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daniel f Aug 2013
On those drawn out summer evenings, all manner of characters would fill the coffee shops and spill outside. An interesting cross section of society would be provided for anyone willing to sit and watch, for an hour or two atleast. This particular evening will always stand out for me as representative of those carefree folly filled evenings. I was sat alone, with a copy of the evening news and an espresso across the street from a boisterous coffee shop which remained opened deep into the evening, long after others were closed. I often sat and watched people in those early few months, Id decided against socialising with colleagues. I would go to great lengths to prearranged fictitious plans and engagements in order so that I could sit alone each evening, pleasing myself. It's always far easier to enjoy food alone, without any distractions. After considering my options I settled for a steak, and a glass of wine. The waiter seemingly unconcerned failed to take note as I gave my order, with a shrug of his head he returned to the kitchen inside to place the order. The cafe I watched was perched almost perfectly across the street from the train station. As commuters and young couples in love poured out of the station, and onto the bright expanse which was the street before them. The popularity of this particular cafe is hard to convey correctly, it's frantic nature remained even on the bleakest of midwinter evenings. Now though months of bread and water were long gone, as seasonal waiters hurried arms filled will all manner of snacks and drinks.  All manner of agricultural workers would congregate in early march, eager to snap up work in the best hotels and cafes thus ensuring a healthy wage and generous tips. The waiters from the mountains always stood out. It was as if they retained the innocence of there previous surroundings, smiling all coy when taking orders from female customers. They retained the physical attributes of the mountains which they had left, towering above others and maintaining a mystique which often meant they would return in November with wives and child aswell.

By now it was half past eight atleast, and I had finished my steak and wine. The traffic was in the process of slowing down, although it was not uncommon here for traffic jams to form at any hour of the evening. Car horns echoed and ricocheted off old architecture which gave an impression of immense movement all around.  The owner was a beast of a man standing six foot high atleast, with a beard which gave away his rugged beginnings. It was impossible to estimate his origin correctly, Id always imagined he was from somewhere in Northern Europe although by now I had learnt that assumptions were the preserve of fools. He could most often be found pacing up and down the pavement adjacent to his cafe, smoking his camel blue cigarettes and staring deep into the night sky. As if preoccupied with some great moral dilemma this could go on for hours of end, without him breathing a word to anyone.  Under a great mane of curly brown hair, lay the most enthralling blue eyes imaginable. They had a softness which would not seem out of place upon the face of some Parisian muse. Although I must confess when first confronted with this gentleman an his almost childlike appearance, I was adamant I had him figured. He seemed the kind of man who blundered through life, although successful still seemed to be scraping an unenviable existence for himself.

By now I had stuck around long enough to get some feel for the pitter patter of life in just such a place. The transient nature of the customers ensured a bravado unseen in any old small town watering hole, women driven wild by spontaneous desire stared sultry at the mysterious visitors.
A crew of sailors who had no doubt been granted shore leave, and were soaking up the atmosphere just across the road from me. They could have been from any South American nation, or Spain. It really was impossible to tell from my distance, a few had clearly cultivated moustaches whilst at sea. It was common for sea faring people's to grow ****** hair in such a manner. Almost as if by magic, a story told by someone without a beard holds subtle undertones of irrelevance. I had learned this over the many months I had spent smoking and talking to locals, and travellers alike. I must confess I had fallen hook line and sinker, I was currently locked in the process of cursing my genetics and dreaming of a more rugged appeal.

By now the black coffees had petered out, and had been replaced by glasses and in some cases bottles of what I can only assume was Spanish red wine. The noise had steadily increased as the drinks flowed, and the crowd of sailors had gradually grown more and more boisterous in there escapades . A few feet away the manager stared intently at the revellers, as if the warn them without words of being too careless in a foreign city. The ever present owner done very little to deter the actions of the pack, who's numbers by now had been swelled from another dozen or so sailors who happened to be walking in the right direction.  The sailors leered shamelessly at the local women, whilst the more forward of them made there own advances. Still the manager stood smoking and staring as if to catch the sight of one of them. Now to the wary eyes of a man returned from a long voyage this would seem like a place, where desire became a priority above all else. This would be an entirely accurate assumption although, if the surface was scratched significantly an underbelly of immorality could be found. For the sailors though, whom were just passing through unlikely to ever return this mattered very little. There only concern was draining themselves on some unsuspecting women, or if so required a *******.

It's hard to say exactly how the altercation was initiated, although I suspect the cat calls of a few sailors had pushed one local over the edge. Whilst the promise of conflict ensured a crowd would gather the bar owner remained just away from the ruckus as if picking his moment. The sailors numbered in 20 or so, and fuelled by red wine and continental beer seemed more than willing to put up a fight. A waiter who had tried to act as mediator between the parties had given up, and left for the roadside and had lit up a cigarette. For a few minutes atleast it looked as though the scuffle would be forgotten and laughed about over eggs at breakfast. There was a barrage of shouting and pulling as the locals slowly lost their temper. By now many people had stopped to stare at the spectacle, this is where I must confess things got really strange. As I have previously stated I have no real idea what brought all of this on, that is to say I have no idea what set the process in motion. It was a well known fact that in times of violence the locals would protect each other with a ferocity and loyalty which could see the most able bodied men come unstuck. I had ordered myself a cream cake, and was skimming through the news from London when I heard a blood chilling yell. I spied the previously placid manager leaving the door which lead to his apartment above the cafe. With the confidence of a man without obligation he sauntered toward the group of sailors. I did not see the knife, I must confess I assumed this old man would take quite a beating at the hands of these sailors. Oh I was wrong, a young sailor fell to the ground silent, as his green shirt went claret with blood. In disbelief his comrades stood around, unsure exactly what to do. The crowd assembled gasped as if to share collective disbelief, the manager had managed to slip off somewhere without provoking any attention. Over the next twenty five minutes an ambulance arrived although I feel even the paramedics knew that this was more an exercise in keeping up appearances than saving any lives. They surely knew that there was very little they could do for this poor boy away from home. Police officers milled around, It was safe to say the bar owner would never be brought to anything like justice for this although, the general consensus was that anyone who got stabbed more than likely deserved it in someway or another. As for the manager  he had long been bundled into the back of some old pre war car and taken far beyond the cries and disdain of world weary sailors. No doubt to reappear a week or so later.
my ipad was running out of battery so I had to wrap it up
(Yes I am acutely aware of how terrible that makes me sound)
Z Jul 2019
‪I’m no good, ‬
‪too far from being a saint‬

‪atleast I’m trying,‬
‪to be there for everyone else‬
‪atleast I’m trying,‬
‪to not find faults from others‬
‪atleast I’m trying,‬
‪hard to control my triggers‬
‪atleast Im trying,‬
‪to make some little things right.‬

I’m no good,
but I’m here trying
to make a point in this life.
Santiago Jan 2015
Was it to bring me closer to him
To recognize the life of sin?
I miss your pretty face
Look me in the eyes
Let me wipe your cries
I'm here now hug me bug me
Luv me cuddle me snuggle me
Don't be scared do as you please
Be yourself I'll love you that way
I'm here to stay never go away
Sorry for the delay
I'll make it up to you anyday
I understand we are different
Come from separate planets
All I know is something about you
My heart never doubted you
You hide we collide
The angels have arrived
Me and you
I only think of you
What I feel for you
Is one hundred percent true
If only you knew
When I'm feeling blue
All I could think of is you
You can hate me
But atleast date me
You can diss me
But atleast kiss me
You can walk away
But atleast come my way
You can cry at night
But atleast spend the night
You can lie to me
But atleast be with me
You can deny your in love
But atleast recognize
It came from above
My love... Why did I meet you???
Born Aug 2017
Poem. Call me poetry
Debbie Jean Embrey  ***! how those words spoke to me! Very well done! I love the part about calling you 'Messenger.' Keep inking! :)

Poem. She's said II
Terry Jordan  Amazing piece, esp. "It is for us to wash away our painful confusion with tears...." I'm sending a sympathy card today to the mother of a former student of mine, so this really speaks to that most terrible loss that we have no word for it. TFS, Born

Poem. I won't forget that you liked my poetry
Mary-Elizabeth Cotton  Beautiful write! I especially love the lines "When I could barely form words,/that would impress my shadow."

Poem. I'm Born
Pradip Chattopadhyay  your words are fabulous

Poem. Hi(gh)
Kim Johanna  Baker  Great write Born...I must say, you are a great writer and enjoy very much your pieces...this is raw and gets the message across.. tyfs... kimx

Poem. If I told you my story
Law lith iminika Reading this was like observing a preview to a movie, but I didn't pay for it, instead showed up willingly. And I'm hungry for knowledge and inspiration because I was refused popcorn

Poem. Thank you Pamela Rae
Pamela Rae  Please know that you have such talent and your words not only touch me, but so many here--keep writing, expressing and touching our souls, dear Born. You are a gift to this world and deserve to find your way, to embrace peace and tranquility and it will come. Will be sending along good vibes, thoughts for peace and happiness and Room to breathe with ease... (((hugs)))

Poem. Hello poetry
Wolf spirit Wow this a poem . Because Id rather read this than delve on eloquent flattery of wistful words . Honesty expressed with such brevity is still the best policy .

Poem. When my heart pounds a little bit more
Modern Serenity  very well executed! truly deserves to be the poem for atleast a week. freaking fantastic poem. well done. honestly totally jealous of your poem its truly amazing and well said.

