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Peter B Feb 2018
Love isn't blind,
blind are those,
who never loved.
If you would like to support my poetry, you can do it via link: paypal.me/pbalkus
Jordan Rowan Dec 2015
Blind Willie Johnson strums six strings a day
He drinks with the woman who taught him to play
He spells out his secrets in the songs that he sings
And breathes his life onto six rusty strings
Blind Willie Johnson brings home the blues
Blind Willie Johnson will wail the blues to you

The brothel he grew up in is tearing down the walls
He's got so many memories of those smokey halls
His mama could be there or she could be dead
He's got no pictures, just anecdotes instead
Blind Willie Johnson said he don't know a thing
Except for the truth in the blues that he sings

Blind Willie Johnson ain't really blind at all
He's just got those gray eyes from years of alcohol
He stares into the smoke of a Friday night crowd
Who stare back at him as his stories ring out
Blind Willie Johnson doesn't cover up a thing
Listen to his pain in the blues that he sings

"Blind Willie Johnson" reads the graveyard stone
Under the blanket of the sky, Willie rests alone
Though his voice is lost underneath the ground
The world will never forget Blind Willie's sound
Blind Willie Johnson sang the way he felt
He never complained about the hand he was dealt
Hollow Steve Aug 2018
Faded eye
Numb skull
Empty veins
Uncontrollable blow

It rolls inside itself
Then swallows itself whole

Wallowing inner ache

Can't see
Only looking

It falls within
It's numb

I have no place left to see
What could have been
My life held within

I can not see
No longer me

Everything fades
Farewell my dismay
Rich Hues Aug 2018
But we trod grapes and paddled on,
Through a neap tide of Sauvignon,
Drowning our disappointment in drink,
Above a pale octopus poached in its own ink.

Castaway and stowaway using another name,
Fantasies swapped on the website that we blame,
Until in the blood-black sea we agree to give it a try,
And I wash up in the morning beneath my mother's palid thigh.
She Writes Sep 2018
Should I believe in a higher power
That I can not touch, see, or feel?
That lets innocent people be broken
Then worship him to heal

Should I trust that he is the reason
That I live every day
If I need a miracle
Drop down on my knees and pray

I don’t know how I feel
Or what I should believe
My god had forsaken me
Left me feeling naive

I want to trust
That he has purpose for me
From this indecision
I long to be free

Is blind faith a sign
Of strength or weakness
This indecision
Leaves me sleepless
Mal Apr 28
You cut out my eyes.
You fed me with lies.
And now I can never see again.
loveless Jul 2016
"How will you show me your world? I am blind."

"Hear me. How do I sound like?"

"I'd say your voice is just like a nightingale. Full of love. Like an angel."

"How do I smell like?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Go on."

"Your smell... It's... addicting to be honest. Like a flower that is in a garden but its smell is so unique."

"Touch me. How do I feel like?"

"Your skin so soft. Softer than a petal of rose. Cheeks like a baby. I can imagine your blue eyes looking at me right now. You feel really beautiful."

"You don't need to see from your eyes to see my world."
A talk between two, a blind boy and a girl.
LexiSully Apr 2016
Do you see me, staring, holding my heart in my outstretched hands?

Do you hear me, whispering, voicing my feelings into your covered ears?

Do you feel me, grazing, brushing my fingertips across your fist?

Do you realize that I'm falling, whirling, tumbling head over heals, or are you immune to love's blindness?
I put myself out there, now just don't leave me hanging.
PoserPersona Jul 2018
In the cusp of closing night, I look into your weary eyes;
once outshining city lights. I see no way to realize
the healing of this blight - I venture to make a phoenix cry.
Remedy of such mythos might, might just prove unjust lies.
Chance restoring your ere vacant sight - fighting soul’s primal guide.
As any chance to restore my bride, binds our fractured lives.

...No words to describe affliction already decided.
isabelle saloom Nov 2015
red* - her lips tasted of wine and blood and all the pain she felt in her heart. she was driven by wild passion and survived solely on her intensity and strength. each breath she took was like fire; so absolute, so empowered.
orange - her hair was crafted from the bright ashes of a phoenix, kindled with streaks of gold. she always seemed to be her own lick of flame from the embers that burned in her heart to the coals that touched her soul.
yellow - her smile was light at your darkest hour, sunshine after a rainstorm. inspired by everything and nothing at all. she was the sun personified, the epitome of radiance.
green - her eyes were so deep and magnificent and ethereal, whilst still lit with puerility. she could look at you and suddenly show you that she cared so passionately for you, no matter your mistakes or your faults.
blue - her skin drowned in an ocean of tears, storm after storm, each wave wracked her body. she trembled with heartrending sobs, each breath heavier than the last. her sorrow painted the depths of her, unseen to those who had not genuinely looked into her eyes.
purple - her organs were stained an **** shade by the darkness she consumed. her hunger was insatiable. she filled her mouth with glass and swallowed it with a smile on her face. the air traveled from her bruised lungs, through her macerated throat, and out her smiling, stained lips.
Nobody Jul 2017
Your words break my heart, cut deep into my soul.
I ache inside now, no longer whole.  
You watch me weep, stare idly by,  
are you amused, I'm glued to your side?

Don’t say there’s no purpose,
no place where we survive.
Has it all been a lie,
is there no time to try?  

I know our colors all faded,
the sparkle slowly drifted away;
and I watched your passion stray,
as my whole world turned grey.

But even after your flood up the road,
signaled it was our time to go,
I still pleaded for a minute more;
but was harshly forced out your door.  

As you claim it's way too late,
forced to accept the sad truth;
our ride is over now,
hello my days of blue.

But the burning scars won’t mend,
dwelling on a dark and lonely end.
I’m broken, lost, and far from sane;
it’s so cold here stuck in the rain.

And I knew you weren't my kind,
but I was blissfully blind,
trapped in a wild high;
where you were my love,
and you were all mine.
I put this together using several references from my favorite artist at the moment Dalton Rapattoni . It is completely fabricated
seychelles May 2017
cos' you shined so bright,
too bright,
and that's what made me blind.
so when you left,
I can't see anyone,
I can't even see you.
thanks to tavvishi, i like this very much
We Open our eyes all the same, but through these eyes of mine life seems significantly plain.
Mixtures of black and white left everything grey, a color without meaning that seams lost and afraid.
The color has left this place they call home, but I know deep down inside I'm no longer alone.
The grey way of life is a blessing and a curse, it’s doing 130 down the highway but in the back of a hearse.
It’s a life with many loves but none of them stay.
It’s Looking down a dark tunnel and going that way.
I will live in the grey until the color in me can find its way home perfectly free.
She never looked, she never turned,
She never wished, she never learned,
But with a pen, she once had yearned,
And wrote a poem of all she burned.

But she couldn’t make a single rhyme,
Like rain with cane, and lime with dime,
All she care about is to **** the time,
That once left her confused and blind.
laura May 2017
She's a little light in the world
likes to dance to make ends meet
and likes her cat and me and dollars
I like to cover as much light as I can
but she always shines through
Hungry Panda Sep 2018
Why can't you see
You hurt me like a bee
You can't rid my troubles
Its not like popping bubbles
You cause me pain
Yet you don't restain
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