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Perdue Poems Apr 2019
Take me to that quiet place
Take me to that quiet place
away from functions of the day
Both mindless work and child’s play
Oh! Heart and Mind both loudly say
Take me to that quiet place

Wishing for that quiet place
Wishing for that quiet place
Timeless hours stretch the night
Twilight filled with bright moonlight
Oh! I wish for life’s alight
For silence of that quiet place

Behold at last! That quiet place
Behold at last that quiet place
Silent air leaves soothing ear
A beating heart most scarcely here
Light descends and I call dear
Take me to that quiet place.
GoldenVirgo Apr 2019
There's this weight that numbs my entire body.
I rarely ever feel awake enough to call for someone.
Smiling here and there, winging my existence.
Attempting to attempt to go with the unpredictable flow.
It's stripping the lives I invest in, bankrupting me of any connections.
Isolated by everything but darkness, seeping in, like an infection.
Neglected and forgotten, oh no, there goes my monophobia.
Rapidly repeating this cycle of depravity, what a f*cking tragedy.
My fortune is as fortunate as living but being brain dead.
Instead of ever really feeling here, disconnected, stuck in bed.
Like this evil aura projects a demon over the body of a moth.
I'm being abused by something, blinding me, i'm lost.
I'm no one's friend, no one's love interest, no one's first choice.
Not that I want that, but I only really ever just wanted love.
But the one thing I wanted, when I could have wished for anything,
Is the one thing that constantly gets taken away from me...
I just don't want to feel alone, forgotten, on my own...
There goes my monophobia...anxiety is elevating.
I don't have panic attacks, so where does it all go?
Building up an evil to consume my soul?
Trapped in a life built on feeling like a fool, not too good not so bad.
I want to scream, let my tears stream, but I feel stuck.
In the end, I can't even cry, I just move on...
And it laughs, playing with it's little brittle fingers
Watching me break and mold until I'm cold and too old
Like a moth with it's wings ripped off at birth with the wish to fly.
This evil thing is using me as a sacrifice and it wants me to die.
Taliesin Mar 2019
Enfield punches the ground, wheels throw up muddy rainbows
from where they sank with the rain. The rider, some fresh young college thing,
flinches as it ricochets off his goggles, then unsteadily pulls away
wrestling with this strange machine. The old blokes laugh
with their propane cookers and badger-stripe beards, slick
with bacon grease and spit. Outside the beer tent
a kid fingers an old blues tune on a scarred and beaten acoustic.
Coins thrown into an old railway cap, her grandfather’s
smile golden in the sunrise.
Chase Parrish Mar 2019
Onward we trudge to Miserthorpe.
On blood soaked dreams to lend support.
Knock-kneed, railing, gasping for breath
We march through the marsh toward our death,
But death will not out soul's escort.

The hordes of the undying court
Will shortly rend our lives cut short.
There is no hope; never the less...
Onward we trudge

Oh, if the past I could abort
I would have strived to build rapport
With that young lass from Watercrest.
My dreams of glory reassessed.
Yet time moves on without distort.
Onward we trudge
This is going to be a part of a collection of poems I call The ****** Journal.
You see my friends and I play a lot of D&D, and we ran a campaign in my friends world where there's this area called the deadlands, and I wanted to tell the story of an unnamed solder having to fight against the evil there. Feel free to drop a critique, as I haven't done too much poetry where I am not the speaker. So this will be kindof new to me.
Sarah Doughty Mar 2019
Sometimes I am lost in space
My reflection is not my face
I see what's behind the veil
On the waves of consciousness I set sail

So what is this abomination
Deep inside my fractured mind
I remember all the people
That I may have left behind

And so I will not remember
With the help of drugs and *****
By the time it is September
I will have nothing to lose
Vinyldarling Feb 2019
we always think about what we did with our lives
and what did it get us.
for me I gained nothing more than musings at 3am
in a forgotten spot in a forgotten town.
I was always welcomed with the smell of stale coffee that hadn’t been brewed fresh since lunch merely ten hours before.
It wasn’t a friendly welcome but it was a welcoming.

here, in this small lit up space,
I found myself disappear into something else
No longer was I was person in a cubicle, answering phones,
submitting numbers into a tired system.
I was someone who although couldn’t beat insomnia,
I made it apart of my life.
I would learn about others
and mold myself from my own clay into something new.
I made it a point to learn from my tired mind and thoughts,
I made sure I made not sleeping soundly through the night worth it.

It was always somber; just a tear stained cheek away from being devastating;
I found my home here
in the lit up shop on the corner of Sullivan and Orchard;
Where I would always be greeted by the smell of stale coffee that hadn’t been brewed fresh since lunch merely ten hours before.
Euphie Jan 2019
With poets' sinew, the dream I have will be
played like a harp until I wake.

Until the time comes
I hope one day...
the elixir that remains
in my mouth will last
until death comes.
Eleanor Sinclair Dec 2018
Another year, now older
Am I wiser?
Perhaps, but surely bolder
What can I say
I feel more or less the same

The years float by, entrancing
But each no more enhancing
The reflection has no change
Yet my vision has less range
The wrinkles aren't yet there
And the grey has not attacked my hair
But somehow I feel aged
In my own mind encaged
I don't mind the sound of my years
For some it brings them to solemn tears
I find it sort of soothing
As evidence that life is moving

The time is comes and goes
When it will end, no one knows
But for now on earth it snows
And the howling wind still blows
GoldenVirgo Dec 2018
A little tyke once had a dream
To find true love within this stream
Though not he knew what this could mean
He moved with eyes of hope they beamed.

The tyke had learned his love was queer
To this world, his love was their fear
He moved on so, no time to cry
He knew his dream still touched the sky.

The boy has lived a journey or two
He's not yet done, his dreams still new
He hopes he'll meet a dreamer too
Who will keep him till their souls are due

The man still kind of has his plan
He's not met mutual men in the end
His dream is aging, it's near its last life
He's falling so fast, blending with the cold black night

The hermit doesn't have a dream
His only desire is to die peacefully
As the lost got their wants now they're left with no heart
The hermit's heart's hollow, he's left it in the dark.

Now a soul left to leave without serenity
Who'd have known that one wish would die out of plenty
Left alone in the dark of this phase of new death
Hopefully, this will mean that he can finally rest...
Sorry to be sad, but this is one poem out of two.
Sonya Dec 2018
It's supposed to be my birthday party
I'm not really paying attention
But it should be my birthday party
My mind is fading into fiction
Why celebrate my life?

My friends are all playing together
I'm not playing with them
They are still playing together
Pajamas tearing at the hem
Why celebrate my life?

It's not even my birthday now
It was some weeks ago
Born as leaves began to fall
And now there's falling snow
This isn't about ME at all
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