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"dwindled" poems
“Being a farmer is like being a priest; you take a vow of poverty and make a pact with the Lord that no typhoon will come and destroy your crops.” In the rise of sedentary human civilization, The nation’s agriculture Became the key expansion. Its history dates back thousands of years, With its development, Has been driven and defined – By different climates, cultures, and technologies. The Filipino farmers: Are they now a dying breed? Numbers of small farms has dwindled, With workers opting for city life. But this trend could exacerbate food insecurity! Yes, in an import-dependent country – Already struggling to meet current food demand. In the face of growing losses, And from volatile weather, To new-fangled farming tech, Limited education makes them less receptive. What took such toll on the agricultural sector? Maybe the farmer themselves, The investors, the buyers – maybe. Now, it’s due to the government policies, Our programs are good, yet so weak. There’s excessive reliance on agricultural imports, And corruption on the upper level. Compounding the problem Is a younger generation – Largely, leaving rural areas nationwide, And depleting the pool of potential agricultural workers. They say it’s too late to do something; But the mind-set of the younger generation Still we can change And make farming appealing once again. (9/8/13 @xirlleelang)
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May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 10:02 PM UTC
A Dying Filipino Breed
Oh blue eyed baby accept this ring. Make me the happiest human being 5 years have passed and our quarrels far dwindled But our fire still burns from the pile we kindled 10 years and 10 more; I will always adore My blue eyed baby, forevermore “Till death do us part”, we said long ago Now 50 years past right out the window My eyes start to twitch and twinkle with mime But my love for you only grows deeper with time As my thoughts start to dwindle and turn into chime I’ll always remember, my blue eyed baby will always be mine Your memories fading and hair color too And our hearts are still red and your baby eyes blue Grasp tight of my hand and don’t let it slip I feel my life tripping out of its tick The morning rays shine through the pains of our room In our beds we await for our call to our tombs The time is not far; it’s coming soon But the blues eyes of yours baby will continue to bloom Forever and ever. I mean it I do.
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Dec 12, 2012
Dec 12, 2012 at 4:32 PM UTC
Blue Eyed Baby
She could stare right through your soul with those lonely Green Eyes, surrounded or on her own she always felt alone, she knew only sadness for happiness always dwindled in between breaths and only you knew how to fix it.
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Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 4:23 PM UTC
Green Eyes
The first time I made love to my mind When love escaped from the gaps Between our silences and overthinkings I saw the naked mind. We sailed from thousand cuddles of imprudence To a long warm kiss of sanity. While I dwindled in her arms of fool's paradise No sleep just one long weary night, Her ****** reeked of loneliness I licked it. Hoping to taste ingenuity, it was the aftertaste of forsaken feelings that made me ***** her till she stopped moaning neon dreams. Somewhere in my walkabouts in her I created deep craters of memories Which she took for love bites were, in fact, scars for life. We were virgins on our quests Thirsting our way through wanting and longing...... She made me swallow lust Slowly. Heavily downtown. And fingered it, the ***** of thoughts Ruptured. And she bled musings. And Phantasmagoria exuding from her holes And Spurting into mine like a cascade of brooding melancholy..... And.... And.... The night my mind lost its virginity, I sat down to write.
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Nov 28, 2017
Nov 28, 2017 at 6:21 AM UTC
I make love to my mind
The purple haze of heather had dwindled in the sunshine. Bluebells were breaking too, their florets a flutter. Smoggy incense rolls in off the horizon smoking over the crumbled mountaintops, their peaks unable to break the surf.
