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Bleeding poetry fills the pages like ancient Rome was filled with wine.
The flowing words never make sense, but at least they're mine.
Every line the same lie- Im fine.
How long until this kindom will surrender?

Like the Vesuvius hidden in Pompeï.
Like a volcano hidden far away.
When the volcano erupts, will you stay?
And let me hold you strong and tender?

In this kingdom of fire, let me protect you.
I will hold you, through and through.
Call me your percecutor, that will do.
Will you let me be your defender?

This world is dark and full of fire- I see.
But it can be beautiful if we want it to be.
And as long as you will fight the world with me-
One day, we might comprehender.
Just a lil something I wrote while I was bored in class.
The grammar is a mess, but I do not give a frick.
Grace Haak Sep 2
There was a pearl Palace
In a land so far away
They said it glowed at midnight
And sparkled in the day
In the pearl Palace
A lovely princess stayed.

She walked The Halls a'dreamin
Of a handsome man
To take her from the golden Halls
Of that foreign land
But her company was peacocks
She didn't understand.

A Wizard's spell had captured her
To keep her in that place
Where no one kept her company
Tears flowed down her face
She was kept quite comfortably
In her Silk and Lace.

She knew the great volcano
Would erupt for miles and miles
If she left the Pearl Palace
Where she was kept in style
And so she stayed there all alone
A sad and lonely child.

Catherine Jarvis
Another poem for the book which my friend Steve is illustrating. I wish you could see this visual ... it's absolutely beautiful!
My world is softly peace.
My home is deeply silence.
My words is swetter piece.
My breath is lovely howling.
My glanse once and for more.
My mind is hot volcano.
My thoughts is red fire.
My mouth is speachless.
She Writes Apr 25
I am a volcano disguised as a mountain.

I used to be active, erupting in a fit of rage without notice. Destroying those around me, even the ones I hold most dear.

I have slowly become dormant. I have painted a beautiful facade. I appear strong, steadfast, solid and safe.

The truth is I am still a volcano. I am hollow, unstable, ready to explode at any second.

My feelings, my magma, are churning and turning beneath my sturdy exterior. I am constantly under pressure. The gravity of the world presses against me. I am in a continuous battle with myself, trying not to explode. Trying not to destroy those around me.

Occasionally the pressure becomes too much, and my magma pours out of me. The people that have made their home around me are always shocked when I erupt.

I cry to them "what do you expect when you build your life on a volcano?" To my surprise a small few have chosen to rebuild, choosing to live on my volcano knowing full well I just may destroy everything they have built again.

One day I will become extinct, then I will truly be a strong, sturdy mountain, and a safe place to call home.
This is not a poem, but it felt poetic. This unedited, straight out of my journal. Raw and true. Someday I will turn it into art, but for now, it will remain a rant from an anxious over-thinker.
chitragupta Mar 31
My extinction
is your biggest
Liquid rage crackles like
the snores of an inferno
slumbering deep within
Do you want to
pelt another stone,
drill another hole?
But then,
you'd best run home
and run for your life
for I shall emerge
from dormancy
to bring forth hot tears
across your cheeks

So halt your assault
Cease your trials
The fire burns
too close to my skin
I feel my restraint rapidly diminish -
it is the last wall
that stands in between
Izza Mar 3
she has a nature soul

she carries an ocean inside her eyes
she cries salty tears

she carries a wild forest inside her mind
she is lost in her own forest

she carries a volcano inside her heart
she trembles as its about explode
Gandy Lamb Feb 23
They says that he was a dead man walking
they says that he was gonna die tomorrow
But Heaven knows that he had the essence of chakra
The two streams of consciousness within his soul
They merge into one

In the desert, there is only sand
a glimmer of water
then nothing again
and then he lies down in the dusty volcano

Truly, life is like a toilet paper roll
we exist only to clean up ****
His neck tightens,
His eyes flair up,
His teeth cluster,
His fists clutches.

His thoughts move,
Into an oblivious state.
Destruction is on his mind.
And no emotion left behind.

Like a volcano,
He boils up.
Tension heats up the core,
The magma chambers are full.

He cant take it back.
He refuses to take it back,
He cant prove otherwise.
Not on deaf ears.

A victim?
A fool?

His eyes seem to look beyond you,
He is hurt, annoyed, betrayed.
Like a mouse trapped in a corner.
All he can do, is fight back.

The earth rumbles,
The tides shift.
The sun hides away,
In clouds of ash.

He's done.
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