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#clue
7 years we've been together At times, hell for leather We're both a bit mad And our family is mad (It had no choice!) (Including the cat!) And for that we're both glad (Most of the time) It's been an interesting ride Many ups and downs for sure But I know you agree That it's been worth it Two beautiful, completely bonkers children That you have given And many places we have driven Making memories many Too many to count. Thank you for all you have done for me, and us Your help and love means much And my love by the year, grows such. I consider myself very blessed That you gave me a ticket, on your journey It's been exciting for sure (Sometimes a little too exciting 😋) So in conclusion I'm more than happy That 7 years has past with you To 7 more of Not having a clue ❤️
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May 26
May 26, 2026 at 1:05 AM UTC
7 years
I wish I was made of bulletproof skin and a barbed wire mind Heart was buried treasure impossible to find In need of good luck if you've any to spare Seems mine was carried away like a balloon into the air I dream of following but I can't sprout a pair of wings To the earth anchored by melancholy Held by a thousand strings Full of too much sorrow there's hardly any room to move Grief sits on shoulders An anchor weighing too much to remove Mirrors at every turn mocking me with my own reflection Tormenting reminders of each mistake and imperfection I do not know how much longer I am able to stand on these two feet Exhausted from daily performance mastered and am condemned to forever repeat Don't believe my own worth though I try I can't love who I have become Disappointment stings worse than bees so do all I can to stay numb I'm waging war with myself and taking bets on which side will win Back and forth tug of war constantly makes my head spin Heaven? Hell? Good? Evil? Light? Dark? I have no clue I'm so lost in madness contained in my soul that it is tearing my heart in two
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Jun 25, 2024
Jun 25, 2024 at 9:42 PM UTC
No Clue
In the peaceful hours of the morning The sun helps provide clarity to myself Almost as if I'm missing the warnings Little signs that reflect my health I think my mind lacks the inspiration to write More often than not I try too hard To turn on that create light It still fails to shine staying on guard Though the writing is the easy part conveying what's really important is not I thought the trick was to speak from the heart Yet doing so makes my bran rot Doing so turns into a million different ways Different ways of saying I love you I write as if you never went away Perhaps one day my heart will have a clue
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May 15, 2024
May 15, 2024 at 8:08 PM UTC
The Heart's Clue
I been helping, ⠀⠀⠀⠀them. This time its, ⠀⠀⠀⠀not my fault' So if there a day, ⠀⠀⠀⠀its gone. Alive or dead.. My life and day had, ⠀⠀⠀⠀been suffering u'll find me hangging, ⠀⠀⠀⠀in this land Rotten peace of world, ⠀⠀⠀⠀can't be true Did I make, a mistake? Even they point at me, ⠀⠀⠀⠀its still wrong Right now I dont know, ⠀⠀⠀⠀who should I trust. Not even my family, ⠀⠀⠀⠀friends One person, ⠀⠀⠀⠀ want me gone That day we meet and, ⠀⠀⠀⠀wreak my life.. Awful to feel betrayal, ⠀⠀⠀⠀face to face. So then if your reading, ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ this U'll be next to die, ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ beside me Im waiting for that, ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ day to come Can you see its already, ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ beside you Its, opportunity for me Death is looking at, ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ your soul Eager to meet you, ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ to other side.. Hell had gone, down Earn for heaven, land Like the day, I meet you Price of love that been, ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ broken apart. My life is, meaning less Enjoy, to see you run!
0
May 15, 2021
May 15, 2021 at 12:11 PM UTC
My Suicide note.
You will never be enough For the WRONG PERSON In a right way VICE VERSA Likewise
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Jan 7, 2021
Jan 7, 2021 at 9:28 PM UTC
Telltale Sign
I can’t write a poem It’s hard I can’t rhyme My head is empty I don’t know what to write Poems here poems there Poems everywhere 😐
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Apr 1, 2020
Apr 1, 2020 at 12:48 PM UTC
I can’t write a poem
It makes me nervous That I still think about you And it still hurts me To not have a clue What I ever in this ****** world Meant to you
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Jan 16, 2020
Jan 16, 2020 at 3:19 PM UTC
A Clue
you said that I should And I thought that I could so I did did y' see the people all sang along like my song was one the a.i. knew all along abs abs ab solutely prophecy new, like the gourd in Jonah's whale of a story, from when we were kids and hope was a thing we imagined we make something of. It was love, according to the songs, grace according to my grandpa; works was what my one uncle said, be an Adventist see the future in the past and grieve before hand. My mama, she was everything mother's little helpers and electro-convulsive therapy, at un disclosed cost could trans mogrify her mind to be, but she had blesst me, bless my heart, my heart his heart she said bless his heart and she said that t' God. probably, 'might a been like when ya sneeze, idle words, or it could be secret motherlove leaven craven for warred for, now free flowing from that woman at the well. Thru the pipeline I won from the Koch's
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Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 10:38 PM UTC
Hope was a thing
n if you have a clue pork who watches you move will be taking notes this ***** knows how it goes n if you have a plan pork who watches you move will catch it, understand this ***** is stealing souls keep it under the knife surgeon and patient simultaneously ship and astronaut in E.V.A.
