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Come On All You Ghosts <> I heard a little cough in the room, and turned but no one was there except the flowers Sarah bought me and my death’s head glow in the dark key chain that lights up and moans when I press the button on top of its skull and the ghost I shyly name Aglow. Are you there Aglow I said in my mind, reader, exactly the way you just heard it in yours about four poem time units ago unless you have already put down the paper directly after the mention of poetry or ghosts. Readers I am sorry for some of you this is not a novel. Good-bye. Now it is just us and the death’s head and the flowers and the ghost in San Francisco thinking together by means of the ancient transmission device. I am sorry but together we are right now thinking along by means of an ancient mechanistic system no one invented involving super-microscopic particles that somehow (weird!) enter through your eyes or ears depending on where you are right now reading or listening. To me it seems like being together one body made of light clanging down through a metal structure for pleasure and edification. Reader when I think of you you are in a giant purple chair in a Starbucks gradually leaking power while Neil Young eats a campfire then drinks a glass of tears on satellite radio. Hello. I am 40. I have lived in Maryland, Amherst, San Francisco, New York, Ljubljana, Stonington (house of the great ornate wooden frame holding the mirror the dead saw us in whenever we walked past), New Hampshire at the base of the White Mountains on clear blue days full of dark blue jays beyond emotion jaggedly piercing, Minneapolis of which I have spoken earlier and quite enough, Paris, and now San Francisco again. Reader, you are right now in what for me is the future experiencing something you cannot without this poem. I myself am suspicious and cruel. Sometimes when I close my eyes I hear a billion workers in my skull hammering nails from which all the things I see get hung. But poems are not museums, they are machines made of words, you pour as best you can your attention in and in you the poetic state of mind is produced said one of the many French poets with whom I feel I must agree. Another I know writes his poems on silver paint in a mirror. I feel like a president raising his fist in the sun.
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Jun 6, 2023
Jun 6, 2023 at 10:28 AM UTC
Come On All You Ghosts by Matthew Zapruder 2010
Come On All You Ghosts <> I heard a little cough in the room, and turned but no one was there except the flowers Sarah bought me and my death’s head glow in the dark key chain that lights up and moans when I press the button on top of its skull and the ghost I shyly name Aglow. Are you there Aglow I said in my mind, reader, exactly the way you just heard it in yours about four poem time units ago unless you have already put down the paper directly after the mention of poetry or ghosts. Readers I am sorry for some of you this is not a novel. Good-bye. Now it is just us and the death’s head and the flowers and the ghost in San Francisco thinking together by means of the ancient transmission device. I am sorry but together we are right now thinking along by means of an ancient mechanistic system no one invented involving super-microscopic particles that somehow (weird!) enter through your eyes or ears depending on where you are right now reading or listening. To me it seems like being together one body made of light clanging down through a metal structure for pleasure and edification. Reader when I think of you you are in a giant purple chair in a Starbucks gradually leaking power while Neil Young eats a campfire then drinks a glass of tears on satellite radio. Hello. I am 40. I have lived in Maryland, Amherst, San Francisco, New York, Ljubljana, Stonington (house of the great ornate wooden frame holding the mirror the dead saw us in whenever we walked past), New Hampshire at the base of the White Mountains on clear blue days full of dark blue jays beyond emotion jaggedly piercing, Minneapolis of which I have spoken earlier and quite enough, Paris, and now San Francisco again. Reader, you are right now in what for me is the future experiencing something you cannot without this poem. I myself am suspicious and cruel. Sometimes when I close my eyes I hear a billion workers in my skull hammering nails from which all the things I see get hung. But poems are not museums, they are machines made of words, you pour as best you can your attention in and in you the poetic state of mind is produced said one of the many French poets with whom I feel I must agree. Another I know writes his poems on silver paint in a mirror. I feel like a president raising his fist in the sun.