Poem. Shantel
---  Superbly penned, echoes of the great Pablo Neruda

Poem. Here we are
K Balachandran  so peaceful and meditative
yet passion filled love and life
chiseled and beautiful...without hiding truth
you have eyes full of love and light

Poem. Virgo 
Star BG  And..... open gateway to healing the are such a master with words. Thank you

Poem. Dusty coin
Pax  there will always be hope, even just a spark, or one candle, it can do many things in the dark..

Poem. My deepest sympathies
South by Southwest  There are answers to every question you pose . Only by a lifetime of searching will you find them .

Poem. Muse dear daughter
Sylvia Frances Chan  A most divine poem, loving and caring words. I have enjoyed this poem very much. God's Blessings be upon thee. Thank you for sharing this divine piece.

Poem. Leonard Cohen
Lazhar Bouazzi  Ah! Wonderful poem about one of my favorite poets/composers/singers of all time! Thank you for sharing

Poem. This poem III
Wyatt  Such a harsh, blunt piece. It hit me right in the gut! Congrats on the daily!

Poem. I won't forget that you liked my poem
patty m  Comments are a wonderful gift. I love your poem and the emotions that surface you are truly gifted.

Sally A Bayan  So much truth in your wondeful, touching words, Born..
I keep coming back to this poem...just had to repost.
Thank you for sharing

Poem. Juliet
Jamie King  I like the flow here the transition from one imagery to the imagery while maintaining the same flow requires a certain degree of finesse. Excellently executed piece

Poem. Un(real) istic
Botan  A high tech emotional intelegence will take over while humans express thier feelings by emoji. good writing
Poem. Poetic flavor
SøułSurvivør An awesome tribute! You're one of the poets I would elect for showing the most growth of any on this site. My heart twinkle with happiness, TOO! Thanks for your heart, Born! ☆♡☆

Lori Jones McCaffery  You make exquisite use of the words you have captured, Born. Keep thirsting. Love

SøułSurvivør Awe! I'm so glad to encourage you... you have such a powerful way with words. An innate talent. I count you as one of my best friends here. Be blessed!

Poem. 5 million am not just a number
Corvus  Wonderfully compassionate. It's so easy to be kind and sympathetic to those on your doorstep. Those further away but in even greater need are often ignored. Brilliant write.
The most important part of posting a poem is the response you get, I'd love to appreciate every single one of  you for the words you offered. For those who didn't make the list, I still appreciate you.

This poem is coming from an emotional place, for the longest time I never believed in myself. But now I do, thanks a lot
Ete Dec 2011
We are consciousness, and only consciousness.

The consciousness that is somehow bound to the body, is conscious of everything.

Thoughts are like people moving around in the market place. Thoughts are everywhere and when we give our attention to thoughts, when our consciousness looks at thoughts, which are everywhere to be seen, which are all around us, we experience thinking.

It is very important that we understand that we are consciousness and only consiousness.

This way we can free ourselves from the prison that we are in but yet don't know we are in. Humanity is enslaved thanks to the mind. Not just because the mind exists, but because of the believes that we carry in the mind, which are believes that keep us limited. We believe things that are not truly true, and this keeps us in a kind of prison.

When we are born in a body, we are free and we are just consciousness, purely conscious.

As we grow, all the information that is already here in the world is ingested into our mind. As we continue to grow, and as all this information continues to grow in our mind, we start to forget that we are just pure consciousness. By the time we are teenagers, and by the time we start to become adults, we have totally forgotten that we are just consciousness and we live our lives in a little box because we limit ourselves with the believes that are inevitably conditioned upon us. We believe that we are this body and we are not this body. When i say we, i am talking about the consciousness, the pure consciousness.

And the problem is not only that we believe we are this body, but we grow the habit to think compulsively.

Anything in this world can become a habit, and for the mayority of humanity , thinking has become a habit.

So what happens?
The pure consciousness that you are is never pure, is never silent, is never fully conscious because first of all, we are taught to believe that we are the body-mind, and second of all, we grow the habit to always think by always having to judge ourselves to see if what  we are doing is right or wrong, to see if we are to be punished or if we are to be rewarded. And this supports and strengthens the believe that we are the thinker, that we are the body.

When we don't allow spaces of no-thought, of no-thinking, we forget that we are an empty sky.  

My effort on leaving behind all these words is to wake up as many people as possible.

People are missing a great opportunity.

People stay living in a little room when they can be living in a huge palace.

All that has to do be done is to find a little distance between thoughts, between feelings, between everything and always remain a watching presence. Now, we are always this watching presence, we are always consciousness even if we are unconscious about it. Even if we are unconscious about the fact that we are consciousness , we remain consciousness. For example, all animals are consciousness, they are awareness, but they are unaware of this. Their body limits them because it lacks intelligence. They are not fully and totally free and they can not be either. But at the same time they don't have to be. By nature they  don't have to be intelligent, they are fine just how they are and they are in the process of one day becoming conscious like we are, like the humans are. Still, there are many humans who remain unconscious of the fact that they are consciousness and only consciousness. Without shape, without form. Just consciousness, awareness, everywhere. This whole universe is consciousness and when this consciousness is merged to a body, the body is simply a contact point of the consciousness.

At some point, when the body of a baby is being developed in the mothers womb, a little spec of consciousness enters and binds to the body of the baby and this happens because through the human body, through a human experience, the consciousness is capable of becoming aware of itself and this realization is possible in any one life time, in any one human experience. But, it has not been so. It has taken many many life-times and many many people have not yet realized this. People can't even believe that they had a life before this life and that they can have a life after this life as well. People can't even conceive this. But it is true. People have been going life after life, obviously and naturally not remembering the past life, but going life after life not going beyond life. Not going beyond the human or atleast not even understanding, discovering, learning , what life is, what the human is. People remain ignorant and afraid because of the conditioning that they receive.

All conditions prevent the being from trascending their lives and consciousness because in our true nature we are totally unconditioned- free-beings. Any condition that is imposed on us goes against our very nature and anything that goes against nature is bound to have problems.  

And so my reason for saying these things that i have discovered to be true in me, is to help people remember or to atleast give people a new idea that there is the possibility of something more, of something greater than life, something with no limitations, something with no death, something that can not get sick, that can not feel pain, something of pure joy and peace , of pure love.

Every single human being is searching for this something, every single human being is searching for themselves. And they are searching because they remember. They have been themselves before. They are themselves right now. They are consciousness right now, but there are so many things in the mind that they forgot and they dont know. And when they hear something that is true, when something is said that points to that consciousness, automatically something is felt inside, something is triggered.

This whole search for truth or for enlightenment is a search for our own selfs.

It is a remembering process that happens.

Go into this search as empty as possible.

The less conditions you carry , the less knowledge you carry, the more simple and humble you are, the easier it is to remember who you are, because it does not take knowledge to know that you are consciousness, that you are awareness, it simply takes consciousness and awareness.

So it is important to be aware of everything, of every single thought that comes in and out. Be aware of the believes that you believe and the believes that you don't believe.

I don't know if there are people who for some reason are not ready to awaken, even though they can, even though every single human being can awaken, but,  there are people who have put too much into their believes, too much faith, and who can not even concieve the idea of dropping these believes, these investments. Now, the funny thing is, that even all these people who are unaware, are consciousness themselves. And it makes sense that these people who are unconscious , are here in the world so that other people can wake up, so that other people can learn from them, so that other people can see their unconsciousness, can see their behaviors, and use them towards their journey, towards their enlightenment, towards their shift of consciousness.  

"We are itself the consciousness presenting itself as human nature" - Mooji.

We , the consciousness, invisible consciousness that can not be seen nor touched, which one day was before Earth was created, that consciousness that is everywhere like space, over time has manifested itself in the world of form, in the world of matter and eventually through the movement of what appears to be time, manifested itself as a human being.

It is an invisible yet conscious phenomena that has managed to make a form out of atoms and elements, managed to make a form out of itself, out of elements of itself, and managed to create the world that we can see today. And seeing the vastness of the universe, we can see the many possibilities that exist, the many possibilities of consciousness to keep growing, to keep creating, to keep expanding, to keep evolving.  

One day i am not going to be able to express myself through Esteban, yet i will be expressing myself through other bodies, with other names. And i have been expressing myself through other bodies also, like for example one of my favorite man, Osho, Bhagwan. Osho is I. Osho is the same consciousness that is in Esteban, expressing. Now, we look different in the outside, our voices are different, our accents are different, but it is the same consciousness trying to express the same thing. Once we know that we are this limitless consciousness, we can start focusing on creating things. But right now what is important is that everybody realizes that we are this consciousness, because if not everybody knows this, then we can not create, we can not work to our full potential. Once we know who we are, once we know WHAT we are, we will know exactly what we have to do, what we can do, and we would do it with a quality that has not existed before. A quality of super consciousness, a godly quality. So before we focus on the outside world we have to focus on the inside world first. Before we can create beauty outside we have to create beauty inside, because the outside world is a reflection of the inside world.

If the inside world is not pure, is not balanced, then the outside world will not be pure, will not be balanced.

If inside of us there is tension, anxiety, fear, hate, anger, violence; this is what will be expressed outside of us. If inside of us there is love, wisdom, peace, joy, beauty; then outside of us there will be all of this as-well.

The problem is not whether we are thinking negatively or positively, the problem is that we are thinking unconsciously.

