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Daron Bigby May 2015
I take pictures, but own no cameras
I view the world through these brown eyes
And it comes out of my mouth like Polaroids
At first glance it might not seem like much
But give it a few seconds, it'll come with time

I look back and I see a road paved with memories
The bad images were captured in each river that flowed down the salt-built irrigation system on my cheek, click
In each broken promise and empty lie that I thought was full of meaning, click
I lived in the past so often I confuse it with right now
Dwelling in the way I felt when I took those pictures
Like that girl, her sun kissed skin so hot it still burns me, click
Like in school when my grades dropped so low my heart is still sinking, click
Like my thoughts how sometimes they still haunt me it's overwhelming
And when I felt I couldn't take it I wanted to stop thinking, click
There's some good images too
I just can't remember them
They were lost in the endless pile of pain, regret, and disappointment
That's when I realized how all those pictures were just duplicates

So I looked forward and I saw my visions and dreams
I started looking at the world in 35 millimeters because those Polaroids took long to develop
Before I could see they just weren't good quality
I need to see the beauty of life through negatives first
Because then I can choose the images that get printed
Like the image of my bride as she comes down dressed in white, click
Or the image of my degree as I wear my cap and gown, click
Or just the image of my smile that I wear for no reason at all, click
I finally had control of how those images were recorded

But I don't see in panoramas so it's easy to see how I missed the big picture
There's a reason it's called the past
Because it passed my present to my future to be presented as a gift
And help me learn to cherish right now
I was lost down memory lane refusing to let go as each new moment passed that I kept forgetting to capture
You see, life is full of moments
Will you capture it, or just let it slip?
Rabiya Zafar Aug 2014
Going through our chapters
feeling those hidden pictures behind,
Keeping count on my tear drops
from your first breath, till my     heart stops
© Rabiyazafar
Deon May 2015
I know we've gone our separate ways
But every now and then I still think
Of you, us, and our time together
Then I go through your pictures
And see how well you've been
I still stalk you because i care
I miss you and can't say so
I wish I hadn't let you go
Now we barely speak
I still care about you
But I can't tell you
Tanner C Apr 2015
The illusions you have cast

Are nothing more than false images

Memories fabricated from the Book of Lies

Painted Pictures You believed to have Created

With each word, syllable, and sentence, you spew

You are just another Viper spreading your Venom
Julian C Jaynes Apr 2015
I know no words.
I know no meaning.
I cannot describe to you the explosion of color
Flashing in the night sky
On a glorious Holiday.
I cannot show you the ocean, how it twinkles
And how it loves to play
How she lets the little ones climb upon her back
And tosses them around.
I cannot fathom it.
I am nothing.
I do not have words.
I have mountains of joy.
I have seas of rage.
I have skies of peace.
They are something.
I can give you these.

I can give you these.

I can give you these.





... And so I give thee my life. Take my thoughts. Remember them.
So I decided to try to take a completely different perspective from my usual. Hope you like it.
rsc Apr 2015
With brain bashing into head cavity,
the gelatinous mass of neurons screams out
to white blood cells swimming in eyeballs
to evacuate before drowning.
"Quit clowning around in there and
save yourselves!"
The moody mistress creates her own hells:
congratulations!
Sleeping alone in a sweat covered bed,
she spins saccharine thoughts and pollutes her head
with taffy, thick like molasses,
cooking sugar in the kitchen with
the wrong end of a spoon in her mouth.
Dried up *** stains litter her couch
as she wakes up to turn the cushions
and search for loose change
to fill up her coin pouch.
"Ouch! Ouch!"
She calls out, clean
sheets on a new day,
his fingers firing in a frenzy
and introducing the fusion of
pleasure and pain.
He smells of benzene and
she's afraid of burning,
stomach churning and
using gasoline as lubricant.
He hit her, she said, and it felt like a kiss.
She misses him at her day job
when she runs around town
robbing banks and
picking up handkerchiefs
that grandmothers drop on the ground.
He would pound
his manhood into a brick wall
if it moved like her,
but the skin-and-bones combo
woos him to coo at her
as swarms of sparrows
nest in her ***** hair.
Spit shined shoes and
riding leaves blown on the air,
she dreams of him awake,
listless eyes alive and pulsing
behind a film of glassy, viscous mucus.
She makes magic potions out of the scents
left over on one of her
mismatching pillow cases.
He tastes like roasted red peppers
and lingering mace:
her eyes water as she
chokes back ***** daintily,
like a queen.
His eyes gleam mean as
he steals her breath to
add it to his bursting bank account,
releasing her to give her back only gasps,
the 2% interest.
She crafts road maps of his back bone while he sleeps,
but he sees her as a phantom,
creeping through the floorboards,
a faceless specter with an ace up her sleeve.
Skylar Mar 2015
The Vault stands resolute
Against acidic Time.
It must have much to say.
There is much it must have seen.

