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"finding" poems
and here i am again at the intersection of pedestrian language & old wives tales swallowing gum like 7 year memories opening umbrellas inside cause i can't seem get away from all of this rain i ********** with my left hand cause i was told back in highschool that "it feels like someone else is doing it" it gets me wondering about the difference between losing you and finding out that some one else found you or my sleep or lack thereof its starting to tear me apart i keep having this dream where you are in an unfamiliar body of water trying to wash my poetry off of your hands or the one where something happens in my chest every time you sit on someone else's bed i'm tired of feeling like something you've misplaced but don't have the heart to look for anymore tired of you saying my name like you're trying to bury it i'm tired of wondering if you can tell the difference between the absence of my voice & silence the other day i almost started sobbing at work when a woman asked me about our equipment i was explaining how things come apart and almost mentioned your name it made me think of how you used to say things like "what would you do if i showed up on your doorstep one day?" now, i haunt the windows in my house i don't leave for weeks at a time i sit on the porch like the dog you didn't shoot behind the shed the one that refuses to die until you come home again i told somebody once, that you didn't even know what my voicemail sounded like i wonder if they thought it was because you are so important that i never let it ring that many times before picking up or if you dont know what it sounds like because you've never called you can't be the ****** weapon and the search party i'm tired of all the seats to the ferris wheel in my chest being empty tired of your voice being the one i look for in abandoned places that one sound i beg to bounce back down vacant hallways i just seem to stand there in all of that quiet like someone looking for a mistake on an eviction notice so i guess the hardest part isn't letting go it's forgetting you ever had a grip in the first place and since you've been gone i wonder if when you pushed yourself away from me you used your left hand so it felt like someone else did it
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Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 12:54 AM UTC
epithet
and here i am again at the intersection of pedestrian language & old wives tales swallowing gum like 7 year memories opening umbrellas inside cause i can't seem get away from all of this rain i ********** with my left hand cause i was told back in highschool that "it feels like someone else is doing it" it gets me wondering about the difference between losing you and finding out that some one else found you or my sleep or lack thereof its starting to tear me apart i keep having this dream where you are in an unfamiliar body of water trying to wash my poetry off of your hands or the one where something happens in my chest every time you sit on someone else's bed i'm tired of feeling like something you've misplaced but don't have the heart to look for anymore tired of you saying my name like you're trying to bury it i'm tired of wondering if you can tell the difference between the absence of my voice & silence the other day i almost started sobbing at work when a woman asked me about our equipment i was explaining how things come apart and almost mentioned your name it made me think of how you used to say things like "what would you do if i showed up on your doorstep one day?" now, i haunt the windows in my house i don't leave for weeks at a time i sit on the porch like the dog you didn't shoot behind the shed the one that refuses to die until you come home again i told somebody once, that you didn't even know what my voicemail sounded like i wonder if they thought it was because you are so important that i never let it ring that many times before picking up or if you dont know what it sounds like because you've never called you can't be the ****** weapon and the search party i'm tired of all the seats to the ferris wheel in my chest being empty tired of your voice being the one i look for in abandoned places that one sound i beg to bounce back down vacant hallways i just seem to stand there in all of that quiet like someone looking for a mistake on an eviction notice so i guess the hardest part isn't letting go it's forgetting you ever had a grip in the first place and since you've been gone i wonder if when you pushed yourself away from me you used your left hand so it felt like someone else did it
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93
There are roots that delve deep in our bones, wrapping us like our skin. They define who we are. But, who am I? I am learned, sophisticated, well versed in history and language. My companions are numbers, papers, pens, and letters. I drive a fine silk suit: shiny, clean, fragrant... Though am I, really? Or am I one who acts the opposite? One who is surrounded by those who have numbers, papers, pens, and letters as companions whilst I am with pebbles, leaves, sticks; driving a worn out hide made from a dying pig. Or maybe, I am both... No. I am not common folk who act out the Streets on a home lined with shiny rocks, smooth paper on a lap, twinkling fireflies hanging from the roof whilst displaying what I've learned from being raised around uniforms and books.
