My feelings of green hesitate to say,
and my feelings of yellow just want to have fun.
A feeling of red is leading the way,
but the feeling of blue is second to none.
Why is white good?
Why is black bad?
When there's white lies,
when there's dark truths.

The bright light blinds;
the darkness creeps.
The light, it lies
the dark, speaks.

Our perception is clouded,
with lies bright as stars.
And it's only us who creep in the darkness
who can see our dying heart.

We need to realize;
white is not good,
dark is not bad.
And yet...
Dark is not good,
white is not bad.

There is a balance
We have to keep
Extremes blind our eyes,
and tie down our souls.
Perfection.
A word that has been defined and redefined by our conceptions.
A word without true universal meaning as it's so controversial.
You and I don't have the same perception,
our views are flawed by human nature.
But what is perfection in the heads of humanity?
What is perfection when lies rule reality?
As I slide on through the wet pavement,
the puddles don't vibrate or shake.
The rain doesn't stall, the drops continue their fall,
each splash pushes my cracks to break.

As I sit under a dark blanket of stars,
I reach out into only empty air.
No one passes by, I don't catch a single eye,
I'm plagued and cursed but can't bring myself to care.

A reward for my lost mind,
a rainbow for the colourblind,
emptiness fills to the core.
Hectic routine clearly outlined,
lip bit and my teeth grind,
I've been hiding in a metaphor.

While I sail through the sky with no safety net,
no bird seems worried for my form,
they don't even blink, they just watch on as I sink,
and they're ready and anxious for my body to swarm.
I always was known as a storm.

A reward for my lost mind,
a rainbow for the colourblind,
emptiness fills to the core.
The sun never showed or shined,
it was stuck, chained in a bind,
I've been hiding in a metaphor.

Once walked along each path
with only untied shoes,
and I felt heartbreak's wrath,
and the old lovers blues,
got the brittle in each bone
and my spine's growing weak,
in the end we all die alone,
but I witnessed a smile in each beak.

A reward for my lost mind,
a rainbow for the colourblind,
emptiness fills to the core.
A mute that never signed,
A soul too late to find,
I've been hiding in a metaphor.

Into the shadows I blend,
never to see light again,
I've been holding doors to my metaphors for you.
Into the shadows I blend,
one day the dark will be a trend,
I've been holding doors, hands covered in sores for you.

Oh I was on fire that night,
now the stars blur in my sight,
I've been holding doors to my metaphors for you.
You know I'm here just like I was then,
I will be there when you come again,
I've been dying and crying on hardwood floors for you.

There's no simile to describe me,
no comparing or analogy,
just one white blank page.
There's no simile to describe me,
no imagery or allegory,
just one lonely cage.
jaded clouds May 16
We sat cross-legged on the uncomfortable porch.
You across from me
holding your tongue as I sliced through that full pomegranate.
I had on white shorts and the juicy red jewels stained them.
You, of course, shook your head as I bitched about staining my white shorts with that pomegranates blood.
All I can remember is the cream colored petals of those magnolia flowers lying in the yard,
and the waxy evergreen leaves bidding them farewell.
Thunder rolls in and you pull me closer.
all of that nasty pollen from the porch fan whipped through the hot air as the breeze got stronger.


You beg me to come inside
so, I lazily stood and threw the pomegranate peels in the front yard.
So they could sleep with those creamy blossoms!
Those Malibu
Smarties
The kick
in her
Picky
ways
Being Nosy
Days in
or out
Too
long
((Pinnochio))

Sipping
Italian
Cappuccino
The cozy
Vineyard
Calvin Klein
Wild horses
couldn't
stop you
or keep
Time 4-U
Only you* *
2 B pushed
Far in
Wait---
The Star wins
What about the
?
I hope the
first choice
My pick
The picket fence

His Polo-top
his
pants
banged
into something
In her way
He knows
He must
redo it
over
The lover
of the
picket fence
He
walked
into her
White website
Starry
moon

Over Yonder
Lake picnic
lagoon
White lights
She wonders?