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106
returned to the same desk, the same grindstone, the same thoughts, cyclical patterns of thought and action, but which comes first? the will slips, the cracks widen, and it all floods in, easier to understand, caught within the same ropes, you spun from woes of a broken past, and they were meant to help climb out, but the grease that bounds the threads, cannot be grasped by those unresolved, to the reality they crave most,
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Mar 15, 2022
Mar 15, 2022 at 12:41 AM UTC
Dimensional Shifting
and just how far have you gone for the sake of your "camaraderie," my friend? their half-glow hearts and prejudiced minds could have swallowed you whole, or abandoned you, wit be-damned, and genius be-damned, you might have died a pauper— I hear they’d **** a man much more guarded than you, they might string him up, tie his broken body to a fencepost, leave him ****** satisfy a tyranny under the watchful eye of a loving God, trade a boy in Laramie for a jet-black brutal odium, **** a kid and wonder what his mother did to steer him wrong— but still you wrote of calamus and of holding hands and handsome lovers, still you gave us songs to sing back to our lovers, gentle songs, despite the shame and censorship they cursed you with, despite the threat that everything could be undone, despite the scripture, well I must say, dear Good Gray Poet, before I fold my hand, thank you, Walt, for giving us what you never had.
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Feb 23, 2019
Feb 23, 2019 at 9:31 AM UTC
To Walt
I felt the ground beneath me, There was nothing at all, I had nothing, To stop the fall. I could hear the shrieks, of ghosts in time past, I wonder how long, they will last, I could feel the breath of a slimy creature behind, a conjure casted cat ran through my mind, I thought of death and how my clock winds, but alas, death leaves my contract left unsigned, I opened my eyes, bright sun up above, Startled, I jolted up with a buzz, gave my body a shove, flowers on the ground spelled out love, heat on my face I had nothing to speak of, I took a long walk to understand, what I thought was in the masterplan, I sunk my toes in the dirt to feel the land, I realized the plan isn't about my lifespan
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Feb 6, 2019
Feb 6, 2019 at 1:51 AM UTC
Lifespan
This is a tale of long ago I was a small boy new to this Tedious life that is a show The only thing inside was bliss, Oh, Mistress, I held that pencil with a fist I took those thoughts that run away pulled them into the real world I imagined a chicken named earl In recess, I jotted notes on a pad with a twirl for an assignment, my thoughts couldn't stay It poured out my hand like neverland my hand as stable as Afghanistan The chicken had a mind of his own and Earl made that page his home I knew from that day on Writer was a part of my identity's lexicon
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Feb 5, 2019
Feb 5, 2019 at 1:11 AM UTC
The First Time I Wrote
Do not instigate, use power to demonstrate, the battle within
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Feb 5, 2019
Feb 5, 2019 at 12:55 AM UTC
Haiku 8
The progressive flow of time can never, ever unwind don't think towards infinity and degrade your own trinity The title of alive is but a mask finding your power is your true task I look back and I realize now why my depression screamed so loud I wasn't true to myself I could think of nothing, and nothing else To regain my insanity, my dignity Grow my resolve towards infinity
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Jan 17, 2019
Jan 17, 2019 at 2:18 AM UTC
Reborn
Stuck in a chair, Mind disappeared somewhere, No time, and no care, No place out of there
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Jan 16, 2019
Jan 16, 2019 at 3:22 AM UTC
Late Night Thoughts
Many nights I see you lay awake, tormented by the mistakes of your past. I see your thoughts replaying it in your mind like a bad rerun you can't turn off I can't take it anymore... I can't take watching you inject that pain into your mind over         and                over                        again... Don't you know there is rest for you on The Skull? There is rest for every broken                                                     saddened                                                                      weary soul. All you have to do is move it to my side. I can take it. I paid for it. It is done. Now sleep, child. Take rest I'll keep watch. Matthew 11:28-30 “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light"
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Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 9:52 PM UTC
Please rest, Child
one forceful burst of holiday wind makes me glance passively to the left, tracing the lines in your ponytail as you continue to stare beneath the pier. the void silence between us is normal; i shiver and you follow suit. you’re wearing triple layers and i’m wishing i would have been more prepared. the seals suddenly go belly-up and you call for the others. they come over; one is embracing the other from behind; arms bolted to hips. in the right angle, underneath the lamp post, i pretend to unsee a slightly fresh mark on her neck. i sense the awkwardness drifting our way as if the white fog in the night had suddenly come alive. i inch a hint closer. enough so you wouldn’t notice. in fact, i’m not sure what would have happened. i wonder if you would have stopped me, having known. there’s about three inches and four centimeters between our arms now. the others have gone upstairs and the voices around us have retired. the small voice beneath my ears is pressuring me to shoot my shot but my being remains stagnant. we observe the seals dance joyously within nature’s boundaries. you’re still shivering.
