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"deserting" poems
Leaving this city of lights, O you, who went away, to a distant dream, a distant land, deserting our world, what a trend you have set! Flowers still bloom here, you see, and hues still settle at sunset, but the heat of dread burns the buds on every branch, and shades of separation, replace our sunset. Abandoning our world, O you who left, what a trend you have set! Little lamps are lit here, and the bazaars too buzz with life, but in the emptiness of the heart, exists a single thorn, and with that a desire for your glimpse. You lit a lamp of longing in us, O you who left, what a trend you have set! It's true, we have nothing to give, no buds in bloom, no dreams, and who has ever returned from a garden to a wasteland? Indifference is the need of this time, you see. It's true that our world, is nothing but an empty desert, slowly each candle burns out, and life is nothing but a favour on this body. but still, this wish of loyalty, awakens and misses you sometimes, and whenever Autumn comes in this sorrow, it kills this restless soul.
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Oct 5, 2012
Oct 5, 2012 at 8:54 AM UTC
To those who went away
My happiness is only in distractions. It's when I'm alone that I realize the full extent of what that means. Another's smile makes my own spring in unexpectedness, pleasantly surprised that it wasn't practiced. I should be on Broadway, with how consistently I play this role. Of someone who gets by, whose only worry is when to sleep and wake to work. But this isn't me at all. I close my nights with eyes that see a life unfold a span of sorrow in disappointing my world. Family that will cry at what I've failed to do in the name of doing what I'm afraid I'll fail to live. I'm so scared to leave this world with nothing more than the dates I stayed. The thought of having nothing to offer mocks me into deserting instead of believing. I wish for the strength to go beyond my own doubts, the force to believe with every bit of flesh that I can give my soul to the world.
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Nov 3, 2011
Nov 3, 2011 at 12:46 AM UTC
No rules. Prose.
Comets or meteors? Perhaps they're like rooks and crows “Where there's a rook there's a crow “Where there's crows there's rooks” To be one amongst a shower, a storm of meteors Hurtling through the emptiness of infinity Protected by the confidence of knowing That we and our equally frenzied fellow travellers However far we hurl ourselves Flashing by through all the vastness Looking tiny and bright like a fireside's sparks Consumed in a stampede, burning up and soon to be lost Are in fact racing along a familiar orbit That could last as long as a million years Which all too soon will pull us back to where we've been A familiar sight, overlooking what we've already seen Or to be a lonely meteor Deserting the pack, distracted by some new attraction Sampling a novel atmosphere, hardly aware Of the flames gathering round Till the grip that was a comfort That was such a pleasure to be caught by Loses its interest or changes its intent Returning the wanderer to the emptiness Or turning a journey of exploration Into a pitiful conflagration With a final pathetic fall Messy and destructive to all That witness the meaningless call Of that misguided journey's concluding bump Well, I don't know if this is good science And hope not to be subject to such violence Shooting stars may enjoy applause from those below But I'll see it all from here, and adore the moon's glow.
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Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 3:38 PM UTC
Comet or Meteor?
Running away from her feelings Don't want no hurt Don't want inspiration They only subvert Her poor fragile heart She gives her all Gets smithereens in return Don't want no broken dreams Don't want empty hopes Don't want those sleepless nights It's a periscope Couldn't see it before Now she knows She's a shell of the old her No signs of reverting Built walls around her heart so high, The heavens are confronting It's comforting This deserting Feeling of the heart No one's gonna break me She says asserting No one's gonna hurt me Her lips reverberating Eyes full of misery Her loneliness shines through Captivating silver eyes Moist with morning dew Or are those tears? Taking a hue Of molten silver Or the dark stormy nights They've witnessed all along When they all eschewed When they all ran away Well, adieu They don't deserve her anyway Don't deserve her beautiful soul Don't deserve her unconditional love Or the compassion she holds Her blinding bright smile Or the twinkle of her eyes The softness of her lips She exists to mesmerize So, adieu Because she's a fighter An igniter Of the passion he holds Adieu He says thankyou Because she's a queen And all his to love Oh if you only knew. ~S.L.
