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neko-nae Jan 2017
the pulse of raging flame
sitting in wait           deep
within the core of light

the flicker of spark ignites,
like the screech of dead, cold metal
along your wooden floor
as I fight the need to scream
and break your vaporizer--

this slumbering dragon
sitting in my chest
with billowing wings of
emerald green and burnt-orange
like a whirlwind of autumn leaves twirling
crescent magic of destruction
pulling and pushing
this rage up and down
until the tendrils of flame simmer
and I stand on tip-toes to kiss
your soft lips, the smoke
escaping as exhaust and love, tender--
hazem al jaber Dec 2016
Passion's home ...

the home is you ...
nothing than you ...
means nothing ...
no peace ...
no warm ...
no love ...
without you ...
because you are ...
the passion ...
whom made my home ...
whom taught me the love...
and gave it to my heart ...
and made me the happiest lover...
because i'm with you  ...

yes you are ...
you are my sun ...
that never hide ..
with every day ...
you are the moon ...
among all stars ...
which i keep watching ...
with no sleep ..
until the sun ..
rise up again ...

you are my every thing ...
that i got and will get ..
in this world ...
until the last breathe ...

you are my home ...
passion's home ...
and without you ...
homeless i am ...
lonely alone ...

hazem al ...
Morgan Kelly Oct 2016
A dry desert feeling creeps up my throat
I can almost feel the bright,
Red color lining the soft tissue.
Body aches starting at all twenty digits,
Eventually make their way throughout the body.
Sickness.

To some an excuse for rest,
"So why does sickness make me so upset?"
I try to scream,
But, alas, my voice is lost.

Ah, the voice,
What a silly instrument,
"Silly how," you may ask.
Well, it's weak.

Why can't my two ***** of vibrating tissue,
Stay healthy?
I need to use those stubborn chords,
My voice should not be diminished,
It should be strong.
This is a major problem,
That, to others, may seem minor.

Sing the notes,
Finish the chord,
Don't be flat,
That doesn't mean go sharp.
ENOUGH!
I can't even sing.

Unable to participate in a pleasurable passion,
All because of a
****
Weak
Immune System.
Morgan Kelly Oct 2016
I am not a poet,
Because I don't write with a certain finesse.
I don't have a rhyme scheme,
Meter,
or structure.
I am not a poet.

But, I want to be.
I wish master rhymes came to me in dreams,
And meter could be kept,
With the time my pencil hits the paper,
I want my structure to be relevant,
Not just meaningless lines.

So, am I just a writer?
Is this just a journal?
I'm not really sure,
All I know is that when lead touches my paper,
I feel bliss.

And so no, I am not a poet,
I am a human,
With demons in my head,
That need to be released.
Katie Ann Sep 2016
i know what i love
i just dont know
where that fits in the world
i mean maybe it doesn't
and maybe thats the point
but where do i carve space for myself
who will help me once i do
and who will try and bury me to cover up the mark i make?
Sally A Bayan May 2016
(10w x 4)

Open both arms...
RECEIVE
GATHER........EMBRACE
Smile...while
PUSHING   OUTWARDS...


Abruptly, raise arms
Like a VOLCANO,
E X P L O D E !!!
Release....precious ENERGY...


Let the
SPIRIT flow
Keep the
FIRE of LOVE
Burning!!!


Start a HABIT
SHARE YOUR  BLESSINGS
YOUR  ENERGY
YOUR
PASSIONS!!!



Sally

Copyright May 1, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
***FIRE...is one of the many movements in a series of self-strengthening exercises we do before tai chi ...***
Finding no pleasure in daily routines
Surprisingly treasured by the machines
Reminding you it's just the status quo
And part of the life in which we all grow,

Unsatisfied with droll simplicities,
You might indulge in distant fantasies-
Magnified on a world you set apart
From the forgotten one others have wrought.

An escape is often necessary,
But you can't forget where you still remain,
Though time you spend in either world's nary
Going to keep you entirely sane.

These choices you make are arbitrary-
Hopefully, you'll still be kept entertained.
Shruti Atri Jan 2016
She takes a breath;
A big one--
The kind that lifts her chest
Reaches her stomach.

She holds herself,
Steady little birdy,
5, 6, 7, 8...
Then unleashes
All of her raw wild grace;
As they sit in awe
Of the most beautiful animal
She brings before them.

She embodies the maelstroms,
The typhoons, the hurricanes,
That have destroyed so many,
As she devastates her audience
In subliminal bliss.
She is purely a creature of light;
A force of nature, so absolute,
So fragile;
She could break herself,
Have the world shatter
In but a flex...

The melody
Of her expression will run out soon.
As the last few bars thunder down,
She recedes;
Her energy smashed
And scattered
With those who saw her
When she was in her space,
Where they could not touch her
Or her spirit.
They were helpless in the face
Of her fire--
So hot, so bright,
It blazed in the brilliance
Of a thousand suns,
Before the last flame of the candle
Lost it's light...
Not with a bang, but a whimper

A coldness takes hold,
She realizes she has to come back
To their world.
She will miss
Her own little dimension
Where she is Queen;
Her space where she can fly,
Where she can move mountains,
And reign over thunderstorms...

The curtains start to draw
As she prepares to leave the stage,
Taking hold of the memories made
Only to be forgotten and remembered;
Thinking of her time in the sun,
She takes a last breath
And bows out.
Her grace, now a dim memory
Forgotten, only to be remembered
In these eternal phrases,
*When you read them.
Annie McLaughlin Dec 2015
Thank you for the book
with the hard cover
and the pages
with no lines
to guide my cursive tool

Thank you for the insults
concerning everything
between
music artists and cheek bones

Thank you for not
making me pretend
as if I care
exactly what you think
of me or I or the ****** rock band
that happened to save my life

Most of all thank you
for never realizing that
our passions never quite did
go hand in hand
so that it could be easier
for me
to write another
meaningless
poem.
Nick Huber Sep 2015
There was a time I dreamt
As most people do
That the moon and the stars could be ours
But time passes, just as dreams are forgotten
Revealing the darkness I burrowed in my heart
No moon
Nor stars could ever be mine
Gifts of nature so distant
The river that cleanses
Erodes my once esteemed castle
The dam I built to stop its flow
Broke in the storms
My passions, and desires float away
Down the stream

I no longer dream
I gave them up for reality
That maybe nothing would ever be mine
O world of dreams
How I long to have you back
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