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Tiger Striped Nov 2019
This existence is but a breath
vapor drifting past the lips of
life:
a Secret kept obstructed,
eclipsed by perennial paradigms
mutinous Mobs snuffed
out by the wind
a broken Hourglass, the
Sand seeping through the
cracks in the door
the Dust on the floor,
flattened by footprints beyond
differentiation
a Conflagration quenched as
soon as it catches
by the swelling tides of time.
Whether we're cursed or
self-destructive, our
affinity for chaos will
unravel our transcendent, twisted cataclysm before
we ever know our
beginnings and endings.
ve Jun 2017
Who would guess
a blow of smoke
in your lungs
replaced
a place for me
in your heart
I don't like being this woman, but I love you and somehow you changed
Olga Valerevna Apr 2017
I've painted in my mind the many things I cannot see
the stories in the roots that grow their lives into a tree
As every single season comes to harvest what it will
the organs of the sun remain intact forever still
And never mind a human's try to reap another's change
one cannot steal the soil back of which we all be made
A little bit of everything, a palette laid on skin
We water it forever or we dry it paper thin
east born, west gone.
It feels so vivid (frequency)

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                                    <<<<<<   ------------------------


Constantly thinking every minute. ^ v


Huh **** un be  defferent ?
            
If the NEW sttlyle is toby differant.



If these words were a drug

(  Cough- needle hits arm.  )    


                                               I will never kick it.  


----—--—-———--




Peep the will in me.





Emotional stability.




Responsibility.  ( Freedom = responsibility )




In  Truth  ,  Love  ,


& symmetry. 



My patience...

..........................                          ­--—-----------------------





                             ---------------------



My life After death



Only a lucky few shall recycle my genius.


 The lack of human stimulation



did not amaze him..


Annoyed with their commotion.


Lifeforms


distracted through mixed emotions.

The catacombs. the dead resurfaces  as I write this poem.



This is all expressed to my ocean.

Trust it.

Climb the summit.


Learn to rise above it.


My communication.

My operation.

My construct.




     He had a schizophrenic disease.
I'm NOT SCHIZOPHRENIC.  BUT it seems my disobedience is what sets me free.

Simply put, spelling and grammer are simply
CONTROL mechanisms for the weak minded. It
diverts the TRUE purpose of LANGUAGE - which
is to CONVEY A MESSAGE. The cattle on the other
hand thinks language (due to the concept of
grammar) is some sort of sport, where you get
points for doing things 'correctly' and with 'skill'
and for 'following the rules'.
NO! YOU can say, write, or express whatever,
or however you want to.
Cierra Spina May 2015
can't you see my pen is to my paper
but when you enter the room
my thoughts fade like vapor
S R Mats Mar 2015
raindrops collecting
in a bottle it fills me
and yet I am still empty
There is a "nature/natural" element to this, and a "human" aspect within this piece.  I love the duality in many forms of poetry.

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