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Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 6:14 AM UTC
Beyond Silver Eyes
Poet of Nature, thou hast wept to know That things depart which never may return: Childhood and youth, friendship and love’s first glow, Have fled like sweet dreams, leaving thee to mourn. These common woes I feel. One loss is mine Which thou too feel’st, yet I alone deplore. Thou wert as a lone star, whose light did shine On some frail bark in winter’s midnight roar: Thou hast like to a rock-built refuge stood Above the blind and battling multitude: In honored poverty thy voice did weave Songs consecrate to truth and liberty,— Deserting these, thou leavest me to grieve, Thus having been, that thou shouldst cease to be.
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1.9k
To Wordsworth
Now that it’s over, or so you say, I feel compelled to wait another day, For you to cry, for you to miss me. I have visions that you kiss me And forget about how I hurt you But even that aches; I still desert you, On every single day. You said you want me gone, That all is lost and you’re alone. Yet somewhere deep behind my shame, I hear you whispering my name. I tell you in absentia: “I never meant to hurt you.” That I was deserting my old self and not you. And yet I come back and you’re still gone. Would it help if I said it was never about you? Or does that hurt because it really was? Would you understand that I didn’t yet deserve you? Or does it feel too much like a stumbling pause Between the beauty thing that was you and me And the pull of a deserted house, a dangerous key? I was sick and lost for so many years, Drying my own sorrow with another’s tears. The emptiness I felt inside was hidden, Behind another’s hell. I looked in the mirror to find myself And saw a backward road on a path I knew too well. Trying to escape—it was not love but addiction That pulled me back to a tragic fiction. And now I live in a no-man’s land. I reach out in the night to grasp your hand, Expecting to feel you there, Imagining climbing up the stair To reach you in the light, As I used to do when things were right. But now it’s over, We’re nowhere now. I’m sorry, so sorry my love! I still will find you somehow.
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Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 2:06 PM UTC
Chained to Another
I dip my toes in the tide adjacent to the edge of my all-consuming paracosm. The water is cold alluring unsteady absolute. Within it lies the demise of one thousand dreams 999 unfulfilled wishes And just over 13 ‘what if’s. Right outside my humble fantasy I spy a silhouette, my potential self. Warily I take a closer peek. The girlish apparition reveals nothing She seems to hold her breath while I lean farther in And at long last, deserting all juvenile fancies, reality greets me as I timidly wade Into the waves.
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Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 6:42 PM UTC
Into the waves.
So lost, do I feel... That what I once knew, will no longer appear. Terror racks me deep inside, Forever yearning what once stayed close by my side. Desperation has bloomed beside my feet... Screaming... Pleading... For what I most need. With pen and paper taut by my side, Shall my will continue to thrive, Afore the ink in my pen dares to dry. This mere extension of myself, Paints the colors of my soul. Of what one will never know, 'Till the new becomes the old. Too long have these words gone unsaid, Tainting the many pure thoughts, that have swam through my head. Trapped deep within my heart so dear, All of my passions, now contorted with fear. Curiosity forever sealed within its cage, Fighting, Crying, Desperately wishing to be saved. A key-less lock hangs loosely, Taunting those it may. Holding the door of my prism open, yet preventing any escape As my lifelong dreams bitterly scream my name. I cringe, Shying away from the guilt. For locking away my desires And abandoning my will. Will you ever forgive me? For leaving you so alone To gather up dust and grime, And wander without a home. Will I ever forgive me, For deserting my only hope. Locking it deep within my soul, Till my hand moved once more. Spreading my blood across the parchment, Forever earning my own name. Holding tight onto reality, Unwilling to look fantasy in the face. Creating the key to my own prism, Will I protect this sacred place. Sword and shield, 'Til infinity fades, Do I vow. © 2013 SparksLC
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Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 6:43 PM UTC
Prism
