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In an another multiverse
      The other me might be better
Skinny and with goals in his mind
       and a beautiful heart

But he may have the riches
         and the expensive watches...

I have you in this universe
        My road may be broken  
             from the decisions I made
yet you held my hand
       And that's makes my universe
      better than the others
Something is happening
The blossoms are opening
The spring is attending
The night is vanishing

Something is happening
The scent is flying
The flies are dancing
The melody is playing
The world is amazing

They are asking
Why is the night vanishing?
Why is the moon appearing?
In complete imagining

The world is decorating
The colors are shining
The green is covering
The fresh is touching
The roses are coloring
The word is calming

When your rosy cheeks
Are appeared for watching
Only my eyes
love is covering everywhere and the time is good when one feels with love
Ira Desmond Dec 2019
A clock
is not a thing
that shows us the passage of time;

a clock
is a primitive device that moves
at a fixed rate while time passes all around it.

was drawn and quartered
by the clock. It used to be an endless horizon in all directions,

but it was violently
partitioned into a grid system
in order to make it easier for those with power

to control
those without power. Clocks are
perverse. Clocks are capitalism. Clocks

**** nature
without nature’s consent. We rightly complain
about the partitioning and deforestation of wild lands,

of the Amazon,
and yet we are not outraged
at the partitioning and deforestation of time. There is

a reason
why one feels out of sync
with the natural Earth. There is a reason why one

cannot sleep
through the night. There is
a reason why the years feel like they are

slipping away
from us. Time is not
sand in an hourglass. Nor is it an etching demarcating

the position
of a shadow cast by a cone. Nor is it
the rate at which an electrified quartz crystal oscillates.

time moves at the speed
of experience. There is simply nothing more

to it:

A morning fog lifts.
A bird lands on a dying tree on the far side of a river.

A frog leaps from a rock and disappears with a quiet splash.
A child dozes off while reading.

The world becomes dark.
A white-hot meteor streaks across a frozen winter sky.
Akshi Hargoon Feb 2019
The skies the limit, so they say, so I try to reach it every day
I drop to my knees fold my hands to pray
And hope to God for my strength to stay.

I never thought that I would see this day
When all my fears come out to play
I tried to hide them deep inside
But it's forced itself to the outside

How am I to put them back away?
Do I just dig a hole bury them in clay?
Do I close my eyes hope they go away?
Or do I stand tall and vanquish them away?
We all face difficulties. Each with their own way of dealing with it but we have one thing in common and that is our strength to push forward
Jennifer DeLong Mar 2018
My eyes are my weapon
They can bring you up
or tear you down
they speak there own
language if you pay
there exciting
can be enlightening
These eyes can dance
follow your moves
but do me wrong
they'll bring you down
I hope you never find out

© Jennifer Delong 3/2018
Bella Nov 2017
she watches him
her eyes stuck
becoming a role model
for the glue of his shoes
the glue  he practically pours on
it's trying to hold all those pieces together
the pieces falling like crushed leaves from a set of hands
it knew it had a job to do
like a mother trying to hold her family together
she doesn't have enough arms to reach out to every person who needs holding
to work her 9 to 5
to pay the bills
to take care of her parents
one of whom has forgotten her name
to pretend that her marriage is fine...
for the kids sake.
the kids who watch her sulking eyes on the way to daycare
and yes she's been told that only ****** mother's put their kids in
but that's all she can do
so shut up
just shut up

it's like the high school girl
trying to hold her heart together
it's been broken...
like the shoes
the ones on the boys feet
She watches
He's had better days
He feels her eyes on him
She continues to watch
He's distracted and stutters
He likes his Saturdays
Chills on Fridays
He's tone is in a stuff
He's all alone
He says, "wait a minute, come back here"
He brings up the same things
I wonder why
Has he got nothing else to say?
He continues to talk
But she's gotta be on her way...
Boy, it is always a pleasure to see your face
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