That we think negative or positive thoughts does not matter as long as we know that we are thinking. And not because we are the thinker but because thoughts are passing through the mind and here the consciousness that we are , "thinks". But it does not think as in it is doing something, it simply sees the thoughts. The consciousness does not even move, does not even blink, does not have eyes like these eyes. The consciousness just is, and the consciousness sees thoughts moving, occuring.

The problem is not that the consciousness is seeing negative thoughts, the problem is that if the consciousness is seeing negative thoughts, it believes the negative thoughts.

You forget that you are the awareness that watches thoughts, totally separate from the thoughts.

You are simply giving attention to the thoughts.

Like i said before, thoughts are moving all around you. You can not see or grab them because they are so subtle in their manifestation, yet they ARE energy in movement, they exist but in different frequencies of existence. And they are everywhere.

When we experience thoughts, what ever category of thoughts, it is because we are giving our attention to those thoughts. Every single thought is available to us. The mind is not just your mind, my mind; The mind is one universal facility, available to all.

And so, the problem is not that you are thinking negativily.

The problem is that you are thinking unconsciously.

Become more conscious of your thinking. Become conscious of thoughts. If the thoughts are negative, watch them. If the thoughts are positive, watch them. But don't judge them as negative or positive, dont judge the thinking. If negative thoughts are percieved, don't start saying to yourself  "oh why am im always thinking negatively? ;( " because this IS another thought and you are not watching it. Usually THIS is the thought that is not watched.

You watch a thought, for example, you watch a negative thought. This negative thought brings out negative emotions because thoughts are the cause of emotions. Emotions are energies-in-motion. You watch your thinking, you watch the negative thought and then you say, "oh this thought is bad, why am i thinking these thoughts? I should not be thinking this way, what is wrong with me?" that right there is a thought also and you are thinking, believing, that it is you!

Any judgement is a form of thought.

Anything that consists of words or symbols and even images are thoughts. It is all mind and the problem is that there are thoughts that are not being watched, observed, and this is keeping you unconscious and troubled.

There are many thoughts that we are not aware of.

For example, we watch a negative thought , we percieve a negative thought, but then the next thought that talks about that negative thought, we don't see because we think, believe, that we are the one who talks instead of remaining the watching consciousness that we are.

We are not the one who talks because we don't even have a mouth to talk through. We are simply and only consciousness. We use the human body as an instrument to talk and express ourselves but we remain the conscious awareness.

Those thoughts that are not being watched are keeping us from going deeper into life.

These unobserved thoughts are keeping us traped in the mind.

So if you ever ask yourself the question, what is life?
What is my purpose in life?
What should i do?
What should i not do?
If you are not out of the mind, you will not get the true answer because the mind is limited to these questions.

The mind will only give you that which has already been given. It will not give you originality.

Simply try this out:

When ever you are experiencing thinking, let the thoughts be, don't judge them as negative or positive thoughts, as good or bad thoughts, just watch them. If you do judge them and you say "*** why am i thinking that?! " watch that, watch that judgement. Keep watching, just simply watching, purely aware of every single thought, keep watching and you will start to feel a distance, a silence, a space.

See how long you can go from thought to no-thought to thought.
See how long you can remain in a silent gap between thoughts.
Watch your thoughts, watch your thinking and see how the watchingness slowly expands.
See how the silent gaps become longer.
And see the peace that these silent gaps bring.

Do I have a tongue,
Can I speak too?
In this strange world,
Am I a human too?

Do I have a heart,
Can I live too?
In this strange land,
Am I alive too?

In the midst of Oblivion,
I search my visions,
I once used to dream,
As a young teenager,
In Sea of Paro s
I try to remember,
The faces of people
I had once lived with
Father, mother, brother
Of all those people
I had once called family.

I came here as girl,
I am shared in the family,
I born plenty children,
I am sold and re-sold
In and around
To any men who
Can afford to buy,
I am kept but
Seldom married,
Each street have
it's own paro,
They all have
But the same story.

After some years
I cease to exist,
For the people
Who bought me
I am an old cattle
Who no longer
give them pleasure,
I am now a burden
A liability soon
To be shedded..

They don't throw
me though,
They leave me alone
In a small room,
I have become a mother
Of a girl or two
I have new family
But no identity
fits me ever,
When I come here
I became a Paro,
When my times up
I die a Paro!!

Paro is short for
Pardesi, a foreigner,
I am the girl
Bought for men
From another land
Into there land,
To born son's
For there motherland.

This is ordeal of
A soul that once lived,
Now it's just a body
With no role,
No fiction this
It's a real story
A reality of some
Distant land !!

That land for you
Is so very strange
Where eight young man
**** a pregnant goat!
And the strangest
thing is they
go away and
Roam scot free..!!

Soon the elders in the village
Will have a big meet,
They will give compensation
To the owner of the goat,
And free from the sin
There precious young boys
The martyred goat
Will also have new name,
And so it will soon
Be christened to
A new species of
a first of it's kind
A Welcome from
an animal world!!

And so I ask again
Do I really exist?
What form of life
Do I have here?
In this strange land
Are they human too??
Does even a little atleast
A thing called
Humanity exist???

Sparkle in Wisdom.

Wrote this poem after reading this article.
Em MacKenzie Jul 2018
Happy belated birthday Mom,
I'm sorry it's two days late,
but I've been a bad daughter
and an even worse person.
You always told me not to go to your grave or put flowers on your headstone;
"I won't be under that ground," you'd say,
"and don't waste your money on flowers, I'll have no use for them where I'm going."
I still visit sometimes, and I do still bring flowers, but not nearly enough.
I know if I had been the one buried, you'd wear the grass down with your feet and then have the courtesy to plant some seeds.

Almost eight years later I still think about you everyday
and not a minute goes by where I don't miss you terribly.
What a cruel thing it is, to live a life where you're always missing someone.
To have so many things to say and receive no reply.

You would've been fifty seven this year.
I wonder how you would look as you got older, and sometimes, rarely, I forget what you looked and sounded like when you were here.
That's probably the worst part of it.

The first time I visited your grave was about a month or so after you had been buried,
the graveyard drowning in so much snow I actually visited the wrong headstone.
I'm sure Mr.Brown enjoyed the talk, though.
It was only after digging my bare hands through ten inches of snow and ice that I realized I was four spots down.
I then recognized your grave from the moonlight reflecting off the glass vases of yellow roses we had placed there during your funeral,
wedged in place with the snow hugging them tightly;
the roses frozen in time,
it was both beautiful and aggravating.
Good things funerals cost so much,
they should be able to have someone clean up the plot after the service.
I threw the roses out and gently tried to remove the vases:
the one with "wife" shattered in my hands and my frostbitten fingers picked each shard out from the snow.
I still carry a scar from that vase.
The one with "mother" on it remained in tact, I was just as gentle with it but it did not shatter.
You told me near the end that nothing in this world, nothing was powerful enough to ever have you taken away from me.
That vase sits on my dining room table to this day, nursing a reluctantly dying plant just as you'd want.
I don't think I'll ever have the green thumb like you did.

But I have everything else from you,
you always told me Kate was raised by your sister and that she was too much when you were so young,
"But you, Emily, you're MY daughter."
You said I was a godsend of a baby, never crying, content just to sleep,
and that I carried an old soul.
You laughed at how I always excelled at being alone as a child,
and you were so intrigued by my sense of imagination and creativity.
You always said you were the same when you were a kid.

So tell me, now that I'm older and I feel so alone all the time,
am I still you?
Were you this isolated and alien at my age now?
Did you carry the empathy to cry at little things you saw on the street or in a commercial,
so much so that you believe this world to be lost?
That you saw life as one big slap in the face?

I still try my best everyday to make you proud,
It breaks my heart constantly to think I didn't when you were here.
But life is cruel like that, and I was young and stupid and arrogant.
I know if you see my daily life,
you know I'm not 100% better,
and I know I probably never will be.
But I work hard, and I always say my "please" and "thank you"'s,
and I live by your example of always trying to help anyone in need.
It might not make up for the demons that I struggle with,
but atleast I still fight them, right?
I lost some years there where I should've died, and sometimes I wish I had,
but I didn't. I'm still here. I'm still trying.
And to be honest, it's not for me, or for my family, for love or sunsets, or dogs or any of the things that bring me up to a solid "content."

It's for you, because you taught me that's what you do in life.
You fight. You fight until your last breath.

I've thought this a million times in my head, but I'll say it now,
you were always right about everything.
As teenage girls, we challenge our mothers at every turn and decision,
convinced we are mature and capable of making decisions,
and then we say hurtful things when we don't get our way.
So you deserve to hear it, you were always right.

I wish I could tell you face to face.
I would tell you how much I miss you, more than either of us could've ever predicted.
I would tell you how blessed I feel to have had such an amazing mother.
I would apologize for judging you for the drinking,
I would tell you it took me forever to realize, but eventually I accepted my mother was human just like everyone else,
and just like everyone else, myself included, you made mistakes.
Above all else, I would tell you that I love you more than you'll ever know.