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Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 7:42 AM UTC
Finding Myself: Two in One
Speaking of broken hearts and mended fenced in mem'ries   I am painting skies of tangerine, saffron & an illuminated lilac hue against the starkly contrasted crisp cornflower blue, stretching canvas that is along with all the other blindingly beautiful colors of a twilight sky And those dripping cotton candy stratospheric clouds Ice crystals freezing into supercooled water droplets Streaking the sky in cirrus whispers ..I hear them whisper, "hello"... Blinding beauty through unadulterated sunlight I am fleeced like a lamb watching in awe, ..in wonder then stomping sounds of coming thunder, Finding depth and height out  in the stratosphere Blinded by the After Light or afterglow affected by the amount of haze I'm in a daze ...as I am reaching High above the fading light of a brilliant early fall sunset I take a big breath of that sumptuous air and twirl my skirted legs my painted toes where I know I am back to solid ground Appreciating the last time I say sleep well to you  my dear summertimes sweet mem'ries and the fun we had this year. Cherie Nolan © 2016
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Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 2:39 PM UTC
"After Light"
What would You do when you can't have someone you want? Would you lift a finger and whisk it like a wand wishing everything would fall in place the way you'd want it to in a tick of the clock , or, would you struggle with your brain between finding a solution and living inside your head, dreaming of perfection? ME I would get up, trek to a forest with my trusty machete and hack away at the thickest bushes I could find. I'd hack away, hack away, and ignore the sag from my arms, the stress on my back, the sweat pouring down my face like water off a cliff, the unsteady footing caused by wet mud and unsteady, unsure legs. I would keep hacking until I reach the end of my arduous quest, where I would come upon a clearing-- A clearing with an aisle made of rose petals that lead into the center, surrounded by white chairs and sunflowers. And Someone would be there, in a white dress and veil, waiting for me.
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May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 4:50 AM UTC
What to do when you can't have someone you want?
Even in the darkest of the night, I can still remember those lips finding their way towards mine.   We can barely see what's in front of us, But yet our bodies are gravitating towards each other. I'll let you guide my body into the night. The darkness brings us together. The darkness holds no fear. The darkness conceals all flaws. As the sun begins to slowly creep against the horizon, He quietly leaves the sanctuary of her heart. As the seconds of the morning sun ticks by, He gradually becomes nothing but a dream of her imagination. The light grasps the truth. The light enhances the shame. The light shows the scars. I can still feel your warmth tingling against my skin. It's time to wake up.
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Nov 9, 2011
Nov 9, 2011 at 1:58 AM UTC
The Darkness.
With this ring comes a promise. You must be willing to accept it before you wear it. The promise is to love me for as long as possible as I will you. To love me through all the hard times that are yet to come as I will you. To love me and nurture me back to health on the days where I am sick as I will you. To love me and comfort me when I need it as I will for you. But most of all when the day comes where all that matters to be said is “I do”  when I say those words you will not hesitate to say them back to me. *Our love is not fragile, it is not shallow. Our love is strong and none can fathom how deep. Our love is not short, it is not passing. Our love is for a lifetime and it is here to stay. Our love is not one sided, it is not full of doubt. Our love is open and it is built on trust. Our love is not for you or for me. Our love is for US.* Some say that the journey into life begins when you first enter this world. I have a theory that there are multiple journeys of life in the life that you live. There is obviously the journey into becoming a adolescence and then teenager (it is coupled with school). When that ends there is the journey into adulthood (can be accompanied by but not limited to college, vehicles, taxes, jobs, stress). But I believe the two most important journeys in life are the ones about love. The first one begins when you are first born, the second one begins when you find the right person. The first one is finding the person you belong with that you love with every fiber of your being. The second journey is simply to spend the rest of your life with this person. And as I have went through both of these (the first being a bit rough to start) I ask you  to join me in starting the second journey of love. I want you to be my lifelong partner in exploring the world. If you choose to make this promise all you have to do is put this ring on your finger, and I will be yours for life.
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Sep 12, 2012
Sep 12, 2012 at 1:48 PM UTC
Ring of promise. (I wrote this to go with the promise ring that I bought her)
With this ring comes a promise. You must be willing to accept it before you wear it. The promise is to love me for as long as possible as I will you. To love me through all the hard times that are yet to come as I will you. To love me and nurture me back to health on the days where I am sick as I will you. To love me and comfort me when I need it as I will for you. But most of all when the day comes where all that matters to be said is “I do”  when I say those words you will not hesitate to say them back to me. *Our love is not fragile, it is not shallow. Our love is strong and none can fathom how deep. Our love is not short, it is not passing. Our love is for a lifetime and it is here to stay. Our love is not one sided, it is not full of doubt. Our love is open and it is built on trust. Our love is not for you or for me. Our love is for US.* Some say that the journey into life begins when you first enter this world. I have a theory that there are multiple journeys of life in the life that you live. There is obviously the journey into becoming a adolescence and then teenager (it is coupled with school). When that ends there is the journey into adulthood (can be accompanied by but not limited to college, vehicles, taxes, jobs, stress). But I believe the two most important journeys in life are the ones about love. The first one begins when you are first born, the second one begins when you find the right person. The first one is finding the person you belong with that you love with every fiber of your being. The second journey is simply to spend the rest of your life with this person. And as I have went through both of these (the first being a bit rough to start) I ask you  to join me in starting the second journey of love. I want you to be my lifelong partner in exploring the world. If you choose to make this promise all you have to do is put this ring on your finger, and I will be yours for life.
