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You think you're golden.

You're just a delicious lie wrapped in false promises.

And like the gratification of the taste,
Your pleasures are fickle and temporary.

You can fake the shine -
Polish the luster of your smile -
But any open eye can decipher what's real
And you're not.

You think you're golden
And you are.
Fool's gold always has value
As long as fools shall search.
 Mar 2016 Victoria Bravo
Kim
Tigers hunt, Sheep bleat
Eagles soar, Bears sleep
Only one imperfection
One blot on this earth
Only one mistake
In this chaotic universe
The biped that thought
I’m special, they are naught
I will chase them and herd them
I will cow them and hurt them
I will conquer their will
As I sit atop my hill
All that I see is mine
My power is divine

Indeed power is divine
or at least above the touch
Of the lowly biped,
Slave to ego, its crutch
Time cycles around
The circle of life
Each fool with a title
Sits pretty for a while
On a mountain of bones,
Bloodshed, false pride
I’ve won, I’ve crushed them
Look how they run and hide

Oh, don’t you see,
You sad little fool
One of these days that
Boomerang will find you
Your house of cards is swaying
The hounds of hate are baying
Your great successor has arrived
Same delusions, different stripes!
When will people surrender their grandiose delusions for a better, larger, more positive way of life? How foolhardy to think that any one of us can conquer the earth..or control how other people live..and how small minded and poor spirited that anyone should wish to..!
I do not evade
Nor shun
Visions crude
That come to aid
My drafting pen
And chaperone
To creativities den

Cause I know
Yes I know
My darkest thoughts
Will form a poem
Why is it that pain makes one creative, or does it just make you more expressive? I often wonder. Is poetry a coping-mechanism, or a sharing-mechanism?
Cry
i tell my mother

"one day they will come around, one day they'll understand your struggles"

but she cries still.

and i cry.

i tell my father

"this is your chance to be the dad, you never were"

but he forgets.

and they call me and they cry

and i cry.

i tell my brother,

"she is your mother no matter what"

but he forgets,

and she cries.

and i cry.

i tell my sister,

"dont be afraid of being a single mother"

but she stays,

and she cries.

and i cry.

i tell my little brother,

"theres more to life than a girl"

but he gets another, and another.

and he cries.

and i cry.

and when i need those three words to keep me from dying,

they forget.

and i cry.
A deep sea stretch
of all the unknowns,
Undiscovered and untouched.
A ***** cream beach litters us with sand
These speckles affect our ivory skin,
They make us look more romanticised than we are.
A salty silent cocoon of living organisms,
Encasing us inside its burnt heath of razor sharp grass.
The stretch of land before us curving and tangling,
Becoming an alcove of such beauty only a lover’s body can recreate,
Often described as “beast with two backs”, it is just that.

A simple engagement can become as vast as those open waters,
It can take forever to form from steaming molten lava,
Then,
Be swept away,
As easily as dead wood.

You blow bubbles from a mouth which opens at the surface,
Diving, parting the cool lips with a clasp of the hands,
You slip gracefully in, making ripples,
Leading to a land.
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