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"butterflys" poems
green, jaded by this world's jealousy I covet only a field of young wheat in which to lay and watch the lemon-lime seed heads sway in the wind. to hear the sussurant whispers as the heads, heavy with potential rub one to another in a constant  dance. feeling the earth warm beneath me the smell of growth and verdancy pungent in my nostrils. contemplating chlorophyll and photosynthesis . ... and cell structures watching a olive green grasshopper crawl up the stalk of the plant and balance on the head, before leaping into the field, absorbed within the shuffling hues of green. melding with the rythm of the ants as they march and marveling at the butterflys dance green, green, seeding into my self, growing little tendrils of life.... that tickle my weary soul and etch a smile upon my face... green.
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Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 9:46 PM UTC
chlorophyll dreaming
i wrote a letter on a napkin, Left it in the break room for all to see, Butterflys & dragon wings, Dented brains, Zombies are lame, Apostolic Atmosphere, Coke pancakes, Canadian convos, Metaphorically you're a drawr in reverse, I'm not ****** just lonely.
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Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 4:15 PM UTC
Railroad ***
Laid on a starbound white vessel of profound sspirit. Dont pay attention to the horrors in the shadow, they can eat you alive if you let them. They aren't folk heroes, They're faux heroes Alien tremors like indigo ephemerals The vibrations are not elastic but Real creatures in the night The sun isn't shining light, its sharing a shadow Believe what you want, spiritual by passing at best The skull eclipses have gone and went The moon lets the blood, the dark Has sent its blessings Time to move on, shedding skin Like cocooned butterflys or snakes at age A new age of reality has begun on the 4th page 4 dimensions Burn some sage, prepare for the transcendence
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Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 2:19 AM UTC
The Pith of a Blood Orange Eclipse
when i met you you were like a catipiler i tryed to aproach you you matured in a cocoon feelings started to grow you broke out of your shell i realized how much i liked you you spread your wings and took flight true beuty is you when i see you I get butterflys
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Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 1:39 AM UTC
butterfly
I use a flashlight Shine it Shed light On what? On me? I'm not creative I don't deliver any talents worth mentioning Keep that spotlight off of me My words don't shine bright Stand out Its the same thing over and over Repeat after me I am not creative My words don't shine bright Stand out Its the same thing over and over I'm like that annoying cd that skips repeatedly The same phrase, the same verse I can't mold something new out of already hardened clay I can't dream up beautiful rhyming words I can't make a trending poem Not one that paints a gorgeous portrait in the mind of its readers We can talk about roses all day long if you want Or tree's and sunshine And blue sky's!! Oh and rainbows and butterflys If that's what makes a poem worth reading We can talk about love And hearts We can hold hands and blows kisses Peace and harmony Or we could talk about the real stuff The Shadows The dark stuff Teardrops The shattered mirrors All of our fears The things that bring about nightmares The truth The ugliness The misery The dark and twisted stuff They say the mentally disturbed are the most creative Its up to you Dear poet Person sitting there at the steering wheel Staring at the road ahead Put the car in drive Steer it in the right direction Or is there a right direction? Its all just space Blank space The pen just sits there in your hand Waiting for an idea to take shape Hope its going to be worth the struggle The self loathing Worth picking and prodding at your ego Telling you, you **** at writing So why bother right? It's more than just a poem Its more then just a page in your story A direction in your life A struggle A meaning A life Its your life
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Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 9:57 PM UTC
What Makes a Poem Worth Reading?
I use a flashlight Shine it Shed light On what? On me? I'm not creative I don't deliver any talents worth mentioning Keep that spotlight off of me My words don't shine bright Stand out Its the same thing over and over Repeat after me I am not creative My words don't shine bright Stand out Its the same thing over and over I'm like that annoying cd that skips repeatedly The same phrase, the same verse I can't mold something new out of already hardened clay I can't dream up beautiful rhyming words I can't make a trending poem Not one that paints a gorgeous portrait in the mind of its readers We can talk about roses all day long if you want Or tree's and sunshine And blue sky's!! Oh and rainbows and butterflys If that's what makes a poem worth reading We can talk about love And hearts We can hold hands and blows kisses Peace and harmony Or we could talk about the real stuff The Shadows The dark stuff Teardrops The shattered mirrors All of our fears The things that bring about nightmares The truth The ugliness The misery The dark and twisted stuff They say the mentally disturbed are the most creative Its up to you Dear poet Person sitting there at the steering wheel Staring at the road ahead Put the car in drive Steer it in the right direction Or is there a right direction? Its all just space Blank space The pen just sits there in your hand Waiting for an idea to take shape Hope its going to be worth the struggle The self loathing Worth picking and prodding at your ego Telling you, you **** at writing So why bother right? It's more than just a poem Its more then just a page in your story A direction in your life A struggle A meaning A life Its your life
Continue reading...
