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Inkveined Jan 2017
This is nonsense
All of it
I've given up on rhyme and reason
We're lost, in the middle of everywhere
Alan S Bailey Jan 2017
I awoke each morning, without warning
They came from the front door,
And at night the candles were barely well lit,
They were silent and yet I couldn't
Ignore, this is...what is this?
A vile voice and angry specter
Filling my night with gloom,
Now all that was left, my empty space,
For horrors I would brace ,
I couldn't get them out of my face.
This each night they came again,
Banging cupboards while I slept,
Spinning sofas, shooting rubber bands.
They kept invading my dreams,
Upon my shoulder I saw a hand,
A reflection in a portrait of skulls,
A face of an old graying man...*
All of this and more. All of this sent me off my rocker,
I lost my nerve but couldn't settle the score,
I had no idea what they wanted. I was scared
Within inches of my life they were everywhere,
Like the scattering tiny feet of mice.
And a small little puppet twists his face up
Upon my bed, then a native over the same area
With Tomahawk ready, swinging over his head,
Huge spiders appeared upon the ceiling overhead,
And still I was somehow not aware at that,
But they drove me over the edge.
Her feet in the air while lying on the sofa, long hair,
A glaze in her eyes, hate behind the dark disguise,
It's sad to say I had no idea what I'd seen back then,
But it kept going on and on and on.
Close they always followed, they wouldn't let me be,
But I tell you for once a real haunting thing or three,
All I really know is they just wouldn't let me be free...
No matter what I know, no matter what I dream,
Every now and then something moves to scare me.
I know that it's weird and can't find proof or come close,
But all through the years it appears it was a "Gray Winged Ghost."
L Seagull Jan 2017
In between the Milky Way and the black holes
Of the universe inside of this ever expanding mind
Growing only to see itself ever smaller
Humbled truth feels the most
Adoring
The fragile perfection of sparkles inside the morning dew
And the mind flows in all directions and thoughts
So random but in this infinite state
Logic is only a string you use to control the
Beads of experience and sometimes it helps
And in other times you get a glimpse
Of something unfathomably familiar
And you know that no matter how much Blessings you gathered in life
Without a contact it left an empty space
Or was it there since before the beginning
What DO I know in fact that cancels the
Clarity of the feeling that through a sideways
Glimpse I captured a snapshot of home
In the strangest of places
All this rumbiling cacophony of worlds
Yet again fails to explain
The absence of logic in something
That is beyond logic for it is
The meaning
And despite it all
Life goes on
You play your part
The way you must
The way you feel
And you still know so little
Feeling the truth on the periphery
Ricky J Jan 2017
A dandy gentleman contemplates the human condition.
He sits alone in a french coffee shop,
poetry and philisophy his primary mission.

An awkward mind and deep pocketed heart,  he bites eagerly into a freshly baked maple syrup ****.

His mustache is striking, as though it has a story of its own
He wears a blue velvet coat filled with notes,
not to mention a lifes work of observations and quotes.

He checks his pocket watch from time to time
As he gathers his thoughts to write the next line.

A hint of tobacco can picked up from his vintage clothing  
He's a complicated fellow, enigmatic but soothing.

His top hat well established sits on top of his head
His shoes finley polished black with stripes of red.

A long worn out coat still encapsulates  his grace
He has a slight intensity reavaled in his face

For this mans work will never be done
For madness is in his nature, to him this is fun.
I thought of this person as an essentric versoin of moi in the future
Ovi-Odiete Jan 2017
There's a certain uniqueness in being strange

The thought of being different,
Unique with words,
Best amongst equals


The thought of being the light amidst the dark
Invading all chasms
Shining forth


The thought of being strange,
Like a talisman abstruse
Strong, yet soft in approach


Tall, yet bend when the wind blows,
Cold, yet melt with emotions,
Better by far


Best amongst equals

Ovi Odiete© Jan, 2017
I just needed to write something to come out of writing drought
Ricky J Jan 2017
If I could tip toe on the edges of the universe.
I'd do it ostentatiously with a top hat and orange shoes.

