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Wilson Knapp Dec 2015
How we marvel at possessions, think they make the best impressions;
For with material things we establish a close rapport.
Can’t you see we are infected by this false truth we’ve injected
Into the minds we’ve neglected, directed by commercial lore.
"These things will make you happy,” says the preacher of commercial lore,
Only this and nothing more.

There are nights we sit there spying, through our computer screens buying
Bourbon, books, and onyx watches, razor blades and house décor,
Bright scarfs in brilliant vermilion, cowboy boots coated reptilian,
Stroll through any mall pavilion, civilians went in every store.
Like clockwork we comeback again, millions spent in every store;
We always want something more.

Like in monopoly we aspire, the best estates to acquire,
So other players can look in envy at our great high score.
With the money we’ve been savin’, we want a home in New Haven,
So we sought a market Maven, craving a house on the shore,
A vintage house with wooden dock sitting calmly on the shore.
Can we find one that’s worth more?

Queerly we lust for assets, keep on buying have no regrets.
Are we dumb or blind or numb to keep doing what we abhor?
Statues shackled to cubicles, doped up on pharmaceuticals
****** fingers raw cuticles, we’re bulls for the matador.
He dances us round in circles, pulls the sword the matador
Is the one we all fall for.

But the Maven respectfully will encourage us helpfully,
“Follow your path of senseless sorrow, leave your qualms at the door,
Carry on with inhibition, keep working for that commission,
Please don’t mind your intuition, fruition comes from spending more.”
But like layered lies there’s a pea of truth on the mattress floor;
A princess would wake up sore.

We must move past our gluttony, and join the better company
Of men meek in spirit who act humbly like the days of yore.
Realize that joy stems from passion, not this sorry thing called fashion;
Embrace others with compassion to truly make our hearts soar;
And our souls from out the shadows can truly begin to soar.
Let’s be greedy – nevermore.
Edgar Allen Poe's The Raven is one of my favorite poems, I wanted to create a poem playing off his style and meter.  If you haven't read his poem, listen to Christoper Lee read it on youtube, insane.
Medinah Aousunt Nov 2015
There was a time when we were innocent, naive, and content , but we grew up.
Some sooner than others,but defaced by life's brute evasion nonetheless.

So innocent we were; danger was no further than the hard wood floor where cushioned pillows and books were our safety to the door, but we grew up.
Faced with hunger, desire, and needs; disgraced for difference, overwhelmed by ****** greed.

There was a time when we were innocent when emotions were simple.
We laughed when we were happy, cried when we were sad, but we grew up.
We learned there were tears of happiness and laughter within the pain deep inside our chest.
We discovered emotions weren't simple; they're more than 123, a thing to keep hidden, or deemed unfit to lead.

So innocent we were when "I love you" meant the world. An intangible bond between us and our Guardian, yet we grew up.
"I love you" are fighting words you have to prove, feel, and fear  'cause it can **** and heal all in the same gear.

Yes,  there was a time when we were innocent then a knock came upon the door. All glasses were shattered  and our innocence nevermore.
Poem Created By Medinah Aousunt
Just to hear your breath,
Even though I am literally deaf,
Oh the twinkle in your mischievous eyes,
The realization that in another world, another life,
Your mine...

It's too much,
My once great mind is,
made low, by the self-same beats of
my heart.
My love I've let you go,
Oh and I cried, that day I died,
Take me back there, let me take you back,
I want that John back,
That's reluctantly in your arms.

I am without you.
Who knew death could feel so good,
Another lonely ******,
Le petit mort,
And oh I only want more,
I find myself addicted to your absence,
Coursing through my sickened blood,
Hungry, ravenous, Like the Raven,
Nevermore,
Darling, love, dearest,
I'm listening to breakup songs,
And it's how many years since,
It's not an obsession,
Because I constantly forget,
but when I wake and take my shower,
Its your body my mind connects with,
I'm nothing, humanity, life,
there is no meaning
a void an absence,
That's why we all seek connection,
Hey if you'll understand me,
Maybe I AM something,
No, just a dream,
Fleeting among the sea,
Washed away till you are alone at shore,
Beached, frostbitten, with a lost stare,
Looking at the sky,
Dreaming up a heaven,
And that you will
take me there.
Not anymore.
Sethnicity Jun 2015
Its times like now,    Alone in the shade
All couth is feasting on my frowning and dismay
As I sit by my lonesome crowded mid-West
A heartbeat a smile a gentle caress,
Intangibles of acceptance of ease of rest
Longing for embrace I chase with the best


My heart is throbbing sometimes in sometimes out
You are fixed in site in distance in memory and distress
The surging of mood can cause me much bout
Knowing you are here though I’m thinking quite less

In the presence of resonance I vibrate in tune
My trunk is still leaning, she tutors my topiary
In lusting and thrusting she’s willing my harpoon
Limbs cast shadows over new found leaves of liberty
Soft bodies do justice and let evil eyes swoon
In the abyss of darkness she carries a light
I’m but a moth dismissing the night
For giving myself, for breathing another sight
Foreshadows of chaos only make sacred my plight


When I rise with haste and scurry away
My maiden is waiting and waiting to replay
The tune once heard before the nightingales’ call
Before the mocking birds reminded me from which heights I did fall

Proximity and temptation so conveniently placed
Would not I have been more True, more Loyal about-face
Let me wither in silence with the tapping of Ravens
If only Poe told me true meaning of dear Eleanor
Every breeze that blew by would not seem safe havens
I would have you by my side to ground me Evermore
Purple Rain Mar 2015
The moon is bright,
as bright as your beautiful eyes
Your soul is sweet as candy,
Your heart is dark,
Wicked as the devil him self
If I can change your heart I would,
If I could fight all your demons,
But they destroy me deep inside
I'm not strong enough,
your only thing that can destroy me
Physical and mentally
If you follow the trail,
come in my mind
Of the wicked woods of darkness,
**** all the monsters that live inside these woods
They run and fleet from you,
Because your so dark, stronger than anything "any god I can image"
The beautiful angel I was in love with,
Now my tears come from my eyes of the name Isabella
I'm paralyzed of the neck down
Because your magic is so strong, I refuse to fight you
You grab me by the neck,
Your eyes red as blood
I looked you in the eyes and told you I love you
I closed my eyes and told you
- Never more
but my brother. Please like
The raven whispered
"Nevermore was an old phrase;
Forever you'll die!"
Ofelia Rose Oct 2014
As I lived in the storms that you summoned
I found myself drowning in the flood
I searched for the surface, to breath again
But I only kicked and choked on the water
That surrounded my bones like skin

Through it all I swallowed the salt
And dried out my throat like a desert
Burning the tender flesh that was left barren
In the attempts of survival in this hell

But I relinquish everything I have to you
I have died a thousand ways in a single moment
In your arms as they broke me in every breath
Like the devil you have stolen my soul

Now I rest upon the concrete ground
Freezing the skeleton that is left of me
And as I slowly dissipate like dust in the wind
The wrath you've blown into my spirit takes control

I am left to a mere nothingness
That is devoid of all reality, a pure illusion
I do not exist by your tongue's curse
This is my grave they lay the flowers upon

So I digress in all my thought with all of me
I bow to every lie I’ve eaten in this life
And enslave myself to every man I know
Because I am not here and I am not alive
Ophelia Jul 2014
You must be my cellar door
Beautiful in sounding
Still, common in meaning
You may rewrite yourself
An abstract "Selladore",
But you'll never change
I've learned this at long last
And I'll write for you nevermore
We all know I'm lying to myself but I can hope

— The End —