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May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 4:12 PM UTC
Stifled spring
Puppet Master You crept in like a mischievious thief. Intrigued, decieved and retrieved my son. Influencing and destroying his beautiful life. Diminished his hopes, his dreams and his self-esteem. Convincing him he had no future, No love, no value was to his life. Your wicked silk spun web of deadly lies, Mislead him to believe, That happiness and love cease to exist. This is your fuel, This your fire. Your one and only desire. You will not quit until they all expire. ****** black, H or tar, You are a seductive liar. Your needle point claws buried deep his arm, Dripping with your poisonous conceit. Now you are his puppet master. Dominating his mind, his thoughts and his words. Your malicious acts preformed through him, Make him look wild, insane and disturbed. Each day in your tight intense grip, My son dwindled and shriveled away. Becoming your molded and trained apprentice. Coached to perfection in your twisted ways. You are as bad as a ****** A murderer and even more. I hate you ****** You started a war. I will not let you win! Let go of my loved and cherished son. Let him live a full and beautiful life. I surrender to you myself. Volunteer my own life. Take me instead, Be my puppet master, Enslave me, And let my baby live. L. Mack 9/20/18
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Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 12:41 AM UTC
Puppet Master
She’s the last of the fairy tales. The mobs came with pitchforks and torches. The ashes of the golden era stains her skin. Her magic dwindled, wounded by the sins of man. She seeks not revenge, nor justice. She seeks punishment. I have been the guardian of her heart; A heart she feels she no longer needs. There will be a day where it beats again. Not this day. On this day she waits in the dark, Waiting for the day her memory is forgotten; The day her tragedy becomes a myth. On that day, reckoning will come To remind them their cruelty is unequalled By the spirit of a fallen star. On that day, I will be her harbinger. On that day, I will resurrect the memory They wished would stay buried in the depths. On that day, the hearts of man will cry for mercy, Only to fall upon deaf ears... Because I made a promise. Cross my heart, she’ll never die. Look your devil in her eyes.
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Mar 24, 2021
Mar 24, 2021 at 11:51 AM UTC
The Pale Princess Part III
lately i have been asking myself how my love for you has not yet dwindled into nothing but a ghost after all you have broken my heart into pieces too sharp to gather without cutting my fingers on the edges. my fragmented sanity has become a dagger that you have used to stab my chest and the tears grazing my cheeks taste as bitter as the words that i wish i had the courage to say to you. (k.t)
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Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 7:56 PM UTC
please let me be.
As a child I dabbled in ****** No barbie was safe from the hands of their god Ran hills caked to the toe Roughed terrain with neighborhood boys They called me girl But I felt boy Upon later years I learned: Dress Skirt Bra Flower Amenities accustomed to this body; A bustling street of hormones without a red light Next were ******* Wild & rambling, I soon Mastered the art of shrinking I kissed my first boy & felt it rattle through my bones His hair an ocean in my hands as I rose up to the surface Later I discovered the shared experience of Woman, Shifting about the world as a silly metaphor Carved fingers into mace & metal Ankles clinking busily on a subway platform In learning to fight The young boy dwindled into memory and I couldn’t sense shape anymore Fell in and out of love with woman and man alike, Sinking deep into salt & sand These days I can’t help but wonder if attraction is a mode of defense Or that of love These days I run hills in heels Caked to the toe in color -- c
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Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 1:11 AM UTC
Lessons I Learned As A Young Boy
i found the most solace in the mornings as the sun covered the sky and the evenings as the hours of daylight dwindled these two moments slowly became my only reliable constant the only thing to accompany the darkness that engulfed me
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Dec 12, 2021
Dec 12, 2021 at 8:25 AM UTC
dark sun