It's steady, stony gaze
Is all that now remains
To stand guard over nothing;
Duty-bound to stay.

What resides within?
It is aching to become known.
What resides within?

We rush the beckoning gate,
We push and pry and pull.
Today is a first for the Vault:
For the first time it loses a fight.

The darkness confronts us,
Accusing and severe.
Apprehension crawls up our spines:
What has been hidden here?

What resides within?
It is aching to be known.
What resides within?

We set foot inside,
Our steps unnervingly loud.
The cold sun nips our heels.
The darkness caresses our brow.

What's that ahead?
I believe it is light.
The faintest of glimmers:
Thin golden thread.

What resides within?
It is aching to be known.
What resides within?

With the greatest of caution
We open this new door.
Beyond is a strange old creature,
Back to the wall, sitting on the floor.

His flesh is pale and creased,
But his eyes are anything but idle.
"What is this place?", we ask.
His answer comes with a smile:

"This is Man's Vault.
It is a reservoir of what we were
Long before the missiles or the disease
Or by both we all were burned".

"Who are you?"

"I am the Curator, the Chronicler.
This place is of my own work.
I've spent day and night here,
Building it with record, picture and book."

"What may we do with it?"

"That is for you alone to decide.
The collection must pass to new hands.
My purpose here has been served.
In this present realm I will not much longer bide."

On concluding his final, heavy quatrain,
He breathed his long life out.
And the liveliness from out his eyes did drain

For several minutes, we stood in silence.
As a weight pulled down on our hearts.
A race had died before our eyes,
And left to us its inheritance.
Grizzo Mar 2015
Family quarrels are bitter things. They don't go according to any rules. They're not like aches or wounds, they're more like splits in the skin that won't heal because there's not enough material.
F. Scott Fitzgerald

---

I keep you in a book,
Tucked away in the top drawer
of my night stand
I flip through
from time to time
when I can't sleep
when I can't read
when the words don't come
as quickly as the morning does

You're a grain of rice.
Now you have a face.
A hospital bracelet
Boy, 7/27/2011, 10:15am
Folded up in a plastic sleeve
You're dressed like Santa
For your first Christmas

We have the same smile

In this one I'm leaning forward
and your arms and legs
dangle in the air
We were at the park
You loved the flowers and bushes,
the butterflies and birds that
scattered as I pushed you along
The path

The book isn't full,
A plaid patterned
sticky note
shaped like a heart reads
"More to come soon."

Night after night,
book after book,
Crumpled page after crumpled page,

the morning comes.
Poetic T Mar 2015
My blanket of insanity, It kept me warm,
Warped,
Diluted,
Pretty
Little pictures in my mind,
Of things only regurgitated
Into that which a mind could
Cope with in this fractured land.
It was a land where I lived, I heard
Distant voices,
Distant memories
Distant soon to be close,
But the horror affected me,
The cloud did disperse,
Normality entered where I wished it not,
Cursed,
Blighted,
Eyes
Screamed at what was seen,
Commonality,
Normal,
Sane,
I was but the same a clone,
Of the next one, of the next one,
I felt cold my blanket kept me warm,
Now I was in this place.
How can you live like this,
It is a place of order, where has
Chaos gone. I screamed and noise
Permeated
Vibrated
Carried
Through the  air, not visuals once seen
I hated my own voice, screams.
But it was fleeting, as my mind blurred
The lines once again, cuddled me in the aura of
Beautiful confusion,
Normality faded like a setting sun
I know it will rise again, but for now
I have escaped rationality,
Once again I embraced the insanity
Long live the moments of warmth
I live in a world of lucid insane  thoughts,
But I am home, where I was before.
Edgar rules
Cranberry Juice Mar 2015
Going back to memory lane
Holding the picture to see what I experienced, good or not
Dusting away my dusty, rusty memories
Smiling, frowning down that long windy road of mine
Realizing you can't go back to that moment
Realizing that next time. . .
You'll keep it, capture it and treasure it
And you'll realize how much that memory had meant once you go back to memory land once again
a reminder for me
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