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#free-verse
Above, if you'll look, can be found breathtaking views to the olden. A flickering faraway warmth rests in the vacuum welcoming souls that peak. Recall the stage before; when you cannot remember, as a child indifferent. Abandon now, project yourself to that bright star and emanate pure contentment.
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Mar 17, 2017
Mar 17, 2017 at 9:51 PM UTC
Look Back
Burning me up, wishing for me to vanish into thin air. No, that will not happen. I'll write till my hand starts to bleed and then those bloodied words fall under your gaze. You'll read and know my love for writing. You'll read and know I take it seriously. For I was, I am and will always be a writer. © Ali Qureshi
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Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 10:20 AM UTC
Why So Serious?
Echoes of long sirens fade in hushed apartments; familiar passersby in the vastness of the night. Now and only can we hear the soft winter breathing. ©2017 Alex Bex - www.alexbex.net
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Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 12:38 PM UTC
December Sonorities
If my pen leaves the paper I will die. If my pen leaves the paper I will die. If my pen leaves the paper I will die.
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Jan 2, 2017
Jan 2, 2017 at 10:33 PM UTC
Untitled
Cars speeding down the intersection splash gold in the headlights, every time, glowing droplets against the dark falling too slowly to the ground. ©2016 Alex Bex - www.alexbex.net
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Oct 23, 2016
Oct 23, 2016 at 3:11 PM UTC
Night Vision
it may not look like it, but i am trying very hard. you think i’m bad because i’m late to class even though you don’t know why. look at my essays like you know what grade they’re going to get, when you haven’t even read them yet. you think because my quiz scores aren’t perfect that i don’t understand. but people have different capabilities; maybe i’m not where i’m supposed to be, and i need you to stop judging me for that. all people ever see is how it looks like; you’re never going to understand if you don’t try. i haven’t slept right since school started, trying to solve math problems which don’t seem to make sense. i read the textbook before i was asked; did every single thing i was supposed to. it’s crazy. it meant waking up at dawn after sleeping at two in the morning. you don’t know how it feels when your best is never enough, and you have no idea how hard it is to keep doing that, to keep trying anyway. you don’t know how often we break. i have learned to count myself strong, not because i win my battles, but just because i face them. we learn to compromise, sacrifice. i don’t have poems in my head anymore (it’s a mess in there), and i don’t have the energy to play sports. i don’t see my friends except in the corridors, all in a rush to get somewhere. we get no credit, and all the shame. our stories don’t get told; they’re not the ones where people clap at the end. we are neglected, felt sorry for, or hated. we are spectacular at failing to amaze. we have learned to cheer for ourselves because no one else will. learned to act like it’s not a problem, that coffee is your best friend, and you spend nights studying, just to get lower scores than the rest of them. tell yourself you’re not tired even when the minute you start to rest you feel like you’re collapsing. always feel like crying but you stop yourself; who cares if you’re exhausted? you still have to finish those papers; you still have to answer those tests. what does any of it mean? why am i graded with a C or a D? are they telling me i will not lead a good life, that i am doomed already? my story has not started and no, my fate will not be decided like this. you cannot pass judgments on my character based on numbers on a paper. i am more than all these requirements that never end. i am the work i put into them. so instead of looking down on me, let us carry ourselves with some dignity. after all, it’s not a game; it’s not a race. we’re all stuck in the same place. and the world is tough for everyone, regardless of our “grades.”
