as soon leave you as he would hold your hand.
-you think love is acknowledgement, and that is why your heart aches so immensely
Saint Audrey Mar 2017
I used to use a magic mirror to self validate
but it took me far too long
to find that the self hate
had found its orgins elsewhere
Somewhere not so skin deep
And so it makes it quite a struggle
to search out soulfull sleep

But after all the praise was gone
I finally came to admit
Perfection had long since taken me
and was walking in my skin

It was my skin that became
all the home i had to live in

To wit
I ended up on the edge of my own identity
selling my last shred of dignity for some quick fix
A few creepy half glances
I was blind to second chances

Ignorant out of will or spite
either way, i wasnt right


In the subconscious
ignorance may be bliss
but I was too ham fisted
And once I added a slice of lonliness
It cut right through the seam
To find the corpse of happiness

And i near missed it

Or at least i thought i did

Its like an old adage i heard once
You dont know what youve lost till youve had to replace it and you cant find the basics anywhere inside you,
so with nothing left to define
you just give up and go back to hide

Or something like that
Yeah, it's pretty much my thoughts about self image
Luminosity Cat Nov 2016
A moonlit era of unspoken passion that faintly echoes into day
collapse into an eclipse as burning bridges lay.

Misguided trust of secrets echoed while the moon was at bay
rips into the mindless flesh and terror soul as burning bridges lay.

They foretold the truth that should unfold as they speak  their say
scared little child as truth unfolds and burning bridge lay.
Here is to the people who can't keep their mouth shut, and hurts you with the truth.
Joel Hayward Apr 2016
A caliph trembles at the sound of aircraft
like a dachshund beaten too much while
his pack snap and bite and cock their legs
to pee on a better world

Their state is a chewed thighbone
covered in flies yet they mint coins
in gold and silver and praise God as they
throw effeminate teenagers off rooftops

A Turkish fisherman with a large shoe
stuffs cash into a pregnant pocket
and crams frightened souls into the shoe
which sinks on the horizon like the sun

Assassins have the crescent moon
in their left hands dirty pictures
on their phones and tight vests
leaking lava

She searched for tips on eyeliner
the day she erupted as a volcano
leaving her sheer blouse to mourn
at home on the ironing board

The world has become as mad
as Napoleon in stiletto heels
cross-legged on the back
of a tortoise singing Hey Jude
(c) Copyright J S A Hayward 2016
M G Hsieh Mar 2016
i am a passenger
free to roam on the east sides
of redundancy and table manners

flower markets thrive on dawn skies
arranged as tourist spots
the baker's fair selling eggshells
cracked on cobblestone soup
meatpies sold out too soon
appleseeds scattered for birds

i sweep them all up
and see patterns grow on my skin

let it not be said i did not try, i did not do
for too soon the the heat covers the shade as well
and not even the acacia can go without thirst

fill my cup with honeydew milk
and add bittergourd and salt

i can let philistine warriors come from the backroads
and enter the frontlines
if only to join you
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