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Ok little buddy, I'm not going to stop..
so you're just gonna have to figure it out.

One more time--

there is nothing whatsoever unreal in you
but the unholy filter so unfairly placed  in to
you so very long ago..

and it is through that filter
that the beautifully clear view
of your beautifully true self
is made obscure.

When you are unable to see your own true self,
you are also then unable to feel it..
and it is within all of those  unfelt  moments
that you most harshly judge yourself.

Think about it, young dream..
how fair would a judge be if he can't even see
or picture the person who is standing before him?
Yet look at you go--  saying that you are unreal inside

when the problem  all along is the filter..
that was never even your own doing.

And here you are yet again,  only surrounding yourself
with those who only know how to interact with  the you
that has succumbed to the ever-obsuring ways  of that
god-forsaken filter..  
                and I wonder, young beautiful..
                are you ever going to give it all  a chance?

I could say so much to you right now,
but I think I'll instead just shut up and go to sleep.

Goodnight.. sleep tight.
May you so very beautifully heal, as you sleep.

Kisses, sweet friend. xoxo
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4262216/name/

Go out and get yourself that boat, beautiful girl. xox
https://youtu.be/_G5Tt4AHVTI
Traveler Oct 2020
With fine bush strokes
The Poet breathes
Grammatical adaptations!
Uncanny ideologies!
All these contemplations
Are an ******* sensation
And now it’s time to write another one!
Traveler Tim
preston Sep 2020
the forming of substance 03
Stephan W
(fallen  from grace)
~

"I have just come back from a party
where I was the life and soul.
Witticisms flowed from my lips.
Everyone laughed and admired me—
but, I left,
yes.. that dash should be as long as the radii
of the earth's orbit ———
and wanted to shoot myself."

~Soren Kierkegaard
~ ~

It is not enough...

It is never enough--
we need too much

But, here on earth
we have to make it work
so we call good-enough, "good enough"
and with gratitude, we
learn to take in what it's available to us.
But the truth behind it all remains--
the fact that we need so much;

Where is one that is complete..
and if so, complete--

compared to what?

There is a perfection- cloud-hidden
within everything that is human
The spirit within the body that carries it--
b r e a t h e s  out perfection's truth,
though- we may only experience it
in the moments between awake and asleep-

the human psyche is bent on survival--

and in a broken world, the thought of an
inherent perfection brings on too much--
our own condemnation even.
In our minds we fall too short of even the
concept of it.

Or do we?


The gravitational pull towards Muse
borderlines on that of addiction;
its stirrings touch what is primal in us--
once-inexpressible words, suddenly find expression;

And a Beethoven finds musical notes
that lead to a symphonic masterpiece.

"Words from Heaven" is not saying too much
concerning the poet, or lyricist.
"Music from Heaven" is easier to say,
when concerning a Mozart or Beethoven.
Or a Tchaikovsky.

Perfect reaching into the imperfect?

How about 'imperfect'- feeling, and then
expressing pieces of its own long-forgotten
perfection--
things experienced within the sphere-
made tangible again through the flesh,
simply in a moment of remembering..
and also that of a temporary forgetting--
of limitation.

The beauty of despair is in the heartbreak
of finding out that what is right in front of us
is never truly enough

or worse yet--
possibly even harmful to our own true needs.

What we need most is all and everything
that helps us remember--

That we came from perfection,
and were loved there first,
and now, within the imperfect-
are unable to be denied by the perfect that is
forever inherent in us--

It is completely unable to deny that
which is of its own.

If we were to never despair over what is in
front of us, we might never be compelled
to find the strength to remember-
flashes of the primal--
that of our own history, of perfection.

And if there ever were ever an evil,
or a Darkness-
it would be hell-bent on keeping us
from finding that very thing.


Sometimes.. just sometimes,  death
looks just like love.


"If I find in myself desires which
nothing in this world can satisfy,
the only logical explanation is
that I was made for another world."
~CS Lewis
xox