So lost, do I feel... That what I once knew, will no longer appear. Terror racks me deep inside, Forever yearning what once stayed close by my side. Desperation has bloomed beside my feet... Screaming... Pleading... For what I most need. With pen and paper taut by my side, Shall my will continue to thrive, Afore the ink in my pen dares to dry. This mere extension of myself, Paints the colors of my soul. Of what one will never know, 'Till the new becomes the old. Too long have these words gone unsaid, Tainting the many pure thoughts, that have swam through my head. Trapped deep within my heart so dear, All of my passions, now contorted with fear. Curiosity forever sealed within its cage, Fighting, Crying, Desperately wishing to be saved. A key-less lock hangs loosely, Taunting those it may. Holding the door of my prism open, yet preventing any escape As my lifelong dreams bitterly scream my name. I cringe, Shying away from the guilt. For locking away my desires And abandoning my will. Will you ever forgive me? For leaving you so alone To gather up dust and grime, And wander without a home. Will I ever forgive me, For deserting my only hope. Locking it deep within my soul, Till my hand moved once more. Spreading my blood across the parchment, Forever earning my own name. Holding tight onto reality, Unwilling to look fantasy in the face. Creating the key to my own prism, Will I protect this sacred place. Sword and shield, 'Til infinity fades, Do I vow. © 2013 SparksLC
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49
I never thought my mentality could be torn to such an extent. Worse than the slaps The shoves the kicks the punches I went in for Joy I had hope never thought I could live a life so exhausted Stress is the word of the day. Every day But its so overdone It goes beyond anxiety. Fear helplessness Every cent I earn goes to the family we were supposed to be creating Now its all going to the family I wish I could be deserting How can I love her when I come home and “You're a piece of **** “Where were you all day?” “You're a piece of **** I'm a piece of **** I'm a ************* piece of **** I'm gone to often, I don't dress nice, always on my phone have to many **** friends don't care enough never clean smell horrible can't perform don't love her enough Tell me a way to show my love Tell me I want to know because maybe it will get her to stop maybe it will get her to be who I told “I do” It was all mental for a while I thought when you broke it was like in half I didn't know there were shatters tears splits explosions My identity was numb by the time she started physically my friends and family believe the rumors *********** has addicted another husband I don't have what it takes be a “real man” No hope, no reason, no soul her life her punching bag her creativity Don't tell me women can't physically abuse they're not dumb You get punched, slapped, kicked so you grab her see you in a year when you get out she called in and there was marks on her arms from your hands now you're the guy who has no pride I haven't had one for a while If I did I would have been locked up two years ago But I also don't have a me so its easier It hurts yes but I'm in more pain when I think about not being able to see my boy
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Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 7:49 PM UTC
Her Trapped
I never thought my mentality could be torn to such an extent. Worse than the slaps The shoves the kicks the punches I went in for Joy I had hope never thought I could live a life so exhausted Stress is the word of the day. Every day But its so overdone It goes beyond anxiety. Fear helplessness Every cent I earn goes to the family we were supposed to be creating Now its all going to the family I wish I could be deserting How can I love her when I come home and “You're a piece of **** “Where were you all day?” “You're a piece of **** I'm a piece of **** I'm a ************* piece of **** I'm gone to often, I don't dress nice, always on my phone have to many **** friends don't care enough never clean smell horrible can't perform don't love her enough Tell me a way to show my love Tell me I want to know because maybe it will get her to stop maybe it will get her to be who I told “I do” It was all mental for a while I thought when you broke it was like in half I didn't know there were shatters tears splits explosions My identity was numb by the time she started physically my friends and family believe the rumors *********** has addicted another husband I don't have what it takes be a “real man” No hope, no reason, no soul her life her punching bag her creativity Don't tell me women can't physically abuse they're not dumb You get punched, slapped, kicked so you grab her see you in a year when you get out she called in and there was marks on her arms from your hands now you're the guy who has no pride I haven't had one for a while If I did I would have been locked up two years ago But I also don't have a me so its easier It hurts yes but I'm in more pain when I think about not being able to see my boy
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68
