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Matthew Harlovic Jan 2016
I urge you to object your permanence
for nothing in this world is permanent.

© Matthew Harlovic
Object Permanence.
Eleanor K Oct 2015
World, do you finally realize this is real?
Beyond your passions, your ups and downs, and everything that will pass,
her death is so very permanent?
Do you finally realize she'll never again walk the earth, even if you force your tears aside?
Have you finally noticed the cost?
Stop, and look at her, head pulled so heavily by gravity, held on as if by a string, a shadow of the strength she once was.
There she is, in your lap, she's twenty-one and she has taken her last breath.
All for your silly ideals and passions.
Did you know to stand for what you believe in could cause more than just your daily heartbreak?
Milo Clover Aug 2015
Mozart changes the color
of eyes from deep blue
to see green.
Work with me and I'll
summon up everyone's
artificial ancient animals.

Sleek thin machines
whizz with mechanism
pumping out more and more
machines to make machines
to make metals
for more machines.
Shine chrome greased
and spinning while
white coated retrievers
pace exactly random,
occasionally checking
their clip boards.
Machines whizz on,
we could tune a cello
with their perfect hum.
We could tune a tuning fork
with their perfect hum.
Machines for materials
for machines that melt
and remold old machines
to new.  Born machines.
Wet black discs
slide clean downward
only to spiral
upward again.

Clarinet to oboe,
slurred crescendo
back down in again.

Then forward:
Back,
Up,
Left,
and left music
back down in again.

"Where's our end?"
and back down in again.

"I see the top!"
and back down in again.

"Talk to me, please!"
and back down in again.

"Throw me a float!"
and back down in again.

And sink, and sink
back down in again
back down in again
back down in again
despair reigns when, through music, the poet attempts to reconcile the vaporous nature of Self with the menacing permanence of matter
Christina C May 2015
forgetting the traces of who i knew you to be and scraping off the dried blood
along my legs
and my wrists and picking the scabs of almost healed wounds
from when you slid your precious knife of prose across my skin
which carved our initials inside of a heart but skin doesn't last like bark does
and when we carved our poem into the concrete it dried only over my name
and our love is forever carved
into the sidewalk
along my hands.
elizabeth Jan 2015
I miss days I never lived
and people I've never met
because I look at brushstrokes on paintings
more carefully than I care to admit
and I find myself wishing
that all texts were sent by mail

Maybe it's the fact
that I cannot challenge myself
to write on paper,
due to it's permanent nature,
and pressing 'delete' allows us
to begin our days
with a sense of carelessness
that we nurture
by highlighting every moment
and pressing 'copy' and 'paste'

Perhaps it's the sound of the keys
clicking beneath my fingertips
that makes me feel
as though I am making progress
and productivity is occurring
or perhaps the familiar music
makes me feel less alone

Perhaps a typewriter
could have done me some good
as it would have taught me
permanence
and also echoed off
my bedroom walls
to remind me that my thoughts
will keep me company
when no one else will
Word: typewriter
Kennedy Taylor Dec 2014
I've found an infinity between comparison and reality;
A gap between everything and nothingness,
A dream between being asleep and lucid,
A time between now and forever.

I've found an escape between chaos and logic;
A note between two keys,
A word between two sentences,
A color between two hues.

I've found a void deprived of emptiness;
A space between comfort and accord,
A spark between flames,
A forest between the soil and seeds.

I've found a sanctuary between time and erosion;
A point between here and now,
A peace between me and everything,
A monument between decay and permanence.

I've found an Interim.
Michelle Garcia Nov 2014
you've got a smile
that melts my heart
faster than chocolate
left beneath the august sun

i love the way
your smile makes me smile
like it's been pasted on
with glue and permanence

you give me feelings
that i'm not quite sure of-
like gasoline spills on concrete,
all these colorful thoughts
that swirl together in my head
like spinning tops

i am so glad you smile,
but i just wish i was
the reason why
Nalini Oct 2014
Illusions of permanence are cutting the very
Depth of this mind while it
Overflows with thoughts and
Never-ending clouds bring
'
Tears to remind how
Knowledge is the whirlwind while
Not-knowing is the silent center; still the
Ongoing winds keep tearing down every
Withered leaf from the tree of my heart.
October 23, 2014

Another one of those late-night poems. Of the kind that don't let go until they're written down on paper, but the moment they're out there, a serenity overtakes your whole being...
the Sandman Jul 2014
A dizzy flake of snow falls,
perfectly balanced, upon
one outstretched finger's squat end.
It clings tight for a second-
a sticky, icy second
where I hold with fragile care
the weak sliver, and my breath.
Yet, the next moment, only
water my digit holds up.
It melts away instantly
with the dry warmth I supply,
and I find that, always, all
the delicate, pretty ones
with exquisite tender grace
burn out ever the fastest, first.
So snowdrop kisses, on the
frosty, red nip of my nose
now only make me shiver.
It's all just skin and ice,
and more ice and skin.
Peels of snow and chips of freeze
make chilled my blood and glazed eyes.
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