I'll be turning twenty-nine next month,
which means I have one year left of smoking.
I didn't forget my promise to you, I'll quit on my thirtieth birthday.
I'll continue looking out for my sister to the best of my abilities,
even though she can be impulsive and brash on occasion.
I'll continue to show empathy and kindness to as many people as possible, just like you would've wanted.
And finally, one day I hope to keep the promise I made to you so many years ago:
I promise to try and be happy.
Extremely personal write, but needed to get it out. If you're lucky enough to still have a mother, tell her you love her today and thank her for existing.
BabeRuth Mar 2015
I remember the first time I watched the great Gatsby.
Your legs propped on my own,
Sailing in the land of happy dreams
You slept.
While I watched the most heartbreaking movie of the 2014.

You never realised how much that movie meant.
Never conceived how much  
Words and acts could drive a person

It was at that moment
As I watched Gatsby fall
His dreams shattered and his heart ruined
That I was hit with the reality.
Last nights drunken actions were more
Than just movements or simple words.

To me atleast
It all meant more
Deep down inside
Than you could ever have understood.

And though you hardly ever mentioned
The ongoings of that particular night,
It stayed with me.

And as Mr. Carraway spoke
Those last tantalising words of love,
I promised myself.
One day I shall tell you.
One day I shall have the courage Daisy never did.
To admit once and for all,
To the universe that I love you.
Hopeless Outlet Mar 2018
I'm kind of stuck
At least... I think I am
Somewhere between telling everyone I know to *******
And "just please come hold me friend"

Some place in between an uneasy heart and hectic mind

"I'm depressed"
Can't I just say it without having to explain why?
Sometimes I don't even know which reason to choose

Short replies

"You seem like you don't want to talk"

You're right, but I also want to reach out
I want out
I want to let go of everything
And capture it all in my arms

like a fire fly in the palm of restless hands,
Just let me hold on to your light
Atleast, just for tonight

Because I'm feeling stuck.
April Hapner Aug 2012
the length, in months,  he stays,
the act of age he portrays
you've hurt so many lovers,
and yet you take one other.

the same age i felt with you
the age before i was legally able
to be stable, or atleast the thought of my own--
place, time, and space.

i've watched, without you knowing
and i've known that she had it coming...
you get deathly sick,
move out,
and act like your gone,
to see if she can really have one, two,
only one chance,
because at 17 , you lost the first factor
and now she is 25 and knows better
moved on and written you a letter

stating what i told you long ago
that maybe at 17 you should have stayed alone.

funny a simple prime number
can have such significance
where as my story with seventeen
was a magazine
an age where i first heard about graduated licensing
when i decided that maybe i wasnt ready to date
because at 28, i realize now that 17 for you is a mistake
where mine is memories i made.

this number was the bus i rode
to and from school at even the same age,
i felt i turned a page
as the poetry i wrote and read; the pictures i took
that now line books
lined, blank, and randomly
decorate pages
handwriting was really interesting then--
but beautiful now
to see that one thing has come true
...i found love...
with a man, That i met Before you
and found me once you left
seeing regression
to the age i felt...

the highway in my home town that also leads--
to my home beach...
and all the way to a place of fancy in Savannah
and a commercialized vacation destination,
in the opposite direction
but knowing my memory is still alive, thriving...

keeps the idea of this prime number
alive atleast,
and for the weak, subtract ten
try to grow up doing the math
that i was back then, before all the computers and cheat sheets.
when standardized testing placed me in the highest bracket
i would have graduated atleast a year faster.

also, my memories deal more happiness
knowing that they last with this...
a little rhyme and time
and now that i am in the prime,
im past that length of time in months
with the man i love
and have **** near doubled the capacity--
have bought a little man a simple legacy
that his mommy and daddy
have a say in the matter
but when he's 17, he'll under stand the latter.
Personal Accounts.
this one is a pattern of the abusive mf i was with and a time line from which his ex's have given me accounts of and funny like mine and the girl he is with now... all lasted 17 months before he was sick and tried to get everyone to pity him as he were only 7 with himself hanging off the ledge.

and FYI-- I missed getting into Mensa by a single point.
where my other half qualifies. by that additional point.
Funny as it seems, looks like our son will beat both of us.
I heard laughter in the crowded room but my dear I did not hear you
And so I felt my heartbeat rise just slightly under my breathe then collapse throughout my chest and I felt a sting in my veins when he first said your name and another when his fingertips met the rich silk of your hair
And I thought you wanted to be taken away but it’s not in my place to care

And I’m not happy either
But atleast I don’t pretend
Why cant they see you clearer
I need your heart to mend
I know I’m incapable of using my heart the way I should.. I know I’ll never be any good but I can’t help thinking of how we haven’t talked in a while and if you thought my heart was little
It’s breaking into bits… since I never
Georgette Baya Sep 2015
Love na love talaga kita eh, and it would mean so much lalo na
pag binanggit ko pa na mahal na mahal na talaga kita. NAPAKA STRANGE.

He is shy, kind, innocent, pleasant, different, even for a guy
He is fragile, sweet and mostly meaningful, mostly to my life.

Kahit alam kong wala kami dun sa stage na,
"in relationship" i'd bother myself to care.
Kasi he is meaningful, mahalaga siya saakin, yung tipong kaya ko syang alagaan at aalagaan no matter what. I would make time for him just to see him, smile, laugh or even giggle a bit, because his  happiness makes the most out of him and it makes me happy too.
Kung kakayanin kong kwentuhan siya gabi gabi hanggang sa makatulog sya gagawin ko (kaso ang tagal nya mag reply kaya ako yung nakakatulog :3)

Sabi nila sakin,

"grabe na yan ahh. baka nakakalimutan **** babae ka pa din ah?"

Sabi ko,

"oo alam ko, at alam ko yung ginagawa ko."

"yun naman pala eh, ano yan?"

"ang alin?"

"yang tipong support support na yan?"

"wala namang masama dyan, atleast napapakita ko padin sakanya na mahalaga siya sakin, kahit di nya nararamdaman"

"ayooooooon, manhid"

di na ko sumagot, sumasama din kasi yung loob ko pag naririnig kong sinasabihan sya na manhid eh, kahit totoo, parang sakin bumabalik kasi ako yung nagbibigay ng effort pero parang di nya na fe-feel. Pero mahal ko padin siya, walang makakapag bago dun.

Yung mga simpleng tweet nya na, napapalundag ako sa kilig at tuwa.
Yung mga kindat nya na (kahit hindi siya marunong) nakakamatay.
Yung mga biglang ngiti nya na, nasusulyapan ko bawat tingin.
Yung mga mata nyang mapupungay na lagi akong dinadala sa langit (hindi naman siya chinito, feeling lang hahaha)
Yung kilay at buhok nyang lagi kong hinahaplos (naka keratin daw eh hahaha)
Yung boses nyang sintonado, pero pag kinakanta nya yung "When You Say Nothing At All" pati ung "Life of the Party" lumalabas yung pagka inner Michael Buble nya.
Yung moves nya na mala 90's, na pag sumasayaw sya sa harap ko napapatakip nalang ako kasi, mas lalo akong nafafall.
Yung kuko nyang laging bagong gupit.
Yung amoy nya na parang amoy baby, tapos minsan panlalaking panlalaki (seryoso nakaka ******)

At maraming maraming marami pa.
He's my kind of perfect.
Sabi nga nila, pag mahal mo ang isang tao, lahat ng imperfections nya sa sarili o sa buhay pa yan, his flaws, handang handa kang tanggapin yun ng buong buo, walang labis, walang kulang.

Love is accepting, who they are and what they are.
Diba sabi mo di ka marunong mag luto? Ako din eh, siguro sa tamang panahon, we would invent kinds of dinner or even breakfast and lunch, that your dad and my mom used to do. Kahit di tayo sigurado sa anong lasa nung pagkain na magagawa natin, as long as we got it each other, we can make it better.

Di ko alam kung bat umabot ako dito eh, alam mo bang onting onti nalang, ako na talaga manliligaw sayo? Ang bagal mo kasi eh. Hahaha joke lang, syempre hanggang panaginip ko nalang yon.

Nung coronation night, pinuntahan kita sa dressing room nyo,
I was really stunned, as you walked out that room. Destiny nga ba talaga? I was REALLY shocked, kasi merong SLOW MOTION, i have never felt that feeling before, NEVER!
Tapos yung sinabi ni Sir Yu, may kwinento sya sakin tungkol sa napagusapan nyo tungkol sakin. Long story-short, naglululundag ako sa kilig at tuwa na, who would have thought na masasabi mo pala yung mga ganung salita na yun.
Tapos si B1, haha natatawa nga ko kasi kinikilig daw siya satin, aabangan nya daw yung next chapter natin, ang tanong meron nga ba?

Jon Ray Ico Ramos! Oo ikaw! Malakas loob ko banggitin pangalan mo dito, kasi wala kang account dito at di mo alam na may ganito ako, ibig sabihin di mo to mababasa and as far as i know walang taga SCCV ang may ganito, well. HAHAHAHA!
Mahaaaaal na mahaaaal kita. Minsan sa sobrang saya ko pag kausap kita napapatype nalang ako ng "I love you" muntik na nga akong makasend nyan sayo eh, buti nalang talaga hindi hahaha :3 wala na kong masabi kasi inaantok na talaga ako as innn.

Basta sana pagka gising mo, mabasa mo to (pero syempre di mo to mababasa) para malaman mo na, ikaw ang huli kong iniisip bago ako matulog.

Good mor-night!
Good morning, Jon Ray!

P.S: sinadya ko talagang ipost to ng 5:55 AM kasi favorite number mo ang 5 so, ayan :)
A-S May 2014
I'll build some walls
to protect  myself.
that is plan A.

