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Fleeting clouds behind fluttering eyelashes
Unshackling chains binding pure tiny hearts
Smiles unseen in the glooming darkness
Finding peace in the eternal night

Embracing the coldness of soothing death
Bathing in countless fountains of life
Little angels laugh with genuine happiness
Soaring with freedom in the hidden plains

Flowers of doom, symbol of fear
Reaping the plants they call weeds
Waiting for the rewards their good deeds will give

Once upon a time in a faraway place
Seeds of malice littered the land
Hateful sunlight was taken away
Drenching the ground with ****** rain

Slowly but surely, flowers bloomed
Stunning the masses with colorful doom
Shying away from the light of the day
Believing that evil will give them grace

Pitiful flowers who know nothing
Petals swaying with hope in the wind
Brimming with patience, waiting in vain
I made this poem with a story in mind – about children who've been raised in a bad environment (where good things are believed to be evil)
Hamies 2d
the tapestry that formed around my soul
was made of the eager to please you
now it has sunken in the ground and feeds from pain
narcissistic breeze in the air
and sunflowers slowly dying
it's cold again
here i am
alone again
I'm being stung by bees in the snow.

my pants fill with air

my pocket takes warmth from fingertip

four numb


very touching and very moving
sentiment from twenty years of last century



taking warm rocks from the unsettling effigy

ingesting them


it is too painful she tells me


a ram's horn

being stung by bees in the winter

chewing on dolphin meat in the summer


the beach is glass
the salt boils

my soles bubble
yellow cloud pushes me up

I glide on the hooves
in my new pelt
tragedy
Siya Mulge May 22
The house is on fire,
The bed I once relaxed on,
Is now burning to nothing;
"The walls resist wind and flames"
Oh, how the architect was a liar
From my power pen on the desk,
To the lively, beautiful lawn,
I could see my home crumbling down...
I sit there,
On the couch watching,
Thinking of numerous people to blame
I waited for the fusillade of heat to burn me,
Skin rotting from ember,
To bear the smoke,
My eyes no longer gutsy
Suffocating more with anger,
And as I ****** in my last two breaths,
I realised I was the architect,
I set the fire ...
it's high midnight and I'm up to my old tricks again

in an hour I'll have my nose prepared
in two, I'll sweat and pray

praying the windows I opened last year give way to Carolina air

me chewing an ice cube
with you pressing my shirt

and a shiver breathes into me

it's a funeral, you tell me

in twelve hours time I ask you how I got here

another hour and it's your voice
causing me to laugh from my belly

pounding my fists into your tombstone

too angry to light my cigarette

the willow hides the moonlight
sheds no tears on this chapter

the willow hides night sky
a reflection from my dark eyes

they warble in fear

for the sound my heart is like to make



it's three years later
chewing soil from your grave


the worms but ash

my heart
a muted trumpet

pale imitation
crystalline defeat

silhouette of a cursed shade


it's five years and the marble runs smooth

it's ten years and the willow roots join mine

a legacy of agony
countless copper dishes of bitterness

thirteen years a testament of longing and needless suffering

every smile bled to death
every night a star turned inside out

it's two years ago and I hear your name
tragedy
nora May 19
my mother likes to tell me i am now a part of history
but if people only remember the tragedies,
i don’t want to be.
what a mood honestly
My life is a comedy and a tragedy,
Narrated by the girl who leads it
I can make the world happy
Put a smile on her face
But you know what's funny?
I can't get the sun
To shine in me

In my heart.
Thoughts?
DEW May 3
A gauntlet, of sorts...
The proverbial frog in the ***, I was.
The temperature of life went from heaven to hell,
and I boiled and drowned in the hate I thought was love.

Question one: who prepared the broth?
Answer: Me...

Stuck in the endless quackery of bottomless insanity.
Tasting the brutal shenanigans of deviant savagery.
I came upon the realization that *** was a tapestry,
that I've been weaving since I was in nappies and won't give up gladly,
but I obsess over the embroidery and the glistening femininity,
what I now know to be delusions of romance and calamity.

Question two: who proved to be unwilling to love in the end?
Answer: Me...

Last question you knave, you hopeless bumpkin.
You wayward host of tasteless pumpkins.
My tactless whims for stagefright dumplings.
Deflated effigies of, "Oh... sweet nothings."
Darling, you crazy, you an expert on bluffings,
Teetering on the cliff, with your pinstriped stuffing.
I carry my shorts on the inside, on the outside I'm long,
Word play is horse ****, but if you understand me, you're wrong.

Question three: who sold their soul for entertainment in the end?
Answer: We...
It's nice to write another one of my nonsense, satirical poems again.
I gave a slight social-critic edge to it, but in reality I tried to focus on my own failings in life, my own troubles. Yet we do not live in a vacuum.
We all share the same mistakes, troubles, guilts and dreams.
So this poem tries to encapsulate that into the idea of taking an exam at the end of one's life to atone for all the ******* we've put ourselves through in this world.
Taking responsibility for what we do/have done in this world is the first step toward solving our issues, yet imagine only taking responsibility at the end of all things when nothing can be done but pay penance. A sad thing indeed...
Carlo C Gomez May 16
familial sea
asteroid debris
plagued black sun
the chain undone
derivation drought
acetylene light burnt out
sands of a surname
run through veins as aspartame
in departed sons & daughters
blood is thicker than water
but drains ever so faster
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