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Apr 25, 2018
Apr 25, 2018 at 1:48 PM UTC
Pier (Pressure)
taking a substantial bite from the already petite slice, he smiles and shoves the remainder of the fruit in my face. “it tastes just like you; innocent and oh-so delicious.” my skin crawls on every level imaginable submerged in flesh. turning around as to hide my contorted expression, i just nod. i absolutely hate him, but they claim he took care of me as a child. “you don’t have to like him; he just needs acknowledgment.” he grips my hands and spins me around. just like he used to. but harder. much harder. i used to feel terror; it’s routine now. stare at the concrete as spit projects on my face - internal meditation. they never believe me when i bring it up. i get it, there’s no proof. these marks around my throat – allergies from the weather. you’re right, these bruises, they’re from rough housing. tough love. literally. he says the easiest way to discipline someone was reinforcing punishment. you should see the strength he uses to test for ripeness at the market. now imagine this: the watermelon is your skull, and his fists are knives. i just avoid eye contact and clench my abdomen; the knees are coming. “i’m going to spread you open today, boy; like a ******* ****** watermelon” he loves seeing the liquid run down my chin – perfectly young and seedless. and i react just how he likes it: like his ******* watermelon.
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Apr 25, 2018
Apr 25, 2018 at 1:46 PM UTC
Watermelon
within Zieglerville, pennsylvania genuine snow white hair upon her noggin doth adorn, perhaps she will divulge to me (in private) after i croon (to said lass), the melody of Jimmy Crack Corn hmm...or, maybe this mission perchance twill be doomed from the start, and hence finding me forlorn thenceforth, a backup contingency measure, would warrant me to don my thinking cap, and for extra ordinary reinforcement unfold each Taj Mahal shaped ear flap plus (for reinforced ironic steeliness), aye also resort to buttress any aural "stormy Dani yelling) via walled in interlap, which accouterment functions as a double agent i.e. (or, to be rather crude), an audiological jockstrap to vet or figuratively kneecap any unwanted infiltrating leaping lap ping "FAKE" distracting news inducing madcap mass media circus driving this generic teetotaler to pour himself a nightcap essentially providing wig gull room with very little margin of ear err, or overlap against bigwigs to trumpet pap pill low ma rendered free and clear asper insidious (mama mia) paparazzi charting imp pea ching fear bringing out bare arms most likely something internuclear simply to discover visa vis authenticity if cute employee (sporting hair white as the ****** snow), which doth simmer and glare blindingly, thus necessitating sunglasses (I choose the Ray-Ban brand) as recommended by cited all time favorite pharmacist who unwittingly (or simply because my myopic eyes didst stare) fixedly - drawn to such a darling (doll ling) explaining any reason to go THERE to CVS - that tis where.
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Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 5:58 PM UTC
Dani (a Charming CVS Pharmacist)
within Zieglerville, pennsylvania genuine snow white hair upon her noggin doth adorn, perhaps she will divulge to me (in private) after i croon (to said lass), the melody of Jimmy Crack Corn hmm...or, maybe this mission perchance twill be doomed from the start, and hence finding me forlorn thenceforth, a backup contingency measure, would warrant me to don my thinking cap, and for extra ordinary reinforcement unfold each Taj Mahal shaped ear flap plus (for reinforced ironic steeliness), aye also resort to buttress any aural "stormy Dani yelling) via walled in interlap, which accouterment functions as a double agent i.e. (or, to be rather crude), an audiological jockstrap to vet or figuratively kneecap any unwanted infiltrating leaping lap ping "FAKE" distracting news inducing madcap mass media circus driving this generic teetotaler to pour himself a nightcap essentially providing wig gull room with very little margin of ear err, or overlap against bigwigs to trumpet pap pill low ma rendered free and clear asper insidious (mama mia) paparazzi charting imp pea ching fear bringing out bare arms most likely something internuclear simply to discover visa vis authenticity if cute employee (sporting hair white as the ****** snow), which doth simmer and glare blindingly, thus necessitating sunglasses (I choose the Ray-Ban brand) as recommended by cited all time favorite pharmacist who unwittingly (or simply because my myopic eyes didst stare) fixedly - drawn to such a darling (doll ling) explaining any reason to go THERE to CVS - that tis where.