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7
I never thought that i will fall for you. But, here i am. Every day, every second, falling for you over and over again. I told God my struggle on finding the right man to date. because, i'm tired of wasting my time on someone who don't deserve me. But i guess, He just sent me one person who deserve me and i deserve him, it's you. He knows that i need someone that could change me to be a better person. You are that "someone". You are the one that i never thought would come. but, i'm so lucky and thankful that you here. How i'm so in love with every wise words that you said. the way you take responsibility of everything you do, and the way you take care of me like brother take care of his sister. There are so much more about you that makes me fall deeply in love with you, but i don't wanna share it to everyone, or else they will fall for you too.
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Dec 20, 2017
Dec 20, 2017 at 10:42 AM UTC
You.
I'm here sitting alone, the smell of coffee runs through my veins, some music i probably will forget in a few years arguing with the thought of you, But I'm here, I'm here, writing about what's happening pretty boring huh? i call myself a poet but i can't use high metaphors, i call myself a poet but i can't describe fully how you make me feel i call myself a poet but what am i? I'm just a kid scared of life finding new ways to cope searching for someone to love, desperate, not holding unto my dreams how can i choose with my mind what's right for the heart to choose. and you see? don't you see? don't worry i can't either i can't see how great i am i can't see how other people see me i wish i could. i want to believe this was a dream or a nightmare at that. But at last. I'm here wishing that in another life i could be with you, or maybe in other deaths, i crave your touch, i crave you.. with coffee waking up my senses like a kid in summer waking up early to go play with his friends. i wish things were different, so i wouldn't have to wish.
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Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 8:13 PM UTC
I call myself a poet
YOU hurt me in ways like no one else before, cutting me deep- right down to the core. YOU beat me up without lifting a hand, reminding me exactly where I stand. YOU love to **** with me building my hopes- making me the **** of all of your jokes. YOU shove your money and life in my face, finding it funny that my life's a disgrace. YOU give me your love just to rip it away- an unworthy pawn in the game you play. YOU think that I'm ugly I'm well aware, to all the others I just don't compare. YOU treat me like I'm a worthless **** barely good enough for you to **** YOU boldly look me straight in the eyes and feed me so many bull **** lies. But please don't stop, I love it this way! Choking on every cruel word you say.... For I am too spineless to ever stand tall, and I'd rather feel pain then nothing at all.
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Mar 6, 2017
Mar 6, 2017 at 9:42 AM UTC
YOU
My death will be liberating. And I do not say that in the sense that I am going to find a cliff and take a good jump off. No. I am just trying to find a clever way to tell you that I do not know what is going to happen next. You see, there is a fine line between dreaming and mortality and I am finding out for myself that being in love does not always involve being awake. And for my sake I fall in love with daydreams, nightmares, hazy realities and the hung-over idea of not being enough. It is all out of my hands.                  It is all out of time. And the only thing I have left to do, now, is decide.
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May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 5:46 PM UTC
I fall in love.
ground zero i become aware of boundaries i am a dog chasing cars i sing your voicemail to sleep there are no surgeon general warnings to tell me that *the objects in the mirror are more depressed than they appear* so how do i tell you that there are parts of my life that move slower without you in them? or that i look for you every day in emails & unanswered calls in the sunrises i didn't choose to be awake to watch that i sometimes still stare at doorways hoping you would walk through them    stage 1 you tell your new lover you've got a splinter and they pull the sound of your body falling asleep on mine out of your fingertip    stage 2 your new lover says something at dinner that makes you choke so they call 911 & the paramedics do the hymleich not knowing you would ***** our promises all over the the restaurant    stage 3 your new lover surprises you by cleaning the house & washes the shirt you kept next to the bed, not knowing it was the last thing you had that smelled like me after people always ask what was loving her like? after a really long silence i just say "it must be nice" but i never say it's watching paint dry i never say it's a window seat in hell i don't tell anyone about the dreams where i am reading you bedtime stories each one is a different way you die & every time i can never save you dreams where what i think are angels in my bedroom are just homeless versions of myself you never loved i have dreams where i pay someone to shoot me just to see if you would cry just to see if you would cradle my body i don't tell people that loving you is like playing piano for someone who can't hear that it's hitting repeat on my favorite song & forgetting the words every time it starts over that it's finding out there's no milk after you already poured yourself a bowl of cereal it's getting locked in the dark & being told to look on the bright side that loving you is like being reminded of what it felt like the first time you accidentally let go of a balloon as a child it's drowning without the water it's the feeling you get when you start to dance & the song ends
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Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 3:30 PM UTC
stages of detachment
