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Jordan Gee Oct 2020
when you find a dead monk,
set him on fire.
the flames burn the color of the robes.
my color, the robes.
orange and red.
ascending from marina's Dark Zone
i look up and upon
the creatures of the deep -
softening the horror of their countenance.
i see black to blue, orange to red.
the Sun is a lynch pin
the monks are all on fire.
the Sun and Moon are a
vector and they are a
time piece.
when you find a dead monk, brother,
set him on fire.
orange and rust red
Josh Jul 2019
Today I feel left to the sun, dried and warn
Yesterday I was someone in search of danger
I found it
Melancholy
I lost a friend and gained a skewed vector
Potentially dangerous to paradise
So I clean my soul
Waiting
Josh Jul 2019
You're the one
And the next feels right
I'm in debt to your focus on me
My eyes won't leave you
Hope we can be, I'm in like
I'll be yours if we meet again
Make me the one
Have you been in love?
Lovely vector
Next
Nis Dec 2018
I like how,
every now and then,
my poems make no sense.

I start them
with hope and direction,
almost like a vector.
They have weight
when still unsung,
their force unspoken,
their miracle undone.

But soon,
my mind starts to mumble,
to modulate,
the vector falls apart,
my idea of the poem crumbles,
what I meant to say
is twisted,
not really a poem anymore,
but yet
so beautifull.
Nickols Oct 2012
Reaching
                 as
                        I am
                                falling
                    up­-wards              
              into    
          the      
   Light.
                                          Blinding...
    ­                                                     Gleaming...
                                                     ­                      Shining...
                                                      ­       Swinging
                                               towards
                                                                ­ the  
                                                                ­          bottoms-
                                              ­                      facing
                                    ­                        the
                                     ­         dark-side.

A
    downwards
                    plunge.
                              crossing-
                        ­                   over
                                     into
                      forwards
                             ­         as
                                            the
     ­                                              world
                                                           spends
                                               onward.

when
Will
this
Ever
end

                       ­                               This
                             ­       downwards
                          dance...
             ­                             
on
And
on
It
goes...
                                   ­         A
                                                  never
        ­                                                    ending
      ­                                           spiral...
which
Path
have
You
chosen?
                   ­                                   The
                                                             blinding
                                                        ­                    twisting
                                                                ­                         dance of
                                                                ­         forgetting?
                                                     ­             Or
                                                 ­            the
                                                     hazy
                                             path
                                                      of    ­        
                                                        ­   remembering?

its
Your
choice.
                           ­                                             *Speak:
            ­                                                                o­r
                                                               ­             it's
                                               ­                      annihilation.
© Victoria

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