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One need to
Believe the magic
Of a gravitational endeavor
For the union
Of souls

The Moon wispered
To the Sun

It makes sense
The Sun nodded
Genre: Observational
Theme: Here the gravatational constant is the love
By Arcassin Burnham

To be or not to be , the question is what
does the universe see in me?
Like what's to be enlightening about a
lonely boy from the worst part,
Coming from the south part but learns that there
is more to life than being pure of heart,
And even though the soul is corrupted,
And troubles follows,
The image subjected and tarnished in
Hallows,
Burning old buildings and building up new
ones , see this is the part where it all
falls down,
Everyone is against you even your family,
They don't want you around,
Dead in the ground,
One less person to worry about
And I'm like why can't we just talk it out?
©abpoetry2018

https://arcassin.blogspot.com/2018/10/to-be-or.html
CGW 3d
Up above.
Church bells that vibrate with resonance.
Down below.
The solid earth that grapples with the fear of an apocalypse.
Grass that grips and pulls.
Luminous moonlight from my distant dreams pooling from my pores.
This over growth is my home.
Down by the creek,
you'll find me if I am what you seek.
Turning water into wine.
When I close my eyes I know that there is no difference between this land and me.
Break the darkness.
Break the veil.
The green ones with their seeking limbs, filling up the air, filling up the forest deep.
The leaves and twigs that collect in the drifting yellow suns.
As the deer stood high on the cliff a delicate rain of golden tears shed light on solemn hidden faces.
Seeking light on this path of mine.
Dangling dark vines that swing like pendulums collecting lost souls.
Those that do not make it through left to perish,
left to die.
In tomorrow they restart.
High fidelity voices that press insecurity into them like fists in dough.
Repeat.
Repeat.
The voices in their heads.
They're slippin',
trippin'.
Shaking their heads trying settle down the storm of razor blades within.
There is no return from this far off tear filled island.
All that we see.
All that we are
is wandering souls lost in time.
First draft of spoken word poem
Mic
Hail
Rough
Hail
A body made from the undying devotion was to be forgotten
Built by the memory of devotion's husband.

A swaying heritage
Under the surface
Resting
On a sleepy cloud made of forceful courage.
Her voice
The forest hovering
Above
and all of life
Hanging
From her glass lips of
The worldly wife.

Her weightless gold of skin
Running,
My saviour is a Queen.
Precious beyond anything,
Hey! her love is in everything.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
Ray Casey Oct 5
Souls that are black right to the heart
are like piercing eyes that disenchant
meager presentations of innocence,
destroying for ever the confidence
of arrogant fools who try to stand
unafraid in Bad Backlands!

Evil their will manipulate
guileless ones who congregate
around this land where they put faith
always believing in their mates
powers of deception works from within
murdering trust being guilty as sin.

Never again can we ever conceive
notions of hope or ever believe
that in this state peace is found
for the Hart is Black in this Land!
Deceptive features of this universe,
Bad Backlands the Devils curse!
Bad Backlands. A dwelling for the depressed souls.
Xallan Oct 1
Silly spirits, given a chance at life
We'll never be comfortable,  we'll
never find shoes that don't pinch.
Our skin is too tight:
around our eyes
inside our minds
within our mirrors.
What do we think we are? What lies
have we convinced ourselves of?
We leave our plastic crowns just lying around.
We died and stole a form, so of course
It doesn't fit.
We isn't me, I am not us, this isn't them.
This is nothing.
Sarah Sep 28
Nameless stranger
Come and be my friend
Let us explore this life together
Let us enjoy it before it ends
Read me your so many books
And I shall read you mine
To explore worlds beyond our reach
Worlds made up by authors minds'
Let us learn about ourselves
Let us learn about the world
A world so divine
Yet somehow brutal and cold
Nameless stranger
Come and take my hand
Tell me all your little secrets
And I shall tell you mine
Show me what are you hiding behind those fake smiles
And the pains you conseal behind pretentious happy eyes
Tell me how they broke your heart
And laughed at loud at your pains
And I will show you my broken parts
All the dreams that went in vain
Be careful from my sharp edges
I don't want to cause you another scar
Or add a new wound to your still bleeding heart
A nameless stranger
Yet you are no stranger at all
Those who have experienced agony
Can recognize souls as damaged as their owns.
I wrote this based on an actual stranger I saw a couple of times,
If you notice any mistakes in spelling/grammar do tell me, I'd much appreciate it
claire green Sep 27
the sun illuminates her skin
showing me her soul within
she dances about, warm in the sun
blissfully peaceful in the hidden garden
she opens her eyes
and glances towards me
and her soul drops to her knees
and weeps.
she reaches out with the light surrounding
to show what she feels
i feel warmth and love
i feel beauty and yearning.
i am basking in peace.
i feel my own soul reach out
and for a moment two souls meet
they became one
and all is still except the two souls
dancing as one in the sun.
Marianna Sep 21
i broke down too many times this month
for assuming my place in people's lives.

obscure thoughts of my existence being more than
flesh and bones and two pair of eyes,

or believing i was important for just a few hearts
only to be left with an empty soul and empty hands
im  lonely and abandoned
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