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I made you into something you were never worthy of being
I built a castle out of ruins and laughed along while you burnt it down
someday, you'll return to those ashes and realize what you walked away from
I brush off the last memories of you and go on my way
there's no room in my future for you to seep into
whatever you do, please don't read poetry because it ruins your life.
poetry will grab your head and freeze it in time,
peeling your eyelids open while
laughing at you,
forcing you to stare at the ailments of the world with no safety on.

you see the world for what it is
and when you do
your life is in ruins

you begin to cast doubt as if doubt were the bless yous that followed a sneeze
it's the doubt that brings kings and kingdoms to their knees
and it's the poet who plants doubt in young, malleable minds.
something a little different and quite a bit shorter
touching everything and nothing
  all at the same time
    simply just existing
      but more importantly,
        thriving with
                                 life of all kinds
                                   being destroyed by mere human life
the world is not ours
we can save the world
Sally A Bayan Jun 14
(of Angkor Wat)

Two years after, i still think of that
forest, where an old temple stands...
most structures were carved with intricate
designs and images...architecture was
influenced by their Khmer culture...

posts, frames and doors are stilled
statues are tight-lipped, like frozen
witnesses...drowning in the voices
and noises of flocks of tourists,
reminding me of the noise and confusion
of my daily my own world..

i went up and down many stairs, went through
doors within doors, i lost count, while catching  
my breath, wondered why there were just door
frames............silent walls, old posts, and old
trees gave a cold feel of a distant past......yet,
in my mind, an aura of magic and mystery
hovered upon the entire if ghosts
of wisdom, and lots of stories lay dormant,
imprisoned......within the structures...

two summers and monsoon seasons passed,
my thoughts on Angkor Wat, haunt me still,
and bring back my thoughts on those doors;

some doors on our paths are closed shut,
some are ajar...some open easily, but are
ignored, or feared...some, close too soon,
before we make our first step to enter...
some stay open, yet, we become complacent,
some, have no closures or finality...leaves
one in limbo....
how will we know if it's the last one for us?
how many doors more...for you? for me?
does death give an end to life's entrances?
........or, is it just a beginning?

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
January 2017
(TAngkor Wat is in Siem Reap, Cambodia)
Well traveled leather binding a vault of lost ideas.
Haphazard graffiti
dripping ink down the page.
Crumbled sentences and half-finished
backdrop the soft scratch of the pen
trying to outrace time

Years, composed as fragments,
have no place
outside the white walls where they were born
Only the architect remembers

and still he is mortal
#2 in my Year One collection, from notes on 11/3
Amanda Jan 24
Looking through the reminders remaining of you
Rush of nostalgia engulfs my body
Ten years passed since we met
Ten years of fractures on my brittle heart
Frozen in hope for better days
Paralyzed in physical photographs
Feeding off broken dreams of us together
Falling to depths of loneliness
Consumed by sadness eternally
Forever sifting through ruins of our love
I wish I wanted to write a happy poem
YY Dec 2018
Nature with its numberless powers
Can twist or turn, bend or devour.
And those who won't resist the wind,
Will grow the bearing trees within.

"Dripping water hollows out the stone" -
Ovid says with his baritone, -
"Not through force, but through persistence"
Know nothing we about existence.

So small in wast titanic world,
Great powers, people think behold.
Imprudent brains, stop tossing into nature
Your greedy power's ruinations.

For Nature won't be still and silent,
Will sweep your nation's floor with violence.
Just stop pretending you live here alone
And Nature might just leave us on our own.
Irina BBota Nov 2018
Come on, darling, let's get old together,
let's braid ourselves a wreath from shy flowers,
for just next to each other we could be winners,
to the destiny, we are now indebted to.
For thousands of hours.

Let's never be lame with our feelings,
let's gather them into a fine globe of crystal,
let's live now to the fullest our grand moments,
let's raise our love on the proud pedestal.

Let's resist the bad and **** weather of life,
by painting the walls in a magical arch of the rainbow,
for your cheeks to be coloured by love, as my wife,
to our eyes, the passion has to give it a glow.

Come on, honey, let's hold each other tight,
let's cancel the bad and censored emotions,
let's not pant in the slime of regrets, but fight
the destiny and just breathe slowly our youth.
And live our kind of truth.

Let's not pretend that everything is by the chance,
for I know that we have not been randomly chosen,
let's set up bridges of clear thoughts by our dance,
it's the only way we can cross the past's ruins.
Let's leave it frozen.
noren Nov 2018
Your resilience
is built on
your ruins.
Deiny Moretta Nov 2018
Trapped, among the sharp- edges of tainted memories and sharttered mirrors. 
Broken, upon a stodgy shallow heart. 
Faded in a mist of tears and despair.   

Like leaves swept by the wind.  
Like waves hitting rocks.
Lost in the ruins of a heartbreak wrought.  
Losing grip beyond control.

For all I know, for all I could, losing my whole world when you stooped down and pulverized all my dream to ashes. Watching them fly away, to an unreachable place.

A journey without return, without cause, leaving me with no reasons for being.
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