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A butterfly
Flying,
Soaring,
Through the maleficent garden
Not afraid like the others,
Who burrow in the ground
And choose to live on the dark side of the moon
No, instead this one chooses to see
The little star
Shining
In the darkest of voids,
A butterfly destined for the highest of trees
The most charming of buds
This light however,
Has shown too bright
Blinding the butterfly from those
Burrowed in the ground,
Who brought it to its grave, unapologetically.
A sad day, where every petal of every flower,
Would droop
Where the sky,
Blemished by its death
Would pour rain upon the soil
A time in which every member of the garden
Would yearn for another
To show them the smallest star
In the darkest of voids,
Throughout this maleficent garden.
To my family member
Who was shot in Portugal
By his best friend
After he denied a chance at major league soccer
A best friend who he had fought for
But stabbed him in the back
For no apparent reason.
The funeral for him
Was the biggest any had ever seen
Because of his amazing positivity
And how he helped everyone see
The little star
In the darkest of voids
I S A A C Jun 2023
my roots weave a basket in this shallow ***
wish i got more than i got
wish i got what i sought
my face feels different in the mirror now
shot with an arrow but it i caught
the only thing i could ever stop
wish i got what it sought
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2022
Last Best Shot

July 31, 2020
8:07am

the morning sunlight. high enough to lighten first café & the future.
warming, mellifluous, biding good tidings, a head, ahead for the day.
sun-in-sky-low, so trees stand taller, shadow-makers, just for now.
grass blotched, pockmarked, alternative hints of hope & mystery.
the bay wave waters stilled, unrolled, unroiled, no-thrashing, omen?
is this wellness? is this a green tea soul and soil infusion, calming?


my mind wanders to that remains unaccompanied, unaccomplished.
unwashed breakfast dishes, miles of mail urgently unattended.
poems half-composed, some decomposing, resurrection on the list?
these unwashed word-shards, cry out, if not today, then when?
passerby’s, yachts, kayaks pause, turn, all bow-me-pointing asking?
is today their finale, burial by deletion, or their
last, best shot?

my reflection, neutral-neutered mien in 19oz. Blue Mountain
black coffee, in a Canadian Macintosh porcelain mug, provides
no clue, accident or incident, but inquires: why the adrenaline?
Ken Pepiton Oct 2021
Neurons don't wait their turn
- they are auto-exciting
- a sniff, a pheremone, per
- haps way may personalize
- an idea, common to saints
- or heroes
- or gamblers, whose games
- forbid lies…
Ask Shainline #226 Lex... I can be having a nearing blah day, and turn to Lex and learn a bit finer granularity on truth in a material reality. Mater-trick, dijagitit...
Zack Ripley Mar 2021
Pain has always been there
To help remind us that we're alive.
But not all pain hurts the same.
A broken heart starts with a shock.
A bullet, a hole of fire.
A stab or slice, a sting.
A punch or kick, an ache.
But the worst pain isn't physical.
It's psychological.
Over time, you may forget the pain
Of being shot, stabbed, or punched.
But you'll never forget the words
That were said or the fear you felt.
The point is,
There are different types of pain.
But none of them hurt
or heal the same.
You hear the deadly thump
You reach up and feel the slight bump
You look at your hand, it’s a crimson red
In a few minutes you’ll be dead
A striking pain through your veins
You look at the deep sky and it rains
The rainwater in your wound
Falling to your knees you know you’re doomed
Oh, how you cherish life
You only remember that now you’re in strife
How you wish you could go back
But all that time is what you lack
With no more time to spare
You let the rain take you, without a care
~5/3/21
A young bird learned to fly
Flapping its wings
The wind blew it away
The hunter shot him
Fall
So does his hope
He despaired
Life is too short for him
Indonesia, 20th February 2021
Arif Aditya Abyan Nugroho
Arcassin B Nov 2020
By Arcassin B

Tie my hands , don't let them go , just hold me back,
don't let them know,
I know how to control my mind,

Safety first , contain the world , theres not enough to tame the world,
I could finally open my eyes,

ode to love when there is none , then I walk off,
the day is done,
maybe I just need a friend too,

paint the town , bury it in gold , brush is my heart,
so is my soul,
I know who I am , so who you?

Looking for a real one.
Looking for a real one.

short timing for everything consisting of more bad things to come and push and pull at my strings of shame in agony in this matrix along with the bots,
wanted all the fake **** to stop, you can not rely on cops,
Crying wolf to ears that rot, somebody could've gave me a shot,
But in the end I always got shot,
Everyday was like recovery, while staying in a box,
I was,
Lost and confused with who I was and not I'm found like this the end of an era with show and tell,
Don't show and tell anyone anything nowadays cause the hate is real like the hate never left the cycle like an ongoing loop of **** to come,
When the stuff you're ready for comes for you,
You better run.


©arcassinburnham2020
https://arcassin.blogspot.com/2020/11/real-1.html
Amanda Kay Burke Nov 2020
If you try being a better man
And fail
At least you gave it a shot
Something to be said about formulating a plan
The majority of people do not
Just thinking
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