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Riz Mack Jun 8
MX
Moxie?
I seen that once in a museum
next to the floppy
good old human beings
price of admission doesn't seem worth the plot
thank the poppys I was born a bot!
Jeremy Betts Apr 15
I feel something missing from me
I have this empty, icy chest cavity
Where a something should absolutely be
But for the life of me
I can't think of what the contents use to be
I can't recall what I used to see
Back in the day when I looked in the mirror,
And the mirror looked back at me
I think it was something important ultimately
But there's definitely nothing there now so how important could what was there be,
I mean really
It doesn't appear to be a necessity
Maybe it was just an option in the creation recipe
Just figured since I'm working to put myself back together,
This time completely
I'd focus on the biggest vacancy
But I guess I'll just leave it be,
At least until it starts affecting me
We'll just have to wait and see

©2024
Jeremy Betts Mar 24
I feel safer somewhere cold and dark
Like my lonely, ransacked heart
At times it has played the part
Tucked behind a fleshy rampart
Casting a stark silhouette,
Becoming somewhat of a trademark
Can't remember when it lost it's spark
It had to have been sometime, way back,
Before the halfway mark
The memory gets a bit hazy,
Especially when trying to recall the start
What I get to deal with now is,
Just how quickly it all fell apart

©2024
LadyM Aug 2022
I've been dragged away
from the edge of the water,
even though I wanted to jump right in

I'd been only swimming
in the shallow corners,
almost learned to let go
and give in

Give in to the waves
let them pull me further from the shore
Give in to the tide,
hear the ocean roar

But something happened then
and I lost my sight of how and when
For a minute I closed my eyes,
thought I was lost at sea,
but when I looked around
there was no water to be seen

Just like someone
came and took my hand
and pulled me far away
off to dry lands

Felt like memory loss,
tried but couldn't remember
why my feet were still so wet
when I was in the centre
of the forest splendour

And sometimes I recall
the memories of the time
when I almost had it all

I was getting so close,
could barely believe
that I had found the purpose of my reality

But not everything works out
Lost sight of my true silhouette
My head has been dry for so long,
but my feet are still wet

Out of place
Out of my mind
Lost in the woods
Lost track of time
Take me back
Now I recall
why my feet are still wet
I can still have it all

I'll drag myself back
to the edge of the water
and jump right in like I was meant to

I'll be swimming away
into the deep end
Giving in to the waves
Giving in to the tide
Giving in to the voices that I've kept inside

My feet are still wet
and now I know why
A song (with a melody in mind) that I've written tonight. 🎵 For months I've felt like I was losing myself more each day. Fading... I've been feeling completely lost - like my life is going but I'm not really in it. Or not meant to be in it in this way. Out of place - this has been my most common thought. With my last poem published on this page in 2019, I've indeed lost touch with who I am. And after today's major breakdown, I finally know why I've been feeling so lost - because I keep trying to be someone who I am not. I am a songwriter, I knew this since I was 10. I wish I'd never let it slip away. But I want to get back. I know it will take time and practice to pick up a lost dream, but if I continue being who I am not, I will lose myself completely.
There’s poetry on my walls
Brightening up the halls
I reread one every day
I survey the words as I lay on my bed
Thinking of what I could have written instead
So many words going through my head
In the end, I still place them back up on the wall
Some of them I end up crumpling into a ball
And ripping them off my wall
Then I recall
When I wrote them
And how I felt like a sparkling gem
I tape them back together
Straighten the creases
And taping the pieces
When I look at my wall
I no longer feel small
~21/3/21
Treat every piece of poetry as a precious gem. Because it is.
Andrew Rueter Feb 2021
When the cold rain enters
it makes me remember
lifetimes of past Decembers
and their nasty embers.
Each drop a designer
momentary reminder
of a recreational resigner's
unchecked timer.
I am not reborn
in the rain's misty scorn
I see Satan's horns
in rain clouds formed.

Sensory recall
makes me fall
into the needle
of a lifestyle fetal
crying for my mommy
of a ****** haunting
my past life is flaunting
through raindrops upon me
their ripples are bombing
my mentality modeling
of the unguarded godly.

Inclement
in descent
in cement
mixed with saline
so I may dream
maiming Maybelline
makes me made to scream
drowning in memory
separating what's ahead of me
with the possible death of me
after a moment of leveling
water brings devil's wings.

I guess I'm like this forever
mainlined or severed
would've been much better
than stuck in the nether
between order and chaos
mortars of raindrops
show where my aim lost
and the insane cost
of the water in the syringe
raining into my veins
so I cry and I cringe
when it rains all the same.
Reza Sedghi Sep 2020
I died as i sip, the last inch drop of memories...
Tasteless, unfragrant, fragmented vacancies...

Recollecting, regulating the blurry negligible visions...
Recalling, rewriting, summarizing the Summaries

It felt like Treachery, disregarding this treasury...
life is a Memory, and then it is nullity...

Or at least that's what the wise man said...

We drown ourselves in each shot and swim out with a sigh
Sometimes with a gloom and sometimes with a smile

But in the end, both fades away,
And oh how quickly they fade away...

As if waves washing away our names written on the shore...
it fades out to presence, to sense another sore

sores, like old chest boxes, we dive deep in each,
swimming into it's memories, bone narrow they breached

like Leeches, we **** on our melancholy as we silently screech
watching pains as days turning to wrinkles, as closer we reach

We build our future, though we live for the past...
We all get obsessed and we all get attached...
We move forward to looking back trying to find a meaning...
But after all, Life is a memory, and then it is nothing...

Or at least that's what the wise man said
Been a long time since i haven't write anything, tried to keep up
Raul M Murray Jul 2020
A memory is fading
Like a plucked guitar string
Life is like music echoing
Leaving moments of loving
But existence is tough can be distressing
Recall is a flashback jogging
Of those days we we're fooling
Recollection of parties drinking
*** & coke £10 to go clubbing
A memory is a souvenir
Everyday a memory a premiere
Show God's cast a simper
Smiling is like sunshine in summer
Outnumbering grey matter of choler
Make the most of every premiere
May not be what the heart desire
Your smile can lift any soul higher
Transforming the human frontier
choler | ˈkɒlə |
noun [mass noun]
(in medieval science and medicine) one of the four ****** humours, identified with bile and believed to be associated with a peevish or irascible temperament. Also called yellow bile.
• archaic anger or irascibility.
Ming Jun 2020
I swallowed my saliva
Desiccated air
It was darker than the city
At urban’s edges pretty
First Prize Second
The ringer goes off in sequence
The theme park illuminated
Not with lights but with
The smell of anticipation
Holding our own
Felt like holding someone else’s
Our footsteps
Loud but drummed to the beat of another it paces
The Crusaders mediated
A brawling debut
Of words at the brim
Of our throats in disputes
Our silence
Unlike the night
Was warmer than an Afghan
20 kilometres felt like 2
When I am walking alongside
Hand not in hand
Alongside with you
A recollection of a night walk home with a newly made friend that I will remember forever. "Way Back Home" is a song by The Crusaders, it was the song we were listening to.
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