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darkcloud Mar 2019
tears fall like daggers
my skin- dry and ripped;
the sweat drips differently
and the blood flow slows.
patience and positivity keeps the wheels turning,
but there is a breaking point on the horizon.
soon i will stand up to depression,
but for now,
i sit and wait.
going through a couple things and i want to get my message across through poems. to those who are struggling, i hope to reach out to you through my work. enjoy.
Erenn May 2015
That dream that I had,
It was a blurr
But your face i see ever so clearly.
Everything was white
You smiled at me happily;
A premonition as you see it.
You told me,
"Maybe I dumped you on that day."
The truth is,
You held my hand clutching it tightly
You were wearing your wedding dress.
**And it was our wedding day.
The rest of what happened in my dream.
Simone Mar 2010
Sleep made her eyes droop
Tears made her eyes blurr
Stress made her reactions slow
Love made her heart heavy
Rain made the road slick
The crash made her life change
Patricia Rosales Mar 2014
Whenever they ask me "What Happened"
I just look at them and say "It's complicated"
I thought it was going so well then all of the sudden,
We go back to strangers; as if we never dated,

It started off as a simple game
I never planned to make you mine,
I never thought you'd feel the same,
We just started talking; from exchanging half gearted insults to cheesy pickup lines,

The thought of us being "more than friends" seemed so sureal,
So I honestly didn't know how to feel,

Until I finally gathered enough courage to ask you,
If you felt the same way about me too,
After your "yes", the happiness was basically all a blurr
But Like they say, love barely lasts forever,
I started to have second thoughts about us being together,
I lost motivation,
Even to reply to your simplest questions,
I didnt keep up a conversation,
I took you for granted,
Barely gave you things you wanted,
Yet somehow I still hate how we ended,
Countless nights contemplating my mistakes,
Countless attenpts to forget you for every shot I take,
Drinking away all the things I did wrong,
Reminiscing from a stupid love song,

Maybe it is true,
That I probably didn't deserve you,
I can't believe how fast you found someone new,
It kills me to think about my biggest regret;
Letting go of a girl I can never forget
SøułSurvivør Dec 2015
the carousel played
in the carnival park
bright music to lure
tinkling lights in the dark

spirited ponies, animals quaint
all snorting and rearing
colored with paint

the spinning floor stops
for us to get on
we choose our mounts
it starts with a song

up and down go the horses
the calliope sings
as we go 'round we reach out for the rings

sometimes we miss them
they go on by
but there's always a chance
for the second try

the turning seasons
so very like life
you get your good job
your husband or wife

your car and your boat
your kids and their stuff
you go 'round and 'round
but you can't get enough!

then all of a sudden
death cuts like a knife
and you discover you've wasted your life

the scenery, the colors
just a smear. just a blurr
the music passed by
your heart was not stirred!

you didn't smell seabreeze
feel the wind in your face
you didn't seek God
missed out on His
GRACE

LIFE IS THE JOURNEY
but you forgot
you passed up the beauty
without a thought

LIFE ISN'T ALL GOLD
it don't mean a thing
so reach for the
Rose
as well as the
RING

reach out for
GOD
He's important as well
when you take your ride
on the bright

CAROUSEL


SoulSurvivor
(C) 12/15/2015



c
another poem I saved from archives
it was first written in 2013 but I did an extensive rewrite
Donall Dempsey Oct 2018
WHAT A WONDERFUL LITTLE BOY

The view
gazes at him.

The landscape gathers
itself about him

as if he were a piece of pigment
in a painting a blob or blurr

of blue or green or
something in between.

"What a wonderful little boy!"
a passing cloud, pauses...muses

and says once more in case the hill
hadn't heard.

"What a wonderful little boy indeed!"
a tree agrees...winking...its leaves.

A river runs through him
alive in his senses.

The grass runs all over
the field tickling his naked toes.

Sunlight throws
itself at his feet

bows before him in all
its glory.

A breeze throws his hat high
up in the sky and

returns it to his hand
as if by command.

The clouds grazing now
upon a hill top

fascinated by his presence
how he has come to be.

"He makes us feel
so very much alive!"

One cloud nods
to another.

"Oh, there's a poet in him
to be sure to be sure!"

the river remarks
its voice clamouring over stones.

Time that sheep dog barks
but the clouds only luahg

"See how he lends us
his voice

in order that we may think
and speak.

Look I'm talking
in human words."

"Ballea...Ballea...Ballea!"
the farm shouts its name.

Again and again and again
the river exclaims

"Owenabui...Owenabui...Owenabui!"
sunlight dancing in its voice.

A bird stands stock still
upon the air

neither coming or going
just standing on nothing

as if it were a punctuation mark
typed upon the sky.

Time returns now
in policeman mood.

"Move along now...nothing to see here
move along now!"

And the landscape loses a voice
the sky its ability to see
the cloud has no words
the bird become a dot

only the sunset
whispers to an horizon

"What a wonderful
wonderful little boy!"
For the seven lakes, and by no man these verses:
Rain; empty river; a voyage,
Fire from frozen cloud, heavy rain in the twilight
Under the cabin roof was one lantern.
The reeds are heavy; bent;
and the bamboos speak as if weeping.

Autumn moon; hills rise about lakes
against sunset
Evening is like a curtain of cloud,
a blurr above ripples; and through it
sharp long spikes of the cinnamon,
a cold tune amid reeds.
Behind hill the monk’s bell
borne on the wind.
Sail passed here in April; may return in October
Boat fades in silver; slowly;
Sun blaze alone on the river.

Where wine flag catches the sunset
Sparse chimneys smoke in the cross light

Comes then snow scur on the river
And a world is covered with jade
Small boat floats like a lanthorn,
The flowing water closts as with cold. And at San Yin
they are a people of leisure.

Wild geese swoop to the sand-bar,
Clouds gather about the hole of the window
Broad water; geese line out with the autumn
Rooks clatter over the fishermen’s lanthorns,

A light moves on the north sky line;
where the young boys **** stones for shrimp.
In seventeen hundred came Tsing to these hill lakes.
A light moves on the South sky line.