If my first wall,
Breaks down,
I will try again.

If my second wall,
Breaks down,
I will build somewhere else.

If my third wall,
Breaks down,
(I'll give up)
And look who's behind it.
Maybe even ask
For some help building
it back again.

I don't even have bricks yet.

Torin Aug 2018
xspacexpotatox 1h
Racism is a lie, your people hate us naturally lol just look at the way you’re responding................ and us “black people” are supposed to be the ignorant ones.... whew
xspacexpotatox  1h
Look at the affliction and persecution. There’s a reason why your ancestors put chains around our necks. It’s because the Bible said it would happen ****
xspacexpotatox  1h
So do me a favor, go learn a bit more. I’m not even gonna laugh at your ignorance, I’ll pray for you. Have a nice one.
Torin Galleshaw  1h
oh so your jewish friend is the authority on this? what does he know about zionism? seems you got your mind made up man. good for you
xspacexpotatox  1h
I want to know why you feel so threatened lol
xspacexpotatox  1h
I won’t let the hate reach me man
Torin Galleshaw  1h
wow, racism is a lie then u stereotype all white people IMMEDIATELY after you say that. ignent? i really wanted to give you a chance bro. but you have been very abrasive this whole time, immature and incredibly offensive. i dont know where in the bible it says that. or, if as i remember when i went to ce williams middle school as a young kid in a poor part of charleston south carolina where i also learned a test can be racist because the only person that did well on it was me, the white kid. ive felt black racism towards me all my life. do you know the history of the celtic people. yeah, slaves were given food to eat, my people died in gutters in the cold because of no mc hiring practices. ever heard of britain, do you know who irelands neighbor is. have you heard of the potato famine, do you know why it happened? william wallace?
systematic opression for over 800 years.

most important part and key difference between us, besides the fact thta your better than me because you are black, but. you claim im so ignorant im not worth your time, essentially. i think your so misguided i would love to show you the actual way to god and heaven. brother, you need it.
xspacexpotatox  1h
Bro you lose don’t message me anymore
Torin Galleshaw  1h
and dont claim im acting like im threatened, first thing, you dont know me. youre acting nearly militaristic on this ****. young malcom X wanna be. im cool tho, you robably never knew someone as chill as me.
maybe we could talk without resorting to personal attacks tho. thats a good sign you are losing an argument.
xspacexpotatox  1h
What’s your point? Mines is simple. I get what I learned from college text books and the Bible, the knowledge coincides and that indicates who my people are.
Torin Galleshaw  1h
do you know of the talmud?
do you know what it is?
do you realize that it contains the only visual description for jesus?
do me a favor, before you try to come at me with some more weak **** why dont you go and see what the talmud has to say about it
thank you brother
xspacexpotatox  1h
Was the visual description a white man? If so I’m not interested
xspacexpotatox  1h
I’m a young black man that’s been taught all his life, all I know is truth.
xspacexpotatox  1h
I’m not that arrogant, I offered you edification and once I edified you rejected. lol I’m not supposed to be nice and open to you.... I know who my oppressors are.
xspacexpotatox  1h
“GOD” said “and I know the blasphemies of those that say they are Jews and are not” you’re disrespecting my ancestors
Torin Galleshaw  1h
thats the thing only a truly awoken spiritual person will ever recognize. in a past life you were a tiny asian woman bro, you were a fat white guy, you were a cat fucj it. so rn your black. soul dont got color. recognize bro. i dont wanna big boy you on this, but i can. and i will if i have to. or maybe you would either A. apologize for your offensive and rude behavior, or B. and my preferred choice we could ACTUALLY converse. you say you got proof, cite it priest boy
xspacexpotatox  1h
Bro, my ancestors were beaten, *****, hung, fed to alligators, shot in the streets, literally broken. Imagine having your family heritage stripped from you, your language and books taken from you.. You’re not hearing me out, you’re trying to prove yourself to be what I am and I can’t let you think that’s okay. I’m OG. I teach people. So far I’ve learned nothing from this conversation. I’m proud of the beatings my people took to get here, and I definitely don’t agree with the whole “you were a white or Asian person in the past life” because that makes no sense. My family is “BLACK”, besides that my moms great grandmother was mixed, and were STILL predominantly “BLACK”. I come from “BLACK” people, therefore I am a HEBREW ISRAELITE, and I know this for a FACT!
Torin Galleshaw  49m
Bro, my ancestors were beaten, *****, hung, starved for hundreds of years, shot in the streets, forced to fight in the civil war after arriving here form ireland starving, (one of the most effective brigades, you see many of the soldiers had to fight in wars against the british already)literally broken. Imagine having your family heritage stripped from you, my last name is not the last name my great great great granparents had. it was too ethnic, it was changed, your language and books taken from you. do they speak celtic in ireland?.. You’re not hearing ME out, you’re trying to prove yourself to be what I am and I can’t let you think that’s okay
xspacexpotatox  42m
Oh you guys are actually mention in the battles you fought?! **** there’s no documentation of anything “African Americans” did in the wars we helped win! Atleast you guys got decent credit
Torin Galleshaw  37m
bible told me you just have to accept his love, jesus's love, but even buddahs love, and john the baptists love, and all of gods great prophets. bible taught me that without their love i can never really love any one.
xspacexpotatox  35m
If you believe in the most high, fine with me. That’s all I have to say.
Torin Galleshaw
Torin Galleshaw  33m
yes, there is documentation of both slaves ad freed black men fighting on both sides actually, believe it or not
Torin Galleshaw  32m

"Once let the black man get upon his person the brass letter, U.S., let him get an eagle on his button, and a musket on his shoulder and bullets in his pocket, there is no power on earth that can deny that he has earned the right to citizenship."

Frederick Douglass

xspacexpotatox  28m
I never once believed the history teachers in school, I always challenged them because I know that American History is *******. Just like whatever filth you’re trying to show me will only bore me like the teachers bored me in school. I served in the US Army. I did my time for white america and I refuse to go back lol

he blocked me not long after that, final thoughts

Matthew 6:10-14 thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven, give us this day our daily bread, And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors,And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one.
a truly fascinating case study in hypocrisy.  when he is sending me videos of white people asking for blaack people to treat them kindly when they become enslaved.  nah.  if your gonna block me instead of being able to have an actual conversation im gonna put you on blast.

anyone who believes this is a *****
Rinsha Razak Dec 2016
My childhood was alluring days,
I miss those days in many ways.
I was so adorable on those days
And delightful like sun rays,
When I was a child,
My heart was painted with full of colours
And filled with beautiful imagination.
The whole world was like a pearl to me.
It was the most happiest days of past.
But I miss those days in many ways.
I played with my childhood friends and brothers.
I played with different types of toys and flowers.
They are like my lovers.

My life filled with happiness and joy.
Those days was heaven for me.
First day my mother left her hand,
She went away with a crying face
It broke my heart in many ways.
It was the first step to my kinder garten.
It was a new atmosphere for me.
I cried and played with ***** mud
And mud caked to my new shoes.
I miss all the fun and beauty of my eyes.
In my childhood i wished for many things.
Now I wish ,I want my funniest childhood days.
I realise they were the big things to me.

All are going through many stages in life.
The day I found my little tricycle in the backyard.
My mind run backward fastly.
Like a super car and all my memories shuffled,
Until I reach the memories of evergreen childhood.
Childhood is the best or world to all.
Everyone want to be a child atleast one day.
I want back my lamp,
To remove the darkness of world.
Music is inside in everyone's heart,
But It won't show out in some case.
Like childhood memories are inside us,
But still it keep fade in our heart.

Never stop playing, screeming, laughing,
It will carry your childhood with you.
We never and ever become older,
We all have an endless breathing and stages.
It can't take back and go back.
Look the world with child eye.
It seems more beautiful than anything.
Reminiscence of childhood were the dreams
That stayed with you after you woke.
Childhood is being carefully held like a glass.
My anguish wishes to be a youngster,
I want my souvenir back and
Blow it Up into a bubble and live inside it forever. ?
jennifer ann Dec 2014
evan peters,
your so fine.
i've seen your behind, atleast 4 times.
i think you should know that you're a dime.
will you be my valentine?

evan peters,
is one hell of a man,
he can even pull off lobster hands.
evan peters i am your  biggest fan.
i would love to tell you this over a can of spam.
but ****.
you're emmas man.

evan peters,
you're so fly,
you're bootylicious,i can't denie, to hell with shakira,
your hips do not lie,
american horror story, until the day i die!
bethany cotton Dec 2013
Society killed the teenager
It burned her it hurt her
Made her feel worthless
But is she
Is she I mean id love an answer because all anyone has ever said was
Why are you so weird whats wrong with your hair
Why are you always alone standing over there
Are you okay
Did you finally **** yourself today

But she thinks that if she can just start over
She can change herself completely
It never worked
She changed herself till she was nothing more than plastic
She was nothing more than what you would call an outsider
A ****** a dork a nerd a freak etc

But what she has underneath would burn someone just to know what she has gone through it would bring you to your knees crying
Give you the worse migrain head ache
Wishing you could take it all back
But yet not to be that simple

For all she wanted was to fit in
It wasn’t her plan to be an outcast
Are you happy
Huh are you happy now
For she never hurt a soul
Yet the only emotion she has ever felt
Was pain for she had no love she had noone to tell her
That she was loved