ground zero i become aware of boundaries i am a dog chasing cars i sing your voicemail to sleep there are no surgeon general warnings to tell me that *the objects in the mirror are more depressed than they appear* so how do i tell you that there are parts of my life that move slower without you in them? or that i look for you every day in emails & unanswered calls in the sunrises i didn't choose to be awake to watch that i sometimes still stare at doorways hoping you would walk through them    stage 1 you tell your new lover you've got a splinter and they pull the sound of your body falling asleep on mine out of your fingertip    stage 2 your new lover says something at dinner that makes you choke so they call 911 & the paramedics do the hymleich not knowing you would ***** our promises all over the the restaurant    stage 3 your new lover surprises you by cleaning the house & washes the shirt you kept next to the bed, not knowing it was the last thing you had that smelled like me after people always ask what was loving her like? after a really long silence i just say "it must be nice" but i never say it's watching paint dry i never say it's a window seat in hell i don't tell anyone about the dreams where i am reading you bedtime stories each one is a different way you die & every time i can never save you dreams where what i think are angels in my bedroom are just homeless versions of myself you never loved i have dreams where i pay someone to shoot me just to see if you would cry just to see if you would cradle my body i don't tell people that loving you is like playing piano for someone who can't hear that it's hitting repeat on my favorite song & forgetting the words every time it starts over that it's finding out there's no milk after you already poured yourself a bowl of cereal it's getting locked in the dark & being told to look on the bright side that loving you is like being reminded of what it felt like the first time you accidentally let go of a balloon as a child it's drowning without the water it's the feeling you get when you start to dance & the song ends
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68
"But what if we're wrong?" It was silent But her thoughts echoed around in my head as we laid on top of her pickup truck I swatted at the eighteenth mosquito chewing on my leg I don't want this to be love We were tangled up in the acoustic music they play on the radio on Sunday mornings She was trying to dream up something clever to write about And I was pretending I could learn to play guitar through osmosis, As if blending myself in with the harmonies, finding her in every lyric, and sheer willpower would give me wings or at least magic guitar hands She set the alarm, checked it over and over She was not going to be late for her first day I told her I'd be asleep when she got home, she told me she knew I told her to wake me up I wasn't looking for perfect Perfect really only applies in first year physics courses After that, we learn to fall in love with "rough around the edges" or "unique" or "unfinished" As if their life is a puzzle that we need to complete Just so you know, it isn't She bought me breakfast and dropped me off She used to tell me she loved me, but I know she didn't She does now, so she doesn't have to say it anymore When I said, "love," before, I didn't really mean it Not like I mean loving the garden on the balcony of her apartment or thunderstorms in May Even if I was a puzzle that she completed (and I'm not saying that I am), we didn't need any glue to fit perfectly
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May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 9:17 PM UTC
Puzzle
A beauty you are out and within Insatiable desire to write poetry on your skin Your body my canvas feel my gentle brush Writing ******* with my ****** touch Cinnamon lips I love your tone Soft and silky to the bone Finding words..be my guide As we connect I come inside Filling each other..there's no strain Steady my thoughts I must maintain Watching my penmanship using a steady stroke I start hallucinating from my mental smoke Sends me into a frenzied flow I'll find my pace..go on a roll My words soak in as you taste My emotions invade your inner space Down from your toes..Up to your eyes Writing Haikus between your thighs Poetry on your body every inch You start writhing from my Scorpion pinch Sinfully venomous my words forever sink Into your skin my poetic tattoo ink As you lay naked I visually feast Every line of your body a masterpiece..
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Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 8:01 PM UTC
Body
it's 3:23 in the morning and I'm awake because my great great grandchildren won't let me sleep my great great grandchildren ask me in dreams what did you do while the planet was plundered? what did you do when the earth was unraveling? surely you did something when the seasons started failing? as the mammals, reptiles, birds were all dying? did you fill the streets with protest when democracy was stolen? what did you do once you knew? I'm riding home on the Colma train I've got the voice of the milky way in my dreams I have teams of scientists feeding me data daily and pleading I immediately turn it into poetry I want just this consciousness reached by people in range of secret frequencies contained in my speech I am the desirous earth equidistant to the underworld and the flesh of the stars I am everything already lost the moment the universe turns transparent and all the light shoots through the cosmos I use words to instigate silence I'm a hieroglyphic stairway in a buried Mayan city suddenly exposed by a hurricane a satellite circling earth finding dinosaur bones in the Gobi desert I am telescopes that see back in time I am the precession of the equinoxes, the magnetism of the spiraling sea I'm riding home on the Colma train with the voice of the milky way in my dreams I am myths where violets blossom from blood like dying and rising gods I'm the boundary of time soul encountering soul and tongues of fire it's 3:23 in the morning and I can't sleep because my great great grandchildren ask me in dreams what did you do while the earth was unraveling? I want just this consciousness reached by people in range of secret frequencies contained in my speech ©2003
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Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 6:51 PM UTC
Hieroglyphic Stairway by Drew Dellinger
