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 Mar 2018 unnamed
Tiana Marie
All I ended up with
was a heart broken for you.
And, in the end, all you are
is a beautiful poetry muse.

No matter the ups or downs
or the in-betweens we went through,
I will always be thankful for the poetry
I wrote because of you.
As artists
We want to hold on to our creation forever
We want the reader to interpret our art with our intention
We want to control
But the truth is
Once we release our art into the world
It becomes common property
And belongs to the world
We do not get to dictate
How our art will be received
Or whether the viewer must laugh
Or cry
Or become nostalgic
The purpose of art
Is to let it go
 Mar 2018 unnamed
alexa
you will never be forgotten.
ever.
your name twisted into metaphors and colors and distractions will forever
be painted across pages and pages of her favorite brand of notebook,
no matter how many she burns
there will always be one she forgot,
and she will only find it once she had almost forgotten you.
she will find the one Papyrus notebook
and all of your metaphors and colors and disractions will come flooding back,
just like how the ocean in your eyes
flooded her heart all those years ago.
O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends
For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed?
Both truth and beauty on my love depends;
So dost thou too, and therein dignified.
Make answer, Muse. Wilt thou not haply say,
“Truth needs no colour with his colour fixed,
Beauty no pencil, beauty’s truth to lay,
But best is best, if never intermixed”?
Because he needs no praise, wilt thou be dumb?
Excuse not silence so, for’t lies in thee
To make him much outlive a gilded tomb
And to be praised of ages yet to be.
    Then do thy office, Muse; I teach thee how
    To make him seem, long hence, as he shows now.
Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye,
And all my soul, and all my every part;
And for this sin there is no remedy,
It is so grounded inward in my heart.
Methinks no face so gracious is as mine,
No shape so true, no truth of such account;
And for my self mine own worth do define,
As I all other in all worths surmount.
But when my glass shows me myself indeed
Beated and chapped with tanned antiquity,
Mine own self-love quite contrary I read;
Self so self-loving were iniquity.
    ’Tis thee, myself, that for my self I praise,
    Painting my age with beauty of thy days.
 Mar 2018 unnamed
Paul Donnell
your name appears in so many places that there is no denying the significance of you.
coincendence and sequcenalities be ******.

you are there and here and there again.

It must not be the same for you, as my name is not so common.
Perhaps rolling by the in credits of B rated movies or heard amongst an ornery crowd.

Yet you know as well as I, the crows carry my name on their breast and call.
They know me as well as the wing takes flight...

knife edge white upon the canvas of black night the moon gossips with the stars.
she whispers things in the early hours that only dreams can decipher,
and so
you are there as well.

inexorably tangled in this web weaved by gods...

have you cursed me?

I wonder if I have cursed you.

a dark and desperate part of me hopes so.
But secretly I do
 Mar 2018 unnamed
Pablo Neruda
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
 Feb 2018 unnamed
TinyATuin
Dont go chasing waterfalls
my girl
please
stay here with the lazy flow
under
willow trees
 Feb 2018 unnamed
ln
Life vs Pizza
 Feb 2018 unnamed
ln
Life is like a pizza. You crave for a larger one, thinking that you're hungry enough to finish everything yourself. That's like yourself 10 years ago, wanting to become an adult. Now that you're halfway there, all you want to do is go back to being a kid. Sometimes the pizza is too hot, and you've got to wait for it to settle down before shoving it down your throat. The same way, life gets a little rough sometimes, so you sit and wait impatiently, till it gets better. Sometimes, the pizza's too cold. So you heat it up a little. The same way, life gets a little boring sometimes. So you get yourself involved in **** that doesn't necessarily need your attention, under the name of "you only live once". Some pizza toppings are pushed away, because you don't like how it tastes. The same way, you neglect people just because you don't like them. On the other hand, you can't get enough of some pizza toppings. They're too good to stop eating. Those are like family and best friends, you just can't stay away. Although sometimes too much of the same topping makes you want to throw up, you order it the next time anyway, just because you like it. All said and done, at the end of the day, you finish the pizza. That's like death. You really wish there was more pizza, but there's just no more. Sometimes, there's too much, you throw it away. That symbolises suicide. When there's too much to deal with, and you just end it. The only difference is, you can always order another box of pizza, but you can't order another box of life.
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