But not everyone gets that kind of help well I time atleast because when some like that happens to someone they never think to look behind the smile plastered on her plastic face just to think if we lived in a world that noone had to anything to fear that we had to change ourselves to fit in no one had to fear anything noone had to hide behind a curtain
To cover them up because they are afraid noone will like them

Society killed the teenager
It hurt her and burned her
At her funeral her parents were parents were morning finding out what she was going through while her “friends” and all her bullies are living their life and giggling not knowing that she was a girl looking and hoping to be accepted and you wouldn’t help her and you were just society banishing anyone yet to even look for acceptance

Was fitting in really that important would you rather be popular then help the girl in the corner with a blade to her neck did it really mean that much when you could have reached out and saved a life instead of letting her rott away in  her thoughts and misery for if she had a friend she wouldn’t be in a casket in her dress dead  cold never knowing she was ever loved because you obviously had nothing better to do for her life wasn’t as delicate  and precious as another one word was all it took for her to realize she was better than that and that one word was hello that one word could have saved a life that day

For if her life was not important then how is yours  
For if you are so special then you could have helped her
You were to worried about your hair makeup and boys to peel back the plastic cover and see the girl crying with the knife to her throat wishing she was perfect like you
Oh but no because you obviously have better things to do

Society killed the teenager
That is definatly true
But her life was so delicate
That even the simplest
I love you was faded out as sarcasm
and that she could never be loved because
all the hate made love feel like fairy tales

society killed the teenager because she denied all love
the only love she ever got she never knew it
and that is how society killed the teenager

so society next time you see the teenager
help her
because noone has ever done anything to deserve such torture
but that teenager forgave each and everyone ne
because she realized they were all to blind to notice
to notice that she was aching inside for love and compassion
to blind to find your way to help her
Kevin Hayes Nov 2018
Long time coming
Long time gunning

Man dead on the ground
the soul still running

Flamed too ashes
Like a cigar filled with tree

Flamed too ashes
So there’s no more misery

Atleast that’s what he thinks
But to his surprise

He’s got grave problems
On the other side.
midnight prague Dec 2010
you think you can insult me with your charm
you think you can insult me with your beauty
you think you can insult me with that mind of yours
and if you speak
and even if you are so sentimental

your sighs still ring heavily in my broken showers
why am I so deadened
beaten down
by my own definition of what you are

you creep to those trees in my land
growing along side me
watching the season come and go with me

that is what you render to
resort to

should you dry yourself off in the cloak of
shame and timid everyday

just bring an end to me and this
bring and end
or atleast say something
maybe silence should be kind
Jay Sep 2012
I work hard for me.
I don't think you see,
That just because it's mine
Doesn't mean it's free,
For you to just use.
Because I feel abused
I buy things for me.
And not for your muse.
You could atleast ask
It's not a hard task
You have no respect
And I can't wear a mask,
To hide how I feel.
Because you should know the deal
I work hard for me
Not for you to steal,
Every nice thing I've got
Because I work a lot
And you don't do ****
Not to blow up your spot,
But I work for my check
So don't come at my neck
When I blow up at you
All I want is respect
Just a little sister feeling like a big sister scolding a child.
ZT Mar 2016
Dati akala ko masakit ang umasa,
pero napagtanto ko na mas masaya ang umasa
Kasi atleast sa utak mo sinasabi mo na pwede pa
Sa bawat sandali na kapiling mo xa, natutuwa kana
Kahit konting kasweetan, bininigyan na ng halaga
Kaya masasabi kong ang umasa, ay masaya pala talaga

pero kailan ba nagiging masakit ang umasa?
kailan ba nagiging mapait ang nadarama?

Ito ay kung nagsimula kana sa pagdududa
Na sa totoo ay ang pwede, ay di pala
Ito ay kung tumigil kana sa pag-asa
at nasabi **** tama na
kasi ayaw mo na
at susuko kana

Saka mo palang madarama ang sakit
at panghihinayang sa oras na ginugol mo
at inaksaya mo sa pag-aasa
na hindi rin pala nagbunga.
Seema Feb 2018
I will fade away, like a sketch
Gone, torn, broken so far away
Where no one would be there to catch
Not even a word to say

Alone, in this busy world
An identity of an unknown
I'd be forgotten soon
Like a weary leaf, been blown

You promised to be by my side
But instead, you pushed me outside
Dropped from a glass tower
Taunting every minute, every hour

What did I do wrong?
What have I ever done?
You hated our favorite song
The love that shined, now all gone

Perhaps, burry me in your memory
And walk away like a stranger
You'd not stop, even if I tried
And never see the danger

I'd be fine, yes I'll be
Once you were mine
But now on my own, living you alone
I'll be fine

So sorry, I took up your time
That for now, you labeled as wasted
You never told me my crime
But the bitter hate, I tasted

I'd have lived by your side
In the dark days, showing you light
But now, I am fading away
Like a mist, in the darkest night

I should've never loved you
If I'd known, you'd leave my side
While breaking my heart into two
You gobbled up, all your lies

What should I think?
What should I do?
Atleast give me a clue
Of what I should do?

In a blink, you took all away
No reasons, no words, no nothing at all
So I am fading away, yes I am
I cannot hear your call

                                                ­            Away....

Scribbling thoughts with imagination.
I long for her touch,
Her body,
Her curves,
Her lips,
Her eyes,
Her lust,
Her hair,
Her thighs,

I lust for her,
Whom I cannot find,
anywhere at all
She is missing

I wish for her to be
On top of me,
Under me,
And most of all beside me

She is nowhere to be found,
Sometimes I have to wonder
maybe I'll never be that lucky,
maybe that privilege is not for me,
nor will ever be...

My biggest wish may never come true,
But atleast I'll be someone elses wish come true
That's the least I can do
Denisse May 2014
I'll ride in a unicorn if I had a chance
Go visit the hidden garden and take a glance
I'll go drop and make a dance in the moon
Through the magic carpet and massive balloon.

I'll watch the star from falling
Tie a hanky and keep myself wishing
I'll fly with the help of the birds
Make a big conversation with the clouds.

I'll submerge in the sea to play with Ariel
Dance under water and collect shell
I'll travel to visit Alice in the Wonderland
Not minding the dirt in the sand.

I'll ride on the plane and go to Paris
Tour myself in the city of poetry
I'll go to Eiffel Tower to have my dream come true
I don't care if I will go alone, atleast I have my happiness upto my bone.

Paris will be an amazing trip, but it isn't enough
I want to go visit the Queen
In the place where my favorite boyband has been
The place called London, the land I wish I was on.

It's always an amazing thing to imagine
And there is no other place for this, only in this piece.
When you write poem, you can go where you want, you can do whatever you want, you can act without limits. That's an awesome thing in a poem. YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOU WANT.
Michael W Noland Feb 2013
I am in a city of admirers admiring admirers, a city cloned from a rough sketch, that has been traced in disappearing ink, a producer of diluted DNA in its quoting of the quotes within the tattoos across its face.

Its people walk in pace like sheeple, but at-least the sheep have their fur, as the people scurry in synchronicity from the burr.

Its cold outside, and getting colder.

Ill stand right here, and observe.
EgoFeeder Mar 2014
Look at me, I swear I'm clean!
Or atleast I do allude;
To existing in a conform
The terra o' delude
In a ****** reform
Or atleast living I mean

Dance with me, I swear I jive
to a tune of jubilee;
Lowly as obscurity
Repulsive swinging gypsies;
Wriggle in obscenity
Atleast i'm alive...

with Pals once high on relations;
We've lost our ties and inspiration
Ignorantly unhumbled and blinded;
A bitter temptation as the lime did

Oh desire!
You're sending such morse signals
Oh desire!
What have I done to you?
Oh desire!
Tell me the truth- nothing trivial
Oh desire!
Look what I've done to you...

I tried to find an easy way;
Can't say **** but I say it anyway
All choked up on it anywho;
High on me - Dried on you

Oh desire!
You make me cry
Oh desire!
We're both bad liars
Oh desire!
want to dye?
Oh desire!
Dance of fire!

A man does love
Desires' hips
seer of this
Ale axes hint
Sebastian VL Apr 2017
Some say I entertain
But I write to maintain
My own **** down my own lane
You want **** go ask mane

Maybe I ask for fame
Probably go for the money and dames
Go on rari's and cadi's instead of trains
Or atleast go lit over all my mains (If I had some)

Everybody I know now they stains
One thing to another so quick they been prayin
For justice, to be loved, some **** they all be sayin
Maybe y'all expect me to be slayin

But nah I am payin
Taxes and rent I owe
From this person I been fakin
Maybe now I'm on a low

Started off high but **** happens you know
Like riding  a car and you get stopped to tow
Maybe I look worse, dusty like I came from the dough
Or ***** as **** like my other boys' fro

But for real tho
No roast no show
Maybe I need this to grow
Harsh when you on your own on the road

I'm seeing **** too early hoppin like a toad
Like seeing a video on youtube and it forgot to load
Probably changed so much I am hard to decode
May be considered weird but I guess that's my mode

So I don't write to entertain
I don't want all that fame
**** the world now I love the train
But I write to explain.
One's mind trying to be sane
Jayantee Khare Sep 2017
ज़िन्दगी की तन्हाइयों से गुजरते हैं हम
गहरे समुंदरों में सफ़र करते हैं हम
तूफानों के तले गहराइयों में बसकर
मोतियों की तरह सीपों में संवरते हैं हम

अंगारों की तरह हवाओं से सुलगते हैं हम
राख बनके फिजाओं में बिखरते हैं हम
जबसे इश्क़ किया है उस कातिल से
रोज़ सौ सौ बार मरते हैं कम-से-कम..