The albatross once filled the skies Cormorants watched silent, from the shore These are echoes of times long ago There's nothing here for them any more The coastline littered with sunken ships Villages full of ghosts Empty buildings and empty lives Where just the sea gulls act as hosts Oceans away lads, Oceans away Out past the breakers and out to the sea Oceans away lads, Oceans away Out on the Ocean, where my soul is set free The cod stocks have dwindled There was no need to stay There's no catch of the day, son From here to Gaspe' The canneries shuttered The landscape has changed I may be a sailor But, my life's rearranged Oceans away lads, Oceans away Out past the breakers and out to the sea Oceans away lads, Oceans away Out on the Ocean, where my soul is set free The Grand Banks are empty Our boats are in hock There's nothing that grows here Except depression and rock While others moved onward I'll stay 'till I'm dead Now, I feed off the tourists I work the casinos instead Oceans away lads, Oceans away Out past the breakers and out to the sea Oceans away lads, Oceans away Out on the Ocean, where my soul is set free The salt air still calls me The wind in my sails The sound of the rigging Heading off to Kinsale The coastline is empty Where Ghost towns now stand It used to be vibrant But now just sea grass and sand Oceans Away Lads, Oceans Away On out past the breakers, and out to the see Oceans away lads, Oceans Away I still am a sailor, and I always will be
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Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 11:29 PM UTC
Oceans Away Lads
The albatross once filled the skies Cormorants watched silent, from the shore These are echoes of times long ago There's nothing here for them any more The coastline littered with sunken ships Villages full of ghosts Empty buildings and empty lives Where just the sea gulls act as hosts Oceans away lads, Oceans away Out past the breakers and out to the sea Oceans away lads, Oceans away Out on the Ocean, where my soul is set free The cod stocks have dwindled There was no need to stay There's no catch of the day, son From here to Gaspe' The canneries shuttered The landscape has changed I may be a sailor But, my life's rearranged Oceans away lads, Oceans away Out past the breakers and out to the sea Oceans away lads, Oceans away Out on the Ocean, where my soul is set free The Grand Banks are empty Our boats are in hock There's nothing that grows here Except depression and rock While others moved onward I'll stay 'till I'm dead Now, I feed off the tourists I work the casinos instead Oceans away lads, Oceans away Out past the breakers and out to the sea Oceans away lads, Oceans away Out on the Ocean, where my soul is set free The salt air still calls me The wind in my sails The sound of the rigging Heading off to Kinsale The coastline is empty Where Ghost towns now stand It used to be vibrant But now just sea grass and sand Oceans Away Lads, Oceans Away On out past the breakers, and out to the see Oceans away lads, Oceans Away I still am a sailor, and I always will be
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48
I am pale with sick desire, For my heart is far away From this world's fitful fire And this world's waning day; In a dream it overleaps A world of tedious ills To where the sunshine sleeps On the everlasting hills.-- Say the Saints: There Angels ease us Glorified and white. They say: We rest in Jesus, Where is not day or night. My soul saith: I have sought For a home that is not gained, I have spent yet nothing bought, Have laboured but not attained; My pride strove to mount and grow, And hath but dwindled down; My love sought love, and lo! Hath not attained its crown.-- Say the Saints: Fresh souls increase us, None languish or recede. They say: We love our Jesus, And He loves us indeed. I cannot rise above, I cannot rest beneath, I cannot find out love, Or escape from death; Dear hopes and joys gone by Still mock me with a name; My best beloved die, And I cannot die with them.-- Say the Saints: No deaths decrease us, Where our rest is glorious. They say: We live in Jesus, Who once died for us. O my soul, she beats her wings And pants to fly away Up to immortal things In the heavenly day: Yet she flags and almost faints; Can such be meant for me?-- Come and see, say the Saints. Saith Jesus: Come and see. Say the Saints: His pleasures please us Before God and the Lamb. Come and taste My sweets, saith Jesus: Be with Me where I am.
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3k
I Will Lift Up Mine Eyes Unto The Hills
There once was a little boy who had a bad temper. His father gave him a bag of nails and told him that every time he lost his temper, he must hammer a nail into the back of the fence. The first day the boy had driven 87 nails into the fence. Over the next few weeks, as he learned to control his anger, the number of nails hammered in daily gradually dwindled down. He discovered it was easier to hold his temper than to drive nails into the fence. Finally the day came when the boy didn’t lose his temper at all. He told his father about it and the father suggested that the boy now pull out one nail for each day that he was able to hold his temper. The days passed and the young boy was finally able to tell his father that all the nails were gone. The father took his son by the hand and led him to the fence. He said, “You have done well, my son, but look at the holes in the fence. The fence will never be the same. When you say things in anger, they leave a scar just like this one. You can put a knife in a man and pull it out but it won’t matter how many times you say “I’m sorry”, the wound is still there. A verbal wound is just as bad as a physical one”.