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I look around, I stand alone on a moonlight road, all my own, I light a candle, hovered in front of me, the fields of grass, warm, and overgrown, I follow the trail of broken stones, made of barren lights so far away, the rocks, they whisper tired moans, my feet pass over like tomorrow on yesterday, I listen to the trees breathing with vanity, I hear the leaves talking to the breeze, It swirls around me, Oh, my Humanity! The devil is close, can you feel him? on the breathe of the homeless, On the sweet taste of sin, Global warming will make us globeless, For you, me, everything in the sea, That and more is what the trees tell me, The path grows wider, with newer stone, The future is ours, and mine alone, We see things differently, across the table, across the sea, without us Earth would heal, just another fossil in a tomb, sent to doom like those before us, All of the long necks and Tyrannosaurus, rest in the ground see the reality? despicable delinquents of DNA Throwing away what Mother Earth gave birth War proves we don't know our worth, The path reaches a fork what will you choose? for something meaningful to happen, it starts with you
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Jun 15, 2017
Jun 15, 2017 at 12:51 AM UTC
The Faltered Path
Amber is the color of your energy, I know I understand you, bonded from paternal love, so naturally, A soft melody, Your reasons, a lot of, times you learned, fueled by experience, your guidance for me, it's furious, You're gone now, with a part of me We can't find common ground, we agree to burn it down, We play it like a game, Too late, we realize that's lame, the needing in our compass is trembling, your words hurt, an eminent sting, Now I see all the futility, of resisting all these jaded realities, Don't burn what can't be rebuilt, your mind is a million miles away, your heart in the same place, fix the day, before you separate, Now I've hit the ground running, these lessons I find so cunning, The ice we skate is getting pretty thin, The water is getting warm, go ahead, swim, I miss you dad, and this is how I say goodbye, I know you cannot stay, The years start coming, and they don't stop, Anxiety's the worry on top, I know I let you down, but I'm just a slave to the night, I know I gave you hell through the years, I know you've shed countless tears, and I know you have countless tears. But now there's a single truth. There's you in everything I do,
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May 24, 2017
May 24, 2017 at 12:47 AM UTC
Amber
Out by the Strange Creek a little drunk, I built a tower of stone, an imaginary throne, I pondered of power and sat on a stump, The moon hung like an old friend from up above, There were many around, laughing and happy, A few on the guitar sounded a little sappy, Tents dotted the river, and I dipped my tows in the sand, The stars up above illuminated the camp but not the bands, Too many drugs made there way around, back in the woods everyone gathered around a stage, and jammed the music, they blazed, for themselves, their future, but mostly the present, Their bodies swayed, in a daze, Acid, **** liquor and E Oh boy, it was a party, but the last bit of my sober self, turned inwards and the whole of me felt, the seven chakras flowing through me, connecting me to infinity, We partied for three days, acid babies littered the place, We drank for our mistakes, and listened to The Machine, The wall flowing through me, We freed our bodies, and our souls to the void, On the last night we were over joyed, But now that I'm leaving I feel it slipping away My crown chakra back into the haze, My mind's eye back into a cage, My throat chakra back underneath, My heart chakra feels only grief, My solar plexus can't handle a nexus, My sacral is fine though, trust me, But my roots, They don't even trust me
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Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 12:58 AM UTC
The Strange Creek
Coming in like a storm, not all that bright In movies, the lead and the light Slow of his drawl, not wanting to fight Flying high, as a kite Noisy and strong, as bongos on lawn Toking good **** so totally gone Naked and freed, holding a **** Singing his own little song Escorted to jail, a lawyer-less plight Selling Lincolns, an acting blight Batten down your hatches, making them tight Always saying "Alright, alright, alright" As hurricanes go, we all wish you to know Matthew the villain, tonight
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Oct 7, 2016
Oct 7, 2016 at 2:05 PM UTC
Alright