66
welcome to my life full of glitz and glamour **** and clamor stipper poles and alcoholic binges dark holes and ***** syringes happiness then suicide smiles and selfish pride i get so high and fall so low i get so happy and then i just dont know what am i doing here in this god forsaken place the guitar helps me get through the words help me make sense of it all melody flows through me the butterflys churn endlessley in my stomach waiting for the crowd to assemble waiting for the silence to rumble waiting for the stage to go dark waiting for the spotlight and the spark and then i sing o i sing to everyone and to no one and then all my glorious, decadent **** for a life somehow shines when those empty sea of eyes meet mine and i sing a song and i sing a song
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Feb 5, 2011
Feb 5, 2011 at 3:29 PM UTC
Welcome To My Life
today I realized that I'm perfect with who I'am atlast in my life I know who I'am What things im good at and what I need to work on IM NOT PERFECT infact im fragile and weak I'm scared of knowing so much about myself It's the truth I KNOW who I can become either good or bad I know what the future holds for my good decisions or my bad If only today myself could talk to the young boy who struggled so long trying to be someone he was not. I'd tell that boy to not follow the crowd that he thought was so cool That to listen to your mother to stay away from the drugs even if the other kids called him a loser for not playing along The really unique kids are the ones who dont follow the normal teenage rebellion the real rebels are the ones who study hard hang out alone and even wish they could go out and get hammered drunk and puke everywhere or sleep with a random girl not for love but just for *** But they dont I want to tell my rebel self to be a true rebel like those kids the kids who later on in life will have money to go out and enjoy the things I enjoyed as a rebel teenager to be able to hang out with there grown up friends and to fun doing grown up things. Instead I'm a 24 year old sandwhich artist the teachers always said keep partying you'll look back and regret these days I told them they'll regret saying that when I make it big years of writing years of sitting up late with a bottle of ***** and a lit cigarette like my life a long ash forms off the cherry as it burns waiting for the whieght of itself to break off. I KNOW who I'am I'm a voice for this plugged in generation I'm the sticky **** on the bottom of your shoe I'm the viper in a room full of gardner snakes I'm the demon with a halo a hybrid of a soul hell hound instincts but a butterflys swagger soft but hard sweet but sour I'm the reason for a middle im the reason why things stay balanced for not for people like me the Balanced the Beaten the hardened and the Understanding the Counter Attack the person who has seen the roughest parts in life has been down to pennys to his name Im here to tell you dont give up because even during the rain the sun can shine those days amaze me when its pouring but sunny Does it make since no but do we watch in amazement when it happens yes That my friends is me thats who I'am
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Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 1:07 AM UTC
Me
today I realized that I'm perfect with who I'am atlast in my life I know who I'am What things im good at and what I need to work on IM NOT PERFECT infact im fragile and weak I'm scared of knowing so much about myself It's the truth I KNOW who I can become either good or bad I know what the future holds for my good decisions or my bad If only today myself could talk to the young boy who struggled so long trying to be someone he was not. I'd tell that boy to not follow the crowd that he thought was so cool That to listen to your mother to stay away from the drugs even if the other kids called him a loser for not playing along The really unique kids are the ones who dont follow the normal teenage rebellion the real rebels are the ones who study hard hang out alone and even wish they could go out and get hammered drunk and puke everywhere or sleep with a random girl not for love but just for *** But they dont I want to tell my rebel self to be a true rebel like those kids the kids who later on in life will have money to go out and enjoy the things I enjoyed as a rebel teenager to be able to hang out with there grown up friends and to fun doing grown up things. Instead I'm a 24 year old sandwhich artist the teachers always said keep partying you'll look back and regret these days I told them they'll regret saying that when I make it big years of writing years of sitting up late with a bottle of ***** and a lit cigarette like my life a long ash forms off the cherry as it burns waiting for the whieght of itself to break off. I KNOW who I'am I'm a voice for this plugged in generation I'm the sticky **** on the bottom of your shoe I'm the viper in a room full of gardner snakes I'm the demon with a halo a hybrid of a soul hell hound instincts but a butterflys swagger soft but hard sweet but sour I'm the reason for a middle im the reason why things stay balanced for not for people like me the Balanced the Beaten the hardened and the Understanding the Counter Attack the person who has seen the roughest parts in life has been down to pennys to his name Im here to tell you dont give up because even during the rain the sun can shine those days amaze me when its pouring but sunny Does it make since no but do we watch in amazement when it happens yes That my friends is me thats who I'am
Continue reading...
