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Armando A Jr Aug 2015
I look at you
I see my past, my present my future
I look at you
I see the one, my current, my last
I look at you
I see your smile, your hair, your pretty eyes
I look at us
I feel my heart, its beats, as if it was alive

You brought light to my dark room
You brought sun where only the moon was known
I was blind but now i can see
You have awaken me
You gave me love

I thought i had chosen you
but turns out it was my soul all along
destiny put you in my way
that's why it didn't take too long

Now that I know you I won't let you go
because I see my past, my present, my future
Now that I know you nothing will ever be the same
because I see the one, my current, my last.
Getting tired of these Skype numbers and random letters
Engulfing the posts on this site.
Carl Halling Aug 2015
Dear, I haven't been in touch
For a long time.
Sorry.
The last time I saw you
Was in St. Christopher's Place.
It was a lovely evening...
When I knocked that chair over.
I am sorry.
Since then,
I've had not a few accidents
Of that kind.
                                                              
Just three days ago,
I slipped out in a garden
At a friend's house...
And keeled over, not once,
Not twice, but three times,
Like a log...clonking my nut
So violently that people heard me
In the sitting room.
What's more,
I can't remember a single sentence
Spoken all evening. The problem is...
"Incident in St. Christopher’s Place" is also known as "A Letter Unsent", because it was based precisely on that, a letter, written to a close friend, almost certainly in the early 1990s, but never sent.
Robert Ronnow Aug 2015
I like his confidence, that working the problem
will certainly result in better outcomes than guessing.
A rationalist who does not depend on a higher power
to direct his decisions, but who may concede,
observe, realize and accept that he lacks the data
or the skills or tools to interpret data and these
decisions he leaves to his god.
                                    But not before
thoroughly assessing the limits of his power. Guessing
before guessing is necessary makes things worse. The skills,
tools and experience are the accumulated wisdom
of earlier experts in his field.
                                    Yet each generation
of communicants must examine the assumptions
from which the mathematics, logic, science or law
was derived. Rebuild the proofs from the simplest
truths, laws, physics. Taking God's first and only words
and extrapolating correctly, getting the trajectory
right for successful take off and re-entry.
                                    And then
to explain the derivations to your students.
Until they too can care for the species and the planet,
making whole sentences, formulas and melodies
from few words, numbers, notes.
"Let's work the problem, people, let's not make things worse by guessing."   --Apollo 13

www.ronnowpoetry.com
Liz Humphrey Aug 2015
You remind me of that boy down the street
who rode his skateboard
running chills along my spine
in the heat of a summer evening,
the boy who inspired my mother to pray--
Lord, please protect her from those
heartbreaker eyes that gleam with
too much laughter and not enough love--
the boy whose July birthday I still remember
because he was bad in all those good itchy ways
begging me to just scratch a little harder now
though I was young with blunted fingernails
so he never meant more than
the diary buried in a box in my garage or
an shivery afterthought on summer nights,
but here you are, the boy next door made man
you meet me, still that girl yet woman so
what's running along my spine aren't chills
they're flames begging me to just burn a little badly
now, inspiring me to pray--
Lord, please put the fire out before I am consumed.
Bad boys...
¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯
*a two-way street with
one-way frontage roads
and no U-turns.


∘ ⊱‧⌍  ⌈✞⌋  ⌌‧⊰ ∞
﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋
Sara Jones Jul 2015
I once had a small purple vase.
It was almost a year old.
But I remembered how my ex and I blundered
And all of his things had to go.

I gave away his sweatshirt
His shorts and shirts got burned
And the teddy bear he gave me
Was torn apart by the people who mean most to me.

He gave me a purple vase.
It was wrapped pretty in a bow
Once it had living flowers
But now I had to let it go

I went outside with my true family
And recorded my final blow
Of shattering the vase
On the ground below

I felt the ricochet
Of a piece run astray
And my baby exclamed to me
That I cut myself indeed

And thats when I realized
How my last relationship was really through
Because if I cut my head with the other one
He wouldn't have held my hand to help me
He would have let me do it on my own
And not even checked on me
I know this for sure
Because it happened once before

I feel free now for sure
That all his things are out my home
And once I see my baby's things replace them
It becomes the final bow

For once I see no remnance of him
I think I'll truely feel clean
Once my forehead heals
And memories repress
I'll finally be able
To fully put him to rest
This is about healing from a broken relationship and truly burning the bridge to the guy that hurt me
aurora Jul 2015
i am trying
trying to be better than the person
i used to be

i am trying
trying not to isolate myself
from everyone but him

i am trying
trying to include you with us
but you react negatively

i am trying
trying not to go back to who i was
but life is so much easier
with just one problem in your life

i am trying
maxine Jul 2015
When I was 5 I started to put sharpie or pen on my nails to make them black.
And I even recall on one instance where I put mascara in my hair to give myself black streaks.
I now want black stiletto nails, and I know that many others have them, or even just paint their fingernails black.
And it makes me think, black is such a beautiful colour and yet we put down and make fun of the people of that colour.
They can't change it, and they shouldn't have to feel that they must.
Being another colour than white shouldn't be a day to day burden or task.
It should make you feel beautiful and blessed.
But not everyone sees it that way.
It's a shame really, you see so many superb black men and women that stand out in this day and age and community.
And it has been that way for centuries.
Giving us all music to move to and lose ourselves in, books to read (perhaps more than once), movies to watch and adore, and many other things.
And yet people don't realize, they're just HUMAN.
Not having a choice of what pigmentation their skin is.
Being beaten unmercifully, and some being prosecuted not from their actions but because people have come to terms that all of that colour perform the same cruel acts.
Stereotypes;
It's not fair and I refuse to live in a society that is so mean and brutal.
Be nice to people regardless of their skin, the look or feel of it.
Be helpful to those in need regardless if others wouldn't because they have different views than you.
I'm not saying this little collection of words will change the world.
But I'm letting it be known that I myself will not be spiteful towards others that have not been to me.
Just because their skin may shout out because it is darker than others, it doesn't make them less of a person.
You don't want people to be put in boxes and yet you categories them, making them feel small and wrong.
We have come such a long way, not just for this subject but for others.
But I want my voice to be heard and my opinion to be stated.
And for others to not be so crass and quick to judge.
People are people, and deserve to be treated like it.
I don't care if this trends or not, or only gets 50 views, what I do care about is this topic/issue.
I hope you read this through, and I'm not expecting all of you to agree with me... just listen to me.
Because poets write to be heard.
Thank you.
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