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I know you.
And so I know that you are not from here.
And that you want to go back to wherever you came from.
But you won't admit it - to me or to the world -
Because you are afraid:
Afraid of being rejected by that place and then
Having nowhere to go.
You can't believe that any longer;
if you continue this belief, you'll get nowhere.
And eventually this world will realise that you don't
Belong here and banish you anyway.
So don't keep lying
Because I can't be bothered
With this anymore either.
Good day to you.
And I hope you make up your mind
For it won't be long
Until...well
Do I really have to tell you?
Erian Oct 8
His wildflower heart
Set a spark in my chest
That no other could compare
To these October showers
And our unfamiliar bliss
tinnnafish Sep 19
I love you.
That is the first thing I think of when I think of you. Love.
i love it when you kiss me,
your lips are so gentle and soft,
no one has kissed my like that before.
you haven’t said you love me,
But all I feel is love,
your touch,
Its gentle. it’s one I never want to lose

your eyes,
beautiful, blue, and gentle
i never want to look away.
the way you look at me, it melts me.
It feels like we can communicate
without words but
You are you and i am me.
We are a mess and probably never meant to be.

you are kind.
i cant get you out of my head.

But I know you’re going to brake my heart.
I will miss the way you kissed me
My heart will break
your eyes will no longer seem so gentle and things between us will fall silent.
I can't believe i actually let you in.
I gave you the things that were important.
I thought my heart was important.
But its just a heart..
nothing too special I guess
lara Sep 19
Danger be the man who bleeds the plights
of men of myth.
You know that even Troy fell.
I do not throw pebbles at
your window in the night.
My eyes: yellow, unclouded;
mead and flowers dripping thick
from my words,
banal and intoxicating.
Poppies blooming wild on timeworn cheeks,
Wine-dark hair in disarray.
Perhaps I have read too much into
the man who has read it all.
And perhaps he is only sea-mist mirage
cursed to appear an Adonis,
but it is in my restraint that
I may transcend this earthly plane;
in which I am bound to paper
and you are bound to her.
Because in a land of gods and monsters
it seems not so strange that I am the other woman.
Clever sorceress who loves and lets leave,
and with whom you know you might have stayed
forever.

Sail far, far away from me.
sail far, far away from me, storied king, favored by the gods
aviisevil Sep 12
you talk about flowers;
i want to shoot myself in the head

you talk about the sky;
i want to slit my throat and go to sleep

wanna' talk about the love gone sour
or how hard are whispers to breathe ?

gonna' talk about kings and cowards
and how them wolves wear the sheep ?

how about the sad things by a lonely hour
ghosts and tears they bleed

doused in flames of ink and its power
where the emptiness sleeps

beyond the everglades

so when are you gonna' dig deep
and turn to a different page

like back in second grade when
everybody made the same mountains,
a triangle, with river maybe a beach

when are you gonna' pretend
you're in a spaceship not on an
old **** *** wooden seat ?

like all them other poets
too broken to weep

open your mind
there's an ocean to blind

and dead lines to complete

no hurt or violence to teach
happy childhood so good
got no stories to preach

only apples and peach
deep down where your sugar coated
hands cannot reach

don't understand a thing that
comes out of your tame mouth
your ******* doubts out loud
creep the **** me out
and i'm about to pick a creed

maybe we're just a generation of creeps
too eager to swim and hardwired to speak
too tired to think we're machines
metal and fire we're only wired to repeat

not go out of way down the road
with bag full of ale and smoke
enough to make a pained man choke
they say tragedy is comedy plus grief

in dark i know one cannot read
only the owls
but it's clear that you cannot tell
if it is a wolf that howls

clear blue skies from hell
when hounds prowl

what it's like to spell
when you're filled with nothing
but a void and a voice with two hearts
and halves of syrup and bleach

and yet you're so full of salt
and then you fill yourself with walls
mannequins and statues and dolls
watching the dead space
as the dead pace in empty halls

as the head breed


for gods sake there's so much
to hate and to forsake
the happy times cannot even compete

stories can never be complete
they take a life of its own
monsters and demons only reap
where they are sown

the mind can only lead thus far
every heart has a mind of its own
eyes that only read at the dusk hour
right before a new sun is born

and you want to talk about flowers ?
I mostly write when I cannot think straight.
M C Sep 8
In lieu of being fake, I don a glass mask.
Observed, I am seen as a brittle basket case full of sass
blinded by the rays in which I bask.
A riddle whose answer you need not ask
because I'm already clasped behind your back.
That itching thought
of which is oft ignored; through your mind it may bore and crack.
If judged so, daft recognizes daft,
realizes life lays down sordid tracks.
If elegance is noticed be appreciative of the act.
Wings spread; flappable;
something else now, as a matter of fact.
Untying my shoes
Is a ritual
Where I bake my cement
And stick my hand in it
Maybe someday
A detective will come
To investigate my death
And find my fingerprints
Trace my blood back
To the bedroom where I sit
Listening to indie music
From my own lungs
Twisted in the sheets
Hanging from the ceiling
Like an athletic
****** angel
And mayhap
If I'm lucky
My body will end up
In some museum
Where lavendar doesn't
Know how to burn
I can read me to sleep
And I'll have witches
In my dreams
They can cast hexes on me
So pedestriannly
I will swing
Like a demon
From your sewing machine
I'll sing at the screening
Like a rogue banshee
When they lay me down
For my eternal sleep
I'll put my fingers up
Just the two
In a farewell salute
Before I'm nailed in
To meet all my new friends
They might eat my eyes
But they're still better than you
I don't know what the everloving **** this is other than a massive mood.
Starry Sep 1
Try learning that
You very first love
Is druggie
And has ***
When she used to be so brilliant
And loving
And full of life
When you two had
So much in common
That is pain
Right there.
This is the poem of my first love  who is in a desperate situation
Step by step
We strode
Hand in hand
We held close
Into the clearing
We gracefully leaped
We stared
At one another
And began dancing slowly
The sun started rising
Lighting the night's dew
So the light glared
As if it were a spotlight
We danced
The best we could
The woodland creatures
Came and watched
The two of us ignite
The birds landed
And sang a cheerful song
We danced until
We could no more
As the creatures applauded
This night was left branded
On us two
We laid on
The clearing's floor
Looking at the sky
We were meant for each other
This we knew
We rally for ‘safe spaces’,
And I say I want to ‘enable’ them.
But my own mind doesn’t feel so,
And yet I want to make spaces safe.

My thoughts are unsettling,
And they can un-safe your space
But I demand ‘safety’ for Others
As I forget my agency,
And practice it for Them.
As a person working on social development, I realize that I often need gentle reminders for myself- to practice my own voice and agency before I do it for the so-called 'disadvantaged Other'.
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