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TheMystiqueTrail Apr 2019
Twilight is pastel,
grey grief gripping the soul,
wrapping in a pall of thickened mist
with a sickening shade of
mourning brown.

At the horizon,
you wait for the homing birds
to fly on its wings
like a dream glued to my life’s script.

Many times I wondered,
why you come back to this land
where the scary hand of the butcher
scuttles every dream;
where humanity drowns
in its own anguished cries.

The smell of blood is
intoxicating when its grasp
tightens like a noose
on my consciousness.
Lily Madden Apr 2019
words from a conversation we had days ago echo in my mind turning into a lullaby, softly coaxing my eyelids shut. welcoming deep sleep to my weary heart.
each part of our souls intertwine to create a perfect panoply facilitated by the moon.
you and i under the same sky, all of a sudden the displeasures from the day before slowly melt away into the dark nighttime.
in the syzygy of our cosmic hearts we bask in the ethereal glow encompassed comfortably by the stars and moons.
involved in a state of a constant somnambulism so i never have leave the blissful reality conceived in my subconscious.
dreamers indulgence, walking hand in hand, free and filled with halcyon in the safety of sleep.
Casey Mar 2019
It's that feeling when you wake after a long sleep.
And the sun streams in through the window on your face.

I would give anything just to stay like that forever.
Getting up takes too much effort.

It's that feeling of heavy-lidded eyes on a long car ride.
The steady, low hum of the highway lullaby.

I beg sleep to meet me there.
Yet, she is evasive.

Because it's not what you see when you dream.
My attempt at describing a color.
CA Smith Sep 2018
Pastel
Would be pretty nice right?
Something that's my favorite color
Mixed with a little extra white
A little faded
My colors are jaded
Just like me
Because I feel all mixed up inside
mint Aug 2018
flat washes of ink in blue and pink
dragged fingers across the sky
leaving fuzz and glitter in their touch
heavy colors leave me feeling light
the trees give me breath in the morning crisp light and i am mist
floating and twinkling in the air
feet touch the floor
the cool air with its hands
interlocks with my fingers

my hand wishes for yours
it reaches and it falls
empty promises that i’d wish you made
so maybe i can hope for someday
the sky wasnt made- with its pretty pastel shades
to enjoy on my own

pretend with me
take my hand like you can
walk with me like our feet can eat the miles between us
let our lungs fill with freshness
let your lips touch mine
i know you cant but
please step into this painting of a world with me
hold my hand and smile at the watercolored sky
dont tell me yes or no or why
just kiss me under inky pink skies
apparently i wrote this 10/13/17. Things are different now, yet startingly the same. I dont know how to fall out of love with this person and I think. I’ve accepted that. Im ok. Me and her. Are ok. Even when we arent, i know we will be.
LexiSully Jun 2018
The sky painted itself with pastel hues,
Oranges and yellows, with very few blues,
It was a welcoming start, I knew,
For it was peaceful and still half asleep;
Yet it set my soul aleap.
Janelle Tanguin Sep 2017
I know her by name.
I know her by face.
Only, I don't even
know her at all.
I think I've seen her
once,
and for once
I wasn't disappointed.

We are so much alike
only she has brighter eyes.
We are so much alike;
So, I figured
from black and white
I could be pastel--
faded bright.

We are so much alike
only she drinks psalms
like the preacher's wine.
Before I abandoned religion
I used to kneel
and break bread every Sunday, too.
So, I figured
I could still be as holy
if I clapped my hands together
and whispered litanies
on candles burning outside chapels—
faded light.

We are so much alike
in the way we love
books and music,
anything aesthetic.
But, I am wrapped in tin foil
and she dons silk and laces.
Same filling,
different faces.

And kid, I wouldn't blame you
for craving
the same flavor
in different packaging.

We are so much alike
only, compared to her
porcelain China doll skin,
I am a witch's voodoo,
covered in pins and needles
piercing rough skin,
a cheap imitation—
a fake.

We are so much alike
only I'm lying
when I say we are
because she is pastel
paint in coffee shops
and I am crayola
vandals on the sidewalk.

And let's admit pretty
isn't anything I would
ever be.

It makes me sick.
Because I'm not like her.
I'm never going to be just

pretty;

Pity, that's all they ever want us to be.
Iamezzycrown Aug 2017
Black image,
white heart ,
golden souls,
which once trampled on loamy brown soil.
Now in the blue sky ,on this day I remember your beautiful colours.
I miss the old school goodness.

To my fathers,
And father Fathers before me.
Down to the route of my lineage.
From west, east ,north and south of the black world.

Their voices remain melodious like the singing birds in calm forest.
Painters of rainbow,
Legends of time,
Flash back in history.

The Africa culture has always been a beautiful peacock,
One that captivates the mind of all men.

On this day, I take the oath to die as a black,
Nothing less ,I stand firm in my belief,
I remain unshakable.
I plant myself under the soil of custom and tradition.

I drink the toxic wine my ancestors left behind,
I promise to slay the roaming lion of civilization.
I remain a royal loyal soul on my fathers soil,
Not a slave in the foreign land.

Africa the Joseph among his brothers,
When I die give my wealth of belief to generation to come, let my soul embrace the hug from the land of legends.

Black I came out of my mothers womb,
Black I will return to my ancestors.

Iamezzycrown
drawing #draw #socialenvy #PleaseForgiveMe #picture #artist #sketch #sketchbook #paper #pen #pencil #artsy #instaart 
#iamezzycrown#poetry
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