Our Dog Howling at Sunset At sunset, the dog howls at sirens in town. If he were snowbound in Talkeetna, A hundred miles from nowhere, What would he howl at instead? I saw my husband trudging through the frost, His blue jacket half-tinted orange and red, “I don’t like the way you sound,” he said As he left, deserting one who was already lost. If I were a thousand miles from him now, Listening to the wolves’ mournful cries, And my beloved shunning me as he does now, Would I pretend to believe my lover’s lies? Or, instead, would it be enough to exist Where the short summer dies on winter’s grist, And true love’s a dream born on a dreamer’s mist, And the one to stay with is the one you’ve just kissed? If I lived in a land so cruel and hard, Would I be bargaining with my soul? If love’s short date were but a moon’s silver shard, Would he be a passing thought, and my son the whole Of any future we had scattered out on the snow, Or caught in the rime-bound trees? Would I see then what I already know— That his future lies with himself and not me? As our wolf howls a timeless wail to the air I can listen and guess at its season. I can comfort myself it will always be there, Beyond human hopes, beyond reason. Far wiser, the black-furred hound, than I, To sing out his ancient song. Waiting, watching, as we struggle and die, Only to pass his wisdom along. Waiting, hoping as he does for a touch, He is made to think that he asks too much-- Waiting for a kind word or loving hand-- Wild and alone, in humanity’s bleak land. A southern writer once lamented the lack Of courage in humankind, And suggested we borrow the strength we see In the branches of an olive tree. Yet there’s more courage in the dog-wolf’s cry, Penned out on our city-cropped lawn, As if he knows the grief of my son and I When the man we both love is gone. “Could we not as well” take a lesson from him, Our wild and loyal friend? To howl out our sorrow and loneliness, Though the pain might never end? Now, in the twilight I hear my lover return, With no greeting to me, and I burn For the summer’s newborn passion I recall. The twilight wolf’s mourning tells it all: That we never will have what we had before That love can die just as well as it’s born, That a child is the only one who restores What is lost to the lonesome, the wolves, the forlorn. July 6, 2001
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Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 11:45 PM UTC
Our Dog Howling at Sunset
Our Dog Howling at Sunset At sunset, the dog howls at sirens in town. If he were snowbound in Talkeetna, A hundred miles from nowhere, What would he howl at instead? I saw my husband trudging through the frost, His blue jacket half-tinted orange and red, “I don’t like the way you sound,” he said As he left, deserting one who was already lost. If I were a thousand miles from him now, Listening to the wolves’ mournful cries, And my beloved shunning me as he does now, Would I pretend to believe my lover’s lies? Or, instead, would it be enough to exist Where the short summer dies on winter’s grist, And true love’s a dream born on a dreamer’s mist, And the one to stay with is the one you’ve just kissed? If I lived in a land so cruel and hard, Would I be bargaining with my soul? If love’s short date were but a moon’s silver shard, Would he be a passing thought, and my son the whole Of any future we had scattered out on the snow, Or caught in the rime-bound trees? Would I see then what I already know— That his future lies with himself and not me? As our wolf howls a timeless wail to the air I can listen and guess at its season. I can comfort myself it will always be there, Beyond human hopes, beyond reason. Far wiser, the black-furred hound, than I, To sing out his ancient song. Waiting, watching, as we struggle and die, Only to pass his wisdom along. Waiting, hoping as he does for a touch, He is made to think that he asks too much-- Waiting for a kind word or loving hand-- Wild and alone, in humanity’s bleak land. A southern writer once lamented the lack Of courage in humankind, And suggested we borrow the strength we see In the branches of an olive tree. Yet there’s more courage in the dog-wolf’s cry, Penned out on our city-cropped lawn, As if he knows the grief of my son and I When the man we both love is gone. “Could we not as well” take a lesson from him, Our wild and loyal friend? To howl out our sorrow and loneliness, Though the pain might never end? Now, in the twilight I hear my lover return, With no greeting to me, and I burn For the summer’s newborn passion I recall. The twilight wolf’s mourning tells it all: That we never will have what we had before That love can die just as well as it’s born, That a child is the only one who restores What is lost to the lonesome, the wolves, the forlorn. July 6, 2001
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58
