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The world is broken.
Not just cracked,
Like a chip out of a shot glass,
Like a scratch on a bathroom mirror-
It's shattered-
tearing itself apart,
Succumbing to chaos and greed
Like they were the only things we had to choose between.
The violence and anger that's erupting-
It's in schools
On the streets
In our churches
In our homes-
Consuming and replacing
The hope we might have had for peace
And a future;
For anything more than we ever wished we could be.
Who stole our dreams,
And made us think this is what we're destined to be?
Who forced these lies down our throats
Until we gave up and allowed our hearts to be stolen,
Our eyes to be blinded?
Or did we sell our souls as commodity,
Bargaining away what made us yearn to live;
Piecing out parcels of ourselves and our
For just one more minute of time
That we think we are owed?
Not to seem crazy,
But what if the answer lay in the depths of our souls,
Where we never look,
For fear that weve been wrong all along?
What if the answer was compassion,
and solidarity-
An irrational belief that the world can be healed,
Instead of brought to its knees?
And what if our anger could be used to progress,
By living for happiness,
By practicing kindness and love?
I know, I know-
It sounds-
      Old news-
         Last year's hippie tripe;
But what if your refusal
Is because you already dont care?
What if not trying is what broke things in the first place,
And your apathy is the poison you feed yourself daily?
The world is sad,
and broken;
But then...
maybe we are too.

I love you.

And not just for the overflowing amounts of positive awareness;
not just for the thrilling outer casing of a body, a body I view as now sacred, more than just art.
You are a temple of admiration, and your soul is lucky to make a home within you.
Most would envy you; with your seemingly endless success and compassion, we are one in the same.
We are so much more than our outward appearances, so much more than the tainted and blurred vision of those who are almost permanently scarred, overrun with a jealous mind, and a jealous heart.
Their souls are blinded, caged, and every spot of energy within themselves blocked up with false beliefs.
But we; we are so much more than this. We are obsessed with the love we partake in.
Your touch, I crave. It's as if the energy is literally seeping from the pads of your crafted fingertips into my being.
What drives you is passion. We are so full of it, which is why we are the almost sickeningly perfect match.
My head, my energy, is in the constant state of refusal to reality.
Some may say, my head is stuck in the clouds. But that is an entirely false statement.
My head is caught in the exosphere, facing the Universe with the steadiest of a gaze.
You take me back to the harsh reality, but together we craft it, in seemingly flawless harmony.
My soul faces this lifetime with courage, without a minuscule strand of doubt.
Together, our souls now proclaim a unity, an indistinguishable frequency. Never perfect, but passionate in our vision.
I bid you all the credit, all my love. For you will be my first and only love until  the final hour fate justifies otherwise.

For Ang <3
Ruch Jan 2019
I found the sky beneath my horizon
I flew to the plains majestic and vast
I rang the bells of the god in the mountains
I breathed the air of the valley enchanting
I saw the wanderers throught their quest and thirst
I saw the men fall for the valleys at dusk
Ive seen the love that grows beneath the trees
Like the shadowed cloud on a monsoon eve
I felt the drench and the drops so hard
And the mother river flowing very deep and far
I had no doubts And I also believed
I was still curious I was still keen
I had to wander I had to dream!!
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018
Being angry at the world shouldn't
stop you from living.
I know, because I've been there.
Lyn x
I once had a girlfriend.
oh boy, right
Or some of you might be thinking:
who the **** cares
This is my poem
So ******* :)
I once had a girlfriend
Oh how dear was she.
Perfect gurl
Perfect eyes
Perfect hair
Perfect personality
I wish she could have been forever.
But I'm sure you figured out we broke up when I said "once "
But she was like the perfect matchup.
Like pizza and pepperoni.
Coke and ice
Rock music and a lake
I dunno
This gurl,
She was so cool
But I was a fool
(Rhymes, eh, eh?)
She thought I was too  nice.
Too **** nice.
I have no idea what to say still.
What's wrong with being nice?
As if
She wanted someone to call her a ***** and a liar
(Which she wasn't)
She was a good gurl.
Why wasn't I?
Because I
too nice
That's who I am
A label on my forehead.
"The nice guy"
It's amazing
(A curse)
see I'm ******
Because I want a gurl
Who will love me
Be a "nice girl"
So I ask.
Are you  the nice one?
Will you feed my soul
With the love we both need?
I dunno
Do You?
All I know is
I sure wanna **** answer
mokitovice May 2015
there was no sound, but the sound of wind
no movement, but her dress twirling through the air

she was supposed to be afraid
scared, drowning and confused
but for the first time she could read the sky
and smiled

being her was to raw
being someone else was fake
was she picturing it all in her head?
she had traveled all the roads and created new ones
but was it enough?

so she flew, she flew as fast and far as she could
that fast, that she thought her wings were going to break
and maybe they did, maybe she got lost,
maybe she disappeared,
maybe some remembered her, maybe no one did

so she escaped,
escaped to the place where the skies are purple
and there's gold flamingos
rubi stars that share their secrets
dancing demons with cellophane treasures
Hidden in endless forest with a touch of mist
III Apr 2015
All the while, as I stare up and think and attempt to make something of the thoughts swimming in my head like fish who cannot see, and the mouth of the everything full of so much nothing that surrounds me spews back not a single hint, you, the girl whose hair is licked a charred brown from the crackling fire of passion swirling from your inners, you, the love of my life, all that may have been past and all after ones too, you are the anchor of my imagination, the stone to hold down my wonder, and keep it from floating off into the vastness of the loneliness that consumes everything that is not here, in your arms, against the soft breeze of your touch, and then I know that everything is well, and all the unspoken beauties of the Universe only mean for me to wrap around you in way of mind and soul and body and laughs we share beside a city without lights, five stories above the world and soaring ever higher.
A bit of a vignette.

— The End —