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Theodore Bird Feb 2015
stupid living boys
     and their hummingbird hearts.
stupid dead boys
     and their lingering stares.
supermarket polaroids,
     cold apartment poetry,
faded glassy eyes,
     ***** fingernails.
Timmy Shanti Feb 2015
En el mundo que nos rodea
Hay y frío y tanto calor;
Mucha gente de alma fea
No queriendo ponerse mejor.

Y a ti - ¿Qué te falta lo más?..
Es blin-blín o trapitos o pasta?
Una vez que rogares ¡Basta!
No podrás volverte atrás.

Yo te digo así - ¡No tropieces!
Y elige con quien andarás.
En el mundo que nos rodea
Más feliz y mejor te pondrás.
Noandy Feb 2015
Drag my eyes and dig my hope
Arrange the corpses and lit the flowers
Ruin our poetry and forsaken divine journeys

Lavish our time in varnished vanity
Incinerate the path you walk upon,

though nothing could come to any light—
Go find the hearts you had murdered.

The wind blew your tongue; colder your tears
Your dancing fingers and palms still talk of sun
And soon saturated your old ash driven hair
Into raindrop roots of forestry rhymes

Some of the rhymes were of your smile
Colored only by a single weary verse
To unravel the waves of your 7th ghost
which was
Just a picture for us to caress—

In the absence of sly soul and slacking slashes.

The pictures shall never fit the wooden frame
Carved by the sharp words you wrote by the heat
And the sympathetic sword you caress before the pages
Of travelling letters never yet to come.

And so I ask,

How long have my eyes been fasting
Drifted away from your grim outline
Questions I ask, is this an omen or mere silence
To welcome the storm I have yet encountered?

Ah,

Rustling wind shall tell no more
You would never have your hair and shadows back
Agonizing the pain we never had
None will have our verses and our wandering

Oh,

And I should learn to forget
Learn to regret
Learn to heed
Learn to bleed.
Phee Wotton Jan 2015
He didn't want to be saved,
He wasn't meant for love.
She wished she could have been the one to save him,
She was meant for millions of things.

So, what is left?
Once she's stopped striving to keep it together,
After all the commotion her boundless love had brought into her life, was put to an end?

Memories, sweet like sorrow,
Floating upon a tear.

Of the most beautiful eyes she'd ever seen,
Of the times they lay curled up in bed,
Absinthe poured into coffee cups,
Taste of tobacco, laughter, the rich colour of the night,
Their bodies hugging, dancing, melting together.

He didn't listen to her favourite songs,
He was those songs.
He didn't like poetry,
But he was able to raise a voice within her,
A voice singing the most beautiful poems.

He made her feel happy, and protected, confident.
He surpassed her wildest dreams,
Undone and drunk off alcohol of being.

She owes him her love for life,
The ability of letting herself go
And show her soul to the world
For what it is,
Unafraid.

They weren't meant for each other.
Bound to meet, but also to be torn apart.

But all of this will stay with me, forever.
Don't forget me,
My dear Raven Angel.

Forever yours.
This is something very personal I've written and also my very first contribution to this website. Hope you like it. :)
Sabbathius Jan 2015
Ever wanted to go back
and never advance again?
Simply quit and lose all track
of the endeavors in vain?

The routine is your own bane
Will keep you from being sane
Oh, there is no greater pain!

Nothing's ever at your favour
Gotta take some time to savour
all those moments before labour

On a journey to the past,
ever steady to the course
Never running very fast,
pursuing a greater force

Onwards, keep calmly receding
Flee towards that place in time
You were once happily singing
That charming and joyful rhyme


*Once Joyful by João Massada is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
Another piece regarding my strong hedonistic thoughts
Kenshō Sep 2014
Saudade* fills the emptiness in the air.
A faint calling, almost hardly there.
Longing for something before.
Perhaps before time and corruption..

**Possibilities..
.
Susana Aug 2014
"Saudade" the heart whispers in low tones
but I decide to ignore it
"Saudade" the heart cries
but I wipe its tears with numbness
"Saudade!" the heart screams in agony
and only then do I see
how deep the heart feels
that everlasting pain I decide to ignore
that unique portuguese word that describes perfectly
how everytime I ignore those threatening sad thoughts
they linger somewhere else
lkm Aug 2014
(n.)
a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that has been loved and then lost


January //
Your smile makes flowers grow in my lungs and I'm too busy taking care of the garden, pulling the weeds out for the flowers to live and bloom, I forget I need to breathe too


February //
They say addiction is a habit; kisses are drugs but your lips are rehabilitation and I keep coming back for more sessions because I need it; you're my "personal brand of ******"


March //
I write symphonies about the way a single touch from you defines the revolution of the Earth but I was wrong; it actually defines the whole galaxy


April //
My eyes are the same hue of empty, vacant, while the ocean is trapped in your eyes; there are more than meet those chocolate orbs, so let me explore every depth of the waters with you


May //
Your voice is the sound of the soft pitter-patter of the falling rain on the window pane after a storm, and the clouds don't hide the sun anymore


June //
I love the smell of books and coffee, especially with extra teaspoons of sugar and a story about looking for a place to call home as I long for the scent of belonging I only get from having you wrapped in my arms


July //
I fell in love with the way every novel I read has pages with traces of your footprints, your mark imprinted in my heart like how one is drawn to TFIOS; heartbreaking and tear-filled but it was true and the love is real, sort of like you and I; I like to think of it like that — you are Hazel and I am Augustus


August //
I don't believe in full-stops, I don't believe there could be an end to this love we have like how there is an end to a sentence; you might not have noticed that there is not a single full-stop here because our story is not ending, I'm not saying goodbye yet, and Augustus has not died yet; please do not leave me
unwritten Jun 2014
i will watch you fly,
like a migrating bird,
and i will pretend
that i didn't see a smile of relief
upon your face
or a new spark of freedom
in your eyes.

i will watch you soar,
like a roaring jet,
and i will pretend
that i didn't see the way you looked at him
or the downwards shift
in your disposition
when you realized that you were still mine.

i will watch you leap,
like a grown frog,
and i will pretend
that you are still a tadpole,
and always will be,
and will never leave.

i will watch you fly,
and i will pretend
that i have stopped loving you.

(a.m.)
inspired by "walk it off" by angus & julia stone. thoughts?

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