raquezha 41m
Para máhiling ninda an liwanag mo,
dapat kang magrayô,
ta garó ka saldáng; Pag haraníhon ka,
nakakabutá an dara mong liwanag.
Pero hiling-hiling ka sa harayô.

Nakukua man ninda giraray an liwanag mo,
pero an pag-apresyar kan presenya mo
iba sa pag-hiling kang eksistensya mo.
Kun dae ninda ma-apresyar
an presensya mo,
nungka ninda mahihiling
an pagkawarâ mo.
bicol poetry, philippines, raquezha
moon 1h
i've drained myself out.
i dug deeper and deeper into my own grave.
everything sounded the same to me.
i tilted my head in order to understand the words you've been saying to me
but i don't understand.
they all try to pull me out of this "rut" but it's like quick sand and i'm not afraid anymore.
Lost and found
An empty body
A foreign box
Three Items

Smiles and laughter in a jar
“You need to please them”
Without smiles
They don’t waver
Without laughter
They don’t fall
I can’t make a sound

A gold heart wrapped in bubble wrap
“You need to show them”
Sincere kindness
So hard to find
“Are you okay”
I’m sick of it

A pool of tears on loose
“Those are happy tears”
The sky has the freedom
To let it all out
But why can’t I

The empty body
“Change it”
Smiles and laughter
The body was empty without a soul, thus the laughter. The smiles are kept in a jar because you lose them so easily.
Gold heart
People nowadays are so inconsiderate and ruthless towards plants, animals and even their own species, therefore the gold heart. Wrapped in bubble wrap as it breaks so easily.
Pool of tears
Sometimes letting it out makes everything better. On loose because it always comes by and it doesn’t need to be carefully stored due to the continuous supply of tears.
The last line of each stands forms a quote: I can’t make a sound. I’m sick of it. But why can’t I change it?
Glass 1h
the insomnia has converged into
teeth and skin of strangers that “he only tends to be pessimistic 
when the crucial reasons are
all psychological” but sleepwalking with headaches is
revitalizing (prioritizing) choke holds 
refashioning the way leniency and philosophy 
devour while derelicts are adrift (furtive) and for no reason I am verging 
on the staleness as the exhibition
my nudity trembles of unknowing 
when the rain will cleanse the
Painting Greys ~ Emmit Fenn
It isn't always an imperfect meaning.
Nor never as flawless as we wish it to be.
These constant cycles are in place to keep the masses sane.
Distracted from the fact that they will live and die in the same fashion.
In small.
Much like the time Punch cards that enslave them.
Even with evolution of time the average worker is still.
Just binary..
Infinitly encoded to mediocrity which sadly.
Has no bottom.
Nor was one programed.
But by the sweat of our forefathers did they carve a place.
For the next generation to pick up and sew the seeds for the next.
And so on.
And so on..
And so on...
Until some one with more wit than grit comes along.
To dissolve the mundane routine.
And possibly shake free from the chains of old.
But with so many ready to turn the other cheek.
That time.
could be some time away.
Never the never

If all was to disappear in front of your eyes,
Would you still reach out for me?  
In an echo chamber I am only ever,
Calling out for you to hear the words that I need to speak.

If I was to whisper, into a gale force wind,
Would you find a way to hear the words that I say?  
If I am gone in the morning light, as you open your eyes,
Would you still reach out for me?  
Would I still be near...?
Would you find a way?

You resonate, around my mind,
When ear plugs are in, to drown the din,
Of everything that I can’t help but think.  
When I am blind drunk you are still the only one;
A sight for sore eyes, that feels right inside.  
I keep you next to my heart, to never be torn apart,
By your absence or absinthe; a step too far.  

We are in a three legged race to the finish.  
Broken wishes, broken promises;
Never heart’s in broken pieces.  
We regenerate each other every day with the words we each say
And in the way we move in tune, so soon, I am with you again,
As without you could never even be considered.  
All the love, I have to give; if selected,
I would never again have a heart of wither.  

With or without, you are priceless; no selling out.  
Counting diamonds as they escape from your mouth
And leave me intent on making this last.  
You are my first; you will be my last.  
You take me past the past and into forever.  
I am statue, made human by you.  
Brought to life by your promise of never the never.

(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
It's the killing time of year,
sharpen up your tools.
watch out for toads and fools!
Hold all of sweet life dear.
It's the killing time of year.
http://www.napowrimo.net/ 25 write a poem that takes the form of a warning label . . . for yourself!  Nearly ran over a toad with the lawnmower, poor guy! But happily he hopped away just in time.
Admit, I think I have lost an inspiration,
shall I call it, maybe, an imagination ...
My ''poetry'' repeats and it is the same,
writing only about her - my eternal flame ...
I will take a break, shall I call it a pause,
many will relax and give me an applause ...
Not because they love, because they hate,
guess the poetry is not my destiny or fate ...
I will write, for now, only for my pleasure,
maybe, one day, she will respect it like a treasure ...
My self - called ''poetry'', I guess, really sucks,
now, going by the lake, to feed my friends - ducks ...
The less the better.

distance between
your lips and mine.
ali 12h
i've run out of poetry,
and now all i'm left with
is gray.

gray surroundings,
gray people.
i'm lost in a world
that's lost in itself.

i can't find the words
to even say what i'm feeling,
because all i see is confusion
staring right back at me.

i'm in a room full of mirrors,
my own reflection
not appearing
because i've lost myself
in the depths of my thoughts.

please find me,
someone, anyone,
i'm gasping for air
that's not even there.

no one understands,
yet you're all here to listen.

there's only one problem.

i can't find the words-
i've run out of poetry.
my solution to having writer's block but also desperately needing to write at the same time
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