State by creating riches shd. thereby get into debt?
Thsi is infamy; this is Geryon.
This canal goes still to TenShi
Though the old king built it for pleasure

K E I M E N R A N K E I
K I U M A N M A N K E I
JITSU GETSU K O K W A
T A N FUKU T A N K A I

Sun up; work
sundown; to rest
dig well and drink of the water
dig field; eat of the grain
Imperial power is? and to us what is it?

The fourth; the dimension of stillness.
And the power over wild beasts.
Since I met you here, dear friend
I began to like this place a lot
at first sight it was eerie here
and the ground for me too hot

As I continued walking
upon untrodden paths
rotten fruit surrounding me
no bees or birds are singing

I wonder walking all alone
no sign of a living soul
all green softness disappeared,
and everywhere was stone

Wondering all the time, no shame
I found a clear chrystal ditch at last
if you will ask about the name
is that the present or in the past?

My head turning, my feet burning
they are to blurr my view
great bliss that pure water and some dew
wish that shall change my head from spinning

Then walking all the while with the same view
I see from far a green stip slowly coming
in seventh heaven am I, since it's a human being
I thank Thee on my naked knees, it is you my friend

I notice beauty yonder
the mockingbird and wren
have a duet together
I wonder since when

After I've met you, friend
I like this place a lot
it's not so eerie anymore
and God's blessings are on this spot


© Sylvia Frances Chan
      27th April 2013
Poetry not my Death
but my Living
not my End but my Beginning
V Oct 2017
Behold the man who terrfies with power,
Behold the man who can **** a king with his glower.
All hail the man who has it all,
All hail the man who cannot fall.

Woe to the man who fears judgement day,
He paces and turns the clock off in fear driven rage.
Woe to the man who hides his pills from the other "eyes",
He sits vengeful at his past, masking it with every lie.
Woe to the man who doesn't sleep at night,
For he regrets selling is soul, he doesn't sleep in fright.
Woe to the men who are evil, for deep down they do not know,
Their sickness has overcome them, they aren't aware they are suffering, barely able to crawl.

Behold the one who sees it all,
It is I, the lowly, the injured, the small.
Behold the one with the love for the wolves when the world does not,
I love what the world only wishes to die and rot.
The evil are not born evil, some this truth is no option,
For many, "Go to hell, you deserve no love, you are just a toxcin."
I have grown to love what you consider "wicked",
Despite my life, I am the victim.
I can only love and forgive, no hatred after all these years,
I still pray for them, behind my bruises, scars and tears.

We could both debate, argue and try to pursuade, but I care too much, I will not lie behind hate.
Perhaps a weakness, call me pathetic,
but I was sent to heal the broken,
Even if it makes me just as sick.

Without a cure, how can we heal?
Without a heaven, there is only hell.

I fear the day when I am free,
I fear the day this chord is broken,
Killing them from me.
What will be left is me the murderer,
Me to mourn their decay;
And what will be left is just a dream, a blurr.
A pain I cannot bare to think it,
I cannot stomach that, not even for a bit.

So, woe and behold,
The evil, the sick,
Whom society and the mind is their virus,
A good soul their antibiotic.
Survivor of SRA/CSA and multiple traumas.
To my abusers, whom I could never find it in my heart to harbour hatred and vengence, for doing so would keep me not only prisoner, but blind.
Despite all the pain they have given me and the freedom, innocence, and stabilty I may never have again, I have learned to love and understand their pain deep inside.
What has made them, them today...
What has destroyed them.
I hated seeing that pain.
I have done everything I could to be what I believed "a cure" for their troubled hearts.
Who knows if what I did found them.

It kills me still that I don't feel "sane" without them, as if I killed them by escaping because at one time they said "we were one".
Yes, I still deal with heavy Stockholm Syndrome, but for me, loving and forgiving is what I will never not do.

As said, no one is born evil,
No one is born with a black heart.
I wished society can understand this,
but there is nothing more I can do.

To all surviors of all trauma large or small, May peace, happiness and freedom forever be with you. <3
Terra May 2017
I travel trough the heavy rain
I sit lonesome on a lonely train
I play blues
These days are grey,  these nights  are blue
my mind keeps coming back to you
I play the blues

I travel with desire
Past houses lit on fire
I play jazz
Windows lit by sundown
My train-seat old and rundown
I play jazz

Rainbow roads in colored blurr
Pretty little towns I'm sure
I play swing
Past mirror waves and open sky
My stomach tingles, wonder why I
Play swing

***** feet on ***** train
Skin so white I see my veins
I play punk
Impatient taps and flickering lights
Soon the day will turn to night
I play punk

Head in the clouds, mind at ease
Longing for the morning breeze
I play Pink Floyd
Memories hanging from branches
Passengers sharing brief glances
I play Pink Floyd

I'm coming home, I'm on my way, but I travel still...
I travel not by force... yet not by will
Music of choise as soundtrack to the silent film
beyond the windowsill
I wrote this as a little homage to my lonesome travels. I fittingly wrote it on a train during sundown, but it's about my memories as a homeless teenager with no idea what I wanted to do or where I wanted to go, just that I wanted to go somewhere and do something. It's also about that longing for someone I hadn't yet met, that empty space reserved for someone you know you'll eventuelly meet. Luckily, this time I was on my way home to that someone.
I imagine this poem as lyrics to a jazzy tune. Maybe I'll get to try it out one day. I'm no great singer, but I'm reserving space for a trumpet solo in there somewhere.
Brother Jimmy Jan 2015
Spinning and spinning
Six little circles
Flushing a life down the drain

Naught but a smidgen of straining, my pidgeon,
A blurr to the vision, euphoric, no pain    

My brain,
Will just shut down
I’ll get
Out of this town
The rain
Gonna pour down and wash me away

Whirling and twirling
My heart in the middle
Graphing the pathway to get the right spin
Crisp calculation, the subtle equation
Causing elation, at last cashing-in

Your brain,
Will just shut down
You'll get
Out of this town
The rain
Gonna pour down and wash you away
  
You must be THIS tall to ride this ride
It’s your human RIGHT to a nice
     suicide
This celestial plane, ...and all of it’s
     strife
We can help you jump past it,
It’s YOUR ******* life!
It’s all in your hands.
You know what to do.
Now is the time
To become the late YOU

Your brain
Will just shut down
You'll get
Out of this town
The rain
Gonna pour down and wash you away
  

My paradigm’s shifting
The veil is lifting
What was I thinking
My heart rate is sinking
And something is stinking
My consciousness shrinking
And what is that ringing
Do I hear choirs singing?
-
Julijonas
Fancy yourself the angel-reaper?
Julijonas Urbonas
Aren't you your brother’s keeper?