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Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 9:14 AM UTC
Nails In The Fence
If I die before you wake, Know that, when darkness fell, I was standing. As fire rained from the sky, I endured it and did dwell Where the shadow was darkest. If I die before you wake, Think of me in that cozy dawn As the sun lights up your face, For as you lay, so did I In the blood of those that I too did love, and could not save, As the light faded, from their eyes If I die before you wake, Think of those glory days Of mirth and wine under the sun, Of laughter and spirit unending, Drunken nights, and infinite stars That dwindled into those countless hours When I die before you wake, Remember me for what I was, And mourn not but celebrate That I fell in lofty company And have achieved peace that only, The fallen can. You my beloved, must soldier on, Living, for so many who could not A life without sorrow, a life complete. Regret nothing, and do not forsake Yourself, for that which cannot be. Promise me this, and dream away For I shall be dead, before you wake.
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Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 4:53 AM UTC
If I Die Before You Wake
The tags say, "Dry Clean Only" but I didn't have time before I left. So now my favorite purple sweater, the one with the elbow patches, smells like you and filet mignon. Rewind. July: "Congratulations, it's a match!" Reads my tinder notification. Little did I know, I'd actually like you. Little did I know you'd say you wanted something. August: I got your number, we planned on meeting up. Our plans fell through, but we continued to talk and flirt anyways. September: I left for school, as did you. Hundreds of miles away, you could tell there was something wrong through a text message. You were there for me, everything I needed, you were it. You told me you didn't just want someone to **** you wanted someone to love. October & November: The texts dwindled down to barely any. All I wanted was for you to respond, or finally text me first. We planned on meeting up for thanksgiving, you ignored me. December: Finals week approaches and I finally hear from you again. You want to meet up for real this time. We say, let's meet over break. January: You text me, four nights before I'm leaving again. Tomorrow? You ask me, I obviously say of course. Terrified, I think you're going to stand me up, but when you finally walk into the Starbucks, my heart drops. This is actually happening. You come back to my place, this and that happens. You leave. But what I didn't think is that we'd be back at square one. Ignoring my texts, yet snapchatting me and liking my moments. Now: I run to rid you from my mind. But yet you appear so vividly and I can hear your voice saying, "are you gonna come and get it?" Just like you said that day. So I never had the time to dry clean my favorite sweater, so it still smells of your cologne and filet mignon.
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Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 9:24 PM UTC
Dry Cleaning
The tags say, "Dry Clean Only" but I didn't have time before I left. So now my favorite purple sweater, the one with the elbow patches, smells like you and filet mignon. Rewind. July: "Congratulations, it's a match!" Reads my tinder notification. Little did I know, I'd actually like you. Little did I know you'd say you wanted something. August: I got your number, we planned on meeting up. Our plans fell through, but we continued to talk and flirt anyways. September: I left for school, as did you. Hundreds of miles away, you could tell there was something wrong through a text message. You were there for me, everything I needed, you were it. You told me you didn't just want someone to **** you wanted someone to love. October & November: The texts dwindled down to barely any. All I wanted was for you to respond, or finally text me first. We planned on meeting up for thanksgiving, you ignored me. December: Finals week approaches and I finally hear from you again. You want to meet up for real this time. We say, let's meet over break. January: You text me, four nights before I'm leaving again. Tomorrow? You ask me, I obviously say of course. Terrified, I think you're going to stand me up, but when you finally walk into the Starbucks, my heart drops. This is actually happening. You come back to my place, this and that happens. You leave. But what I didn't think is that we'd be back at square one. Ignoring my texts, yet snapchatting me and liking my moments. Now: I run to rid you from my mind. But yet you appear so vividly and I can hear your voice saying, "are you gonna come and get it?" Just like you said that day. So I never had the time to dry clean my favorite sweater, so it still smells of your cologne and filet mignon.
