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Shofi Ahmed Jul 2021
Unlike the sun
the Moon is two.

There is only one
most glowed up firefly
full moon in the night.

And one more
verily the same one
the blackmoon walker
in pure dark!
South City Lady Sep 2020
dawn aches behind my eyelids
such a yearning for sleep
unsettled thoughts
wrinkle the mind  
I can not smooth their
inconsistencies or
carelessly tuck them back
within steadfast dreams

they creak down hallways
a long shadow billowing
in moonlight, hair tossed
as waves crashing, releasing
suspending  - I crave

the certainty of silence
this unrest disrupts
the manicured space
where I have painted
tranquility

but I find, if you count
backwards
you can forget sorrow
misplace concerns
gather flesh
to warm
brittle roots
             5,    4,
secrets drift behind
an arched wing

                             3,    2
lightning retreats softly
into dim    heartbeats
caramelizing time
as amber light
fades to  
black
Those night games we play to harness sleep
growingpains Jun 2020
They say girls who listen to Jhené Aiko are toxic
And girls who listen to Summer Walker are dramatic
The ones who listen to SZA are eccentric
And the ones who belt out all three are chaotic
But why is it that female emotion is a threat?
Why does female expression make you upset?
Is it because you’re afraid of what’s next?
Of a woman realizing that what she feels towards you is regret?
Of a woman coming to terms with the hell you tried to make her forget?
Of her understanding that you’ll be forever in her debt?
As she grieves her heartache away with Jhené,
Misses you more with Summer,
And realizes her power with SZA,
She becomes an improved version of the woman you never deserved
Just writing about artists that really inspire me!

Hope you're all safe,
Much love,
N.
Max Neumann Feb 2020
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UuuZMg6NVeA
Sorry guys, that's not a poem. Had to publish it :-) So much love in it, HEAVEN YEAH!

Today is a good day.

Youtube: Hezekiah Walker New Video "Every Praise"
Khoisan Dec 2019
One very bright day,
the sun will melt
these frozen fragments, away,
where you will become one with her, loving her more,
a little while longer my friend
all the way.
How your words inspire so many to hold on to what we've got to love and respect our partners all the way.
Bless you Johnny always.
Nis Aug 2018
"Un hombre gris avanza por la calle de niebla,
no lo sospecha nadie. Es un cuerpo vacío;
vacío como pampa, como mar, como viento,
desiertos tan amargos bajo un cielo implacable.

Es el tiempo pasado, y sus alas ahora
entre la sombra encuentran una pálida fuerza;
es el remordimiento, que de noche, dudando;
en secreto se aproxima su sombra descuidada.

No estrechéis esa mano. La yedra altivamente
ascenderá cubriendo los troncos de invierno.
Invisible en la calma el hombre gris camina.
¿No sentís a los muertos? Mas la tierra esta sorda."

La tierra está sorda y no oye,
no oye a los muertos llamando por ella;
por ella que les ha dado tanto,
que les ha acogido cuando les exilió la vida.

La vida desentendida camina por los campos de trigo
cuando le cae la noche, le cae la niebla
y su camino se cruza con el andante implacable,
el andante que es sombra, el andante vacío.

Con la mirada aún feliz estrecha su mano,
y la yedra altiva asciende cubriendo los troncos del invierno.
Sus manos estrechadas los cuerpos se vacían.
¿No sentís a los muertos? Mas la tierra está sorda

//

"A grey man passes through the streer of fog,
nobody suspects of him. He is an empty body;
empty like pampas, like sea, like wind,
deserts so bitter under an unstoppable sky.

He is the past time, and his winds now
in the shadow find a palid strength;
he is remorse, whom at night, doubting;
in secret aproaches his neglected shadow.

Don't shake that hand. The climbing plant proudly
will ascend covering the trunks of winter.
Invisible in calm the gray man walks.
Don't you feel the dead? But the earth is deaf."

The earth is deaf and she can't hear,
she can't hear the dead calling for her;
for her who has given them so much,
who has welcomed them when life exiled them.

Life without noticing walks on the wheat fields
when night falls on her, fog falls on her,
and her path crosses with the unstoppable walker,
the walker who is shadow, the empty walker.

With her view still happy she shakes his hand,
and the climbing plant proudly ascends covering the trunks of winter.
Their hands shaken the bodies empty.
¿Don't you feel the dead? But the earth is deaf.
Expansion over Remordimiento en traje de noche from "Un río, un amor" by Cernuda.
michael Nov 2017
I lay in the middle of a soccer field
all alone
there's no one in sight

I'm ****** and I'm awaiting a revelation
from above
and beyond

Staring into the midnight sky
I'm brought back to my childhood
experiencing deep curiosity
once again

I wonder what's out there in the universe
my head is spinning
and the stars and the moon
seem like they're dancing
and it's honestly beautiful

But I've always been stuck with these questions
questions that I've never had an answer for

How did I get here?
What is life?
Why am I here?

The stars would speak to me
through the language of love and light
they told me everything I needed to know

They told me that we are their children
that I was sent here to bring people back to our true home

They told me that human life is a special occasion
But not to go off the path

It occurred to me that we are homesick
we have gotten lost
we think that the stars are pretty and that's all there is to it

But it goes far deeper than that

And when I thought about how deep it goes
Something within me spoke
and it wasn't my voice
not even the voices in my head

It spoke through emotion
it told me that the stars aren't there just to look pretty
it told me that the stars are within us
and when we gaze into the depths of the cosmos
we're really gazing into how far we've gotten since genesis
looking at our ancient past
a huge part of who and what we truly are

The stars are there to guide us back home
they are our divine compass
they are always watching over us
but we've kind of always knew that
come full circle
Lyn-Purcell Sep 2017
I      am      
          a      soul            
                bound.    Who
                          sows    seeds                
                                 of   creativity    
                      
                                                    in   order                      
                                                  to     grow              
                                             a        field
                                      of      hope            
                             from    walking                                
                  on    clouds...                        

           To      the
     realm    of
          dreams,    I
                 walk    through!
                              I     see
                                       it,      too.
                                               Through     a
                                             book    which
                                           sews  an    
            
            adventure       with
      words   and
  words    need
no        wings
         for         they
                can         soar
                               for        a

                                   thousand    thousand
                                                  miles...
                                                        For       as
                                                               far          as
                                                        the          light
                                                   can      touch.
                                         For      as
                               far      as

                  the       air
         can     reach.
   My    fingers
   paint    the
          sky     red
                     and    blue.
                                                  
                                               My      feet

                                                     pave        a  
                                                              bridge    of
                                                                    clouds  where
                                                                    no    man
                                                           can    reach
                                                 unless  you're
                                         bound   like

                                  I        am.

                          Above       and
                  beyond    the
        purple    skies
    and     the
emerald    tides.
    Above    and
        beyond     the

                   Golden     Sun
                            and     sense
                                      outrun
                                           Light     pierces
                                                 shrouds    and
                                                     feathers    descend.
                                                      A      world
                                                where      I
                                
                                           my        
                                   will
                      &n
Nefelibata - A cloud walker; One who lives in the cloud of their own imagination or dreams, or one who does not abide by the precepts of society, literature, or art; An unconventional, unorthodox person.

...Describes my crazy soul. I always did have my head in the clouds :P
Belinda Mar 2016
I'm a slow walker, but
I never walk *back
it's okay if you take quite some time(to move on).
just make sure those time are not wasted (by walking back)
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