Is this just a "what-if", ...for fun?

O Julijonas
Julijonas Urbonas

…What have you done?
Song written upon reading about the death coaster, designed by Mr. Urbonas.
Marigolds Fever Jan 2019
Her Diamond Mind
Rests in Pure Carbon Mine
Shining Fluorescence
Never left her with obsolescence
Light refraction
Quite the distraction
Ice rink on her finger
A monetary stinger
Gem best friend
How much did he spend?
Frozen Pond reflection
of the hardest affection
Ice rock speaks to only her
Don't be a gem amateur
Clear crystal quartz won't do Sir
with its dim blurr
Follow the four C's
Scintillation gleams
Cut determines its prism
At first sight brings hypnotism
Color - a rainbow brilliance
Smiles with each glance
More clarity for radiance
All eyes may be romanced
Be prepared for a trance
Carat weight
Might be the bait
Year after year
Continual glimmer
With every light flicker
Marigold's Fever 2019
Magical silence of Midnight..
as we ponder moments of life.
Solemn  thoughts at tranquility..
Virtues guiding our pursuit..
Images of distant loves..blurr our waning thoughts..
Envisaged You through virtual reality
of thirty years or some more
so ago,
I haven't encroach Thy heart
to no one but You.
A rare bloom floret to my sight!
Beauty Ahah!,,I cant resist this thorn in my Rose Garden.
"And tempted by the charming fragrance of
the blooming gardener".- whom He divulged:
                "Purple bloom reflects a purple heart that expresses love unsurpassed,,,I am writing these words  with my crimson blood ,, to equal thy charm the glow of your love"
He recounted to me over.
Then I know I behold to keep it in my
cognizant jeweled mind, oh so dear.
With my long blondish brown hair
swaying softly cool but warm.
Truly though agitated by the
earthly abating absence-
of Your tangible touch.
Unsurpassed by my astral dream
with much ado!
Gladly remembering You,
in my fervent thoughts.
Thereby cherishing you
on times when things make sense
to me-
out of distress,
to madness so unlikely permeates.
When I am down in anguish, I couldn't weather!
                      "Let the beauty of the woven words ,,
                        guide Your day into fruitfulness, so deary,
                        "Let the rhythm and cadence gives You music in Your restlessness."
  Sir I said, ' I love You" withal affirms..
                       "Let the laughter of my jokes, '
                         lighten Your burden, ease Your yoke,
                       "Let the fire of fiery words be Your armor n silent sword!"
Woe to me as I heed to hearken and thirst for more!
                       "Let d spell of Your poignant smile,,
                         fills my cup instead of wine,,so that I may lie in deep slumber
                         as I gulp Your sweet nectar so divine!"
                         T'is lady  Rose ( scientific name liigaiea vellenoeva) is the best
                         of them all,,
                       I wanna pick her!'
He likewise and inadvertently  told thine.
Along came my sweet behold, I so to keep.
Love such a splendor, undeniably volatile,
in total intimacy desperately onto
conjures.
Yodeling and Yonder fire churning escapades,
To someday crossed our paths
should not perish, So afar!
I beseech thee, make me a swell great day!
Even though  fuming flowers and bees so abounds!
In a ROSE  minted heartland
truly endowed.
Thy thorn so stuck amidst for
You and me
For every storm to grasp its thrushes,
Be res-assured nifty and dandy
For you my daddy
to come Home to,
and hangout together.
That pokes and pukes
Lingered though day in day out,
colloquially.
From jive to logic.
From sane to insanity.
Only one soldered Thorn sojourns!
Jon Tobias Nov 2012
She is dressed like an unmarked bottle of tequila
Smuggled and homemade

There's some dirt on your cheek
Leave it there
Out here looks good on you

There is the crunch and scrape
of dirt in the threading
little pebbles against my teeth

I spit them out onto a smooth portion of cement
Pray that in the blurr
I can read divinity
in the way the dirt falls

Another swig and I am heart heavy
Like scrap metal
and old houses
like fat sacks of glowing mercy

She smiles like a pipedream
of twisted shining copper

She speaks in head spin
This is what it feels like when god talks to you
without killing you

She says
You are not in the business of
feeling sorry for yourself

Name the year

This is the year of the shedding of weight
The year of the cutting in half
The year of shaking the dust
From the fragile places
Wiping the dirt from the threading
even if you have to use your own mouth
so you can finally seal yourself
without worrying if it will hurt this time

The year of hotmess
And young love
The year of leaving
This is the year
Not where everything is lost
But a new lightness is gained
In the way you can walk away

So pull your heart out from the rubble
of the past

This is the year of being charming
The year of fist fights and no regrets
The year where you finally understand
what it means to be honest

This is the year of shaking the dust
Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again,
And howlest, issuing out of night,
With blasts that blow the poplar white,
And lash with storm the streaming pane?

Day, when my crown'd estate begun
To pine in that reverse of doom,
Which sicken'd every living bloom,
And blurr'd the splendour of the sun;

Who usherest in the dolorous hour
With thy quick tears that make the rose
Pull sideways, and the daisy close
Her crimson fringes to the shower;

Who might'st have heaved a windless flame
Up the deep East, or, whispering, play'd
A chequer-work of beam and shade
Along the hills, yet look'd the same.

