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Stain the whiteness,
With my likeness.
My Poetry
And let me guess,
You threw away the key?

The Trust we've mustered, and dusted off,
In the past, has only set fast our reasons to not.
Time, and time again...

We've finished with this pain,
Locked away,
We keep our scythe-d hearts...
still-bleeding from the wounds of years ago.

Our still-beating heart that somehow survives,
Despite itself...
And the lines we've drawn.

I am the great wall with no gate.
And nothing inside...
But with nothing to hide,
I hope.

I'm just afraid,
You'll come by,
and give me another reason to...


You've given me another reason to not.
I hold the keys to many hearts,
but not my own.

You've put the table on the wrong side,
as well as the door.
Six locks,
To keep the blight inside,
But not to hide from us all.

These blue eyes see through those sighs of grief.

You've not locked yourself inside.
Just put your pains away.
May leave your strains behind,
And fly,
Away to breathe the sighs of relief that you couldn't wait to see.

Don't lock away your heart,
Because here's the key
In Response to "Locked Out" by Adrasteia
In this way I see these too,
The cohesive clumps of rabid thoughts,
Running, scampering, dancing of their own tune,
Careless of any other.

I try to decipher this life where it all makes sense,
To everyone but me.
To breathe in the same winds as the hints of a summer's bloom,
means to me,
not the same as you.

Brooding at the corner of my unkempt bed,
Imagining, the latter days where I may have just stepped aside,
To cry inside,
but in plain view.
To decipher these nights where nothing makes sense,
Makes sense,
To me,
and to you.
In Response to: "Bad Poetry" by LolaPark
Shall I paint you a picture?
With my pen and paper I may yet sing you a song,
With these scrolls I scribe, away to see my each and every perspective, prospective to today's little happenings,
blissfully ignorant to what happened just a few seconds ago.

You see,
My words are the arts,
You paint with your heart.

the tiny little strings in my mind.

dancing to a different tune each and every day,
the world plays my songs.

eyes wandering around the room while I play with my thoughts,
like the child I never won't be.

cross-legged and slumped over as the heated droplets dribble down my spine,
and fall from my weary lips,
that which are worn from the words I never got used to saying,
singing the songs of my each and every day,

coalesce the thinkings that have somehow let me dance to where I sit today,
forlorn petals fall from my branches in beautiful pastels, cursed to live in the winding winds.

Aday to each and every day that I sing and prance within my tiny little heart,
washing my pains away.

ill-weighed upon my shoulders,
as yet i dance some more,
beneath the turbid downpours engulfed in shades of red.

i wish't to see the blue,
the green,
the steam, arising from my skin.

narrowly weeping within my little box of horrors i keep by my side,
in remembrance of each and every day i have and will yet shed a tear.

haunted lullabies revel on and on,
each and every day,

i crave the pieces of the peaces i'd once known.
to here,

i shut my eyes,
and into the blackness bursts forth colors i've never seen,
and will never see again.
to see that which i've never seen.
silent shapes shaping away falling through my fields of vision,
and inform themselves to the visions I write today,
so here,

i simply continue,
to plick,
and pluck,
the tiny strings inside my mind,

and every day.

~Robert van Lingen
Amoy Feb 2018
By Amoy

Breathe…Breathe…heart beat, life!
Inhale, inhale. I saw your chest rise,
Exhale… exhale… no!  no! No! No! No!
Weeping, weeping, wailing sounds
Beep.... beep.... beep.... Beep..
Sorrow, grief, pain, grief, sorrow pain
Tears I can’t control, I’m in… I’m out.
The sorrow is deep in my soul
Soul, spirit, tears, dust
Why must this be us?
Soul, spirit, tears, dust, how can this be us?
Must… must… I must see her first
Silence, pain, silence, pain
I watched my baby get carried
I saw, I saw, I can still hear
I want, I want, I need her near
Good-bye little bird, your chirp is dear
Look to the heavens and have no fear
We shall, we shall, meet again, the time is near
Goodbye goodbye my dear!
Mara W Kayh Dec 2018
This is for you,
The invisible
Tucked away
Even in the blaring light

This is for you
The silent
The silenced
The golden caged voices
Who having seen the light
keep inside
Lest it be too powerful for others to bare

This is for you
The holy,
The kind
The patient
And compassionate
Who seek no accolades or fame

In whose faces we will recognize
Mothers, daughter, sons and fathers
Of time immemorial
Came from nowhere a couple months ago, saved it in drafts, forgot about it, came across it today, and though it hasn't been edited or labored on, I decided to just put it out there.
Em MacKenzie Nov 2018
The stack of stones in my throat
lodged firm since my youth,
The ship sunk but I missed the boat
my lies are soaked in truth.
Every remaining image has been erased,
I miss it more than I admit,
maybe it’s just been misplaced,
in an area left forgotten to sit.
Scribbling an echo down
my notebook’s incomplete,
lacking adjective to a noun,
description’s too discreet.

The road evolves into an ice rink,
snow piles now a wood board.
A ***** comes and down I’ll sink,
time lost I can not afford.
The cold embraces that replaced heat,
radiation poisoning from the sun,
but still the rays felt so sweet,
I thought I was it’s only one.
Translating from a heart,
the message is unclear,
a sentence that could never start,
and one we could never hear.

Now I see all the fires lit,
playing chance with a flame,
this round I don’t wish to forfeit,
but I’m not ontop of my game.
The breadcrumbs I left as a trail,
are far and few inbetween,
and so far they’ve gotten stale,
blue mold blends in with the green.
Reciting a favourite memory,
one I wish I could forget,
replace the plot points cleverly,
and rearrange the character set.

Praying for a dedication
from any soul to stop,
but I’ll take my medication
until my eyes drop.

Heart fire,
all admire.
Heart fire,
it will never tire.

Scribbling an echo down
my notebook’s incomplete,
lacking adjective to a noun,
description’s too discreet.
Scribbling an echo down,
my notebook’s incomplete,
to the words forever bound,
feelings wedged in concrete.
Dani Nov 2018
Incoherently decreasing my voice ...
                             Spinning?                       Spiraling?

                                       Absolutely falling!!
In love? Or into darkness?
                                                What is this called?

            I AM FLYING!!

Oh, what a sharpness...
                                          To find out you are falling.

Whispers slowly growing
                                               Shadows casting.

A dark world turned black ...
                                               Falling still?
                                                                   No I think I am flying!?
Up above ... I swear it!

I must be lifting higher!
                                          Or am I just ... falling too fast?

I do not know what I cannot understand.

What a terror
                         Oh the despair

Screams envelope the blackness
                                                          Beauty glides along my veins

                                   Flowing up from my body

                 Amazing trickles of red dots moving above

                                  How can I stop, catch myself?
Where is love?
Spontaneous write. Just spilled out. I couldn't bring myself to edit it as I want to do too many things. Maybe one day I can elaborate, but right now I don't even understand it.. This work.. just is what is is.
The most painful type of pain,
Is the pain, we never knew would come,
Betray'd by our senses.
The most painful type of pain,
Turns us into trustless husks,
of Who we used to be.
In response to
"Untitled" by **** Em
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