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Ian C Prescott Aug 2011
Continue to lie to him
And to lie with me
For it is love not lust which is so bittersweet
By and by come
You who would allow
My poison to condemn everything you shall ever love
Then you and I can prostrate upon
The altar you hold so dear and that I know so well

At least for a moment
I will then trudge in to the horizon scorned by the sun
Leaving you in solidarity

So like the others I can be catalogued—
Stocked upon your shelf a token
Your conquered warrior king
Victim to your feral grin and unbound locks
Now fodder for your written emotions

For every night you close your eyes
You will remember the night where
Our chests heaved in synchronicity
And your cries were silenced
By the beating of your heart

There I will become the best piece of literature you will ever write
And you will become my most beloved sin
Dorothy Apr 2014
Like Beethoven's Symphony No. 9 Scherzo
You had a different movement with a passage of light that danced around my aura

Left me in an anagnorisis state; a realization.
Once so obscure so ambiguous, now became more clear

The idea of you leaves me floating in euphoria
I used to like when you were mysterious

But as I grow
As we grow

I realize that nothing is more exceptional
Then having the ability to easily read into your heart and mind

I yearned for your motives to become more visible
Because my attraction to an abnormal union changed

I now wanted love that was a bit more traditional, If you get what I'm saying.
But even if you don't, that's okay

It's just that I've never felt this way
Living completely immersed in our harmonious fusion of love

Blessed that our paths crossed leaves me with yet another reason to prayerfully thank Him above.
Now that's something I'd like to feel before I leave this earth.
Deep Jun 2022
I want to give up...
my problems are
way scarier than others,
I am everything, the center,
unfavorable situations
find me like a childhood friend,

Trouble trouble everywhere
No time to live,
If I live for some days
double trouble pursue me
to outlive,

I'm Hamlet, Macbeth, Othello, King Lear
Shakespeare wrote my predicaments
six centuries earlier,
My birth was a tragedy,
I'm armored in 'hamartia', 'anagnorisis'
'peripeteia', and what not
searching my doom to
entertain few who paid to see me,
I have none neither unity of time,
or place or action,

I don't deserve this,
But
What should I do?
I have no means and measures or methods,
to raise my hand and say,
"Sir, this disgusts me, living like this doing
same task same time all day"
Count me absent since today,
I'm going never to come,

What a sick time this is,
everyone is hating everyone,
I hate everyone too,
why shouldn't I?
I'd one demand,
I want to study, but no one had money
to pay, neither family, nor state, or center,
I saw them investing in bricks and stones
I saw them collecting taxes,
But no one came,
I wanted to work no had work to offer.

So I am writing, venting off my anguish,
Okay so if you are here, I call you my confidant,
keep it a secret,
You know I am alone now
But I wasn't before, a girl I love but never
told her my feeling, why????

Yes, she is employed, she earns I do not,
I fear this, I search for work, not that
I need one, I crash on the footpath,
live on the discarded crumbs out
the big restaurant in my city,
I'm not invoking pity in you--
Argumentum ad Misericordiam--
stating just the fact sir,
I believe in "Less is MOre"
and indeed I have less and I am happy
but what troubles me is her,
Ah! it's not that easy, I've heard
they don't take seriously unemployed guys,
Yes, sir, I may be wrong, but I don't want to
take any chance,
Life is not a life sir without her,

You can judge this in the tone
after I started tak]lking about her.
I love her dearly,
But who doesn't sir?
when they are young,
Jared Allard Jun 2011
I gain power from the storm.
The lightning flashes in my eyes
Like migraine splotches and fireflies in early June—my birthday,
And I can feel the deep thunder rumbling in my bones:
A vivifying vibration grappling inside me.
It’s rough and shakes my frame, lifting me,
Driving away the old deceased salty soul-flesh bits, stuck down;
Something’s born inside me.
I feel no pain.

I can close my eyelids
And plunge myself into the darkness
Before the storm does the same to the homes around me.
Like minds think alike?
It plunges all into the darkness, cutting off the phones.
No connections, but I feel more connected.
The clouds have absorbed energy,
And the weather beast has given it to me.
It’s growing.

I look towards the powerless sockets on the walls
And read the dread in their faces—open mouthed, wide-eyed.
In the darkness,
Lightning strikes,
Or did I smile?

Mama’s in the basement,
yelling to get me down there.
She’s scared—socket-faced.
The radio’s storm-reports are the metal plug that conducts her mind,
Flip the switch on worry,
Ignite the fright,
But I look outside and all there is are light grey clouds.
The clouds are building inside me.
Mama’s plugged in to fear,
And it seems the sudden power surge
makes her a burnt fuse.

I, however, am grounded,
So the power flows through me.
I feel fresh—watered by the new-falling rain—sane.
I let the storm front carry me.
The backdoor creaks as my hand leads it way from its frame.
Mama’s screaming from the basement,
But the rain drowns her out.
I want to go out.

Internal-external thunder booms secrets in my ears.
Lightning smile: bright, fast and quick—a flash;
Grounded knowledge booms.
Now. I know.
I know know.
Another flash anagnorisis.

I’m on the back porch;
There’s rushing behind me,
arms trying to grab me,
fingers trying to pull me in.
In front of me, the wind rips and roars up
And cracks like a whip.
I pull myself away, make it to the driveway.
I look up at the sky, dark grey and black,
Feel the rain on my skin;
My being finally recognizes this feeling, and it lifts.
And I jump.

— The End —