As wan, as chill, as wild as now;
Day, mark'd as with some hideous crime,
When the dark hand struck down thro' time,
And cancell'd nature's best: but thou,

Lift as thou may'st thy burthen'd brows
Thro' clouds that drench the morning star,
And whirl the ungarner'd sheaf afar,
And sow the sky with flying boughs,

And up thy vault with roaring sound
Climb thy thick noon, disastrous day;
Touch thy dull goal of joyless gray,
And hide thy shame beneath the ground.
Seán Mac Falls Apr 2017
.
Light sparkles in the clover,
Yellow and blurr of bees
Are honeyed in the sun
And robins have come,
Yanking in the gasses,
So green is the moisten
Of the painting of the dew
And all is lolling in petrichor,
The soils running with slow
Time so shortly experienced,
Oils of wood permeate the air,
Lapping brooks bream into light,
The loft kestrel swirls in meadow
And chipmunks scuttle at base of tree,
Even the wind does freshly quiet, crisply,
There as a hug waiting for body and spirit,
Patches of white are disappearing, they know—
That one day we must all return, after winter snows.
Softly spoken Aug 2011
Last night seem to be a bit of a blurr to me
As a matter of fact I have a head-ache and short term memory
Now I know I went to the club had fun and downed a thousand drinks
But I just don't remember how this morning I ended up on this street
I remember a touch so soft and a whisper so sweet
I don't know y my fly is open shirt buttoned backwards and I can't find my keys
I got this smell of a successful take like I got me some lastnight
But my thoughts are all jumbled up , I'm still stumbling and I can't stand up right
Wait I remember a girl but her face isn't clear
So I'll sit under this tree recap last night come on let's go there
I went home with this girl everything about her was on point
Sexc, perfume lit the room and when she walked passed me I felt tingling thru my joints
There was small conversation that led to a uplifting sensation in my paints
She made the first move because betwwen my thighs where her hand
Aggressive kissing excessive gripping and then her front door
Once opened clothes started pealing moans escaped her and we started on the floor
She was on top I know for a fact because her ****'s was just right
As she bounced up and down on me I remember wishing she could do that all night
While kissing her body my finger glides inside
As I took them swimming deep in her ocean ... on the wild side
I was stroking inside of her like I was grinding on a girl in the club
She was yelling screaming moaning and then she creamed ( oh ****)
Turned her around on that ground and started ******* her from the back
She said she felt me in her stomach... but never away did she ******
I gace her unforgettable head I know because that's my signature touch
I opened my mouth wide accepted her and my face she ******
The way my tongue carressed every crevice of her forbidden water
She did every dance ... move to the beat of my tongue that her mother ever taught her
Gripping my hair turned me on even more you could feel my tongue vibrating thru the floor
I knew she would tell me she loved me when I was done for sure
As she came to the peak of her ****** I rammed my face deeper in
Baptised my face in her juices because my tongue just sinned
She was done......
She showed me to the door before I could gather my things
**** last night was off the chain
Well did I get her name.. no that ain't come up yet
What about her number ... it ain't in my call log shyt
I just left her house this morning can I back track where I came from
I turned around looked up the street and sighed cuz I'm still drunk
The only thing I clearly remember is when her legs was up and she had that ****** and yelled
I remember looking at her feet she had
         Pink Toe Nails
I spoke first to her
there wasn't any conversation
there wasn't any blurr
understanding
and all that thing

peaceful, easeful
never worrying

I realized
was this wise
to give response
to her advice…?

my man and all
stayed standing tall
watching us one day to fall
a greatest mistake
since we weren't rollin' the ball

he kicked his head to our wall
he was waiting till I'll fall

surprisingly I grew tall
not the ball nor the wall
but I and my all

I loved him to the brim
I still love him easiest as gym
I still do keep loving him
since he has learned me to swim

when I spoke to him
it was war or peace
still I filled my tea cup with such ease
patiently to the brim
I must admit caring for him
I still do, I love it but feel great pity

leaving her
was my greatest woe
my life in tears
from head to toe
she kept calling and writing to me
her beautiful poetry

I had greatest silence
during our absence
only my soliloquy
I realized I had fallen in love
with her
poetry

if you have read her
you would agree with me

her poetry is her everything
but she became my only thing

she said latest days
poetry is my everything
none understands except thee
(Oh, how flattered I was !! In seventh heaven)

Then she continued:
but my love for thee
is above all things
beyond eternity
and above my poetry

(Am crying of happiness)
now at last I must confess
she is my most
beautiful princess 
I ever possessed 
My Poetess....

© Sylvia Frances Chan
she exists really, my life seems more complete with her poetry, greatest is her Passion, as she oft says, but above all, her proper life and I stand tall, those words were all she said and all.
robin Oct 2015
keep the window open i cant stand to smell your skin, you are shivering. youre cold
(you tell me so (you want a response (i nod,)))
(but you are still cold)
do you have any
fantasies?

this halting voice heaves in my stomach pressing against the walls, making
me sick, the snap of your blinking lids a pickaxe to my temple. i think about
fire
a lot. i think about forest fires.
filling the tank in a dead town, dark night quiet town,
the gas tank overflows (your nervous eyes in your sweating sticky face {your twitching gaze stroking the lighter in the glove compartment} dry dry lips {your wet tongue only makes them dryer})
breathing in her ear you say tie me to the stake tight tight so rope burn sears my wrist,
burn me with the dry kindling,

condensation drips down her neck, sliding down the arm. on the sidewalk in the pit of her shadow a puddle forms, wetting the wings of the unhappy wasps, joints twisted, the gaps in the exoskeleton show something bright, something bulbous, with forceps and needles it could be reached? its delicate skin pierced, oozing thick light (do you have any
fantasies?
)
[so there are two of me, right,
clones, equivalent beings but
individuals. some sort of sick
government secret. human ex
periments. its not important.
i grab my clone by the neck or
it grabs me, its not important,
the dust billows when my feet
skid, im choking, vision blurr
ing, i claw at my hands, we f
all, dust bursts into the air, m
y fist makes sick thudding sou
nds when it hits, bruising my
knuckles on the structural bon
es of my face, possibly breaki
ng the more delicate ones. im
straddling my chest and im s
pitting out the teeth that i di
dnt swallow. then the clones
****? im not really sure.
]
shaffu shafiq Jan 2016
(((TELL ME WHY???)))
Why why why
Tell me why?
Why you left me?
Why you ignored me?
With out any means
Without any reasons
Disappeared you why.
Why why why.
Tell me why?
Why you broke my heart?
With arrow and dart.
Why why why.
Tell me why?
Why you came in my life?
To give me pains.
To bind my life in chains.
Still i miss you why?
Why why why.
Tell me why?
Why showed me blurr dream?
And left me in breme.
Hurt me why
Why why why.
Tell me why?
Why you loved me?
Why you promised me?
Were you a fake?
Tell me for GOD's sake.
Blocked me why?
Why why why
Tell me why?
Why you have stolen my heart?
And now broked it into parts.
Made me cry why..
Why why why.
Tell me why?
Why you made me sad?
I feel now so bad.
Otherwise I was too simple lad.
Made me mad why?
Why why why
Tell me why?
Why you are angry?
Why you went off?
From my life.
With some little strife.
Hate me by you why
Why why why
Tell me why?
Why you have gone so far way?
Do you love me please say.
You will realize everything oneday.
Repent and will miss me everyday.
Lost we why
Why why why?
Tell me why?
Why you told me a lie?
We will live together.
Will enjoy our life each other.
And will play with one another.
And finally you told me good bye.
I don't know it why.
Why why why.
Just tell me why?
Why u left me in grief?
And became my heart's theif.
Having inside pain & finding no relief.
You are mine it was my belief.
Untrust me you why.
Why why why.
Tell me please why?
Why you ignored me.?
Why you left me?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Please tell me why?
Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again,
  And howlest, issuing out of night,
  With blasts that blow the poplar white,
And lash with storm the streaming pane?