61
lightheaded i scatter to the curb and stare in blank wonder at the carnival of obscene open on the ***** street a father wanders drunk up the sun dappled lane singing that tune from childhood if he could only recapture even a moment but time evades him like paper butterflys and his life flees as he chases the past a mothers brother lurks in the shadows hoping to be seen and unseen in the same moment his hand clutches the traces of a poison that hes here to sell to imitation innocence its the same as the ones in the cars they just sell a different form of insanity just another filthy lie they are trying to hand out with a smile she lay back in the bent perception and plays on the dreams that might spark but benith her bulletproof  layers she is crying for all the tenderness and love she feels she will never know again she waits for the bicycle man she knows he is her escape from the carnival   there is no time to waste i must escape this vipers nest this wasteland that lives between the fast food restaurants and run down motels
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May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 8:02 AM UTC
her bulletproof layers
Dancing Crimson Fireworks fill my heart Violent infant butterflys tare me apart She levitates and makes time bend I can never tell when things will end Is it that our minds hold on Even for only moments long Is it wrong to see you here Gazing into the Stratosphere
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May 18, 2011
May 18, 2011 at 5:17 PM UTC
Fireworks
I'm pretty sure I can feel you're lips Like a thousands mile per hour kiss. The air I touch feels like your skin. And I swear I think I can hear you whisper my name. I can feel the snow that you're driving through And the burn from the frozen wind is scalding my skin. Any second you will walk through our door. Any minute you'll grab me and throw me against the wall. I love to see you smile. in you're eyes I can see everything. The future twinkles and I'm always in a daze. I'm always in a daydream. The butterflys are eating me from within. I need to stop and remember to breathe. You're my dream. I can feel it in me. I can, I swear I can. I will disturb the universe. I will cross mountains I will burn trees I will go to you and fight everything. Everything will be dark and beautiful. Every day will be unforgettable. Every fight will be enjoyable. Every hug so meaningful Every moment we'll be useful. I can't wait any longer. I can't eat. I love you.
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Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 9:56 PM UTC
Love Rant
i will bide my time here, with you my love, for it was you, who came with, the gift of love. to my barricaded door and knocked gentle and soothed my unruly mind. you came with a box, wrapped, in compassion and tied with, ribbons of joy and inside... hope, on the wings of butterflys. i will bide with you, my love, i will bide with you.
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Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 8:15 AM UTC
bide
we were in love i remember you pulling me closely, your hands secure around my waist you kissed my nose and the butterflys surrounded us they danced and swayed to the song of our laughter like the one time when we were walking to the car and it started raining instead of just jetting to the car you grabbed my hand and said "dance with me." like that one time you waiting by my window until i would open it, i still remember that song you played for me how i just wanted to jump right then and there and let you catch me you mustve saw it on my face because you laughed and pouted "cant catch you here baby, but we can try" it wasnt just the feeling of love it was the feeling of someone caring about you to no extent i never understood the concept of love until i met you once i did. back then once i did. back when. once i did back when u were here once i did. now its you i fear you turned that love into hate in one simple state ment the one you left on my doorstep a goodbye wouldve been better but i guess the thrill is what always got you huh? once i did love.. you.
