Hello Poetry
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#ponderings
Hey there, Look at me! Mixin it with the "big boys" of Helloooooo Poetry. I may be old[ER] in-age, Grey and less slender, Pumping out words Like bullets with no gender. But I hope, The war I wage Is of love and peace, not one's re-locking the cage. How do we use our platform For things that matter? Ego-crucifixion; Liberation and not just idle chatter?!
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May 25, 2025
May 25, 2025 at 12:32 AM UTC
big boys
Acrimonious ****** oh, to such a wanted piece of thought, falling carelessly as a leaf blown in a sceptical kind of winds, and with their goal of rattling me. The present fortunes present themselves as a mystery unsolved, the many spasms in a day, constricted by the extravagance of wanting to be heard; but the audience is so uninvolved As I sometimes misplace my identity in my own words- as when I misplace worries into the formula of my concerns. The lessor faith in words, frames on the highest platform; in the endless echoes of a writer’s afterlife- where their once idolized muses, are blessed enough to be seen as something appreciated as gods- __a Poetic pantheon__ Creativity is like two gloved hands, that choke out the reader’s eyes, suffocating them to see new found knowledge, in the loss of consciousness. As the stage is set; upon the tears of the world, being the opening curtains to such an encore performance; an audience made up of eyes hungry for more. The author’s responsibility to provide to them all, a due course of sustainable food for thought. As the world feeds the writer the vilest of things, to in turn create something ameliorates in place of it.
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Jul 12, 2024
Jul 12, 2024 at 6:35 AM UTC
Food for Thought
If I had been born with a ***** I wonder how I would have used it Would I have wielded my power? Would I have identified as an alpha? Would I be gentle or a brute? Would I love or abuse? Would I have been the enemy? Or would I simply have been me?
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Dec 30, 2020
Dec 30, 2020 at 9:29 AM UTC
*****
You’re on my mind Again. Although I am not surprised, For today we exchanged words— And your hair was down. You were in my dreams— What a feat when My subconscious uses brick For the walls that shelter All thoughts and feelings. For it is dangerous When I say: You are on my mind And in my dreams.
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Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 1:16 AM UTC
In My Dreams
Maybe this is not our time. Or maybe you're not mine. But let my words bear witness That at this certain moment I am thinking of you, of us And of the future that we shouldn't rush. I am letting you go while still holding on A sliver of hope that you'll be the one. But this is not a cage for you and me Because I want a love that is given free. So if our path does not cross again, Maybe it is the will of the heavens. Or maybe this is not our time. Or maybe you're not mine.
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Jun 24, 2016
Jun 24, 2016 at 12:20 PM UTC
Ponderings
It is odd to think we were all once that child we admire yet are scared to be
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Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 3:29 PM UTC
Untitled
(10W X 2) Y o u ' r e A name...a face, L e T t E r S An enigma??? ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ My  lullaby ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ I ' m Upright Curved Stretched Reaching Holding Back. I'm Your A r a b e s q u e. Sally Copyright 2014 Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
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Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 5:26 AM UTC
YOU ARE / I AM
I sit and stare at a photograph Or two or three Or every picture that he saw fit to gift to me And my gaze lingers in those hazel eyes Losing myself in half-awake dreams at 4 a.m. What if, and then So let's say we are fated Pulled and connected like the strongest of magnets Mind to mind and heart to heart Knowing that there is a freedom in that kind of unity Believing, without choice, that we own the best pieces of each other Still, what if isn't what is What is isn't what could be What could be is just another What. if. So I stare into those hazel eyes at 4:22 a.m. And I wonder, if for him, I could overlook the cigarettes and stale coffee Remnants of a history that has been unkind Leave it to me to love a man Who smells like the first one to **** me But here at 4:30 a.m. I can believe I can believe he smells like the earth after a winter rain And I can believe, that to him, I smell like heaven Lost in that sweetness Captured on a phone A thousand miles away I can feel his skin on mine His breath in my ear Saying nothing and everything all at once Here in the dark at 4:38 a.m., I can know beyond doubt That he is where my heart is With no rhyme or reason I know, that should I ask He would give me all of him And I know this As I sit here Staring at a picture Or two, or three Or every picture that he saw fit to gift to me As I stare into those hazel eyes Losing myself in half-awake dreams at 4:43 a.m.
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Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 4:55 AM UTC
Life at 4 a.m. (slam)
I have travelled the world, Climbed tall ships at sea, But I still do not know Who I want to be Stare out the window, What does life mean to you? How do we know, What we are meant to do? I am wild in spirit But I can’t seem to grow it. Please someone help me, Help me to show it.
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Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 11:46 AM UTC
Not So Midlife Crisis
I used to think it was an emotion This feeling you got about someone Much better than happiness A perpetual state of bliss Then my world overturned There's much more I learned As my emotions grew complex And myself more perplexed When your trust is broken And the relationship is just a token With love comes jealousy And hate and pain not ecstasy As everything they say Can twist you the wrong way Yet through all of every game You love them all the same This contradictory insanity Consumed every inch of me It shook me like thunder Every night, I'm forced to wonder After endless thoughts And countless ideas fought I came to a conclusion Not proven, yet well rooted That love is not a feeling But a state of being Where your heart is completely bare Vulnerable to every tear She's free to make it sing To bring joy to everything Or provoke the darker notes And life shall don a bitter coat
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Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 11:49 AM UTC
What is Love?