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Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 10:46 AM UTC
letter from an underachiever
it may not look like it, but i am trying very hard. you think i’m bad because i’m late to class even though you don’t know why. look at my essays like you know what grade they’re going to get, when you haven’t even read them yet. you think because my quiz scores aren’t perfect that i don’t understand. but people have different capabilities; maybe i’m not where i’m supposed to be, and i need you to stop judging me for that. all people ever see is how it looks like; you’re never going to understand if you don’t try. i haven’t slept right since school started, trying to solve math problems which don’t seem to make sense. i read the textbook before i was asked; did every single thing i was supposed to. it’s crazy. it meant waking up at dawn after sleeping at two in the morning. you don’t know how it feels when your best is never enough, and you have no idea how hard it is to keep doing that, to keep trying anyway. you don’t know how often we break. i have learned to count myself strong, not because i win my battles, but just because i face them. we learn to compromise, sacrifice. i don’t have poems in my head anymore (it’s a mess in there), and i don’t have the energy to play sports. i don’t see my friends except in the corridors, all in a rush to get somewhere. we get no credit, and all the shame. our stories don’t get told; they’re not the ones where people clap at the end. we are neglected, felt sorry for, or hated. we are spectacular at failing to amaze. we have learned to cheer for ourselves because no one else will. learned to act like it’s not a problem, that coffee is your best friend, and you spend nights studying, just to get lower scores than the rest of them. tell yourself you’re not tired even when the minute you start to rest you feel like you’re collapsing. always feel like crying but you stop yourself; who cares if you’re exhausted? you still have to finish those papers; you still have to answer those tests. what does any of it mean? why am i graded with a C or a D? are they telling me i will not lead a good life, that i am doomed already? my story has not started and no, my fate will not be decided like this. you cannot pass judgments on my character based on numbers on a paper. i am more than all these requirements that never end. i am the work i put into them. so instead of looking down on me, let us carry ourselves with some dignity. after all, it’s not a game; it’s not a race. we’re all stuck in the same place. and the world is tough for everyone, regardless of our “grades.”
Continue reading...
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Extreme Poetry Fights, fumes, resists, entices, twists, endures, seduces Rhymes at times Or so rarely you want it to explode, implode Or just mellow out But you don't stop reading Unless it bores Or you're just too tired Ditties and sonnets And ABAB and the like are all very well But real men and women go for The rough and tumble of truly free verse Where words are the masonry Spitting at you in spurts Confounding, astounding Welcome to consternation nation Where assonance bucks up against alliteration And the inevitable invasion of syllables and vowels A perverse form of Password that traipses over diction when it wants Because there are no rules in Extreme Poetry
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Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 12:17 PM UTC
Extreme Poetry
Does the kept dog howl at the moon, or does the stray? I am astray from you, and my moon is bluegreen and shines like forgiveness when you smile. The vagrant hound remembers when he was a wolf; I remember when I wasn’t. Like him, I eat and sleep and **** beneath even my own notice. Like him, I remember every night of comfort and every kick, and am confused when I find both in the same doorway. I wasn’t a cur until you called me one – does that count? When the rains come, I think of your soft golden warmth, these mongrel legs start to pull me back – don’t let me in unless you mean to keep me – and my howl is sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry and I don’t know which of us I hate.
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Jul 7, 2016
Jul 7, 2016 at 7:39 PM UTC
Vagrant
Brevity poetry Without rhyme or reason Would read better With alliterations like... Wonderfully woven words; Metaphors like... Sunrise kisses rosebuds to blossom; Maybe similes like... As busy as a bee. Prompts: Write your best free-verse brevity in 30 words or less inspired by the word "rhyme". Word Count: 30 Words "orange"
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May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 10:32 AM UTC
Without Rhyme...
Unspoken truth behind lips sewn shut, Bitter words hanging on a thin thread. Wet needles pierce, falling from the eyes... Pain keeps stinging from old wounds that bled. Woven lies and empty promises, Collections of broken prose and poems... Shards of the heart littering the floor, Welcome, my love, to my humbled home.
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May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 7:51 AM UTC
Unspoken
Remember the time when we stayed up till morning on the roof, watching stars? Just you and me against the world? Remember how we felt, hands and souls together... Seemingly connected? Like glue. I get attached. To you. But you are a moment- just fleeting, never to be held down, even by adhesive. Maybe you don't recall that night. I do, though... always will. The heartbreak that you left forever reminds me.
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May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 7:16 AM UTC
Remember?