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Sep 9, 2012
Sep 9, 2012 at 11:05 PM UTC
once i did
It's unfair to me and to you to everyone that has cared and was unaware and to who had a dare to loved me more more then just a freind I understand its unjust but as you lean in close my heart doesnt reach out it dosnt speed up when you hold me close and so I flee when you call me dear understanding I beg you be I'm still waiting to like you as you start to love me I'm sorry my heart doesn't beat it never has and I fear it never will The butterflys in my stomach must be in their cocoons my lungs must be in good condition for I never have trouble breathing and my heart must be dead because I never feel it beating
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Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 10:03 PM UTC
my unfair unbeating heart
petals blown from the cherry tree twirling like butterflys in the evening sun :    o        )
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Oct 14, 2012
Oct 14, 2012 at 3:09 AM UTC
cherry petals
I use to have a friend but my she is DEAD dyed with 16 butterflys in her head she was starved and skinny bleached and blond but she NEVER smiled... Her brother was a gansta WANNABE when ever I saw her, he looked at me I never knew why she hated him I never understod why he call her MAGOT or why being her friend ment i shall NEVER look at him... Her mom left 1 week after her was birth she wished she was barried in the dirt I guess she never held her I guess she never loved her all I know it is she ONLY called her ***** and only saw her 1 time the 2 of them and crystal in there lungs... Her dad was kinda scary he drove a big big truck he was a big big **** he showed her how to play getar and how to fight he showed her how LOVE him and how to HATE gerself... But now this girl is dead choked on her  blood drowned in her  tears cut in to SO meny pices broken like she allways was and now to Roth... I had a friend so beautiful so fun and so alive and the truth is she is not really dead we only wish she was...
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Jan 2, 2011
Jan 2, 2011 at 8:27 PM UTC
Pretty
It is so surreal how vivid i see, the past playing out in my memories. swinging away, a smile and a quick simple kiss. these are the memories that my heart does miss. Black and pink, the suave and the silk, lips locked in love, leaving behind stains the color of milk. the pain and the ache, of missing a voice, separation of hearts, by another's cruel choice. only to later surface a strength that lay hidden within, to persevere through the peril, oh, our beautiful, innocent sin. my lover, my lady, my best friend, my baby..call it crazy but these are the memories that my heart misses most. Second chances, are second chances ever a plausible reality. i can see the providence, but i doubt oh God can it be. i dont feel up to par, or deserving, or perhaps its not that but that my heart feels fear at the yearning i still remember the burning and the butterflys, i help deep within, i still long for the love. memories of our innocent beautiful sin. oh we meet again, my old companions, if i may.. my friend. namely so, you are my memories. contemplating second chances, for the future, to have what we had back oh my sweetest of regrets, how i look back on your embrace as i sit here missing you, as some soldier off at war i can still here the gunmetal clash, as you slammed and walked out that door. such a beautiful bloom our embrace was that warm spring. now the pitter patter of teardrop showers metronomes as you sing in my dreams are these my memories of second chances...or my second chance for memories
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Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 2:42 PM UTC
Second chances for memories
It is so surreal how vivid i see, the past playing out in my memories. swinging away, a smile and a quick simple kiss. these are the memories that my heart does miss. Black and pink, the suave and the silk, lips locked in love, leaving behind stains the color of milk. the pain and the ache, of missing a voice, separation of hearts, by another's cruel choice. only to later surface a strength that lay hidden within, to persevere through the peril, oh, our beautiful, innocent sin. my lover, my lady, my best friend, my baby..call it crazy but these are the memories that my heart misses most. Second chances, are second chances ever a plausible reality. i can see the providence, but i doubt oh God can it be. i dont feel up to par, or deserving, or perhaps its not that but that my heart feels fear at the yearning i still remember the burning and the butterflys, i help deep within, i still long for the love. memories of our innocent beautiful sin. oh we meet again, my old companions, if i may.. my friend. namely so, you are my memories. contemplating second chances, for the future, to have what we had back oh my sweetest of regrets, how i look back on your embrace as i sit here missing you, as some soldier off at war i can still here the gunmetal clash, as you slammed and walked out that door. such a beautiful bloom our embrace was that warm spring. now the pitter patter of teardrop showers metronomes as you sing in my dreams are these my memories of second chances...or my second chance for memories
Continue reading...
23
Find a dream and let it go Craft your idea and sell it my dear It's the way through life to embrace your strife We are not beautiful butterflys we can not fly you'll see
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Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 12:00 AM UTC
You'll see
you make my heart melt and then evaporate let me elaborate when i see you i get butterflys so much; i throw up this means i love you too much not an obsession more like an addiction something only seen in fiction you can tell me anything but i wont listen i use to say life's not fair but now your here and its too good to be true i finally found you like you were the olive branch and i was the dove call it true love
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Apr 12, 2012
Apr 12, 2012 at 12:43 PM UTC
young love
Remember when flowers and butterflys were to girly for guys to draw, so some guys practiced in their rooms curving lines to make art, blending the pencil's lead residue left on the page to create depths of endless proportion in our mind. Then came the colours, bold and bright enough to make us smile. Remember the grade school bully who saw the picture and made fun of us for it, but deep inside he was jealous. Then in high school art class we were asked to draw it and finally our time has come. We once again blend the colours and pencil lead to form the memorizing wings of the butterfly amongst the bright yellow flower. For this moment we were Picasso and Voticheli at once. We ceased the moment and claimed it as our own, we put the others in awe by the. time we were finished. For this moment we  were artist's. .
