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Panashe Nov 2019
Hey, it's me, you, just wanted to remind you that this is not the end. It will never be the end until you draw your very last breath.
For starters, you will never stop learning, wisdom is endless.
Secondly, you can never know too much or enough, so never stop.
Never think that you are better than anyone else because the only person you're in comparison with us your former self.
You can only be greater that "you" yesterday.
Never take Life for granted, you are blessed to be here, utilize every moment because you will never get it back.
Your existence is not by chance but by plan. Your life story has already been written, it's up to you to ensure that you do not burn the pages before you reach the end.
Just know that the author of the story is one of the greatest authors the world has. Nevertheless, it's up to you to flip the right pages, always remember to flip one at a time and to never skip a chapter, because if you miss one, well, your story will forever be incomplete.
And it's okay to lose a character or two because at the end of the page their time and purpose would have been concluded.
It is up to you to complete your story.
It can either be a happy ending or a morbid
Ellipsis...
I'd rather not say
Because you will make mistakes along the way, it's inevitable
But you will grow and learn from them just like you did in the past
So let's wet up those fingers tips and ready ourselves to flip the pages of endless possibilities.
Because this story has only began. You hold the future in your hands.
Just remember you can never look back in order to know the ending, you can only move forward in order to reach...
-The end-

Yours truly, You
Nostalgic May 2019
Haze.

Cloud formation
9 degrees from location
I can’t see the formation
Of fear adopting me from temptation

It wasn’t honor or pride
It’s fear of what consequence resides
The naked plush of a lustful rush
In the trippy black out
emphasized by my friend’s paintbrush

I’ve never thought fantasy could be escalated
seems I’ve hit a milestone
I’ve shot up a dragon ride home
Now I’m excited by warmth and fascinated by combs
I’ve never wandered the medieval before
That’s why I stuck to game of thrones

My minds been freed
My body, imprisoned
It can’t be explained but it’s nothing depicted in illustrated predictions of purple, red and off key balance as seen in pulp fiction

They say drug use is escapism
Acid burnt down the bars of social anxiety disorders and confines of 3rd dimensional prisms
Left bare dialectical materialism
Molly taught me how to make friends
While your sobriety made you prone to solipsism

This was always what I’d imagined it to be
When I close my eyes and see
For a while I had looked over the wall than walk through the gate
Always drew the solution with stick to sand but never went into the maze
Always window shopped the shoes
But never tried them on to walked the way
Perhaps it’s a common laymen’s phrase
That drugs are a paradise lost in the haze.
Disclaimer: I don’t support the excessive use of drugs but find the campaigns against some of them on the basis of escapism somewhat too rigid and harsh.
Rainbows for chasing,
the moon for the aiming,
forming in clouds, faces
for inspiration,
beckoning, is life ahead
full of credible opportunity,
beside empty promises creating,
truthful reality.
Standing tall, girding *****
I, reached for the unreachable
so - distantly close,  impulsive forward, surges.
without doubt,
or plan,
missing by the - conceivably smallest,
actually - furthest amount,
yet still moving through,
pushing the immovable, climbing
the inaccessible,
falling - frequently,
never reaching nethermost depth,
buoyed by a recognition,
realising - all this fighting - striving
failing - miserably,
doing it all - wrong,
was not failure, but a justified lesson
on coping in the mire of existence.
The rainbows beauty explained in science,
gives it simplicity. A reality water and sunlight,
nothing really to chase,
or catch.
Moon - oh moon - my most favourite, still my dreamstone,
is but a stark beautiful presence,
removing sunlight reveals a satellite bleak,
nothing is here to seek,
or take aim,
likewise our cloud perceived faces,
expectations are best - unexpected.
If controlled by endeavour and aquasition
disappointment may be somewhat - repositioned,
attainment of skills formerly devoid of utilisation
revived, re-given to make something, that in truth,
can be ameliorated.
if only to yours truly
.
Still Chasing Rainbows . Michael C Crowder 10th March 2019 @scorsby
one day at a time
Korina Mar 2019
He came over...
We spoke...
One of the few
Blasts from my past
Red wine
Poured out in a glass
In substitution
Of how I poured
My heart out
To potential
Which did not last...
At last...
We spoke.
And what I thought
For a split second
Could be some kind of
Re-ignition to my fine
Cashmere woods scented
Candle wax...
Instead became an unsteady flame
Over a firmly molded
Candle frame
Of a woman...
Who has had enough.
We spoke...
About what he saw as a memory
I saw as trauma
And there was no more tears
To be cried
Over his baby mama drama
And that his words
Fell on deaf ears
When he said he can lend an ear
Because a promise is that to a fool
And a fool...
I no longer bared...
I am in love...
And although that love
Had not come alive
And although that love
Is what I will seek
Till the day I die...
And that love is the only love
Worth years of tear drops
From my eyes...
I am in love...
We spoke...
I never meant to end up so cold
I never meant to make your ego
Feel like a joke
I didn’t even mean
To invite you to my home...
But at last...
We spoke
No longer my Prince Charming
This princess was now
Anointed as Queen
And this Queen awaits a true King
And it takes more than a hug
And a kiss on the cheek
To make me weak
It takes more than
You telling me of my beauty
Which took me your absence to seek
... your assurance my darling...
I **** sure don’t need...
I am in love...
With a man
Whose actions
Speak louder than his words
Who pushed me
Through my darkness
Who struck chords of movement
Who got me to love...
And actually mean it...
Who saw my poems...
AND ACTUALLY READS IT....
We spoke...
And in that moment
I realized...
I don’t need a title...
I just need to exist.
Don’t say it...
Feel it...
We have spoken. .
For more follow me also on my Instagram @primapoetess
Unwittingly and surprisingly so often ignored is appreciation.
Of gifts, the love, the nurture received, given in true benefaction.
Even lack of spoken gratitude from the receiver, by the giver it is perceived.
Accordingly that which is given and is conspicuously wordlessly received
from the recipient, bathed in sublime silence, shines the appreciativeness