Day, when my crown'd estate begun
  To pine in that reverse of doom,
  Which sicken'd every living bloom,
And blurr'd the splendour of the sun;

Who usherest in the dolorous hour
  With thy quick tears that make the rose
  Pull sideways, and the daisy close
Her crimson fringes to the shower;

Who might'st have heaved a windless flame
  Up the deep East, or, whispering, play'd
  A chequer-work of beam and shade
Along the hills, yet look'd the same.

As wan, as chill, as wild as now;
  Day, mark'd as with some hideous crime,
  When the dark hand struck down thro' time,
And cancell'd nature's best: but thou,

Lift as thou may'st thy burthen'd brows
  Thro' clouds that drench the morning star,
  And whirl the ungarner'd sheaf afar,
And sow the sky with flying boughs,

And up thy vault with roaring sound
  Climb thy thick noon, disastrous day;
  Touch thy dull goal of joyless gray,
And hide thy shame beneath the ground.
florence Sep 2012
I have to hold back my tears. No one can see me like this, vulnerable and not in control. 
They think that i can fend for myself, what do they know? Truth is im in need for their help, for their opnion and inspiring words.
For a long time it was me in the middle of the sandwhich. My older sister covering me, and i protecting my ypunger twin.
Its funny how the sandwhich turns into how my life is today. My older sister takes up all the spotlight, claimig it allfor herself. Absorbin all the attention until there is none left. I shake at the words she wont utter, like a simple please or thank you. How she would never help my mother how she leaves my mother fighting so hard, as she sits on the couch and jist watches. When my mother asks for her help she will make it more like a burden then helping out of respect. I will do any of those thigs in a heart eat just to take the stress off of my moms shoulders. But again thats how we differ...

As for my twin the one that i had felt the need to protect since we had been in the wound together 16 years ago. How can i put in words all the feelings she leaves on me? She is so irritable yet i yearn to watch her succeed. She is as slow as a turtle, yet sometimes shes as sharp as a knife . Some nights ill catch her talking to herself, it pains me to see her over think things. After so much effort of tryin to help her all i can do now is make beleive im sleeping, pull the covers over my head and let the tears roll down my cheek, burning it under their touch. She has this problem and the tendency to ovetthink thongs from the stipidest things to the most important. She lays them all on the same scale not considekg the dfferences betwene them . As muh as she overthinks , when she has an idea she lets it cloud her judgement.l
 I remember thst one time in our cribs its blurr but i still feel it in my blood. Diane had my moms attentiom absorbed for she was alsay a cryer even when her head hutt a lottle bit. Michelle  was sick with strep having my moms also and my dads granparents. Then my head throat and whole body was killing .. All i remmeber was keeping my mouth shut. And waitig for someone to come ask me how i was feeling. Which no one did.And still as i cry typing this no one will ask me how im feeling, for i have middle child syndrome
Nikita Jun 2015
Take one for this
Take one for that
Your mind isnt in bliss
Yet as flat as a mat

You cant think clearly
Everythings in a blurr
I almost fainted nearly
I thought pills were meant to work?

Rush in
Rush out

My head is felt feeling dazed and confused
As though drugs are my only muse

Cant think
Cant write
Cant listen
Cant fight

Feeling like a vegetable
But people dont understand
Because to them
They just think its all in my mind.
At least this is better than anxiety.
andy fardell Feb 2011
My dream became my other world so real or is this fake
I dreamt of many crazy things like floating in a lake
i must be mads cos I dont swim and sink just like a brick
my dreams are more reality than I could ever think

I pinched myself so I could see the difference from the two
but would I really tell apart the dreaming from the truth
time will tell when one does wain and all becomes a blurr
the dreaming and reality ..I concur
Ekta Jain Mar 2017
With scratches on her arm
Knife mark on neck that harm
She got tired and went to the farm
Where she used to reduce her souls warm

She gave  time to a second thought
That enough of this pain, it's overwrought,
How much she has to tackle , not snot
She will heal the scratches,  she got

Nature started raining in farm heavenly
She understood,  god is with her, supportively
With million of pain she smiled , screamingly
Her time will also come,  hopefully

She covered her body scratches,  
Went out of the farm patches,
The moon gave it's shine batches
She slept on the stool having latches

The sun smiled gloomingly on her
She waked with desire with no blurr
She went into the farm and lastly infer
She want happiness and peace, err..