it's 3:23 in the morning and I'm awake because my great great grandchildren won't let me sleep my great great grandchildren ask me in dreams what did you do while the planet was plundered? what did you do when the earth was unraveling? surely you did something when the seasons started failing? as the mammals, reptiles, birds were all dying? did you fill the streets with protest when democracy was stolen? what did you do once you knew? I'm riding home on the Colma train I've got the voice of the milky way in my dreams I have teams of scientists feeding me data daily and pleading I immediately turn it into poetry I want just this consciousness reached by people in range of secret frequencies contained in my speech I am the desirous earth equidistant to the underworld and the flesh of the stars I am everything already lost the moment the universe turns transparent and all the light shoots through the cosmos I use words to instigate silence I'm a hieroglyphic stairway in a buried Mayan city suddenly exposed by a hurricane a satellite circling earth finding dinosaur bones in the Gobi desert I am telescopes that see back in time I am the precession of the equinoxes, the magnetism of the spiraling sea I'm riding home on the Colma train with the voice of the milky way in my dreams I am myths where violets blossom from blood like dying and rising gods I'm the boundary of time soul encountering soul and tongues of fire it's 3:23 in the morning and I can't sleep because my great great grandchildren ask me in dreams what did you do while the earth was unraveling? I want just this consciousness reached by people in range of secret frequencies contained in my speech ©2003
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58
Where are your wings now? How can they save you now? Left alone, barely able to stand on your own two feet. You walk a thousand miles down a dirt road finding hunger along the way. You drink a gallon of water for the first time so everything in the world stops and leaves you breathless. You can't believe the feeling of pain and dwell in sorrow over something, you can't control. You set the world on fire but never knew how to use a match. Now you're a nomad dreaming of meeting someone who will help you put out the flames but instead, everyone glares at you while walking around in their ashes. And if you knew what you know now nothing would have changed, and everything would be in its place. You wish to undo what has been done but you have a heavy soul surrounded by mountains and oceans. So let the sun die down and let the morning pour in hope of anew to come. You used to be a beautiful angel but now your grace has been ripped out. Now you're a human with ***** feet, a hard soul, broken wings, and scarred and cut skin you wish to just be left behind. Let the wind take you and lead you across the winding roads, into the hands, you solely search for to help and to hold. The only hands that can make you feel whole and holy, even without a halo.
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Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 7:11 PM UTC
Human
Right person, wrong time When we met I knew, exactly You automatically had my heart Resistance as they say was futile Our chemistry and cosmic friends Were making more plays Than our hands could play against We sure as hell couldn't bluff We were both in pain After finding ourselves somewhere confused We had planned for the rest of our lives And been abused Wrong time We both have too much to fix Right now, but we will When it comes together Will we be together? You took my pain away As I did yours I know this is true I saw you smile and heard you laugh With me It was the most sincere We had both lost that for so long I won't promise that I will wait I don't expect you to either But know that I will think of you I know better than to say something Ridiculous Like, you were the "one" Or something like that I know better I think you are a good catch The best yet I am not throwing you back But I do believe in possibilities And the future is ours Should we take it You made me feel special Like I've always wanted to feel I can't throw that away Absolutely not What we have is one in a billion One way or another You will always have a place in my heart Because you're special to me too I feel better just for having met you
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Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 10:35 PM UTC
Right Person, Wrong Time
This letter is truly and doubtlessly a letter to the only person who will be left when everyone else is gone. To the woman of my life. To my love, my life, my everything. To me. Dear me, You, the way you are, are perfect. You, with your little struggles you bear, with all the strength you carry so desperately around, finding a way to use it in your everyday life. You, with all your words stuck in your throat that you are so scared to say out loud – so you write them down. You, with your smart-ass-mouth trying to make this world a better place. You, who has already realized that you must better yourself first to better others. You are all through perfect in your own way. And yes, times were tough back then, but you were tougher. You mastered to overcome your biggest fear – the fear to stand for what you want and to love yourself entirely. And even though, your selflove has improved so much over these past few years, you must learn a lot, you will have to endure a lot of pain and gain a lot of strength. Selflove is a lifetime process. My wonderful, beautiful love, You carry mountains on your back and universes in your mind. And every single day you wake up you are a better version of yourself. Whatever you wish to do – do so! This is your life and you have to hold the upper hand in it. You have to be your own master. Yes, let life be taught by others. Watch them live, but never become someone else while observing. God did his best in making you special and unique – do not destroy his work of art in imitating. Learn. Observe. Master. Once you can rely on yourself, you are ready to change the world. The world is waiting for you to make it the place it deserves to be. A good place, a place with no fear, with no terror. A place people can feel secure and loved. Make this not only a vision but the reality. Do your best and whatever you have reached at the end of the day – you DID your best. You were great, and you could not have done any better. I am proud of you. And I love you. To the dearest, most beautiful person on this planet, me.
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Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 2:15 PM UTC
A love letter to me.