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39
It was an unexpected travesty While I sipped on my Paris tea Black and swirling in the creamy cup The melancholy inside wasn’t made up The touches shared never to be replayed A pen left wordless on the splotched page The story of us dwindled and ended I’ll yearn the soul I lost and befriended It stains the wanderings in my heart Restless longing never to depart Will she look at you the way I did too Or with her smile is your gaze anew Amongst any spoken tendril I have to say You’ll ignore it regardless, keep it at bay No matter wherever I beg and try Forever I’ll be pinned as the bad guy Your friends affirm it without any doubt The words you spill attract gallons of clout And even with a vine of knowledge to prove They’d pry and spy ‘til nothing’s left to prune
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Apr 16, 2021
Apr 16, 2021 at 11:14 PM UTC
Paris Tea
wrists cry hemaglobin tears washed away by shower steam and daydream fears your knife-wielding hands clenched to the bone my roar now dwindled to a gentle hum your selective deafness my self-inflicted muteness our perpetual daze i wanted you to hear me so i screamed my voice away
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Aug 21, 2021
Aug 21, 2021 at 10:17 PM UTC
3/17/2019
Chasten Calypso declared to be clear; humming a mumble inside of mine ear. Always heard, but ne’er understood, a whisper so willing, decidedly good. The rapture of doomsday is said to be near, but an ounce of the evidence has yet to appear. There are several factors that could end it all; the pride of mankind is destined to fall. Hastened Calypso declared to be clear, rumbling a rumble, fueled by a fear. Often forgotten, yet forever engraved; those who are faithful have already been saved. Dwindled and swindled, the man may soon ask, “Your person is puzzling; take leave of your mask.” Now the raven is calling, to bring out your soul, but all you have left is a void with a hole. With chastened Calypso declared to be clear she is tumbling a bumble who’s drunken with beer, and thought the cliff it is climbing is sharp, and quite sheer, if the bumble dose stumble it won’t shed a tear. Where we are looking and what we will find is based in illusion we have made in our mind; Always is heard, and is ne’er understood. It’s a whisper so willing, decidedly good.
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Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 1:41 PM UTC
Chasing the Wind
Two rows of a faceless infantry fall into line; I am their general for this callous battle. Overlords awaken; their mirrored armies in meager shadow to these giants that have played the game of winning before. The front rank advances slowly, private by private; caressing the battlefield as if never to return again. The cavalry cry out into the night, A horse’s metallic neigh that pierces through to the other side’s defenses, and the surrounding warriors join in for the hunt. A piece for a piece; The desperate deal is made between the masters of their horrified soldiers. Do I dare repeat such insidious acts within my fleet? The crown shakes with fear, for the opposing ranks are drawing near. Towering higher than the castles upon the deck, I make my way to the monarch in check; Swords left littered across the field as the fires of carnage have dwindled low, but trampling through grief, groans, and woe, The other side is forced to yield.
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Nov 27, 2021
Nov 27, 2021 at 1:39 AM UTC
Kamikaze
Green apples at lunchtime, You were the only friend of mine. We played in sand and built castles from our growing imaginations while we hoped our bodies would grow just like our minds so our hands could reach the monkey bars and… maybe one day the stars. Back then I’d wish on those and hope you’d pinky-swear right back to always have an ear out in case I called for help. Those were the days I’d spend making cards to send to you just because you might need to know that you were worth every glued-on sequin. We stayed outside catching fireflies until the sun escaped and those jars were the only lights to guide our way. Those summer breaks spent chasing salamanders, our fingers, our toes, warm river mud pressed between every one of them like an unofficial glue promising to keep us together. All our thoughts concentrated on an everlasting summer, No more school because we felt educated enough if we could be together all day. I guess the river washed it all away, like the current wiping the mud out from between our toes, off our fingertips, off our minds your words turned cold, Conversations dwindled and the best thing I could hope to come out of your mouth was hello. And now you walk the way you used to walk when you made fun of girls on pageant shows. Your lips are stained a perfect color of rose, But you grow thorns when you speak. Some say you flourished. A blossom under fluorescence but I always liked things to be under incandescence. A phenomenon of light produced from our warm bodies under a shared blanket watching the stars, sharing our hopes our fears and our scars. But now when the temperature rises it’s because you’re not looking at me anymore. I’m a just another flower budding on your wall, But, please watch me blossom before I fall.