Her scratches reminded her the foes
This time she ain't cried but laughter goes
Her pain reminded her the wrong does
This spot she didn't regret but learned lows

The girl Started her life again
And demanded only gains
Scratches has Heal
The girl got Wheel
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2019
spontaneous amnesia:
   well, you know,
something akin to further
a liking of something
just: hammer to the nail
apparent,
and for that matter: useful.

headphones plugged into
the laptop,
and everytime i want
to tap the repeat button
of a song...
i look sideways and at
the windowsill,
pretend to scratch my nose,
and find the hand
with no further utility...

not a rigid diagnosis
or a pre-mature dementia...
i have a bank's worth
of the brain to sift through...
they almost added the next
nodding parrot to
the unslept pillow of
the numbers of man...
via the rubrics of school...

even i can't believe that
university education
was a waste of time...
mind you: those 12 hours
a week in the chemisty
lab. were worth it...
esters...
   organic chemistry -
   and to think:
  if only, they made
perfumes in Scotland,
apart from the drinkable
amber of the 'ugh Scout...
wh'o would have known...

but this is unlike
that season 5, episode 11
**** switch from
the x-files...

                my internet rummaging:
basic,
    china shop, bull...
run in
and charge against
a cluster-**** of
      a presupposed cloud
of letters  

first attempt:

e f                                     /f
o o s o r o o l t                /o
e v r                                /r
e f e e n e s e l e              /e
v r
m                                     /y
n c o s c s s e s                    /s
u t                                          /u
t o m u b i                           /t
e l o                                    /l
t c y                           /m
t c                             /b
n s n i e c              /n
a a                          /a
c b s c c m i n c   /c
    n i s i i t             /i

the sentence?

for every subtle complaint
of conscience:
    consciousness becomes
limbo-state constrictive


rubric...

f f
o o o o o o o o o
r r r
e e e e e e e e e e
v v
y
s s s s s s s s s
u u
t t t t t t
l l l
m m m (anomaly in
the form of... the hierarchy
of chronology, i.e.:)
b b
n n n n n n
a a
       (second anomaly)
c c c c c c c c c
    i i i i i i

2nd attempt:
to showcase a "cloud":

**** it... copy &
paste, and stop pretending
bashing the mole
popping out from
a hole...
   this isn't quantum
mechanics...

                      s f
             c m c o o i s f s
           r r y e c e i s i e
                                 l o e s v
        r s v s o n e o s s
             e u n c i n t t e l l m c b
         b m n o t t o t a a  c n c e c o t o c
                                                      i n u e e i

****... i made another mistake:
how much does it take
to not make a mistake...
turning the picky-of-attempting
random...
of merely rearranging
letters in a simple sentence
to "resemble" a cloud
of... letters... atoms...

there was a time when staring
at the blank of a laptop screen,
and listening
to something by
nine inch nails was fun...
in the immediate
intermediate spent of 15 minutes...
the depth of idiocy reached
the depth of what
has become the suspect
total of man... me missing,
of course...

nothing new:
i guess i discovered the origin
of geometry...
or:

|
|
|
|
|
|_|||||||||

and

|||||||||
|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|
||||||||||
|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|
|
|||||||||
|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|
||||||||||

like some mongolian
****** pretending
to play the harmonica
by moving his
index against
a blurr of flapping lips...

me... throwing matchsticks
against an index
of a brick wall
of pixel...

namely?
i could never be a serious
existentialist,
i was sort of fwench in...
give me a cat,
i'll pet it,
i'm no good with goldfish:
i forgot that
you need to change
the water...
because water is like
air with fish...
fish turn old, stale water...
into a medium unbreathable...
no...
that death wasn't traumatic...
and the fact that i am still
naive squat buck tooth
is...
           when fate gives
you the same lesson
thrice...
     and you still haven't learned
it...
    i guess that's when
a god begins to cry...
or laughs...
or becomes angry...
or whatever the gods do
along with what
the petty people,
the petty ambitious people
minded...
to have no role beside
the role they served their ambitions
in fulfilling...
i.e.: never made it to Hollywood...
just to a position of
lawyer...
**** me... about time i started
playing the ******,
given the "ulterior" motive
narrative "went missing"...

funny thing that,
geometry...
i almost forgot how much of it
is necessary to
orientated myself
on the linear platitude...
but how funny in how i can't
rearrange
a simple sentence
into a cloud of "random"
letters...

|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|/|
|
|
|
|
|
||||||||_|

obviously "you" kept count...
9

                           and 11/
maybe that's something related
to spacing...
and whatever became A.I.
was never indented
for what once was... handwriting?

strain on the ******* eyes,
for all i know:
this be a vanity project
and something that can't
compete with tabloid journalism
making it to print...

so... airy-fairy whims and...
yes, the burden of the echo,
and the shadow...
   came the answer:
profane:
  and he was educated
by the school of life...
   sure...
  but my time at both school
and university?
  was spent being self-taught...
beginning with
this lounge of a tongue...
you know?
  you can write ENGLISH
    like so:                       ĘGLIŠ?
somehow...
i have no heard of dyslexia
as being evident in any tongue
other than the ĘGLIŠ zunge?

**** it: postcards from
H'america and from
           Oh'stray-bullet-trails...

now i know why such
*******...
i'm completely enthralled
by the engineering
of A.I. and phonetics...
given: English speakers
would not have involved
their A.I. algorithms
to be affected by diacritical
markers...
given that... d'uh...
the english language
doesn't use them...

still... "cyberpunk"...
no... i have no ambitions
to be published
    by the poetryfoundation.org
as i am, just about
to "compete" with
something akin
to the unauthorized
autobiography of jung ****
...
jockey... Jack...
                          ū.3708/?
ah ha ha! ja! gustav...
                             bad joke...
but you get the idea...
so when did soy boy
       predate bleach boy:
last time i heard or seen:
best bleach afro curls...
    and call them: churros...
but ******* a black girl
doesn't exactly make me less
of a racist than
a bigot who minds tongues...
am i?
   so... that whole Malcolm X
tirade of...
  you know the one...
    on the odd occassion...
yeah... two...
(not at the same time)...
but was that ever to be an excuse?
something from being fed
video footage and then
having to resort to:
music, before i open up
a parachute standing up
and still think i'm falling...
often or not...
             or not...

hell... this beats scribbling
graffiti on walls,
or becoming a sensible
quality proof for...
the jobs of worth already
being taken...

and i almost pray for
the work of ******* collector
vacancies to be
advertised for the unemployed...
i'd love for the unemployed
to be subject
to advertisements
akin to the jobs
            of a ******* collector...
i've looked...
     no ******* collector
vacancies available...
           oh hell...
    i forgot about wanting to
be a veterinary physician a long
time ago...
                but i guess:
no chances for me being
a ******* ******* collector...
so 'ere...
                         eat this.
Dawn of Lighten Aug 2015
Each passing time my will to create with words depart from my impulse,
The drive and want and passion lost by crippled sense of inner flames.

