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Xallan Feb 13
Do you smile at my contradictions
Do you laugh at the depth of my mind
so lacking in simplicity
Or because it is unfathomable
Give me the time
And I'll scream it into your every thought
A heartbeat in mindlessness
I'm sorry I lied when I told you
We have the rest of our lives
jee Feb 1
I am paradoxical;
an oxymoronic anomaly.

all my nightmares are made
of daylight,
but I’ll still sleep to escape
the darkness.

I am paradoxical;
an absurd abnormality.

it’s a chaotic peace,
loud with it’s bated breath
and bittersweet ring.

I am paradoxical;
an irregular oddity.

my counterparts are contradictory,
and I change to chance
the possibility
that opposites attract.

and we’re all just paradoxed;
argumentative attractions.

there’s no stopping at the end,
when the sun is low
in the soft red sky.

where my nightmares are made
of daylight,
but I’ll still sleep to escape
the darkness.
this statement is a lie.
trf Jan 25
i wonder why my nights are finer
pattern pills reconcile illusion
i'm numb with bloodshot eyeliner
Saturn fills denial's delusion

roly-polies rendezvous at diners
balled in chills in a state of confusion
lonely streets hiding like a miner
falling ill is the fate i'm abusing
Mudassir PZ Jan 13
Our love was an open secret, I thought
But you had nothing for me, did you not?

Here I was thinking, we were meant to be
Eternal, forever – same difference.
I looked at you with rockets of desire,
You looked at me with deafening silence.

Your thought, a few years ago or some more,
Brimmed my mind with memories bittersweet.
Then you drained my heart out, fully empty
No drop of love, no sign of life – dead beat.

Not even when you came to say your goodbyes,
Did I feel so horrible, so much pain.
But, you stayed left, and I’ve been living dead
My love or your goodbye, which was in vain?

We’re an Oxymoron, in the same vein
You’re just the “Oxy” and I’m what remains.
Jing Xi Lau Nov 2018
We're all dying to feel alive,
Are we the living dead?
We hate to love
But we fall in love anyway.
We wander just to get lost,
But we want to be found.
We spend our nights together,
But we feel more alone than ever.
We cover our ears,
Shout across horizons.
What's this sound?
Deafening silence.
Piercing through the noise of the world.
trf Nov 2018
The junction where smoke and fog reside,
gliding with western winds beneath these clouds,
the moon fades perilously from sight
and it rains ash.
A thousand candle wicks are pinched
as the scent of acres burn,
lit like the flames we blow out so easy.
Control is a funny word,
like when a doctor says, "She'll be fine, I've got this",
the arborist cries observing only skeletal remains,
as his patient has deceased having control to blame.
LNI Oct 2018
The war inside me is over
And now I'm looking for my Oikos
I chose a way full of trials
I chose the way of exile

My flesh shall be my poetry
and my bones my final shield

There’s no God other than I
There’s no holy other than me
I took the way of an oxymoron tale
I took the way of a massive fail

My skin in ultimate grief
My hair resisting to the winds

My body is my vehicle,
my home and my miracle.

Penelope on her own for a female Odyssey
Of rigorous honesty

Now, seeker, rise up and speak your truth.
Nik Bland Sep 2018
Ramshackled dream
Held together with glue and string
And prayers
Floating as a feather
Yet easily the heaviest of things

What tapestries you inspire
Yet not strong enough the exit my mind
Keeping you hidden
Incubating long term
Until you’re almost over cooked

Make I take a glimpse of you
Never to touch, in fear of the break
Complexly understated
A warming flame
Flickering in this empty cold world

Ramshackled dream
Pretty to most, breathtaking to me
Sitting ever fervent
Waiting to shine
Wait to breathe the air
Danial John Aug 2018
Damnation in a ****** nation.
Your thoughts are only your own if you don't say them.
From simple complexities to advanced basics.
We are an oxymoron and it's time to face it.
That or otherwise become complacent.
Then you'll have an excuse for when the human race ends and you're in the last placement.
Words to ears are not superior to feet to pavement.
Enough talk, only action can save us.
Simra Sadaf Jun 2018
poets use poetry
to narrate tales
of agony,
caused by love or
the lack there of
in various ways,
using metaphor,
oxymoron, irony,
analogy, imagery,
personification, simile,
we write about
surreal reality,
ethics and morals,
fears and misery,
spirits and souls,
lies and treachery,
we play with words
and tamper everyone's
wakeful and dormant
thoughts,
with words, we dive deep
into the cavern of
your memories,
we can write in
numerous ways,
forming stunning poetry,
magnificent prose,
with verses and lines,
ballads and sonnets,
that may or may not rhyme,
we shall write till there
are no words left to explore,
till the words stop
making sense,
until our fingers
start bleeding,
until every shop in the
world runs out of ink,
till there are no thoughts
in our heads,
till the day we meet
a lady named death.
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