When physical attraction evolves into the love for each other entirely,
overwhelmed with gratitude for feelings, passion, desire, intrinsic sensuality.
In carnal gratification intertwined lovers, murmur words the moment in time set
as the act of true love, lovers appreciation of each other is a prerequisite,
kindling their deep and profound recognition of the symbiotic enchantment

Individuals have so much in life for which to celebrate in thankfulness
Taken for granted are emotional feelings of those who daily acquiesce.
Actions, items the mundane, all forgotten overlooked values unconsidered,
A list almost without end, descriptions of conceded gratitude left unsaid,
until its familiar benefits cease, revealing immediate impact of gratitude held concealed.



The Quality Feeling Of Thankful         Michael C Crowder         30th December 2018
(be thankful for what you have got as the song goes "you don't know what you've got till it's gone"#joanie Mitchell )
Sayali Aug 2018
A thin film of air quarantines the words,

And toggles them into reverse,

Settling them back under the tongues.

The eardrums condensed by a deep warble,

Nothing heard, nothing said,

The pupils swelling like planets through a telescope lens,

Tired eyes gazing, as time flings itself in sepia and grain,

Planting memories of twilights on a park bench after a rusty Monday,

As you looked over a five year old dressed as a ballerina,

Of subtle brushes of the fingertips,

While you walk into the grocery shop in your robe,

The throat starts to build a lump,

And translating it into a warm feeling,

You stay rooted,

As,

The eyes,

Watch,

Un-love,

Wait,

Listen,

Surrender,

And love again,

In Radio silence.
Love is...
      
      Breathless anxiety
      Of amplified emotions
      With uncomfortable growth
      And shuddering awe
      Of inconsolable gratitude.
Follow me an Instagram @insightshurt
Read my blog at insightshurt.blogspot.com
Buy “Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life” at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
***
i am the dream you are scared to make come true
https://www.instagram.com/beeryesyoumaybepoetry/
the night
i understood
that i love you
sky fell down
beneath my feet
and i was afraid
to take a step
not to crush
the shooting star
i made a wish to
https://www.instagram.com/beeryesyoumaybepoetry/
i tried to forget
till i understood
it is impossible
to tear out the heart
and
live on
https://www.instagram.com/beeryesyoumaybepoetry/
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