Do you see the dreams blurr the skies of blue to grey,
As crimson and hues of purple interplay in the celestrial plain.

From the time of land parted from the skies zenith ago
And further more the time garden of Eden let Lilith go!

It's a place of Queens and Kings with wings,
while ladies and maiden play among the swings.

With stone and lands with rocks shaped into castle,
All those creation crumbled to dust to ashes blown by the wind.

Such illustration created by sleeping illusion eludes interpretation,
As time elapse our minds will shut to collaspe with no variables.

As the strand of hair turn black to white with forgotten songs,
One can lose all of their imagination and can only surrender to sleep.
I think my will to articulate with words have passed beyond my time,
For the fire and desire to write have dwindled into expressing nothing more than dreams and old memories!
Mims Oct 2016
I'm not sure who I am yet,
I'm sure where I'm going,
I don't know if I'll ever be,
Really truly me,
We spend our time inventing ourselves,
And i guess I'm just spare parts,
The way my mind thinks,
Music is my art,
A titles half the story,
A picture worth a thousand words,
I've spent my life regretting,
And feeling no self worth,
I've gotten sick and tired,
Of being sick and tired,
I've felt the way we all we feel,
At 3am alone.
I've started to stay on the internet,
Into wee hours of the morning,
Gathering scattered information.
I see my week,
A flashing blurr of distorted colors,
Emotions whirling everywhere,
Trailing one another,
I'm not sure where I'm going,
Or if you'll follow me,
I'm not sure of my roots,
If I was planted like a tree,
I haven't spent much time,
Inventing myself,
Not as much as wishing I was someone else,
But it is time to own up to,
The real and true me,
And maybe then I'll understand....

Who I'm supposed to be
i just don't know
shaffu shafiq Jan 2016
Thank you dear
Thank you.
I spent an unforgettable moments with you.
When we were together.
In the lovely weather.
Our perfect match.
Likewise GOD made us for eachother.
Forgot promise that you made.
With out you.
I am feeling so bad.
Thank you dear
thank you.
For giving me such a blurr dream.
In your eyes now ruthless gleam.
With out you.
I am restless.
And now voiceless.
Thank you dear
thank you
For leaving me alone.
Your love I couldn't won.
This was my failure.
Or my destiny.
With you I was so Happy.
With out you.
Now I am so sad.
Thank you dear.
Thank you.
For being my friend for a while.
Taught me how to love.
And Shined my life.
But why u didn't teach how to forget you.
Especially in your absence.
With out you.
Now i can't live.
Thank you dear.
Thank you.
For showing me goal without destination.
Played with me a false game.
My heart is too weak.
Why you forgot to teach me.
How to be Strong.
May be I was wrong.
But I often sing your song.
I always pray for you..
May you live long.
I know you are lost.
So I miss you here.
With out you.
Now i cry a lot..
Thank you dear.
Thank you.
For giving me so much pain.
In my eyes lot of tears.
To hide them walking in the rain.
Wandering aimlessly alone.
With out you.
I am now became insane.
Thank you dear.
Thank you.


By Shaffu.
Dawn of Lighten Oct 2015
Invocation flowed by divination on the splat of paints,
As the hand move eradically, painting blurr dramatically!
Compelled by the vocal expression, with reinforced connotation.
Singing with such provocative verbalism with moving utterance!
With drop of paint splash of articulation, with inner confession!
Fingers post, flow with curves like storm erupting with Passion!
He can't stop, he will not stop, as ye move relentlessly like erratic feline.
Go forth with his art like a roar of thunder shaking root and foundation!
As he gasps and collapses, to his final demise with the finale!
Inspired by French portrait artist in French performance called "Le Plus Grand Cabaret Du Monde!"   Very inspirational visual painting art performance! if any French speakers know the translation, please do explain! This was in the draft for awhile to come to a certain point to express what the man was doing, but rather than putting it off as long as I did, I thought it must be shared among the public and Jean Pierre Blanchard should be echoed among the artist!
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=UGsYBtrNgOw
Akash mazumdar Jul 2014
eyes in nights are open,
no sleep and heart is broken,
tears falling one by one,
love is rolling down & i am burnt,
now liquid causing fire but no smoke,
it all happens when trust broke,
then little-little things we remember,
bright mirror shines but the image is blurr,
because eyes are ful of tear,
strings of music touches the heart,
lyrics of sad songs fall apart,
in ears,
coldness develops  within soul,
and the soul plays the actual role,
of a broken feel of love,
hands wiping the cheeks,
and vocal cord bleaks,
room is empty as like heart,
a blank paper defines the crumbled picture drawn in mind,
then the worst needed thing is liquid wine,
walls become the screen of eyes,
slowing picture of past happy times,
hattered from light become general,
and black colour make peace in my heart's funeral,
thoughts go beyond outerspace,
ashes fall on the ground but makes the trace,
glass of water stops and falls fro hand,
mind explores the empty dark land,
tears again starts flowing,
vic versa all these hapens and makes
drawing
of broken heart,,
Keenan Martin Mar 2010
I love this art where wise words are being spoken,
It can leave a heart broken or leave your thoughts open.
Making any mind blurr in and out of focus,
Without using words like Abracadabra or Hocus Pocus.

My words are a perfect disappearing act,
I speak clever thoughts and underwrapped facts.
A look inside my mental with a closed box mind
Can leave your very own brain sawed in half.

Whenever I allow my equilibrium to meditate,
It eventually will rise and levitate.
But, most minds try to hide behind smokescreens
Making it hard to concentrate.

Whether or not it makes sense I write what I feel,
Pulling rabbits out of hats with every word.
My pen is my rod, my tool, my wand,
So I do believe that magic is real.
From magical birth we're on our path to die,
But this is not a worrisome thing, don't cry,
Just take the moments as they fall like rain,
And drink up all the pleasure and the pain.

Once born we feel that life will be so long,
We happily take life's measure, sing our song,
But never think that time will soon disappear,
So like a school child venture forth, no fear.

We watch our loved ones come and quietly go,
Too young to understand where they have gone,
Our parents tell us it's a natural thing to die and so,
Our hearts still break but quickly heal and bond.

