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Jace Joseph Apr 2
Walls made to crumble, I keep moving though a stumble, scared of what I'd see amongst all the ruins.
After life of a world that once was, but it's okay because it's what everyone else does, right??
Sulking in the shadows as an opportunists, everything will turn out okay they always insists, but they always blink away their lies.
Fast asleep in my world unseen, blades with an edge ever so keen, Please excuse me while I cut myself into pieces.
Burn away my imperfections, ears creeping to hear any objections, for anyone one to save me from the night.
In late hours I begin to sway, smouldering away, into ashes the wind drags me still.
Raghu Menon Nov 2019
Swaying in the wind,

Floating with the current

Songs of the breeze

So light and so fragile

Swaying in the wind,

Floating with the current

Songs of the breeze

Taking you to the past

Of your childhood memories

A time of no worries

A land of complete freedom

Swaying in the wind,

Floating with the current

Songs of the breeze

Having no worries

Simple things of happiness

Pure ecstasy and liberation

Swaing in the wind

Floating with the current

Songs of the breeze.
Amanda Jun 2018
I am a dandelion swaying back and forth
A windswept soldier, started a seed
Stretched towards sun, looking like a beautiful flower
Inside I know I will always be a ****.
When you look at a dandelion it can be seen as a **** or a wish
Bardo Mar 2018
Often I lie awake at night
just listening to the sea
uninterrupted in its chant
and in its undying task,
full of the whispers of Time
swaying back and forth inexorably
touching upon eternity,
surging against, then subsiding
rolling continuously onto the shore.

Often I lie awake
listening to this animal untamed
roaming free,
this ghost resting easy
under the shade of immortality.


The sound of the sea
it fills my dark, my staring room,
it caresses.....
like the phantom tides that roam
   through ear shaped shells
     onto forbidden beaches
        in endless dreams
A ghostly interlude. The 'ear shaped shells' would be a reference to the whelk shell, when you hold it up to your ear you can hear the sound of the sea in the caverns of the shell.
Poetic T Sep 2017
Old rocking chairs sways
       in the wind of

Collecting fragile memories
      viewed over silent

The world moves on
                       but memories
                viewed sitting here
Poetic T Jul 2017
Paper rainbows were hanging
lucid on the breeze of my reflections.

But then my emotions collected
in pools of stagnant regression.

Negative echoes only hung now,
a noose of happier times swaying.
Poetic T Apr 2017
I hear the rustling of the leaves colliding upon
the others like a bumper car ride but no one is driving.
Voicing in motions that they are moved silently.

I envision the swaying, like the crest of natures
wave coalescing like feathers in flight anchored
till the season ebbs there dance to a fall.
AB May 2016
Moving left to right,
Hips sway slowly,
Hair brushing one shoulder to the next,
Eyes closed and lips miming the words
She hears in her head.

We all wish those words were ours,
That our creativity made her move that way.
But they're not ours,
She's dancing to someone else's song
Crystal June Mar 2016
The time is exactly two forty-five,
And I’m out here alone
Below the February sky
Just trying to find a way to feel alive.
You know what that’s like?

I got my headphones on,
Dressed to un-impress,
Playing my current favorite song
With my hair all in a mess.

And you’re on my mind again,
Like an imaginary friend
That I just can’t seem to grasp.
Are you fiction, are you fact?
You’re everything that I lack.

And I’m in a place that I can’t describe,
Swaying to the music
At two forty-five.
The longer I’m alone,
The longer I’ll survive,
So I’ll dance the night away
Beneath this February sky.

And then the cops drive by
On this cool February night,
And you’re still not in sight -
All I can see is flashing lights.

And they stop and ask if everything’s alright,
Ask how many drinks I’ve had this night.
I just keep swaying and sigh
Because I’ll never get it right,
And all of this is just a waste of their time.

So I say,
“Sorry officer,
I’m not drunk,
I’m just psychotic.”

And they look into my eyes,
And much to their surprise,
I’m simply sober, and alive
Below the February sky.

Then I take their hands and pull them with me,
Although they can’t hear the song,
And they try to fight, but I don’t let them,
I just laugh and sing along.

The time is roughly three o’five,
And I’m being detained
Under the silver moonlight.
And the February sky watches on…

I guess you’ll never know quite what it’s like,
No, you’ll never know what this feels like.
When you get pulled over by the cops, you can either get upset or get inspired. (Though, to be fair, I got a little bit of both.)
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