This letter is truly and doubtlessly a letter to the only person who will be left when everyone else is gone. To the woman of my life. To my love, my life, my everything. To me. Dear me, You, the way you are, are perfect. You, with your little struggles you bear, with all the strength you carry so desperately around, finding a way to use it in your everyday life. You, with all your words stuck in your throat that you are so scared to say out loud – so you write them down. You, with your smart-ass-mouth trying to make this world a better place. You, who has already realized that you must better yourself first to better others. You are all through perfect in your own way. And yes, times were tough back then, but you were tougher. You mastered to overcome your biggest fear – the fear to stand for what you want and to love yourself entirely. And even though, your selflove has improved so much over these past few years, you must learn a lot, you will have to endure a lot of pain and gain a lot of strength. Selflove is a lifetime process. My wonderful, beautiful love, You carry mountains on your back and universes in your mind. And every single day you wake up you are a better version of yourself. Whatever you wish to do – do so! This is your life and you have to hold the upper hand in it. You have to be your own master. Yes, let life be taught by others. Watch them live, but never become someone else while observing. God did his best in making you special and unique – do not destroy his work of art in imitating. Learn. Observe. Master. Once you can rely on yourself, you are ready to change the world. The world is waiting for you to make it the place it deserves to be. A good place, a place with no fear, with no terror. A place people can feel secure and loved. Make this not only a vision but the reality. Do your best and whatever you have reached at the end of the day – you DID your best. You were great, and you could not have done any better. I am proud of you. And I love you. To the dearest, most beautiful person on this planet, me.
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26
I'm explaining to the people of the world What Fate of Ten stands for And my persistent craving for books Bur does it look as if they understand? No They don't And that's the problem Of the dark world I'm finding myself in And that's the problem Of a world full of people that doesn't read Something I thought would've Changed When the things named 'e-books' arrived Because everyone was crazy That our world turned 'technological advanced' And everyone turned a blind eye From the comforts of the past There was always this people That said 'Technology will make your life so much better' But now I've come to believe that We act as if we're worshiping it And cherishing the fact that 'Our life's made easier' But rather We are blinded By the Imminent Torture Of the Future
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Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 4:02 AM UTC
Books vs technology (just a poem)
Casualty: my interest fading Once waxing moon now seen waning And I did concede your irksome warning And watched as the rest played out So let bygones be gone, fallen out by the side Of this road, worn down, still restless, keeping straight Eyes glinting off token little bits of hospitality Mother nature being so inclined at times The stress so unnerving, I hardly doubt it But tension is eased once it comes to acceptance And I accept in full, finding time to unwind Winding stretch of lonely road, dotted here and there by An occasional landmark Or a lonely tractor pulling behind it Iron bars, old and rusted Found in their hold Bales of hay or A small little pond With a bench beside it Holding initials carved against the grain With a heart surrounding As mine beats slower At last, the sun begins going down And the moon grows brighter Even in its state And my feet move faster Though my body is withering I feel this separation growing As my mind takes flight and leaves me Behind, in the twisting twilight And alone, I walk along
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Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 6:31 AM UTC
Friday
You are my wind You are my sun The blood in my veins The bones to make me stand I've been drowning And i thought you were my life raft I thought you were my island My safe place to escape But turning away from the water Won't make it go away Running from the sea Won't make it less deep I've grown so used to finding my boat So used to hiding from the tide I panicked when it wasn't there Has my boat sailed away? The panic gave me a cramp Tied weights to me And I began to sink faster How could my boat do this? How could it sail away? But the more I missed my boat The more I needed it to stay But not as safety Not as refuge But a love to share And laugh and grow I still need my boat But not like I did before No more hiding No more dry land I need to swim Because boats are fun And great for days But the sea is a beast That no boat can match No she doesn't care that I'm a mermaid Who fell in love with a fisherman She doesn't care I've spent too much time on dry land I forgot how to use my fins A mermaid that can't swim What a pathetic life it is But she's cruel She wont keep the boats around So don't forget how to swim Don't forget how to use your fins We are strong us mermaids Making deals with sea witches Seducing men to their death All fine folk tales But you have to believe the myth Always been strong Because regardless of what Disney said I can't grow legs I'll always be a mermaid But what use is it if I can't swim When I learn how to swim again I hope my fisherman will come back I hope he hasn't sailed too far away When I'm on deck of our boat again We will dance and sing Maybe have dogs And flowers to remind us of land A piano in the dining room And guitars lining the walls Music will echo They can hear us from land The happy fisher and his happy mermaid Living together again But storms always come Because that's how nature works It rains It snows It storms Than the sun returns This time when the storm comes And makes waves that could touch the moon And I get thrown overboard I won't forget how to swim I'll play with the fish Make friends with sharks And await the return of my beautiful fisherman But you will always be my wind My sun The air in my lungs But soon I will have gills So I can breath when the water comes You can't be my fins anymore You can't be my dry land You can't save me from drowning Because mermaids are free But if you want You can be free with me So please return my beautiful sailor And we can live on our happy boat And I'll be one with the sea Because this sea is a part of me
