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Eric Fraley Feb 2018
W h o   w o u l d   h a v e   t h o u g h t   t h i s   p a s t

How long one man's past would last
It was on his mind
On his mind he would clearly find his thoughts running the wrong way down the line

But he burned the bridges because his intuition said to ignite sins
To watch them burn away to no return
The painful beauty of a clear conscious he would someday learn

The fire of the rising sun that set the pace for a new day had  blazed away the pain as he gave a gaze across the open plains that were his opportunities in disarray

Like wild game he set his sights on the biggest one with his loaded gun but the distance the bullet had to travel had become more elaborate as the landscape that was life began to unravel…

It's hard to say from where he stands...

Where exactly in the distance his bullet lands

Something he realized one night
Is there's only one shot at life
Which path is right
Which path is wrong

These thoughts made his nights seem so long
He hung his head

His patience didn’t pay
He took too long to take a shot
His opportunity had fled
It got away

He tried to chase it but this opportunity wasn't so patient
He wouldn't give up though
He wouldn't face it
He kept on searching
He couldn't embrace it
He suddenly lost the trail
He doubled back
Trying to retrace it
But the dust had set in
A storm was brewing
The sun was setting
The darkness was soon to set in
He tried to get through the night
It would be 3 years until he would see sunlight

Somewhere down that line
He had lost sight
Lost his might

All will to fight the darkness
To live his life
Just as he fell to the ground…

He raised his head and gave one final gaze across the darkened plains…

In the distance were two white eyes staring back so bright
His opportunity approached as the man made his way to his knees
It was a fearsome lion but it invoked no fright  
It helped raise him to his feet
It gave him hope
The sun began rising
It rose to its peak

The lion with it’s golden mane guided him through the plains
Through the desert
Over each sandy *****
Through the mountains
Over each of the ragged stones
Through the swamps
Through the thickest of groves
Passed the marshes
Through the thickest of fogs
It led him through the unknown  

It led him the whole way
It had led him home
He realized that lion
Once his opportunities
Was now his dreams
He would never again be alone
It led him through life
Who would have known

Now this man is in his older age
Now in this man's present days...
He gives a gaze in the mirror
He sees a lion with a golden mane

He smiled as it smiled back but something changed

He finally asked who the lion was…

I t  s a i d  t h e  m a n's  n a m e

In the end it seems
That man from such a darkened past
Is now living his dreams

L i v i n g  h i s  d r e a m s  a t  l a s t
mythie Jan 2018
Cold, violet skin.
Red rose petals fall from my wrist.

The scent is pleasant.
It makes my head spin.

I spew eucalyptus leaves into the overflowing river.
Oleanders flow down my throat.

I puke out the petals, now stained red.
The river flows red as the lilypads sink.

Monkshood flowers cast shadows over my porcelain skin.
I pluck and I pluck and I pluck.

Until my fingertips are stained purple.
I lick them clean.

I weep tears that take the shape of an angel's trumpet.
They sing me a soft lullaby as they seep into my skin.

Pretty foxgloves draw me in closer.
I touch their shell and inhale their scent.

My stomach turns inside out.
Skyflower petals seep from my mouth.

I hadn't noticed until now.
That my entire body was a wilted rose.
Mitch Prax Jan 2018
Why do I love travelling?
because when I travel,
I am no longer me,
No, I am a series of me’s.
I can be who I want to be
In a sea of strangers.  
I can live someone else’s life
away from my daily strife.
I can set a new routine
in a brand new scene
and I can be far away
from my thoughts of grey.
Still, I am always under the same sky
Living another life, chasing another high
Yet it feels like I live in
another universe.
Vyiirt'aan Dec 2017
A blanket of
fractures,

ample rigid structures

A liquid
               s
                e
                 e
                  p
                   s

             the   t   cold
                     r
        frigid   o   fragments
                    u
                    g
           ­   of   h   the

                 north


Where tufts gather in the sherbet of -frozen- dust

The glistening indigo amongst
the platinum
blanket

I shiver.

The cutting
wind

admires the empty
shell

for I stood
there

Gazing at the
noise

Cut black.

In transparent fallacy
The temple of glass amongst the cold
golden

sun

speaking       to                  -me-
referring
pointing                  g
lo­oking         at     n           -me-
                             i
                        ris
                   up
         in an

warcry

i t n e v e r s l e e p s

but
I
awaken.
han Dec 2017
Traveling is like a drug
I’m high when I reach my hand out
the window and feel the wind
When I stand on a mountain
or with my feet in the sand
For a moment this is reality
and I never wanna go home
The world is home
December 6th~ han
KA Poetry Oct 2017
It was a beautiful night in a coffee shop
Warm lights soaking the scenery
Ordered myself a cup of English Breakfast Tea
Enjoying Jazz music

Then there was this beautiful lady.

Sitting while reading books
Sunk into her own world
It is indeed a beautiful scenery
It's like my mouth forcing me to say " hai "

I look at her.

A pair of brown eyes
Soft lips
Making a smile towards the book
Manipulating my brains to do crazy things

She drove me crazy with her eyes.

I don't know what's holding me back
Is it because that I'm shy or afraid ?
Can't take my eyes off her
Distortion that happened in my mind

Am I worth to ask what's her name?

Wondering of her name
Is there even a name that fits such beauty ?
I thought tons of names
But none of that pleased me

Drying up my cold heart
Frozen
Warming up my mind
Warmed

Hello, can I have the honor to know your name ?
31/10/2017 | 19.44 | Indonesia | K.***
Joshua Vittachi Jun 2017
A gentle breeze sweeps over
Carrying leaves of change, coloured by season
Brushing dirt carpets as I walk through
I could tell you where I'm going
maybe

As arches of brown and green give way to sunlight
Creating spotlights where my feet may never land
Moving backward as our solar-sphere dives into horizons
Highlighting where I once was
I could tell you where I am
̶m̶a̶y̶b̶e̶
luca Apr 2017
large panel windows with a view of brick beyond
white (pristine, pure)
untouched fantasies
and
compromised realities


draped in sunlight it tastes bitter like
unaged marble, freshly cut and hung
(on a languid pointe you advance
    — a graceless ballonné)


there’s a peace to be found
in quiescent words dripping in honey   sounding across an empty room
sinking to the soles of your feet
as you dip your toes into discarded symphonies
painting them across my heart.
09:46 am. i was looking out a window at a ******* blank wall and this is the **** i come up w smh
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