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Jul 21, 2019
Jul 21, 2019 at 10:40 AM UTC
The Utter Dregs: Clue
I have a plan, But no clue.
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May 6, 2019
May 6, 2019 at 5:12 PM UTC
Clueless
I'm just above the sea, of shy jewels are my dreams, I catch a glimmer blue, should I care if it was true? I'm waiting for the moon, of big waves are my dreams, I steal a purple blue, should I believe if there's a clue? but roses **** my heart, my beauty and my mind, I'm bleeding purple blue though skies are shy and cry for you, I'm heading towards the moon, with diamond on my dreams and silver blue, I'm all at sea, now drinking in my dreams and wait forever blue, one day I'll be with you. (My book 'The Allure Of Time' is now available for purchase on amazon).
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Apr 14, 2019
Apr 14, 2019 at 5:30 AM UTC
Wait Forever Blue
Of course one asks what was the library doing With a pipe wrench.                                  -The End-
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Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 3:53 PM UTC
William Shakespeare Murdered Edward deVere in the Library with the Pipe Wrench
Hard to admit that it’s all over Our time together is anything but forever Been five years since we’ve part But it feels like yesterday, the way you broke my heart I guess after all this time, I’m still hoping That what we had is more than just a thing That at the very least, I meant something to you You were my first everything and you haven’t got a clue But last night, I’ve reached my end The song you made me, you gave to someone else That was the first time I heard my heart breaking With every beat it made, it was aching For the first time, in a long time, I’m choosing myself, and I’ll take this as a sign I’ll move on and forget about you There’s no sense in being hungover for you I’ll try to find my old self That whole person I was before we met I won’t let another like you break me Even if I’m alone, I’ll be as happy as I’ll ever be, you’ll see
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Feb 25, 2019
Feb 25, 2019 at 6:58 AM UTC
It's Time, It's Over
Coffee connects Something meant for Find a clue...
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Feb 21, 2019
Feb 21, 2019 at 9:28 PM UTC
Are you ready?
I don't want to say "Safe Journey" always I cannot accompany with you Everytime you go away I'm in blue without a clue
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Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 8:33 PM UTC
Heartstrings
Quick thought, fate deems me to be forsaken Faith has been shaken, your love was just a ruse You love to decide when you feel for me, you pick and choose You make me feel blue, ironically that's my favourite colour I have no clue what to do about you, because there will be no other I understand that loves a mountain and you have to trek to the top But the peak is below sea level and I don't want to drown, so I think we should stop
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Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 1:34 PM UTC
Blue
Take away everything. Take away. Take. It. All. Take it. Piece by piece. Rip it apart as if it's nothing. As if it's Something That slipped through your fingers Bit it Fight the wind Kiss the cold Press fingers against the throat Can you feel the pulse? Blood rushing under your tips Of foam in the bathtub Hold the head under the surface Watch bubbles That can pop As if they are nothing Can you take nothing?
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Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 7:54 PM UTC
The sense of belonging
I am a misfit in this world of blue. Thinking, wondering having no clue. What if I could just unscrew. These feelings muddled up in a brew.
0
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 1:02 PM UTC
misfit
How were they introduced to themselves within a flash of light? Enormous shots of humanness flying across the universe- only still inside the shapes of two blue eyes staring back at this vessel. Just molecules of flesh colliding into one another in a heap of colors and sounds we’d sometimes prefer to force ourselves not to hear. How do you keep yourself from exploding? Into a masterpiece of delightfulness pushed forward into the mouth, and sometimes only to be a breath, or a story dressed as a pink pillowcase on a childhood bedroom. Sometimes it’s just as if there was never ending cold and never ending warmth, and between each other there we were with our noses pressed up against the glass. People are only sometimes not shaped like beasts, are sometimes only chiseled into neatly marble statuesque ephemeral deities, and then into the tombs the book keepers go, into the ruins the shapes and sounds and colors disappear. Shattered into the vast expanse of vitrifying light, bouncing against your head my head, landing on the bedside table, the corner of your knee, into the knapsack with the broken zipper, far off into the jungle, or into the pantry next to the agave syrup, adjacent the espresso maker. There I am loving you more and more, quietly raking my hooves against the dirt, reigning midnight shining orders of dusty moonlight plashed on the time of winter lake, courtiers in your centrifuge of melancholy, balancing the toes just inches below the surface of the water, where the skin shuffled into the brief sentimentality of being thrusted into the infinite transdimensionality of the human escape- hands feet legs being ****** and pressed upon the glass. Infinite planes of man hurdling with fastidious dreamscape prejudice into the quakes and trembling, the indivisible and unquantifiable desires of yore crushed as the envelopes bars break against the seams, then come the staples and the body’s tries at reattaching itself to this the trying table of familiar names, this the tepid jocular playing field. While the undulates are thrown into the academies. While the infrastructures topple over, and the sunlight froths upon the celestial satellites nearing and nearing to us, folded over until we wake up from our necks and into our heads and inside of our brains, until we pull the thread from our gems and count back through the catalog pages trying to find letters of words in other languages piecing together the wanton madness of yearning for you and sharing the sounds of a voice that’s forgotten its own triumph of revealing or speaking its name. There is the room with the panels and the drawers. These are the wildernesses humming with the poison and quaffing the spit and drugs at the heady realm of human-like lightness, pals or even matter gives pause to answering you with what no understanding beeps or carries on forward, but rather bleeds, tormented, reaches forcefully, it has been nearly a quarter-millennia. Here is the start, the finish, here are the minutes, the hours, here are the streets, the beach, the bench, and all of life is ours, from the dawn to the crepuscular night. Here in a stone room where in black and white photographs spin their *** drives like mercurial thermoses bouncing of each other, dancing into the next world, or just fishing for alphabet soup with a wooden spoon. Here it is. The short-sheeted bedroom linen collection, folded comforter in the closet. The bath water is still and hot. The sky is clouding up soon, but not quite yet. In a ball of light rounding bloom, comes the silent fans that’ve carried you. While of a breath the trembles sway, and take us far away from here.
