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To the God which determines the lifetime of Poets i ask,

let all the poets die with their hearts no longer on their sleeves;

but finally in their throats.
so in our final moments
all the words never written
can, at last,
be spoke.
"Deep inside confide in time your mind"
"Dance in your rhymes and soon you will find"
"Who you are lost inside behind your shallow mask"
"This is all i ask, say thank you for this time my universe"
"When you breathe your last"

When i die, do we die together?
How long do i get to live?
Will i ever find love?
Will we always be alone?
Will i be a hero, a writer, a chef, somebody?
Will i journey and explore, always be me?
Is there a God that hears me, sees me?
Will i ever be truly free, or free to see me?
Is there more to life than this
More than a house, wife, and kids
A car, a job, a routine life that exists
I wish there was magic and monsters and dragons
Not just this
The prison, the questions, the rhymes, the zero affection
I wish someone saw the me that was me inside
Not a face, the mask i show to confide
I wish i could speak, but iam not always one
A man of many, no father, barely a good son
Friendship, and the one i wish i was
Tomplexthis, a king of nothing, but of time i once said
Imagination, exploration, religions, science, and magic
In the world, this one, money is the God, the king
But it isn't everything
What if we were all the kings of our dreams
Free to do as we please
Free, is not always good, it seems
Our laws, rules, societarian downfalls, constraints
Drive us insane, daily stress veins
I may read, or cannot
I wish to speak, sometimes yes, but other times no
I repeat myself, to be heard, and still no one understands
I speak from my head, not with my words
If you could be a hero, what would your ideals be
If you could be a villain, how long would you live here
No one is a God, nobody is immortal, only in words
Carried on slowly, drifting in time, eventually forgotten
The words of our existence, were not truly us
Just the things we said, a mask they saw, had seen
The us that we are, will never be known, the mind
And for me, thats all i was
Tomplexthis, in my dreams, and daydreams
This isn't even poetry, just a thing of thoughts.
Once again, lost forever in time

April 15 2019
a heartfelt message to yourself, to study, read and indulge
try it, let yourself out, and let it all go
you wasn't ready
to
communicate what i really felt
you
were to much rawness
not enough
sharpness
just words thrown at paper in anger and sadness and a desire to finally get them out

i wasn't prepared to fix you up
because i'm in no position
to tell you how to be made right.
so in my spare time
after a days studying
i stand on the pulpit
and talk to an empty room
shouting into the corners all the words i have written for people
who are not listening

like therapy i record these speeches
and play them back to remind me of the flow
of words
that could fill chalkboards whiteboards and lecture notebooks
but carry no weight

sometimes pray that the room is being captured
so someone can tell me to go
or perhaps the security guard finds some satisfaction
in seeing a heart unable to say no
Alex Smith Mar 26
Breaths come in and out
Our open mouths -
But this time you gasp
And grasp
For the words to speak instead
As they form inside your head.
Jenna Mar 21
Your voice floats
with a refreshing confidence
Directing your own show
in front of others
Yet, I cannot seem to do
the same, when
I stand in front of you alone
Wobbling with syllables;
I feel like I'm learning to talk again
making me take a couple steps back;
mastering how to communicate, more
than what I hope my eyes can convey
Talis Ren Mar 5
Trickle-down conversation
Gutter consonants and
Belated verbs
For a rough action
Too late thoughts
And the breaking of

Syntax
Talis Ren Mar 13
Of all the things I’ve written,
I could never look straight
at the scores of drafts
that lay like stiff corpses.

A secret in trio with
two lying dead -
I fancied myself a
mystery novel and
found the shelves filled
with blood.

Someone left the
wine uncorked again.
Shame,
what a shame
that it was drained.

And then library
turned to morgue.
Yaryna Feb 19

My mother taught me,

That you will never read my mind.

And to be heard, the only thing I need – to speak.

But I thought that I was screaming already.

At the top of my lungs.

Further, where Saturn returns.

It appeared that my walls were falling in silence.

And I was falling for you,

Every time in the twilight purple evening.

With morning sun that has knocked at my sleep,

I woke up with a feeling that you're gone.

I didn't need to speak anymore.

As I saw you that morning buying my book.

It's your chance to read my mind,

Again and again.

Until you know the meaning of my

“I needed you so hard I couldn't breathe”.

You could have known the truth,

If you'd just asked me then.

The only issue is –

You never read the book until the epilogue.

And I don't usually spoil the ending at the start.
She was speaking
so mean of a person
I once loved
who was no longer
able to be here
with us.
Speak like that and you'll be the next
one in a grave.

I had the strong urge to say.
Instead,
I tried a kinder phrase of words,
"Lady, please don't speak
that way of the people who have
passed away.
"
I sure hope that doesn't happen tomorrow at the funeral.
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