Recently, I've come to think I have ADD Definitely, it's in the open, plain to see As a child I found life hell, The gears kept twisting, spouting some scandalous lies My mind just raced no matter what, Its true what they say, kids are mean, nasty, and cruel, If I could go back, I'd say "know your heart is true", I remember the Moose I saw, up in old Maine, We were all in a cabin, I loved the soft rain, Four generations, all as one, Lived simply together, I remember our song, We sung once when a fox poked up, Out of the brush, we hushed and cooed out of sight, And it stared with green eyes, and in there flared fiery fight, I can remember the beach my favorite time, I put my toes in cool sand, a feel that is sublime The sand was so white, It was just right for fireworks that starry night, I can't imagine, what would be better than warm water, Old Silver is a beach where I would stay for meditation Remembering the smell of the gross chemicals, I sprayed at an abandoned night club, stomach full, Of ***** I once stole, from the cupboard where I wasn't supposed to go, I could feel my soul, When I climbed onto the roof, I could feel the weight, When I sat on the edge, in front lay a beautiful city, ' Recently, I've come to think I have ADD Definitely, it's in the open, plain to see And to this day I find life hell, The gears kept twisting, spouting some scandalous lies My mind still races no matter what, Its true what they say, life is mean, nasty, and cruel, If I could go back, I'd say "know your heart is true",
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Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 1:24 AM UTC
I Remember
Recently, I've come to think I have ADD Definitely, it's in the open, plain to see As a child I found life hell, The gears kept twisting, spouting some scandalous lies My mind just raced no matter what, Its true what they say, kids are mean, nasty, and cruel, If I could go back, I'd say "know your heart is true", I remember the Moose I saw, up in old Maine, We were all in a cabin, I loved the soft rain, Four generations, all as one, Lived simply together, I remember our song, We sung once when a fox poked up, Out of the brush, we hushed and cooed out of sight, And it stared with green eyes, and in there flared fiery fight, I can remember the beach my favorite time, I put my toes in cool sand, a feel that is sublime The sand was so white, It was just right for fireworks that starry night, I can't imagine, what would be better than warm water, Old Silver is a beach where I would stay for meditation Remembering the smell of the gross chemicals, I sprayed at an abandoned night club, stomach full, Of ***** I once stole, from the cupboard where I wasn't supposed to go, I could feel my soul, When I climbed onto the roof, I could feel the weight, When I sat on the edge, in front lay a beautiful city, ' Recently, I've come to think I have ADD Definitely, it's in the open, plain to see And to this day I find life hell, The gears kept twisting, spouting some scandalous lies My mind still races no matter what, Its true what they say, life is mean, nasty, and cruel, If I could go back, I'd say "know your heart is true",
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36
I'll keep the lights on in this place, I'll sit here in the dark forever if its the case, but I know you'll be back soon, When I call we both know its a harpoon, The walls will dry and crack, this is where you bring me for a panic attack, I have felt worthless for so long, I have lost interest in any game or song, No I think I'll retreat back to that room to be alone, In there my voice is nothing but calm in its tone, I know its not the place that I wish to stay, but time and time again the world is too **** gray, I watch it all move and twist about, my insides screaming, my skin crawls and I want to shout, But the camera's shutter moves to slow, and the world slows down to a snail's flow, I never talked about the way I felt except in that room, where my heart could melt, and words can flow there like a summer's breeze, so I regress back to that room with ease, I'm sorry to make you read anymore, If the windows crack I need you to shut the door, I don't bring anyone else here, I've lived my whole life in fear, I need to break out and make anew, before my youth slows to a crawl, and then it's through If I think anymore, my brain will implode, like a black hole, it's another episode Inside I scream, my skin crawls, I want to shout Please depression, just let me out
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Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 2:14 AM UTC
I'll keep the lights on in this place
I prayed for rain fall for 100 years and not a drop fell, Through the kingdom grew our depleted wells, Of knowledge and virtue, a gift so strong, And the mystics preach their ageless songs, We wither, wasting away under the dim lit fog, They are to us as we to a dog, The stars are blackened by wrath of gods, the world is trapped in mother's jaws, Her nature is that of the beast, Her carnage crosses due east, I pray for help on the beach, Coals of hell will burn their feet, So help your neighbor for he is you, And believe in yourself and those around you, and take care of anyone near the end, Because sometimes we too are close to the bend,
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Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 2:30 PM UTC
Not a drop fell
She’s as small, yet beautiful As the budding spring leaves She’s as radient and strong As a summer day She’s as colorful and calm As the leaves falling off the autumn trees Her hairs as white, and her mood as soft As a snowflake falling on the ground She's Born budding And She Dies Soft
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Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 2:22 AM UTC
Woman of The Year
