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Niki Gray Jul 2019
What's the point of it all
learning to rise
yet then again fall.
Falling into the abyss
the clutches of hell.
Until I've had enough
of this cold, dark well.
Sick of the gloom, doom in this tomb
I cast off my doubt.
I feel my fiery soul
burning its way out.
Made my choice to burn bright
igniting the light with in.
Knowing that when I fall
darkness will beckon me again.
It is my decision to embrace defeat,
to quit or stay down,
or rise to my feet
regaining my crown.
I starting writing poetry a year or two ago and have shared it with very few close friends.  They encouraged me to post some of my work. Thank you Christian Love, Favour, Sheela and my little sister. So here it is and I hope you enjoy reading it.  I have more work to share if you enjoy it.
Poetress2 Apr 2019
When she was but a child,
she built a man-made shell;
And there she would retreat,
on her many trips to Hell.
~
No animosity or strife,
did ever reside there;
She was at peace within it,
no expectations or cares.
~
She felt peaceful and secure,
as she rid herself of the Beast;
Who tortured her, every night,
before she went to sleep.
~
There was no chance for escaping,
for it came without a sound;
And in the quiet of the night,
her teardrops hit the ground.
~
At least she had her tomb,
a place where no one came;
If not for her safe place to hide,
she might have gone insane!
neth jones Apr 2019
(not ringing)
Bringing shrill
in a sense vacuum
a violence

Mewing, gut string taut
shock shell
instrument strung
along the centre of a tester tube

Abused sense-fully
with over leaden silence
packed tomb
vacuum
provision tank
a violence

Violin
waves
admin crowding
crowning grin
audience of labcoaters
a tinny able
a stint completed in this pressure test
out come;
all fists and winning
soldier born
a re-spun sinner
Guinea Pig
Birth
Exsperiment
melinoe immortal Mar 2019
I scream, inside the tomb
--
they placed the bomb
---

that used to beat and left it rot
----

wondering what was the cause
----

of such a breakdown.
Denial is great, when people  refuse to blink into reality and admit permanent damage done to souls that have survived incomplete wreckage of spirit. Denial as a mechanism of spiritual stagnation, impedes possible progress and progression into acceptance and resolution of problems; forgiveness. Denial morphed into a coping mechanism for the weak, covering mental instability.  Inevitably, those who have been let down, rejected;  in darkness their insides that has been unwillingly painted by others. Some still suffer mentally inside their little box, accepting what has been done, the past that has been and the current battles to overcome.  The blackness is there in a present term, and  hope as well for the ones who scream silently, but carry no sign of it in the morning. The scream of the child buried and the smile and promise of the grown up to itself, never to become an example of the ones who are in denial. Never to cause physical or mental harm that is untreatable, to bring light to those who have been through the same. To never forget, but learn to expect everything from people; not imitate sources of malice, be vigilant and learn that denial and not taking responsibility can only lead to a progressive spiritual Disintegration.
Chris Jan 2019
I found a pretty apple tree and dug myself a grave,
In it I've left my body, words and a sad mind,
All those things in life to whom I were a slave,
All will in the end be gladly left behind.

On every face I see, the same old tired smile,
That always hides a riddle, a story or a myth,
Always full of secrets, always full of lies,
That turn around the smoke o'er the fire pits.

Through rainy eyes I see the dawning of the day,
I admire sun in its morning glory,
I feel its healing beams carrying me away,
And the final darkness- the end of my story.

I picked a snow white flower, and saw in it my death,
In every petal written the end to my pain,
I've crossed this cursed field the path to my last breath,
My soul thus has left me in the light of day.
I found a pretty apple tree and dug myself a grave.
Slime-God Nov 2018
I sit and sulk a seeping sorrow
spreading through the scorching sand
as silence slowly fills the land.

and deep beneath;
a squalid tomb
a dark and smoky little room
it’s there I sulk
and there I brood
It’s where I’ll likely meet my doom
Brynn S Nov 2018
Ringing
Burst of nothingness
Fallen into mind
They scream
They bleat
Falling silently
Nothing to fleat
The flies swarm
They fleat
The tombs hide
Continue to eat
Gasp and cry
Buried inside
Beneith
We found Love, resident in between the envelopes of our lips; never spoken but melted down our souls in contact.
We found love unspoken, right in the tombs under our belly-buttons; and there we lived, loved until love grew grey hairs so soon and travelled six feet underground.
We found lust; not love!
Petra gorges
sandstone cliffs
this river
she'd drown
her red
rose gem
with jungle
like aura
her pin
did sling
round her
face like
her cavern
of clement
can assuage
hers to
City in her Jordan
Diána Bósa Sep 2018
Did you know that the night hides itself into your
hair? See, that's why it is so dark.
       Your shimmer, love, swallowed me
and I am melting on your tongue of time.
You are likewise the womb and the tomb of mine;
what else the difference but a letter.
Pour your sun inside me and let me rest in your blaze.
Place your moon upon my very heart and see how
I become one with your nightshade.
      My fate is a delicate line
                in the corner of the eyes of yours.
You water and make it bloom with the tears of joy,
drawing the constellation of stars on your very face.
       You are all fair, my love; there is no spot in you.
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