1. Sweet love Oh, such sweet love. 2. Stick into the pincushion of hope Gentle pins of far-off dreams, Holding wispy threads of desire For which time (as a heading) is never enough. Push down and drown all thought Which beckon expectation - And trust to want less.... or nothing; Thus reduced, we get no fails. 3. All up to the sky We cry, Agonising - That waiting of footfall. Then..... Lovely flow. Yes, let's dare to increase Irregular patterns of abdicated pain. To fulfill what is so held back. 4. Because of you Three days can last a lifetime Full of affection and delicious warmth Within the bearings of your arms. 5. Dreams in the coffee whorls Willing spindles now Turn as they eddy...like happy tidings All around my head. Dreamscapes thrive In dulcet whirls inside our core. 6. No shipwrecks here, No abandoning of esperance. No deserting, No dereliction of love. No grief, No castaways on hopeless coast. These proffered crumbs on palm Become sought-after......and precious gifts. 7. Sweet love garnered over time Poured slowly.....into sacred cup. Where phantoms run to hide away No abode for wicked despair. Oh, for lovelorn hearts and broken dreams To find such gladness in a cup We hold hope, ever bold....so deep in heart And sink away in woven bliss. Capsule of infinity..... 8. Come, let us drink From our coffee-cup..... Of love. Oh, come...... 9. Time to kneel and give thanks Place forgiving wafer on tongue. Take none in haste Accept only when ready. To.... Drink sweetness of sky's nectar. 10. Of pastures plain And meadow green Swift do echoes fall As moments slip away....like clouds. 11. Oh, and.... One sugar.... (No analogy needed, surely :) Hot..... (Nor here!) And BLACK, please. S T,  11 April 2013
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Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 3:44 PM UTC
Love in the coffee
1. Sweet love Oh, such sweet love. 2. Stick into the pincushion of hope Gentle pins of far-off dreams, Holding wispy threads of desire For which time (as a heading) is never enough. Push down and drown all thought Which beckon expectation - And trust to want less.... or nothing; Thus reduced, we get no fails. 3. All up to the sky We cry, Agonising - That waiting of footfall. Then..... Lovely flow. Yes, let's dare to increase Irregular patterns of abdicated pain. To fulfill what is so held back. 4. Because of you Three days can last a lifetime Full of affection and delicious warmth Within the bearings of your arms. 5. Dreams in the coffee whorls Willing spindles now Turn as they eddy...like happy tidings All around my head. Dreamscapes thrive In dulcet whirls inside our core. 6. No shipwrecks here, No abandoning of esperance. No deserting, No dereliction of love. No grief, No castaways on hopeless coast. These proffered crumbs on palm Become sought-after......and precious gifts. 7. Sweet love garnered over time Poured slowly.....into sacred cup. Where phantoms run to hide away No abode for wicked despair. Oh, for lovelorn hearts and broken dreams To find such gladness in a cup We hold hope, ever bold....so deep in heart And sink away in woven bliss. Capsule of infinity..... 8. Come, let us drink From our coffee-cup..... Of love. Oh, come...... 9. Time to kneel and give thanks Place forgiving wafer on tongue. Take none in haste Accept only when ready. To.... Drink sweetness of sky's nectar. 10. Of pastures plain And meadow green Swift do echoes fall As moments slip away....like clouds. 11. Oh, and.... One sugar.... (No analogy needed, surely :) Hot..... (Nor here!) And BLACK, please. S T,  11 April 2013
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78
she said she was born on the edges of paintings someone had always forgotten to finish she said she lived on the banks of rivers that never reach the sea her voice trailed off at every juncture giving the afternoon a song that only the heart could hear “and do you feel this as I do?” gazing softly into nowhere She paused and let a sigh that vaulted a chorus to her presence it heralded above all the things we could never see it wrapped it’s arms around the world and gave birth to what she had always yearned to say but language had always failed from the fragrance of the river she shed her outer most layer of mistrust “we are”, she said “incapable of deserting ourselves here" “it is this naked hollow that bestows the paths from which we will approach" “by looking into you I have already been laid bare, let us reach under this skin, touch the untouchable and finish the edges of a painting long forgotten and stained with the graffiti of your past”
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Oct 20, 2021
Oct 20, 2021 at 9:55 AM UTC
She
Awaken, pyre From my soul Cease your sleep Set my spirit ablaze Poetess inside You’ve reaped my emotions Stolen my Muse Return! Return my heart! I will not endure once more Your years of poetic midnight! Lost in the darkness you left for me Encircled my false shame While you slept Did you have a nice nap, O, Princess Inspiration? How could you dare Leave my spirit In such dank cellars of misery Living on phony clones of yours? Shame, shame For deserting all that was once ours Together Awaken, pyre! Accept that I have Woken from your poetic sleep Only to see with eyes filled with fury You had left me with Only horrid simulations of yourself! Awaken, pyre! Dormancy of your spark, No longer! I was fooled- Betrayed by your tricks Of utter betrayal I must hold you as my own Once again I will embrace whatever Design I find within you Oh Evil Inspiration Awaken!
