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it’s not the warm heart
that causes pollination  
from the honey bee

it’s just the static-
the spark between the partners-
rubbing off on them

both getting their way,
the bee and the new flower-
the wet dew glistens-

then they fly away,
maybe visiting someday-
moving on and out.

will they remember
the day they spent together-
i guess life moves on.
DIPTI DHAKUL Nov 2019
You are the task
that would overwhelmingly
identify my voice range.

You are the response
that would screen
and leverage my multiple inputs.

I’m the header and footer
that would automatically work
across devices.

I’m are the hub
that would impact
all your on-the-go moves.

Considering this,
all I say is you are my E2E.

((E2E: Extended Experience trying to make Integrative))

© Feelings Coated
Mr Siri trying to make with Ms Alexa E2E2I: Extended Experience trying to make Integrative
Apollo Hayden May 2019
I may seem like I'm lost
but only because you're searching for something you'll never find.
I may no longer be able to hear your voice but I can still feel your eyes.
Life is love and I'm so in love with life.
Still dancing with poetry because she never leaves long after those who were here are no longer in sight-
Insight has shown me a whole new world like I'm on a carpet that flys
and my head is the genie so I rub it twice to let out the light.
Shining from the inside out and learning how to move,
leaving you wondering about things you have no business wondering about and so it just leaves you even more confused.
I'm a ravens feather in the wind,
I'm a muses muse,
catching fire whenever writing from the depths,
redirecting my energy to things that make it easier to breathe, instead of feeling spent because I'm up to my chest in spiritual debt.
Nothing to prove...
Nothing to see even though you think I show it all,
but you'll need a few oxygen tanks to dive deep enough to understand just how I breathe.
Till then, with this pen I'll cause inception and use it to get through the layers of your dreams.
To search out your true intentions and see if you really came to love or just to hurt me.
Well this time around my shields much bigger and my sword is sharper too,
so I'm blocking everything and anything that doesn't serve my highest good and cutting into the marrow to look for truth.
I'll be invisible so the things you think you know, you really have no clue.
Though you think you see, your eyes deceive
as I write quietly I silently move.
K Balachandran Apr 2019
the game is over,
chess pieces all, put away.
yet the mind plots moves!
rgz Mar 2019
I can see
in the way
that you move

alluring
seductive
and so pure

that for me
you will be
big trouble


I can feel
when you move
in that way

the demon
take over
gracefully

he sways me
enchanted
towards you


For the way
that you move
so freely

I can't help
but to stare
you seen it

and I knew
how you moved
was for me
I did do
a tricube
of tricubes

3x3x3 = 27
2+7 = 9
3+3+3 = 9
9/9 = 1
coincidence?
(no, it's maths)
Masha Yurkevich Jan 2019
Life
is like a
tic-tac toe game.
Every move you make
adds up
to what will happen
in the end.
Jodie-Elaine Nov 2018
The day sits waiting in it's pear-shaped
room, one of the vacant eyed occupants of other, older,
occupied chairs.
The day crosses it's knees, one leg
over the other as a white flag,
resignation.
The day wants it's peace,
it fought the world wars, caught it's reflection aged,
tripped over itself
calling itself out, a
tripwire
unravelled.
This day knows it won't live tomorrow,
knows it's wanted blind and poor, so waits
           waits
in a waiting room,
wasting the room's air in an exchange of
          silent
blows.
This day is counting down it's losses, putting
all of it's seconds in a jam jar.

And there are screams never externalised, legs never uncrossed,
paperweights weighing less than those they push to the floor, and
this day is
screaming,
this day is
flailing
from the inside out in the form of folded linen,
inconspicuous on a plastic chair.
This day holds
up the moon,
hears it's laughter and falls through the cracks
in the tide.
His knuckles aren't
connected to his fingertips and
shoulders feet apart
from the spine,
the spine crossing one leg over the other in a pear-shaped room
with fingertips tapping at themselves, writhing into an hourglass formation.
This day is holding
up the walls.
Count this day lost when your eyes skip it, miss it, dance past it
in a waiting room.
Count this day screaming
when you wake up tomorrow.
Remmy Aug 2017
I feel trapped

trapped in time

time moves so slowly and there is no way of escaping it

you want to be in the past

too bad

you want to be in the future

*******

time moves at whatever pace it pleases

and you have nothing to do about it

its like a train, there isnt even a bus driver to yell at

even worse the train moves at weird paces

sometimes its lightning fast

and other times its the slowest thing ever

most of the time for me its the slowest thing

because im done

but time says im not

im ready for kids and a family of my own that i love

but im not there yet

time wont let me be there yet
i feel like time is a cage that i cant escape. its one of my biggest struggles because the only way to fight it is to be patient and let it think its winning
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