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Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 11:39 PM UTC
My beautiful fisherman
You are my wind You are my sun The blood in my veins The bones to make me stand I've been drowning And i thought you were my life raft I thought you were my island My safe place to escape But turning away from the water Won't make it go away Running from the sea Won't make it less deep I've grown so used to finding my boat So used to hiding from the tide I panicked when it wasn't there Has my boat sailed away? The panic gave me a cramp Tied weights to me And I began to sink faster How could my boat do this? How could it sail away? But the more I missed my boat The more I needed it to stay But not as safety Not as refuge But a love to share And laugh and grow I still need my boat But not like I did before No more hiding No more dry land I need to swim Because boats are fun And great for days But the sea is a beast That no boat can match No she doesn't care that I'm a mermaid Who fell in love with a fisherman She doesn't care I've spent too much time on dry land I forgot how to use my fins A mermaid that can't swim What a pathetic life it is But she's cruel She wont keep the boats around So don't forget how to swim Don't forget how to use your fins We are strong us mermaids Making deals with sea witches Seducing men to their death All fine folk tales But you have to believe the myth Always been strong Because regardless of what Disney said I can't grow legs I'll always be a mermaid But what use is it if I can't swim When I learn how to swim again I hope my fisherman will come back I hope he hasn't sailed too far away When I'm on deck of our boat again We will dance and sing Maybe have dogs And flowers to remind us of land A piano in the dining room And guitars lining the walls Music will echo They can hear us from land The happy fisher and his happy mermaid Living together again But storms always come Because that's how nature works It rains It snows It storms Than the sun returns This time when the storm comes And makes waves that could touch the moon And I get thrown overboard I won't forget how to swim I'll play with the fish Make friends with sharks And await the return of my beautiful fisherman But you will always be my wind My sun The air in my lungs But soon I will have gills So I can breath when the water comes You can't be my fins anymore You can't be my dry land You can't save me from drowning Because mermaids are free But if you want You can be free with me So please return my beautiful sailor And we can live on our happy boat And I'll be one with the sea Because this sea is a part of me
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Anxiety is not stress. Anxiety is not some umbrella term you can use to describe how you feel when your favorite character in a book is in an intense battle unless you can somehow feel how fast their heart is beating until you can feel how hot their blood is until you can feel what it’s like to be that character in that situation the weight of the world on your shoulders Anxiety is not finding lighting candles to be the only solution, candles are another problem. Another long paragraph to your list of “Things That Can Easily **** Me” example: “I didn’t leave any matches out, did I? I blew out the candle right? I need to check. Do I smell burning?? PUT THE CAP WHEN IT’S DONE! Will set off my fire alarm? Does my fire alarm work? Where’s my fire alarm??? Where’s somewhere I can put it so it doesn’t hurt me. THIS IS OK THIS IS NORMAL THIS IS RELAXATION.” Anxiety is not stress. Anxiety is horrible flashing images, constant reminders, the most negative form of “what if” imaginable. Anxiety is wasting all your time thinking about an 8 page paper due for class in a week but instead of bringing yourself to writing it you are sobbing on the floor thinking of how bad for your grade this will be. Anxiety is having a crush on a girl and trying out makeup for the first time. Anxiety is having a crush on a guy and wondering if your sense of humor is funny enough. Anxiety is not stress. Anxiety is downloading an app that checks on your health and leaves you wondering how long this has been going on for. Anxiety is wondering how to fix your eating disorder instead of actually fixing it Anxiety is outing yourself to fit in Anxiety is always wearing pants because you’re too afraid of your own scars Anxiety is staying up countless nights crying crying crying you cannot yell your thoughts are no longer your own Anxiety is writing a list of pros and cons to killing yourself Anxiety is lighting a candle so you can slowly burn the list because Anxiety is telling you if someone finds out, you will die. Anxiety is not stress. Anxiety is having making a friend and losing them in less than a year Anxiety is wondering if all this help is helping or do I need to help myself Anxiety is your friends questioning you non-stop are they really questioning you or do you question yourself? Anxiety is memorizing the suicide prevention hotline Anxiety is beating yourself up countless times “How could you forget something as simple as a Birthday?!” Anxiety is “I only have three friends and one hates me, one I’m trying not to lose, and the other I love too much to tell the truth” Anxiety is “It’s only a matter of time before we all die!” Anxiety is “Congratulations! Two of your friends have died this year alone! One ******* hates you! Oh! HAHA! Wait! They all ******* hate you!” Anxiety can turn you from “Wow. I look kinda good today.” to ”DYSPHORIA! DYSPHORIA! DYSPHORIA!” JUST ******* KIDDING! ANXIETY IS STRESS! AND MUCH MUCH MORE!!!!!!!!