She stepped into the wall of steam, Allowing the shower to unmake her From her neck to her ankles. Never her head, never her feet. Her head was an exploding star Full of simultaneous destruction and creation. Constantly making, unmaking, and remaking. Impossible to unmake something while it's being made and unmade and remade. It's all chaos and kairos. Her feet cannot be allowed to be unmade. Even in the sanctuary of sweet oblivion, There are miles to go yet. Chaos and Kairos. That's all there is.
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May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 8:33 PM UTC
Chaos and Kairos
Trying to build oneself without first correcting trauma Is the same as shoving bricks out from the bottom Of some hastily constructed masonry. It is all bound to collapse at some point, The changes and the fortitude, It is bound to fall apart as long As those bricks are missing. How can I advance without changing the past? I am trying to learn the answer.
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Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 1:24 AM UTC
Trauma
The sun kissed your features, As if its light knew no other home, As if its illumination existed solely for you. The sun bowed to you. The wind rustled your hair, Your jade eyes beamed with radiant youth. Nothing chained us at that moment, The world was the canvas for our brush. Your long fingers intertwined with mine, I turned your face to place a kiss there. You had warmed my insides, Taught me to command my own fate.
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Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 11:01 PM UTC
The Sun Bowed to You
My words peep through The veil of literature, Like a cautious creature With wary eyes. My words, they swim, Through these oceans of thought, Darting swiftly with fear That they might be preyed upon. My words often fly through the sky, Where creative feelings linger high, But they hide among the clouds So that they will not be grounded. My words, I try to use them masterfully So that I will not be quieted but rather heard. Still, I must make sure I contribute my message, No matter how I deliver it.
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Mar 19, 2016
Mar 19, 2016 at 9:15 PM UTC
The Words I Write
Humans are fragile creatures, Swept around by gusts of wind Like autumn leaves that are brittle. The gusts are the words of others, Battering us into submission. We allow society to torture us, To decide upon our development, Like we are the book and Everyone else is the author. But I want to be my own author. Don't you want that as well? I am not a ******* leaf, And neither are you. Have strength, take some from me. Some days I have little but Would happily give it to you. Have strength, it is worth it, To be your own author. To shape your own tale, To live life deliberately.
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Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 8:48 PM UTC
Fragile Creatures
Part 1 It ails me here and torments me, I am a prisoner of my own sin, I have become the one I want nothing of, And I must suffer my consequences without release, I beg for mercy as I crumble numerous times, But I know that nothing would come for something as worthless as me, I can't feel anything but pain any longer, I suffer from lack of communication, I suffer from lack of purpose, My soul has torn countless times, There is no longer any hope, I must find a way out Part 2 I've walked miles through my own mind, There is nothing here to salvage, Everything of me is useless, But there seems to be a voice so faint, It's not in me but around me, I hear it calling out for help, With my life so low I feel attractions to this cry, This wounded scream compels my being, My soul is dragging me to the victim, It is an angel with seared wings, It is out of reach from me but it can see me, She is lovely farther than any description I can give, I cannot feel anything but pain any longer, I ail for this angel and her safety, I cannot reach her but she can hear me, I have no experience with love but I feel it, The scars on my soul seem scarce, I have been given a blessing in hell, She is my salvation and I shall risk my soul to be hers
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Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 10:42 PM UTC
Hope in Hell
Frozen tears on my cheek, Empty soul within my body. So cold that it crystallizes the moisture on my face. Sometimes I feel so empty, So entirely devoid of humanity.
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Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 8:42 PM UTC
Frozen Tears
Sentimental or not, if you do read this, just know that I'm happy hat we've hung on to life for yet another year. You're now turning 18. You've been alive for over a decade. Just last year, you were planning on ending your life. You didn't. It was hard, painful, tiresome, but you didn't give in; You're still here. Thank you for giving me another year to live. No matter how you decide to spend this day, and no matter how you may be feeling right now, just know this; You're a warrior. You always were. Even at the times you fell and got hurt. You didn't call it quits, because warriors never surrender. And now here we are. 18 years. I hope we live long enough to see tomorrow rise. I hope that with the sunrise, a new chapter of your life will begin. And I hope in this chapter, you will be happy. Genially, instinctively, heart-warmingly happy. Best wishes. I hope you make it. letters to my future self, 16.7.2015
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Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 12:20 PM UTC
16.7.2015
We fell in love with the flames that crackled from within us, Not understanding what we were delving into, Nor what could happen as a result of our love. We fell in love with the passion That unfolded in front of us, so abstract and foreign To our young minds. We fell in love with each other and Started making our way toward truly understanding Real love in all of its glory.