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Jun 26, 2011
Jun 26, 2011 at 11:55 AM UTC
Awaken, Pyre
My mind breaks down, screaming The pain increases, always hurting Wish it wasn't real, only dreaming All my thoughts seem to be deserting Hands held to my head, no escape It's pounding, just building inside Hear me shout out across the landscape I can never escape even if I tried Knocking at the door, knocking more Thumping, taking me to the floor Knocking at the door, head so sore Save me from this migraine, I implore copyright Chris Smith 16th December 2010 For all those who suffer the curse of a migraine.
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Dec 15, 2010
Dec 15, 2010 at 7:09 PM UTC
352: Knocking At The Door
swirling living in a world filled with vicarious vicious doubt spreading a cancer throughout lingering for moments hours days weeks months then dissipating softly through the indigo midnight bloom filling crevasses exploding voluptuously in a brilliant crimson clouds of dust ending day while beginning night coaxing death aching for tranquility in quiet hours fearless at dawn shivering in the absence of warmth taking soft, lonely steps towards unknown pleasures yearning begging for the sun’s eager rays to cast long, winter shadows to awaken us and to bring an end to slumber in the young hours restless shifting and beating fingers grazing lips across frozen air capturing breath and slowing recovery spring blooms tulips and she is there only she lingers taking my eyes and sealing my quivering mouth shut with subtle words robbing me of my senses driving me to the bring of madness and deserting me in azure fields tinged with velvet gold she takes my thoughts wrapping them in delicate papyrus savors them like i savor her presence her silver her waves of silken tones her musical strings her tulips in blooming spring driving away madness only her
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May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 2:02 AM UTC
tulips
embodied in the flesh of ghosts it's an unknown atmosphere look deep into the eyes of the host you'll see the devil's here he lives in me we talk amongst ourselves in vain laughing at those around us too caught up in religion to see the pain though the world's on fire it's my soul's desire to be free again raging waters beneath the core from the tears of broken hearted rain singing a song freedom engulfed in ash and flames deep in the pits of this self centered hell you may hear the sound of my name it is but the voice of my own throat screaming to be claimed in a blackness so dark and deep this body is just the frame i gauge out the eyes of the host so he can take the blame i curse the heavens for deserting me for making me insane it's an unknown atmosphere being trapped in here
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Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 12:45 PM UTC
The Host
A ritual, I shape an acacia from your flesh and blood – the fluff rather concealed. So are we, though your insides decorate a globe just shy of blonde cornfields. Tomorrow, you can be the columbine’s milk, split drops deserting her center: now a park of petals on the edge. But I examine every exposed hipbone, your clavicles rosy by me – there is something around a jonquil about this image you spread so I can embrace you, answer coils like a telephone and want as much far away as I would close up to flaxen. Hand me a celandine capsule or periwinkle bow – all of this tied in a knot, originated from a bend of your hair. I have recollections and joy from imminent meadows, girl and boy.