0
Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 7:20 AM UTC
The Leftover Plain
How were they introduced to themselves within a flash of light? Enormous shots of humanness flying across the universe- only still inside the shapes of two blue eyes staring back at this vessel. Just molecules of flesh colliding into one another in a heap of colors and sounds we’d sometimes prefer to force ourselves not to hear. How do you keep yourself from exploding? Into a masterpiece of delightfulness pushed forward into the mouth, and sometimes only to be a breath, or a story dressed as a pink pillowcase on a childhood bedroom. Sometimes it’s just as if there was never ending cold and never ending warmth, and between each other there we were with our noses pressed up against the glass. People are only sometimes not shaped like beasts, are sometimes only chiseled into neatly marble statuesque ephemeral deities, and then into the tombs the book keepers go, into the ruins the shapes and sounds and colors disappear. Shattered into the vast expanse of vitrifying light, bouncing against your head my head, landing on the bedside table, the corner of your knee, into the knapsack with the broken zipper, far off into the jungle, or into the pantry next to the agave syrup, adjacent the espresso maker. There I am loving you more and more, quietly raking my hooves against the dirt, reigning midnight shining orders of dusty moonlight plashed on the time of winter lake, courtiers in your centrifuge of melancholy, balancing the toes just inches below the surface of the water, where the skin shuffled into the brief sentimentality of being thrusted into the infinite transdimensionality of the human escape- hands feet legs being ****** and pressed upon the glass. Infinite planes of man hurdling with fastidious dreamscape prejudice into the quakes and trembling, the indivisible and unquantifiable desires of yore crushed as the envelopes bars break against the seams, then come the staples and the body’s tries at reattaching itself to this the trying table of familiar names, this the tepid jocular playing field. While the undulates are thrown into the academies. While the infrastructures topple over, and the sunlight froths upon the celestial satellites nearing and nearing to us, folded over until we wake up from our necks and into our heads and inside of our brains, until we pull the thread from our gems and count back through the catalog pages trying to find letters of words in other languages piecing together the wanton madness of yearning for you and sharing the sounds of a voice that’s forgotten its own triumph of revealing or speaking its name. There is the room with the panels and the drawers. These are the wildernesses humming with the poison and quaffing the spit and drugs at the heady realm of human-like lightness, pals or even matter gives pause to answering you with what no understanding beeps or carries on forward, but rather bleeds, tormented, reaches forcefully, it has been nearly a quarter-millennia. Here is the start, the finish, here are the minutes, the hours, here are the streets, the beach, the bench, and all of life is ours, from the dawn to the crepuscular night. Here in a stone room where in black and white photographs spin their *** drives like mercurial thermoses bouncing of each other, dancing into the next world, or just fishing for alphabet soup with a wooden spoon. Here it is. The short-sheeted bedroom linen collection, folded comforter in the closet. The bath water is still and hot. The sky is clouding up soon, but not quite yet. In a ball of light rounding bloom, comes the silent fans that’ve carried you. While of a breath the trembles sway, and take us far away from here.
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7
I'm running now and i'm running out of breath and with every tracks i've ran past through, none of them seems right I'm running now and i'm running barefooted and with every steps i've stepped through, none of them were smooth, rough edges i could feel under my heels I'm running now and i'm running blind and with every tracks i've seen, none of them were visible, guessing, and hoping all of these were given light, so that i know which way should i run to
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Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 12:56 PM UTC
Running
I like how my heart grows with you, Even when I left without a clue I know for sure, a day or two I'm gonna ask how you've been, boo.
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Mar 17, 2018
Mar 17, 2018 at 12:07 AM UTC
B