Then nature comes with seasons diverse, it's clear,
The natural order of things burst forth we've heard,
That in our own free world and segmented hemisphere,
There are things we love and hate and sometimes fear.

Then being young to college off we go with hope,
To educate ourselves and learn the ways of love,
But in the scheme of how to grab life's slippery rope,
We bow our knees and upward look for peace above.

Discovering love we fly on wings so short,  gossamer,
To believe no others find the love we now have found,
This union comes as such a surprise and is a blurr,
When twenty years go by without  a mournful sound.

The children come, the dogs, the cats and coupled friends,
Become entrenched in our lives with no signs, or sudden ends,
We become our fathers, mothers, aunts, uncles, and trends,
Define who we are now and the journey's rough and life's road bends.

And  now the people gather in their dark clothes with less to say,
A family man has left us on this day, the people will truly talk,
They'll single file walk past to gaze and look sad in their own way,
But this is what we do on feets of clay the endless, solitary walk.
REAL Nov 2013
My  days are a blurr
My feeling is gone
Am floating on clouds
flying
through the water of the clouds
My brain laughs
My eyes cry
my teeth  stick out more an ever
i Don't know were i went
I dont know were am going
Am forgetting all as the seconds pass
I dance all out
no caring what the birds think
i sing aloud
not caring what the gods think
burning the floor with my feet
i dont care
i dont care
come to me
and tell me you hate me
i would laugh
i would laugh
the whole night long
Dorothy Sep 2014
"So the thing is, the thing is. And that thing is this:

I live in a bit a blurr (a bit of, sorry), I can think (can’t, sorry), I am forever interested in disillusion (how am I still breathing?). What are grammar, what is speling, spieling all the **** I used to feel so burn in stomach; I used to be so alive.

Maybe it was the Dramamine I took in bed this morning with twice my scrip of xanaxian colored pillz devouring like candy yum how delicious is it to disappear, I am in love with the Nothing of it all (I’m no nihilist, though, no.)

For example, for proof, I shall explain how yesterday I had a long beautiful walk along the water with lovely friends and we laughed and I even ate healthy even though I did drink (how many nights of the week do I? Don’t ask, please, but it’s New York, that’s what we all do — right, that’s what we all do?)

But I’m not a sad girl, I’m not a sad girl anymore, I’m just a blurred girl now, I can’t even see myself straight, how do I expect anyone to see me. (Should there have been a question mark after that.)

Switch lines like knives’ eyes (wait, what kind of line, literary or otherwise?) I try to focus on pages, I try to focus on work, but all I can do is mutter and mispell misspelll twice and attempt to convince myself (and you, sir, lady) that I’m perfectly fine. Italicized.

The truth is (and here’s the crazy part) I actually am fine, I actually am fine for the first time in a long time, I’m mostly actually amazing and ecstatic and all those great ALL CAPS words we toss around in life on phones in text like little sweet congrats donuts, but I guess the truth is that I’m also something else, I’m also volatile, I’m both happy and a mess, I’m just in progress, I guess. I’m honest, I’m honest, I’m not hiding this time behind a second person narrative (god how comforting those babies are).

No, this time, I’m just telling the truth, and the truth is the thing; and the thing is, I am better than I’ve been in a while except in certain small moments when everything collapses inward crushing down, and in these moments, I am helpless and hapless and less than everything I want to be. I want to be perfect, you know. I want to happy all of the time.

I want every day to be like yesterday.

But today is not. Today is just wrongly prescribed glasses making everything all hazy glazed over, today is just overused parentheticals explaining things to people who don’t need to be explained to.

Feel free to hate me, I do sometimes. Feel free to love me, I do sometimes. Feel free to vindicate me / indicate me / masticate me in crunching acid commentary.

but GUESS WHAT

today is just today

tomorrow will be tomorrow

(obligatory obvious, sorry)

But it all adds to the very bones of the thing which is: this moment I want to ***** up all my self indulgent sadness and be okay, but I cannot do anything but snuggle it in corners into words and have faith that the other end of the daylight holds a girl in sharper focus than this one"
-by  *ZK Lowenfels*
Sunny Johnson Sep 2011
Give me give me give me some
As I see her and my heart drums
Desire seems to grip my heart
And hold my lungs my soul to start

Hope filling me with great longing
What is this thing pressing strongly
Against my chest as I breathe in
Warm and curious again

What is it about a woman
That can turn me from my fear
Forgetting all that I couldn't
Sending me through smoke and mirrors

Captured by my mind I was
Until something did stir
Breathing deeply, thud, thud thud
Wanting seems to blurr

All I could have wondered for
And all I question now
Turns to instinct let me soar
With you in the clouds

Lets just fly away right now
Forget all other thought
Come with me some way some how
A seeker's finding sought

May it be that you are here
To remind me of how
To get a girl, keep her near
And to desire bow

Lean into this warm feeling
Let it take you home
As the cocoon starts peeling
And with new wings we roam

Above all we ever sought
And all we ever asked
Getting, having, we have got
Something more to grasp

So hold me tightly close to you
And never let me fear
Let me free fall straight to you
Come and have me here
Mr Nobody May 2014
It sits there and waits for me

I feel it’s heavy breath on the back of my neck

I listen in fear to its harsh whisper

I get chills down my spine

I can hear my heartbeat

It’s pounding out of my chest

I know it’s waiting

Blood rushes to my head

I get dizzy

Everything is a blurr

I am overwhelmed with a knot of anxiety twisting around in my stomach

I freeze

I feel its mysterious eyes stare through me and examine my guilty soul

Looking deep within

All I hear is a snap,

And everything goes black….
Seán Mac Falls Feb 2015
Light sparkles in the clover,
Yellow and blurr of bees
Are honeyed in the sun
And robins have come,
Yanking in the gasses,
So green is the moisten
Of the painting of the dew
And all is lolling in petrichor,
The soils running with slow
Time so shortly experienced,
Oils of wood permeate the air,
Lapping brooks bream into light,
The loft kestrel swirls in meadow
And chipmunks scuttle at base of tree,
Even the wind does freshly quiet, crisply,
There as a hug waiting for body and spirit,
Patches of white are disappearing, they know—
That one day we must all return, after winter snows.

— The End —