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Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 3:18 AM UTC
transitions ****
Green apples at lunchtime, You were the only friend of mine. We played in sand and built castles from our growing imaginations while we hoped our bodies would grow just like our minds so our hands could reach the monkey bars and… maybe one day the stars. Back then I’d wish on those and hope you’d pinky-swear right back to always have an ear out in case I called for help. Those were the days I’d spend making cards to send to you just because you might need to know that you were worth every glued-on sequin. We stayed outside catching fireflies until the sun escaped and those jars were the only lights to guide our way. Those summer breaks spent chasing salamanders, our fingers, our toes, warm river mud pressed between every one of them like an unofficial glue promising to keep us together. All our thoughts concentrated on an everlasting summer, No more school because we felt educated enough if we could be together all day. I guess the river washed it all away, like the current wiping the mud out from between our toes, off our fingertips, off our minds your words turned cold, Conversations dwindled and the best thing I could hope to come out of your mouth was hello. And now you walk the way you used to walk when you made fun of girls on pageant shows. Your lips are stained a perfect color of rose, But you grow thorns when you speak. Some say you flourished. A blossom under fluorescence but I always liked things to be under incandescence. A phenomenon of light produced from our warm bodies under a shared blanket watching the stars, sharing our hopes our fears and our scars. But now when the temperature rises it’s because you’re not looking at me anymore. I’m a just another flower budding on your wall, But, please watch me blossom before I fall.
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19
**O, My Creator, Deliver Me From These Inquisitions, Emancipate Me From These Wretched Oppositions, Free Me From The Chains Of My Weary Disposition, Envelop Me Within The Folds Of Your Holy Apparition** *The Sun's Light Dwindled Along The Horizon, Darkness Bruised The Ledges Of The Sky, Summer's Vegetation Recoiled And Fossilized, Within The Dark Soil's Crumbling Underlie* **O, Glorious Divine Being, Act On My Requisition, Extricate My Soul From It's Appalling Malnutrition, This Tattered Mind Is A Degenerating Composition, Let My Spine Sprout Wings To Carry Me To Redefinition** *Stars Emerged From The Depths Of The Heavens, Holes Filtrating The Stale Air Circulating In Slime, Oozing From A Fatal Virus They Referred To As Time*
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Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 7:08 PM UTC
Aspiration of Emancipation
Remember, when we were younger and we were scared of the monster in the closet? We never asked questions about it why it was there why the closet, of all places? we were too terrified But as we grew older some of us stopped being afraid because we knew it couldn’t hurt us why be scared of something that couldn’t hurt you? But some of us didn’t to some of us, the monster grew and it would attack us late at night Some of us weren’t afraid but later in life we confronted the monster again and all those years of work dwindled down the drain However, as we all grew we, at some point, accepted the monster sometimes welcoming it as a friend, someone to listen And as the days went by all of us growing older and finding ourselves, one day at a time, the monster disappeared It was like a weight off our chest we were sad it was gone, but happy all the same We could finally leave the confines of this place and breathe and laugh and smile maybe we were the monsters in the closet after all
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Dec 18, 2017
Dec 18, 2017 at 9:50 AM UTC
Closet Monsters
Mumbles to explain words Hands that examine curves Delicately rough I say I say Oh my i pry Hidden beneath corners In the coroner's hold Office blank Tables cold Body shivers Desperate to remember Way to a road Ladders unfold Pulled into the basement Coroner's hold Naughty laughs Joke untold The air taunted As he choked Mute with no words hands that dwindled Tormented torn Coroner's office Seeds spread NO children to be born
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Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 4:25 AM UTC
Forbidden
A part, immutable, unseen, Being, before itself had been, Became. Like dew a triple queen Shone as the void uncovered: The silence of deep height was drawn A veil across the silver dawn On holy wings that hovered. The music of three thoughts became The beauty, that is one white flame, The justice that surpasses shame, The victory, the splendour, The sacred fountain that is whirled From depths beyond that older world A new world to engender. The kingdom is extended. Night Dwells, and I contemplate the sight That is not seeing, but the light That secretly is kindled, Though oft-time its most holy fire Lacks oil, whene'er my own Desire Before desire has dwindled. I see the thin web binding me With thirteen cords of unity Toward the calm centre of the sea. (O thou supernal mother!) The triple light my path divides To twain and fifty sudden sides Each perfect as each other. Now backwards, inwards still my mind Must track the intangible and blind, And seeking, shall securely find Hidden in secret places Fresh feasts for every soul that strives, New life for many mystic lives, And strange new forms and faces. My mind still searches, and attains By many days and many pains To That which Is and Was and reigns Shadowed in four and ten; And loses self in sacred lands, And cries and quickens, and understands Beyond the first Amen.