08/27/17
Laokos Sep 2020
folding the sirens of
eternity in on themselves
as this scant hour
rebuilds its stage
over and
over
in the light of my eyes

already there is a perception
of being caught
in a loop - of a lesson
playing out
before a malady
of ignorance

i am free to see it
and i am free
to miss it

it is the long
breath
of the breaching
whale - an exchange
of currents for
the transformation of
sky into
ocean depths

it is
the
hidden union
in transience

recurring
in beautiful
obscurity
Maria Mitea Jul 2020
...
Without saying a word Hamlet confronts
a new world of ignorance and defense,
that makes him contemplate the sense
of life and death ones again while shelving at
Value Village “Madness, deceive and revenge,
this is going on for too long,
there is nothing to live for …”
...
The monolog of “to be or not to be”
continues in my pocket …
as I pay four dollars at the cashier,
Hamlet rescued from obscurity
feels happy and safe for-once
...
Value Village it is a second hand store in Canada. Selling clothes and books, different things people don’t need anymore ...
When there is obscurity
Darkness fills the room
Clouds with a chaotic scene
Along with sadness and gloom
One often feels despondent
They are in a state of uncertainty
Always feeling unsure
In a world of acrimony
JS CARIE Apr 2018
I'll run out of money, ideas, madness, and sanity
creativity will peak for long instances
But for you,
I will always have words!
At times I won't explain, or think, or even say what I am wondering
feelings will take over thoughts to where only words will express,
unsung, overused and independent,
made up squeezed together letters of nonsensical impressions that will run-on to appear proper
Pages of self plagiarized poetry
half finished expression to ensure you know I am spilling out with the same intuitive passion as many moons before
and until I start to give you new words, a realization takes hold of my pen and will speak up,
"you've already told her this!"
But I'll give it to you all the same. And you'll read it in privacy and feel what I have felt time and again, times 10!
I assure you that I will run out of places, originality and giving.
But for you Annie Anne,
I will always have words
weathered, and gathered
grouped and scattered
Presented for your approval
Squeezed together letters
Christian Bixler Oct 2017
seeing through
glass as clearing waters
a droplet
In reading the words of a recent poet, though he has long since passed, I found myself seeing his words almost as though it were he there, reading again the works of his hand. Always though, there was an element of myself in my perception, and so full transposition remained beyond me.
Leal Knowone May 2017
The cracked window brings the light, beautiful to many, yet vile to to my sight.
                  Can I sleep?
                     don't remind me of what I must do.
                  When they weep

Leave me my silence,
leave me my grace,
leave this ***** grimy disgrace.
  We all should lie in obscurity.
Leave me this mourning
Leave me this bad taste
Leave me this sad and sorry waste
   Living world of impurities  
Cracks in the pavement
They wont break her back.
but don't break your neck.
I will make it through. 
  
    We all should lie in obscurity.
    In  a world of such impurities                        

Left in the distance.
Recognize the light.
Walk the paths of fear,
Acceptance takes flight.
Cloudy eyes may not see.
I'm not here to race,
It's another dawn ,
and the darkness breaks
In my opponents
I see great teachers,
family, monsters,
Scared men and preachers.
Lie in the shadows
Lie in the twilight
or a darkened room.
to embrace the light.
Such cunning,such sleight
Hardly believe your eyes
Phoenix taking flight
Takes us by surprise

Does anything have one side?
Truth found in a lie
Does anything have one side?
Truth found in a lie

Try to tell myself
brush of the ashes
you lived through the flames
some disfigurement
I killed love itself
with a thousand lashes
I know I'm to blame

The killing wont stop
This is just a play?
Will you make it through
Make me feel something

A knife on a strop
but it never slays
Just black and blue hues
This the love that stings

Leave me my silence,
leave me my grace,
leave this ***** grimy disgrace.
  We all should lie in obscurity.
Leave me this mourning
Leave me this bad taste
Leave me this sad and sorry waste
   Living world of impurities  
Leave me my silence,
leave me my grace,
leave this ***** grimy disgrace.
  We all should lie in obscurity.
Leave me this mourning
Leave me this bad taste
Leave me this sad and sorry waste
   Living world of impurities
YOU HAVE NOTHING TO FEAR FROM ME
I COULD SQUASH YOU LIKE A FLEA
BROKE THE SKIN MADE YOU BLEED
YOU HAVE NOTHING TO FEAR FROM ME 

The cracked pavement  stained like night, beautiful to many, yet vile to to my sight.
                  Can I sleep?
                     don't remind me of what I must do.
                  When they weep

Leave me my silence,
leave me my grace,
leave this ***** grimy disgrace.
  We all should lie in obscurity.
Leave me this mourning
Leave me this bad taste
Leave me this sad and sorry waste
   Living world of impurities

Leave me this morning

We all hold the pen in our hands, we all sing the tune
many stories will be told, many pouring out their soul, was it love or rock and roll
opponent teacher monsters preachers mourning your love obscurity pen  graceful morning  soul love tune rockandroll rock and roll impurities sleep I weep vile bleed mourning disgrace distant pavement  phoenix  sleight strop waste slay strings

killing your love because of hate
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