Wise white painted
footstool
Owl-prowl
Right -Time
traveler fool
He sent you
his drink

Hi and wink
mystical glance
Those block parties
food for the soul
No control
Clogged your
arteries
White
picket
  fence

You went
in France Wee we
Small regrets bites
White jacket websites
Journal Police
There was no
picket fence
Wed rice
Became long
_

hallway
Hallucination
more visualizing
He picked you
To be reborn
reincarnation

Like death do us
New birth so fuss
Like many
Dying
You lived
deeply
in his
trance
He Loves your eyes
to his doorway
How he
leads you
there is
no denying
A romance with a white picket fence leads the way with our words how they come together love sometimes you feel like a nut or he won't or you don't
White was it in the end
no colour, no
the pale skin
an uneasy peace
frightened with shadows
what in the end it came as white
a stream of light
in the night.

Changed what could not be
disturbed yet still
alive to see the shine
the sun, this morning
cheerful to come with all the might
the end of darkness
but then the life left.

White moon flowers in the garden
wilted after fighting the night
all remains was
the feeling of the defeat
prominent after the victory
all the black dressed gathered
speaking kind words
of how she won the night
and died despite.
cait-cait May 12
i would kill for you —
you know ,, ?

stain my white dress in red :
just for
you .
                     .

blood dripping down a
knife
i would swear i never
held
.

but
they would end up catching me
of course ,

they always do —

and
the devil would sneer
,
disappointed ,

lace dress tight —
her lips curled and painted pink ,
when everything seems
h o t .
           .

because
               she knows
that
while
i would kill for you,
i
would never,
                       ever
die.
"well here we are again, its always such a pleasure"

i saw that funny tumblr post that said "its hotter than the devils p*ssy in here"
Sometimes you are the gasoline to an already burnt building
Sometimes you are the anger of a child who broke his own toy
And sometimes you are a fist of rage,
Yelling at the television
A puff of smoke
You are the post apocalyptic chaos of a rip tide too far gone to break

See, racism is not the shark but it's the ocean
All teeth and no mouth,
No jaw and no muscle
Just the white rattle of hate
The sharp grip of an untrained dog

People talk about racism like ancestral land and confederate flags,
Knowing that you own these things,
And we don't 
As if we don't own this history too,
This system
Like we're tredding water

How many skin heads do you think were in the room when we signed off on immigration laws,
race legislations,
public school curriculums?
Or pushed policies like mandatory minimum sentencing,
benine neglect,
broken windows,
stop and frisk,
the race war?

Remember,
The eye of the hurricane is the least harmful part of the storm
You,
The eye of the chat room,
All poker face and no cards

So which individual Donald Trump bigot boogie man are we supposed to be mad at?
When do we stop pointing out the bad apples long enough to acknowledge the orchid was planted on a mass grave?
When do we stop slandering race and start slandering unsolicited rage?

Sharks kill about one person each year
Thousands drown

But of course this isn't really a poem for white supremacist
I don't know any white supremacist
But I do know the people in my neighbourhood,
And my family
And I know how white supremacy is upheld
Whether it is through action or inaction
How it isn't just the broken act of justice,
But the justice itself
How a white kid with a black face on Halloween and his friend who knew it was wrong but didn't say anything - start to blur together
Because let's be honest,
Some racists aren't even racist at all
So they say nothing
They're a silent chorus,
A dull underwater humming waiting to overflow
But when the songs of our cities break,
Will we choose to hear it?
Or will we keep looking for the shark,
Keep tredding water,
Not knowing that we're drowning?
alexa May 8
the one before you tried to heal my scars.
he always said
"baby, no one wants to buy damaged goods."
and i always nodded my head, kissed his cheek,
let him try and heal my scars so i would be
his perfect angel.
then you came along,
you encouraged me to leap under the fiery sun,
let my scars burn white hot like an angel's wings.
you always said
"baby, no one wants a carbon copy;
your scars make you the best kind of uniquely beautiful."
and although you may be gone now,
i will always remember to dance under the fiery sun
and let my scars burn white hot...
just like an angel's wings.
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