If I could slide down a rainbow I'd do so in a dicky bow.
If I could walk on water, I'd play the banjo

If I could travel though time I'd drop you line 'I wish you were here'
I'd arrange a 5th dimensional candle lit dinner

If we could stay together forever and ever, I'd throw in another century just for good measure.
Devin Lawrence Dec 2015
"You are one in a million."
                                            - Then you realize
                                               that means there must be
                                               THOUSANDS
Just.
                               Like.
                                                           ­          You.

So you worry,
You fret,
You wonder
What it takes to
stand                                                         ­                                                 apart.
Youtrythi­ngsyouwouldnototherwise.
U do thingz you can never 4get;

                                                          ­                           All just to be
                                                              ­                                              original.

You write and profess
about matters you hardly understand.

You torture yourself
to
s            t              r             e              t                c                      h
your limits.

You educate yourself
So to think
Like no one el$e ha$.

You adopt strange habits
In fluctuating,
                                                    ­                                        foreign
                 ­                         accommodations.
Then you
                                  r                  m       ­                                  e
                                               u                             l
                          c                                    ­       b
when it all
                   slips...
                                            
           ­                                                                 ­        You almost feel
                                                            ­                                 Original.


                                                     ­                       ...away...        


You change your name,
Take on a new identity-
One like they've never seen.
Bleach your personality
And sulk behind lifeless, purple hair-
Garishly placed among a black and white world-
While inhaling toxic fantasies
That suffocate-
No, wait, perhaps they liberate-
Those things that make you feel
alive
and unique.

                                                        ­                                 You are the Original.

You are unlike any force ever know. You are the thunder's roar and the wolf's howl.
But you can't shake this ominous feeling:

                                         *You've become unoriginal
This is why I hand-write my works first....
Echoes Of A Mind Jan 2017
She looked into the mirror
  But saw nothing but tears
How strange, she thought...
*  That this emptiness feels.
Matthew Rousseau Jan 2017
Out by the Strange Creek a little drunk,
I built a tower of stone, an imaginary throne,
I pondered of power and sat on a stump,
The moon hung like an old friend from up above,

There were many around, laughing and happy,
A few on the guitar sounded a little sappy,
Tents dotted the river, and I dipped my tows in the sand,
The stars up above illuminated the camp but not the bands,

Too many drugs made there way around,
back in the woods everyone gathered around a stage,
and jammed the music, they blazed,
for themselves, their future, but mostly the present,
Their bodies swayed, in a daze,

Acid, ****, liquor and E
Oh boy, it was a party,
but the last bit of my sober self,
turned inwards and the whole of me felt,
the seven chakras flowing through me,
connecting me to infinity,

We partied for three days, acid babies littered the place,
We drank for our mistakes, and listened to The Machine,
The wall flowing through me,
We freed our bodies, and our souls to the void,
On the last night we were over joyed,
But now that I'm leaving I feel it slipping away

My crown chakra back into the haze,
My mind's eye back into a cage,
My throat chakra back underneath,
My heart chakra feels only grief,
My solar plexus can't handle a nexus,
My sacral is fine though, trust me,
But my roots,

They don't even trust me
Look up chakras to understand deeper if you aren't familiar with them, please.
Who knows where it all will end?
Who knows what we really are?
Who they really are?
If you get rid of society, friends and family
If it's just you and planet earth
Just you and people you have no relation or connection to
Who are you then?
You can't know
You will never know
Who you really are
If noone or nothing told you who to be
What to do or not to do
What's socially acceptable and what's not
How to treat people or not treat people
If nothing was said or unsaid,
How would it be?

What is this? What is earth? What are humans?
What is everything? Why is everything?
Why is everything as everything is?
How would everything be if nothing was as everything now is?
What would nothing be, if nothing was decided?
And would there even be an everything?
Who decided what everything's definition is?

To be so clever that we, humans, are
To create everything we, humans, have
We're also the most stupid, narrowminded, selfish and ungrateful creatures at the same time

Isn't it bittersweet? Isn't it strange?
I find everything strange, I find myself strange and everyone else strange
If you think about it, nothing is not strange.
Isn't it strange?
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