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May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 11:00 PM UTC
art
Munster was his name, after Herman Munster of TV fame cause, he was so big. But not scary, feral big, just double dose of cat big. He was predominately sleek, shiny black, with a white bib and crooked muzzle, like he had his moustache painted on in a hurry. Oh, and he had one white paw. Poppajack used to say, he had been caught by God stealing cream. Munster was sleek, sinuous muscle, he rippled when he walked. In stalk mode he was, panther incarnate. Albeit, dressed in a tuxedo. In cat term's he was vain, always preening, or finding a vantage point to show himself off to the best photographic angle. But just occasionly, if we were lucky and the butterflys were on the wing, he would, kitten prance like a pixie, at the birth of spring. He was a hunter, not of bugs and lizards. A ratter of renown, he could take a bird from it's early flight without a care. I once saw him, come home and drop a rabbit, at Poppajacks feet, before finding the evening sun for a well earned nap. Munster loved Poppajack, with dedicated flair would follow him about the garden, bulter-like, dignified tail, straight and tall. They would parade in regal state, to check on the vegetable serfdom. He was not a cat of lap, but,would sprawl over Poppa's feet like, black satin slippers with a purring engine beat. Majestic Moggy Munster, was felinetity in it's prime.
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Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 5:26 PM UTC
Munster the Magnificent Moggy
I don't think winter Was ever meant to be Who can live when the cold Freezes your soul? I want the warmth of the sun To kiss my skin I want the delicate flutter of A butterflys wing against my cheek But nature plays this cruel trick On me every September It cajoles me with red and gold leaves The shades of amber and burnt orange Delight my eyes All the while the leaves are dying And I will never behold them again Bare branches will reach up like skeletal arms Against dull gray clouds Snow will descend and a hush will fall Like death, but not quite And I must wait so long for the first bloom Of color to push up through the spring snow Promising the warmth of summer to follow I don't think winter Was ever meant to be
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Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 11:51 PM UTC
Seasons
We used to be in love, You used to perfer me over anyone. We used to be close, We used to always be together. But now, You dont talk to me. But now, Your not the person you once were. Your a killer, Those butterflys i once had? Yeah. You killed them. But truth is, After everything, After all this, I still love you.
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Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 10:18 AM UTC
After
It was one wonderful night with you. Your the most interesting person ive ever met. Someone i want to be with everyday, Someone i COULD love forever. So cute, sweet, and funny. I once asked you.... When we stoped talking, did you ever think about me? You replied with 'yes, all the time' You gave me butterflys..i can't even explain how many. I guess you could say i felt like a kid getting a new toy. Telling my mom you were gorgeous, behind the costumes. As i tried on costumes, i flirted and gave you my facebook info. Thinking id never get to see you again, i called you. you told me i smelt good, and you couldnt stop flirting either. but as i could go one forever, i must stop and just say your kisses were amazing, i never wanted to stop. and you are literally the best guy i have met. So as you are out of my life once again, which upsets me. I must say i miss you. and i will never forget you... EVER!
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Jan 13, 2011
Jan 13, 2011 at 10:23 AM UTC
Kody
bright things, glisten and shimmer in the corner of my eye little fairy wings flit and flutter in the outer circle of my sunny day sky my oak and acorn plant seeds in the sunshine no hope for sadness no room for forlorn today is bright daffodils and roses happy faces, happy poses small sloppy kisses and large heartfelt ones too the last days of summer shining, shining through... dappled sun ... green grass too, we all lay down, soak the heat from the ground happy to, look for fairies and pixies, and gnomes, lady bugs, inch worms, skinks and grasshoppers too..... dragonflies hover and race the wind butterflys, flutter art on the wing and in the tree the kookaburras  chuckle the magpies warble wrens chatter these are memories although, destined to be lost these are memories that matter these small things and lazy days are the backbone of our lives holding us upright in times of strife giving us grace to cope, with the darkside of life these bright things, lead us home.....
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Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 7:51 AM UTC
bright things...