Passing through the loneliness of life,
In the depth of the ocean, we travel.
Beneath the violence of the storm,
In the oyster, we culture like a pearl.

Rekindled by the winds like embers,
Scattering everywhere, the ashes gray.
Since we fell in love with the killer,
Die atleast hundred times everyday....
Love a wrong person, die daily in dark depth, burn badly by blowing winds,
One day you will shine like a poet...
Cheyenne Majors Nov 2012
I think I  love every inch of you
I say think in the fact that one can
Never be too
About love
And I say every inch as in the good
And the very minimal bad
I love the curve of your jaw
The definition of every muscle in your body
I love your shot glass collar bones
Your sun kissed shoulders
And moon kissed thighs
I love the jut of each of your lips
your exasperated sighs
The redness at the tip of your ears
And I love
All the scars and stories on each hand
And arm
So yes. I believe I love every inch of you
And I apologize for the cliche
But then again
I'd like to believe we're both just terribly common cliches so
Atleast we're something
Atleast we're the same thing
Atleast we're not nothing.
ramon cayangyang Nov 2016
Bago ako magsimula , Gusto kulang sabihin sayong “kamusta?”
Parang kay tagal na simula nang huling tayo ay magkita
Hanggang ngayon hindi ko masabe kayat dadaanin kita sa
Maikli kong tula ….

Sa tulang halos buhay ko ang nilalaman , buong buhay na aking
Minahal at pinaglaban ng hindi man lang niya nalalaman . ..
Kahit na alam ko na sayo ay may nagmamahal at kayong dalawa
Ay nagmamahalan patuloy pa rin ako sa aking pakikipaglaban

Nakikipaglaban sa aking nararamdamang hindi ko alam kung bakit
Kinakailangan , bakit kailangan kong pagdaanan kasi hindi ko kayang
Iwaksi sa aking isipan at sa tuwing tatalikod ako sayo hindi ko
Mapigilang ilabas ang tunay kong nararamdaman …

Nararamdamang kalungkutan ngunit napapalitan ng kasiyahan sa
Tuwing ikay aking masisilayan , masilayan ang nagiisang dahilan ng
Tuwa at pasakit na aking nararamdaman

Pero kahit punong puno ng pasakit at pagdurusa ang dulot mo sa
Akin wala akong pakielam …
Kahit na sabihin ng iba na “TANGA KA BA ? MAHAL MO PERO MAHAL

Wala akong pakielam sa sabihin ng kahit na sino man , isa lang naman
Ang laman ng aking isipan

Ang oo at pero , OO ngat alam ko na sa puso niya ay hindi ako bagkus
Iba ang siyang nanahan ,
Pero sa puso ko , ikaw ang siyang nagturong magmahal ng totoo kahit
Na alam na walang dapat asahan

Na ang salitang “TAYO” sa panaginip kulang makakamtam

Pero kahit ganon paman ang kinalabasan , Masaya parin ako sa nagging resulta nang aking ginawa na tinatawag ng karamihan na “KATANGAHAN”

Kase hindi kuman nagawang makamtan ang taong laman ng aking isipan ,at kahit Alam Kong sa panaginip kalang mahahagkan

Atleast natutunan ko at nagawa kong lumaban at ipaglaban siya
Kahit na hindi man lang niya nalalaman
Odi Dec 2013
"The problem is..."
he drawls
"that it is'nt us who see people differently from you,
but you see things different from us. We are not the problem you are.
You see the basest humans when we paint majestic creatures,
we tell stories of superheroes with no faults,
we expect our boyfriends to mirror night skies in their comfort,
and speak like Kerouac. Kiss our scars like white girl tumblr pictures."
"People like you," he says;
"...Dont ever **** yourselves. You're used to the disappointment. Your used to kissing your boyfriends sweaty upper lips and smelling...just that. You clean up the puke on bathroom floors without complaining because you know what people look like from the inside. That's why your art will never be good. Thats why today in class when I asked you to paint a human body cut open, you drew a colorless man with his organs splaying out of him, and *******" he laughs..
"I have to fold petals into my boyfriends armpits just to stand the sight of him
our ******* is'nt *******,
its *******. Supposedly.
When I tell this story later,
I'll leave out the spit and saliva and how the human body
aint that pretty, especially *******. Even 6 ft 3 chiseled muscle of it, ill write metaphors about his eyes and similes to his fists,
you will tell us about the humaness of his breath and how
it annoyingly kept you up at night,
you will speak of storms but not of the ones in his eyes.
The ones in your belly
when he farts during *** and you will
describe every putrid detail, like the fact that waking up in the morning aint so pretty,
morning breath is something we dreamers leave out in movies. And, it must be exhausting
living here seeing things how they really are, but atleast when you expect disappointment, theres room for surprise.
People like me expect the good and are disappointed when its ****** on."
daniel f Oct 2016
Beneath a milky pearl          
For those who live away from this, it may be hard to picture the open ocean at night as a place of solace. With underlying  currents and precious little hope of salvation, it's understandable people are confused by my claim. But deep        
into the evening, when the only natural night is reflected                                                  
like a milky pearl in the murky waters a veil is lifted.                                            
Where as upon dry land, all manner of thoughts serve to                                      
distract upon the water it is remarkably different. Life is distilled significantly,
hauling in lobster pots becomes all important other
wise pressing issues are relegated, into mere trivialities.
The distant shimmer of porch lights serves to subtly remind
of why exactly,  your alone in a boat three hundred meters
atleast out to sea. In my opinion atleast there is has been  
no conflict of interest so great it could not find an                                  
amicable conclusion after a period spent discussing it upon                              
the silent ocean.                              
                       It is always worth keeping in mind,                    
exactly how liable to change the scene is. When viewed from                                  
afar on wind smeared winter evenings, from the comfort of a living                          
living room with loved one it's beauty laid bare for all to appreciate,
it's potential for malice concealed.

As swallows swoop skyward, and the temperature creeps ever higher
the green August fields feel
furthest, from the diminished days of winter.
For me atleast this highlights well how much things are liable to
change given time. In life as well as nature nothing is set in stone,
for even mountains overtime will retract or rise albeit far to slowly for us
mere mortals to truly appreciate. This is always best bared in mind when faced with
great adversity or personal heartache, that eventually even though
it may seem implausible things will change.

I have often heard from all manner of                                    
people that they are envious of us, those whom make a            
living from the ocean. Although I've always thought there romantic
image holds far more allure than reality, which at times
can be far worse than a busy day at the office.
I've heard before how those with jobs relating to the land,
seem a little more at peace with it all.
More willing to understand maybe
this has always always made me think                          
Clearly those who say such  have spent little time with nature,
Or just not long enough to appreciate the subtle changes which slip landscapes new seasons. The first arrival of seasonal visitors, they                                          
do not smile secretly at the sight of springs first solitary                                  
swallow, arrived from deepest Kenya.
something is better than nothing, I made a promise to myself that I'm gonna write more
Juju Juju May 2015
With rock I shall write,
The story of my life,
For I have no paper,
Not even a pencil to keep,

I used to ask my brother,
What a penny could buy,
He used to say " Are you crazy?"
It doesn't even buy one bite of bread..

My brother was my only hope,
After father, mother, and sister left us from hunger,
"Their in heaven"
He used to assure me,
"Watching us from above"

But I couldn't understand
Why they watched us suffer..
If their in heaven they can send us rain
Or atleast droplets of water so that I could drink,
Cuz' lately I've been forgetting the taste of water,
Or thats even if water has a taste?!?

My brother and I,
In the streets- we used to beg,
For food to eat,
To satisfy what we call "hunger"
But we gave up,
No one looked.. no one gave..
Digging in the trash became our specialty..

Thats the reality of humans,
They friend the rich, and kick the poor,
No one has a pure heart anymore
That's what I learned,
From my days of living with no home..

Maybe only one person out of 200 would give us a dollar or two,
That was never enough,
But atleast they cared,

My brother always used to tell me,
To try and look for the good in people,
Even if a person was all darkness from inside,
And you see a small- very small ray of light,
Then hold on to it,
You never know what it may sprout into,

I held on to that advice,
But darkness killed the good in people,
Or maybe I'm the one with wrong conclusions,

My brother and I...
I can no longer say these words,
Cuz now its just "Me and I"...

Brother are you in heaven?
Watching over me..?
Can you see my tears of pain,
Please send and give me hope,
I'm holding on...
Or atleast I'm trying to..
Please send me rain...
Derek Wings Apr 2012
my heart is in a cage
the cage is invisible
but my heart is barely visible
hidden behind so many bars that are practically invincible
because every bar is made from a scar
i dont even know how many there are
so many; it seems more like a prison
everytime feelings have risen
they couldnt get break out
and who wants to break into a jail
when every attempt seems to fail
it seems ive been trapped in this cell
ever since that one time i fell (in love)
how long have i been here
i cant even tell anymore
sometimes i just sit and stare at the lock
and everthing that is blocking the door
someday it will open
as long as the lock isnt broken
atleast thats what i'm always hopin
I do believe one day
you will find the key
to this invisble cage
but you better hurry
it only gets stronger with age
beware of  the jokes
and meaningless conversations
that never get serious
because they will turn you away
as i try to run away
but i hope you swill stay
and break these scars
so i can let go of all the pain
and all this rage
stuck inside my rib cage
Daniel Hunt Jan 2015
I'm not like the other guys.
I can't escape this it always finds me,
I try hard to stop it but there's no stopping.
I can't fight it off because it's not of my control,
It's how other people think and I'm just a fool.

