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Andrew Layman Sep 2020
I'll sing a song
of Sophie
and the life I've left behind
I've kept all your love notes
but I never found the time
to write you back
I lost track
it always slipped my mind
until the day I lost you
and I could no longer
call you mine.
AJ Sep 2020
Onward I go
without an idea
of what's to come.
Just bringing along
the things I've learned
and keeping time with
the forever shifting pace
of onward...
SomaSonata Aug 2020
Knocking on your door
But no one's home today
I brought a cake and iced champagne
It was supposed to be a special occasion
I call and get no answer
I get no explanation
I'm just standing here by myself
But I guess that's how it goes
So, oh well
What difference does it make?
It's all a dance to be danced
The end result is the same
Everything that happens winds up in the grave
Still wide awake at 2
My palms sweat in a motel room
See you again?
Maybe the next time
Maybe someday soon
Heavy Hearted May 2020
The toll of Angers tide -
Compels us on, and forward

Satisfaction, it never comes!
the only direction left to go,
We stumble.
We're pushed.

The toll of Angers tide -
Compels us on,
Pushing us further, pushing us forward...

the tolling of angers tide-
the unrelenting force.
Poetic T Mar 2020
You said I was the only step,
       but you always took one


Never walking us forward,
   excuses, like I had to tie my laces,
         or my feet ache you walk on.

But I never looked back,
and you never moved forward.

We were a distance apart but I'd only
                  took one more step than

But one can equal more when its
not synchronized with your heart.

The next day, you had walked off,
  we weren't even walking in the same

I took of the shoes I wore when we walked,
                and now I'm bare foot.

But you know what I'm walking further without


My perception isn't clouded by your backward

I'm free to walk without the pleasure
           of having to look backwards..

Just walking onward  without pausing to see
                           who cares how far my footsteps

have wondered,.

I'm strolling at my own pace
                                  passing with no goodbyes.
Jonathan Moya Mar 2020
In a realm of two moons and three suns not
afraid to be besieged by everlasting brightness,
where everyone speaks from their heart spires
and devils and scorpions cavort with sprites,
magic coexisted with every day miracles.
People would cross on invisible bridges
as easily as Jesus walking on water,
on their way to their great soul’s quest.

Now as tablets led to handwriting and
then to thousands of computer fonts,
where seeking adventure becomes
short code for finding death and despair,
where sprites now dine on pixie sticks
and fairies no longer spread their dust,
where those who believe in magic are greatly
outnumbered by those who don’t,
where everyone’s top half exists
with their bottom self wandering about
and never finding each other,
where wizardry is replaced with technology-  
the common light bulb and automobile-
is when wonderment gets consigned to the
bottomless pit of foolishness.

Then magic waits in hidden castles,
patient not for those who have it
and don’t see it, but those who need
it the most and know that it reveals
the truth behind the disguises,
waiting for that old broken stead
to reveal that its Pegasus
and that spell they chanted
to lead them back home to
the magic of their parent’s’ embrace.
La Girasol Oct 2019
the thing about Grace,
is that She doesn't demand to be known.

There are no threats, no shame, no fear.
It's me, and Her.

and She normally comes by when I least want Her there.
when I'm sobbing, locking the door, and sprinting as fast as I can in the other direction.

She says nothing, asks nothing, demands nothing.

My heart, my wounds, my guilt, my shame, my fears, my anger, my doubts, my past.

She keeps pace with me. Stride for stride. She can keep up.

it's funny how She reminds me of hope, and of what was. And what will come again.
boom bidi bye, go the elephants.
rgz Jun 2019
like two banks of the same river
sharing a stream
but never meeting

like two heads on the same pillow
sharing a dream
but always sleeping

like two heads of the same coin
when one shows face
the other will hide

like two beats of the same drum
one heart out of place
one hardened inside

like thoughts on the tip of the tongue
a predictable sentence
never put in to words

like lines on a ******* tightrope
this addictive tension
will never get cut

a spark in the darkness
forming filaments of fire
a centennial light of
ever burning desire
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