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2.1k
The Quest
Memories of us as the sun set fire to everything I touch. Hands to myself and forget the idea of love. Our light has dwindled out. All that remains is a broken bulb hanging above the bed, in the attic of my head. Scattered shards of glass surrounding comfort. Every night I walk on our broken dreams and bleed before I get to sleep. I just lay in the shadow of my past looking for lines you once said. Only to bury the words again. Maybe it would make more sense if I stopped resurrecting the dead. There's a piece of me, no longer alive. From me to you is a far drive. So I dig in the dark attic for old and removable parts to repair my broken car. Flashing my lights at anyone who could be you. Because you're the only one who can see it too. Our connection is as consistent as me quitting bad habits For instance, cigarettes, but how could I know when I still haven't? I crave but can barely manage. I'm on and off in strange patterns.   A rusty pull chain hanging from the socket Stuck with our questions to questions,  irrational logic. I asked "why do you always escape from what you wanted?" You slowly whispered "how else would you know if you really got it.". I guess  I'll figure it as I smoke another cigarette. I take a hit, before exhaling, i stare up at the sun. Close my eyes and think of you. I imagine the smoke soaking up everything I ever wanted to tell you. Plans, ideas, thoughts, and the rawest feelings I have ever had. Once it feels right I open my eyes to the empty sky and exhale. An emotional release. February air will condense these dreams on to your car window. You will wipe them off to find your way home. The last thing you said before you left, "Just keep thinking of me And We'll meet again" There has to be another chapter before the end of this story being written in my head. But love and love lost is the ink to my pen of thoughts. Let it leak in my sleep. Knowing I'll wake up to her gone. But its okay. She left the chorus for my song.
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Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 8:03 PM UTC
Unfinished 3 (Immoral Muse:ic)
Memories of us as the sun set fire to everything I touch. Hands to myself and forget the idea of love. Our light has dwindled out. All that remains is a broken bulb hanging above the bed, in the attic of my head. Scattered shards of glass surrounding comfort. Every night I walk on our broken dreams and bleed before I get to sleep. I just lay in the shadow of my past looking for lines you once said. Only to bury the words again. Maybe it would make more sense if I stopped resurrecting the dead. There's a piece of me, no longer alive. From me to you is a far drive. So I dig in the dark attic for old and removable parts to repair my broken car. Flashing my lights at anyone who could be you. Because you're the only one who can see it too. Our connection is as consistent as me quitting bad habits For instance, cigarettes, but how could I know when I still haven't? I crave but can barely manage. I'm on and off in strange patterns.   A rusty pull chain hanging from the socket Stuck with our questions to questions,  irrational logic. I asked "why do you always escape from what you wanted?" You slowly whispered "how else would you know if you really got it.". I guess  I'll figure it as I smoke another cigarette. I take a hit, before exhaling, i stare up at the sun. Close my eyes and think of you. I imagine the smoke soaking up everything I ever wanted to tell you. Plans, ideas, thoughts, and the rawest feelings I have ever had. Once it feels right I open my eyes to the empty sky and exhale. An emotional release. February air will condense these dreams on to your car window. You will wipe them off to find your way home. The last thing you said before you left, "Just keep thinking of me And We'll meet again" There has to be another chapter before the end of this story being written in my head. But love and love lost is the ink to my pen of thoughts. Let it leak in my sleep. Knowing I'll wake up to her gone. But its okay. She left the chorus for my song.
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