Please I beg you, to end my life, Squash me with a shoe, Grab the hunting knife, I haven't lived long, I know that now, But ahead I see, infinite ways for my life to flow, It's all just a stones throw from my sacred vow, The world is unbalanced, her sobs and her woes Guide us all to the future, with the past still fresh her whispers of sorrow are blocked from all view If we cannot change she will ********** refresh, and a new species like Dinos, homos, next in queue **** sapiens burning the bones, of dinosaurs, once feared and renowned, we rely on their power, the system groans, when it disappears, the masses will groan, A collective groan upwards of seven billion, lives in the sand, in the grand scheme so bland, they moan a tune of immeasurable trillions, that rest within this vicious land, And it all flows from positive to negative, and it all seems so insensitive, Or perhaps a cowards views are Introspective, But a retrospective mindset requires sedative, Collector that is why I have this sickening plea Think what you wish, I am only me
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Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 9:38 PM UTC
A Cowards Plea
"Once again I can visit you old friend. What may I ask today, no more waiting, no delay. My hands tremble as I hold this book. Waiting for you, I need to look. My destiny is a sham in the eye's of reality. Now talk, before I bring myself to tragedy" "What is it you need to know? Time is not on my side, and like winds and birds I'll glide. Be wary, a question to me is a dangerous game The things I could say would drive you insane Be careful, don't break stride, it will break if you tell lies, And I will be gone, now that's a shanty strategy" "You have the information I want, we both know As you've been here before, I'm not daft Now when I ask I need you to speak nice and slow For I am young, still novice in craft There's a billion ways I could ask this sort of thing All I want to know is what the future will bring." "There is no way to say this easy to someone as dear as you. If you cannot change your ways much of your life is through There are thrills in the years to come, and obstacles you must overcome New faces to meet and new things that won't be undone But the one thing you need to understand about life All your days, from flowers to knife, you must not live in strife" 'That tells me nothing, my woes are stirred my anger flashing, my memories a blur I will fight you in years to come and we will see what can't be undone Like a bird I will fly far on and then I'll smile when you're gone" "Oh child you know nothing of life, I have seen it all that you may live, You're a fly, and I take this light, you bide my time, my journey is long, Now goodbye, a glimpse of the past, You've taught me life goes too fast"
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Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 11:29 AM UTC
Conquer II
"Once again I can visit you old friend. What may I ask today, no more waiting, no delay. My hands tremble as I hold this book. Waiting for you, I need to look. My destiny is a sham in the eye's of reality. Now talk, before I bring myself to tragedy" "What is it you need to know? Time is not on my side, and like winds and birds I'll glide. Be wary, a question to me is a dangerous game The things I could say would drive you insane Be careful, don't break stride, it will break if you tell lies, And I will be gone, now that's a shanty strategy" "You have the information I want, we both know As you've been here before, I'm not daft Now when I ask I need you to speak nice and slow For I am young, still novice in craft There's a billion ways I could ask this sort of thing All I want to know is what the future will bring." "There is no way to say this easy to someone as dear as you. If you cannot change your ways much of your life is through There are thrills in the years to come, and obstacles you must overcome New faces to meet and new things that won't be undone But the one thing you need to understand about life All your days, from flowers to knife, you must not live in strife" 'That tells me nothing, my woes are stirred my anger flashing, my memories a blur I will fight you in years to come and we will see what can't be undone Like a bird I will fly far on and then I'll smile when you're gone" "Oh child you know nothing of life, I have seen it all that you may live, You're a fly, and I take this light, you bide my time, my journey is long, Now goodbye, a glimpse of the past, You've taught me life goes too fast"
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36
Write a poem, A lonely whisper, It grows louder with each thought It breathes slow with care, It lives there. write a word, expression of you, It is yourself, reflection, just like a candle, It stands there Write a rhyme, beautiful, sublime, it will reach past your voice, A monster is born, A nightmare
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Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 11:00 AM UTC
A Scribe's Poem
Break free from it's rain death to life, only life to gain, but both are the same
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Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 4:41 PM UTC
Haiku 3