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The blue bird flies
Colours of its feathers
Merges with the sky

Golden ribbons shimmered
Through the trees
Blue bird, mid air whirs, catches a fly

The blue bird sings
Verditer Flycatcher, the name
That’s my name, my name, my name
 Feb 2022 Michele
S R Mats
I carry these memories
- in a golden vessel

For each of you to sup
Take this cup, drink it up

And be imbued with
The sweetness of life & love
 Feb 2022 Michele
SøułSurvivør
🦋🦋🦋

what is a human
in fallen state?
i was a grub
i won't debate!
no, i was of
quite low estate
heading for
an awful fate!
but Jesus in me
made me great!

🐛🐛🐛

i felt a twinge
i felt an itch
the urge for growth
inside did twitch
i had to morph
i turned the switch

🦋🦋🦋

i changed inside
of my cocoon
but only after
the worm's doom
i split my skin
to make the room
it was painful
i met my tomb
but i knew joy
was coming soon!

🦋🦋🦋

joy!
my butterfly
spread her wings!
we'd encountered
painful things
sometimes the hurt
still clutches - clings
but the Spirit
Jesus brings
and so my soul
with dancing

SINGS!


SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage
(C) 9/11/2016
 Feb 2022 Michele
Jamison Bell
An obsidian lake lit up by white fire before an army of cypress trees.
That seem as though they marched upon this lake only to company halt at its beauty.
So awe struck by the depth of this void.
They failed to notice they were sinking into the marsh on the lakes brim.
Now stationed here until time consumes them.
Wisps of clouds skate upon the onyx surface until called upon by the sun.
The silence here collides into the chorus songs of the frogs, the birds, and the wind through the trees.
Fireflies, aglow with a cold light, dance with their reflections along the shoreline.
A fish jumps and the ripples approach like waves of black satin.
A crescent moon glides across the celestial sea like an ethereal swan.
In the waters flawless reflection of the heavens one feels trapped between two galaxies.
Just, just leave me here.
 Feb 2022 Michele
Lou Alpha
Somebody wrote "acurate"
And that seemed not quite right
I then responded to the mate
So that he may gain insight:
"It occurs to me that the accurate way
To write "accurate" is with recurring "c" ."
My friends will most likely hang me, nay,
I'm confident they're gonna find something worse for me...
But I liked the tongue-twister well
And in this sense,
Knowing I will burn in hell,
I added "That was a neat sentence"...
That actually just happened. XD
 Feb 2022 Michele
Chie
you're funny, like my friends /

you talk like them, you walk like them, like the same things as them / and we, we get along just like them / but this is a love poem / so, of course you are different  /

you're funny, in a way that smiles lasts for days / even when what was said wasn't even a joke to begin with / you talk, as if you there's lightness around you and there's time (there’s time) to run around - and to sit, quietly

(can you do that with me?)

/ yet you don't just like things, you love things - things that make you bright - you love the things I am /

but you can still be like them / like my friends, still.

/ but this / this is a love poem / so of course, you'll always be different to me
wrote this when I realized that I was starting to see the person turn into something more than a friend. I was scared and hesitant, so I wrote. and while I was, the last line wrote itself - translation, it's too late but it's also wonderful. it's fragile but it's the way things are right now, hence why this turned out to be a love poem after all.
I own My Madness not the other way around. It doesn't control me anymore. I am medicated with prescribed by psychiatrist, drugs. I am still trying to find the right therapist.
My Madness is why I write. There is no other way to explain it. I remember when I was in my psychosis I called myself, Eurosia.
Bouncing between that personality and my usual personality was rough on me. I didn't want my name when I was in my psychosis.
I thought it told myself my name is Eurosia it would erase my dramatic, emotionally charged messy past but I was still me, Brandi the Brave. The girl who became a perfectionist at eleven.
My Madness drove me to do crazy things for love and validation. I never scared anyone more than the people I fell for. Slowly over time my love for people became platonic, romantic, and familial. I trained myself to bring myself back to reality by listening to music and counting past ten when it got too wild even for me.
My Madness made me the talk of the town ever since I was 7 years old. Being labeled mentally disabled used to make me feel worthless then I realized it meant I had to learn at my own rate however fast or slow.
My Madness, my cross to bear.
the silvers of the moon
sing their song of winter,
exhilarating above the black
rock and distant trees, her
fire lights the night like a
street lamp, the shadows
thrown back, muted,
echoing the near-teary darks
of the clouds. i sit on the
window sill, look out,
breathe deep the midnight sky
built of love and winter rose.
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