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Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 4:29 PM UTC
body/blossom language
Sat on a leatherette sofa waiting for my order. The kitchen looks to be in some disorder. The staff are flirting, The customers deserting. Leaving me still sat on a leatherette sofa wondering, Where in the hell is my order?!
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Sep 7, 2018
Sep 7, 2018 at 3:21 PM UTC
Waiting (for Chinese Food)
A wolf in shepherd's clothing You lead your sheep astray Tossing aside those posing a threat to your crooked way You strip them of their fleece Making them to lie in the snow As you wrap yourself in wool sheets Laughing, because the sheep don't know You feast on golden cakes While casting your sheep a single scrap You ignore the coyotes and snakes Deserting the wounded and trapped Oh, how your words tickle The ears of those you mislead Thirsty, they lap the trickle When a gush of water is what they need So, what will you say As you receive your judgment due? Will you weep and give thanks Realizing The Savior's blood covers even you?
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Mar 23, 2012
Mar 23, 2012 at 12:04 PM UTC
A Wolf In Shepherd's Clothing
Please excuse me. How could I write something so contradicting? To write something so encouraging, upbeat, and blithe Amidst my unsteady thoughts, my weary heart, my muddled mind. Maybe that's what we all need; For someone to smile in this world so dreary, Even as a storm rages inside. But I don't feel it, These poems backed up in my mind, The care and love for humanity I had weeks ago. Now my spirits are downcast, For a reason I don't even know. I doubt how I can tell you that I care, When right now, all I want to do is be alone. How can I preach it when I don't live it? I walk, blurryfaced, down these halls, Avoiding your eyes, deserting your fight. And I'm sorry. But I fear I'll put on a mask again By telling you one more hopeful thing, Because right now, doubt's my only friend. My mind may scare you but please don't run. Not sure exactly where these thoughts come from. I think too much. I'm falling asleep. Stay with me.
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Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 5:49 PM UTC
Engentado
The woes of life we pass them on, 'cause if we can't see them then the problem is gone. We shudder when we hear transgression but we all watch on and then take our confession. Now that we're forgiven we can carry on cause if we can't see it then the problem is gone. The world we know could be much better run, removing the barrier, deserting the gun. Renounce all the greed and announce it out loud. That up until now we cannot be proud. Or we can stand still, and not move on. Cause if we pretend then the problem is gone. Could we stand together and perhaps all refuse to join in with hate and reject racist views. This is maybe the only way that we can move on. Cause if we all join together then the problem is gone.
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Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 3:36 PM UTC
The Problem is Gone
Silver smoke blurring your vision Noisy TV distracting your mind Shallow books keeping you busy Detached, isolated, standing apart Unable to forgive or forget the past Bitterness poisoning your feelings Incapable of showing love Absent from life, inaccessible Unaware of your greatness Master of pain and resent Forever a victim you remain Weeping past events   Detesting life all the way   For what you will never repent Master of disguise Never showing feelings Always wearing your iron mask Books and TV help you forget the life you hate Smoking keeps your monsters away Always longing for your deserting mum For you always felt “not good enough” Constantly grieving the only man you ever loved For he was killed on your wedding day Forever resenting the unwanted child For whom you married the wrong guy Master of revenge An eye for an eye   Always haunted by the past The world has to endure your pain No matter what Motherhood couldn’t mend your shattered heart For you stayed loyal to your acrimony Eternal victim of your bitterness Afraid of abandonment, deserting everybody
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Oct 27, 2010
Oct 27, 2010 at 2:46 AM UTC
Absent
Sadness is ***** I'm bathin' in my blues. My heart is a hurtin' The tears are burnin' You never had a clue. I shower in my sorrows Let my pain cascade around me. Still my friends surround me. Sickness is deserting. Whining pain keeps churning. A sickness in my heart, A sickness in my soul. With every passing day, There comes a deadly cold. Happiness is cleansing. The feeling of joy, I'm not pretending. With a smile on my face, Just one last grand embrace. With that look in your eyes, The sadness is gone, Without a trace.
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Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 9:09 PM UTC
Cleansing