I can't escape what others percieve me as,
I just be myself and I guess I'm an ***.
I don't understand why I keep getting pushed down,
I am the nicest guy I know and yet I'm being like all guys around.

I try hard to be the best and the opposite of the others,
But it seems like in the end I'm just like my twin brother.
I'm nothing special and I'm just an idiot,
Don't feel bad if you've called me that I'm used to it.

My dad would say I'm a failure at life that I need to just see,
I tried to block that out but that's exactly what others have shown me,
I'm nothing special and I'm just like the others why even try?
It's like every girl I come across would be better off if I die.

I'm the guy that will cry when I'm told something wrong,
It's probably because I've held all my emotions in for so long.
I know there's great times but then there's the bad,
and when those bad occurs it just makes me really sad.

I'm not lying when I say I try **** it I try really hard!
I don't want to be that ******* of a guy that ****** in peoples yards!
I try not to be that horrible guy that plays 2-3 girls,
I try not being that horrible guy that's ***** rules his world!

I know that I think with my brain or atleast I say I do,
I'm sorry to all if I've ever hurt any of you.
I'm reconsidering what I've thought from the first time this happened,
I might just delete this account and that's just going to be the end.

Please don't be mad or sad, don't tell me to stay.
I'm probably going too anyways,
I'm just trying to smile for once again this is my escape,
But how can your sanctuary be something that's worse in a way?

I love you so much, I love you all I'm not lying.
But I can't stand the girls that turn their backs on me,
Because inside I'm really dying.
I'm not an emo so ***** all of you if that's what you see.

I'm just someone confused with this site,
Who can't stand all the fights,
I want this to be the place that's right,
But soon it'll take over my sight.

If you want me to stay, then show me that im diffrent,
Make me know, im not like the others,
I want to show guys here, that im diffrent.
Tell me should I stay?
I made this poem, becasue I wanted a way, to tell girls that i'm not like all types of guys on this Planet, some can be diffrent.
Mr Quiet Feb 2019
Dying romantically over a bridge,
Taking snaps on our phones as we cut our wrists,
Let's go make fun of all the suicidal kids,
Mental illness is the trend,
Let's make money out of this.

Post tweets.
Tell them about you wanting to end your life.
Click. Send.
Now lets brag about how many people retweet and like.
IG stories.
The highlights of the night,
Show them your depression.
Then delete before sunrise,
Pics of sad poems,
Then pics of memes,
#relatable, right?

We're like a sponge filled with heavy solemness,
As we sqeeze our anxieties and drink our stress,
We all use drugs to treat our mess,
But we ain't redeemed yet,
Sweet Jesus, please make the pain less.

Drink out of misery,
It all turns out fine,
The first thirty minutes will be heaven for your mind,
Enjoy what is left,
Ignore and leave your problems behind,
They'll come back for sure but atleast you had a hell of a time.

Put the chemicals in,
Snort the*******,
If you're not gonna shoot in your school,
Atleast destroy your brain.
Put the chemicals in,
Enjoy what is left of your sanity.
Crystal ****.
A minor inconvenience that leads your death into ambiguity.

Our insecurities has never been more expressed or shown,
From all the popular kids with all their Gucci clothes,
Go ahead, make money out of the things that you don't know.
Go ahead, make money out of us since we're the joke.

We are the joke.
kids don't want rifles, they want Supreme.
OneCorn Dec 2012
You see me
I know you do
you act like you can see through me
Yet I know you can't
I wish I knew why you act like this
Will you ever tell me why
Is it my fault?
Do I make it hard?
Could I make it be simple?
I try to understand
but I just can't seem too
I want to be your friend
You want to be mine
Or atleast thats what you say
Yet you go mute
when I walk into a room
Like your words are too good for my ears
Yet I don't think that's it
It could be
But for a second
When I see your eyes
Fear flickers through
you may deny but I know what I see
and I see it only too often
I wonder who else notices
Who knows to look for it
Maybe just me
But trust me its there
Maybe its the same when you see me
Is it?
Do we fear each other?
Can anyone tell?
Will it always be secret?
It began wrong
But its not that way anymore
Atleast that's what you promised
So why can't they know
Or maybe its just easier to dissapear that way
Though if you just want to dissapear again
Just do it
You know waiting just hurts me
And I'm tired of hurting
So I hope you don't run
But I hope you will help me
to Understand
If your not ashamed of me
Why am I a secret?
Em MacKenzie Dec 2018
Dear Mrs. Frouin,
(atleast I think that was your name.)

For as long as I can remember I’ve always wanted to be a writer. Actually, I don’t believe I wanted to be anything, especially when I was younger,
but writing chose me.

For you see,
I conditioned myself unable to verbally express my emotions, or my thoughts, since I was old enough to have them.
I know the words I want to say when I want to say them,
but I never felt anyone wanted to hear them.
I believed my constant analyzing and emotional dissection to be a burden.
I knew most people wouldn’t understand, if they even bothered to listen at all.
And so I taught myself to alter the disease of emotions, and the curse of memories into dressed up words.
I turned my pain into similes, allegories and metaphors,
whether hidden and veiled or transparently exposed.
My pen became my bestfriend
and paper evolved into a therapist.

It didn’t always do the trick, I admit.
Especially when I was fifteen, the year you taught me,
the year I tried my first pill
and found an alternate reality I could escape to where everything felt good, all the ******* time.
And that’s where you caught me.

It seems petty, immature and egotistical to still remember this fourteen years later,
but when someone attempts to crush the only aspiration you have,
the only thing you really have felt good at,
it tends to stick with you.
Especially considering I remember everything.

As per usual, I had shown up to your class ******,
there wasn’t many classes I showed up to sober.
There wasn’t many classes I showed up to in general.
I had zoned out during your lesson, probably doodling, talking,
sleeping, listening to music, writing or staring at some pretty girl.
Everyone had left and you asked me to stay behind, and as much as I was a professional **** up back then, that wasn’t common.
You sat across from me and asked me what I wanted to do with my life,
immediately I answered “I want to be a writer.”
We talked about fiction, journalism, poetry, song writing,
the things I “excelled” in according to you,
but with softness in your voice you stated,
“I believe you have the talent, but to be brutally honest, I think you lack the motivation to do it.”
I hear that sentence every two weeks or so.
It haunts me.

I can understand your reasoning,
as I said above, I was a professional **** up.
But you didn’t bother to talk to my media and film teacher,
who personally tracked me down one day when I was cutting class in the woods getting high with friends,
pulling me aside to beg me to start showing up to any class more often,
that I had missed 84 classes in one year, and that he personally,
intercepted to principal to discuss me and stuck his neck out for me,
“You are far too unique to not make your mark here.” he said.
You didn’t bother to check that even then, when I wasn’t attending 90% of my classes,
I was still on the honour roll for English, History and Math.
And that even after your words,
and even after more partying
and attempting to **** my brain cells
I came back that next year and stayed on the honour roll,
adding 16th Century History to the list as well.

But I do see your original point,
maybe I do lack the motivation to “do it.”
Whatever that might mean,
because like all things in life,
it’s all about perception
and personal expectation
and interpretation.

You see, I can confidently say that
my writing has evolved,
and dare I say, at the risk of sounding pretentious and cocky,
it has gotten better.
And while I may not be getting paid a dime for any of it,
I have people reading my work,
for some reason,
and most importantly, I have people relating to my work,
experiencing it, and above all,
feeling it.
That’s all I’ve ever wanted to accomplish from writing;
it may have started as free, comfortable, liberating therapy, expression and self reflection,
but all I have ever wanted is to know I made someone, anyone,
feel something.
That’s all everyone should aspire to accomplish,
an act that touches a person,
makes them feel less alone.
There’s nothing more noble in this world than helping another person,
no matter how you do it.

Whenever someone has tried to show positivity or support for my writing,
they make comparisons of being the next (insert famous female writer here)
and all I ever think is that I would rather be the first me.
Almost every artist wants to “famous,”
but I have always thought that I would rather be respected than famous.
Maybe one day I will be,
but maybe I won’t,
that really isn’t the point.

You believed that I lacked the motivation to become a writer,
but I always have been one.
My motivation is used everyday to get out of my warm bed,
where dreams are the only plane of existence where I feel peace and bliss.
My motivation is used to create something from everything negative,
instead of letting it beat me down
and turn me into the kind of person who would look at a
troubled teen with a glimpse of aspiration,
and tell them they couldn’t do it.
My motivation is used to support others and if I’m lucky enough,
guide them even half a step closer to the path they want to take.

Mrs. Frouin, if you read this,
and I doubt you will
because you probably don’t remember someone who you thought you read so well to make assumptions on their potential,
please laugh at the irony at the
fact that you failed me in your “creative writing” class
and I’m still a writer.
And maybe, if you’ve read this all the way through,
the student “lacking motivation”
just became your teacher.
Yes this happened, and it’s weird it still bothers me, but hopefully I got the mic drop here.

— The End —