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Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 6:26 PM UTC
In Love with the Flames
During the smog that is life, Occasionally sparks fly about, Igniting the air around you, And there is reason to smile. These sparks dance in the air Like candlelight flickering; An erratic, yet beautiful dance. They touch you at the right moments. Sometimes, The sparks reanimate you when you go cold, And sometimes, they fail. But I've learned to live for the sparks, And for the chance that eventually They'll ignite the wood of my life, And then everything will be bright.
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Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 7:26 PM UTC
Sparks
"That's the right word," I say to myself, Writing the next line. Before I can finish, My thoughts are interrupted By my boss's yelling. "Come on," he calls. "You've gotten your fix. Now back to work." My head ****** up, My scribbling hand stilled. The boss's words smart, But I must work If I'm to eat. Back to routine's kingdom I voyage, utterly chagrined. Memories of my escape Join the mist's evanescence. Like the treacherous ocean, I am always running, But forever fated to Return to the shore. The dictates of duty Govern my restrained passion. And thus, I yearn For escaping through words. To put it succinctly, Mundane reality is terminal, It will **** your soul. Art is the soul's First and best defense, Whether words or pictures, They represent your soul, Fighting for its survival. Survival in the escape. Answer this for me: Having just once escaped, Why would you even Want to come back?
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Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 9:20 PM UTC
Escape
‘Your voice,            I feel sedated whenever I hear                      its dark caress            Yet it invigorates me enough                      for it to be my work song You took me from Eden                  to the church that is                                   you I entered its ancient confines-                  to meet another you,           someone new                                               and Wilson you said: *“Be my Jackie,                          let’s steal a child from creation                          for I don’t want to be alone           like real people do who run into the woods somewhere ne'er to return to humanity"*                I wallowed in the heat of your                    Auburn cathedral and got seared by the heat of your *****              and I hear your voice                         as sweet                               as cherry wine And as I hear the trickling of fire I realized that it is the arsonist’s lullaby.‘
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Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 2:04 AM UTC
Hozier
They say that I have problems: Schizophrenia and such. There’s a lot more, but I don’t understand very much. Am I crazy? I can’t possibly be! There isn’t anything Wrong with me. Why am I in this cage? Just because I can’t remember my name Doesn’t mean that I am insane! If these walls could speak, what would they say? Would they grieve for the loss of those who had been in this room, Not realizing that their time was wasting away? Or do people enjoy losing their minds? Do they like the sense of clarity that it brings, Like knowing why the caged bird sings? The visitors I had today, The visitors do not exist, Or so the doctors say. I told the doctors about the knight Who showed me how to make pictures with raindrops on the window. They simply said that my mind is in limbo. The dragon told me a story Of how he rescued the knight from the princess, But the knight got all of the glory. The princess tells me about the voices, The voices, the voices that whisper all around As you slowly feel your sanity giving ground. “No! Stop! Get out of my head!” At least, that’s what I wanted Before my sanity fled. Quiet Peaceful Room to think Noise Friends Clarity Reason Chaos Insanity Infinity What a luxury It must be To lose your Mind Completely. My friend, what if you are the one who is in chains bound to this earth, And I am the bird, the one who is soaring free?
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Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 7:52 PM UTC
Reverie of a Madman
"You drink too much. You smoke too much. Why do you stay?" I laugh as I roll another cigarette. I slip the paper filter in between my lips, and smile. "I guess I have a death wish." I light her up, and puff away. We'll be up long into the morning.
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Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 4:07 AM UTC
4 AM Intervention