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Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 3:50 PM UTC
Anxiety is not Stress
Anxiety is not stress. Anxiety is not some umbrella term you can use to describe how you feel when your favorite character in a book is in an intense battle unless you can somehow feel how fast their heart is beating until you can feel how hot their blood is until you can feel what it’s like to be that character in that situation the weight of the world on your shoulders Anxiety is not finding lighting candles to be the only solution, candles are another problem. Another long paragraph to your list of “Things That Can Easily **** Me” example: “I didn’t leave any matches out, did I? I blew out the candle right? I need to check. Do I smell burning?? PUT THE CAP WHEN IT’S DONE! Will set off my fire alarm? Does my fire alarm work? Where’s my fire alarm??? Where’s somewhere I can put it so it doesn’t hurt me. THIS IS OK THIS IS NORMAL THIS IS RELAXATION.” Anxiety is not stress. Anxiety is horrible flashing images, constant reminders, the most negative form of “what if” imaginable. Anxiety is wasting all your time thinking about an 8 page paper due for class in a week but instead of bringing yourself to writing it you are sobbing on the floor thinking of how bad for your grade this will be. Anxiety is having a crush on a girl and trying out makeup for the first time. Anxiety is having a crush on a guy and wondering if your sense of humor is funny enough. Anxiety is not stress. Anxiety is downloading an app that checks on your health and leaves you wondering how long this has been going on for. Anxiety is wondering how to fix your eating disorder instead of actually fixing it Anxiety is outing yourself to fit in Anxiety is always wearing pants because you’re too afraid of your own scars Anxiety is staying up countless nights crying crying crying you cannot yell your thoughts are no longer your own Anxiety is writing a list of pros and cons to killing yourself Anxiety is lighting a candle so you can slowly burn the list because Anxiety is telling you if someone finds out, you will die. Anxiety is not stress. Anxiety is having making a friend and losing them in less than a year Anxiety is wondering if all this help is helping or do I need to help myself Anxiety is your friends questioning you non-stop are they really questioning you or do you question yourself? Anxiety is memorizing the suicide prevention hotline Anxiety is beating yourself up countless times “How could you forget something as simple as a Birthday?!” Anxiety is “I only have three friends and one hates me, one I’m trying not to lose, and the other I love too much to tell the truth” Anxiety is “It’s only a matter of time before we all die!” Anxiety is “Congratulations! Two of your friends have died this year alone! One ******* hates you! Oh! HAHA! Wait! They all ******* hate you!” Anxiety can turn you from “Wow. I look kinda good today.” to ”DYSPHORIA! DYSPHORIA! DYSPHORIA!” JUST ******* KIDDING! ANXIETY IS STRESS! AND MUCH MUCH MORE!!!!!!!!
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*Two love adventurers Welcome the night Many curves to explore Trace the unknown haven Clues spelled out with soft sighs Finding each other’s comfort Soul’s feel the warmth to the core It’s an inseparable embrace Sending shivers down every nerve Finally to love adventurers Exploiting the lovely terrains Reach the peak of contentment Now they lay exhausted After a satisfying adventure*
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May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 11:32 PM UTC
Lovely Adventure
People often ask me what love is And I seriously don't know what it means All I can think about is you Your eyes, those brown eyes Those eyes which saw me naked You saw every scar on my body Yet the only thing you said was “You are beautiful” Love, I am not beautiful Scars, stretch marks, blood, wounds Doesn't mean beautiful I am not an art Yet your lips kissed me The way the sun kissed my skin every morning Without a fail, without any doubt You smiled. And the only words that came to my mind was **** this is trouble" My love, your words hold me like a hostage Trapped inside an empty box, finding a way out. A way I can never ever get a glimpse of. I knew that this love Our love would last a lifetime Or so I thought We were torn apart by hatreds, insecurities, confusions Maybe if it wasn't for distance We would be still together, we could have worked it out But maybe, no matter what decisions we'll make We will still come to an end Confused about the future Insecure about other people Hating each other You, giving up And me, craving for more Craving for something that can fill up the hole inside my chest I wanted you to stay forever, here beside me But every time I would ask about it You always said "You deserve so much more" You were once my everything My other half My partner in crime You were someone so freaking important to me You were the kind of mistake, I wouldn't mind repeating I fell so hard for you And guess what happened? Love, I am broken How many days, months, years For me, to forget That once upon a time You were here I was there Hands holding tighter Eyes locked to each other Hearts that beat in a synchronizing manner How much would it cost? For the pain to stop For the memories to abandon For the feelings to fade My love, I did not expect any of this I didn't know that love can be deadly A love that can force someone to commit suicide That loving someone means tearing every part of yourself Now, do you think I'm suicidal? Love, do not be afraid I'm not going to die Being suicidal doesn’t mean killing yourself Suicidal means I wouldn't mind dying I kept on dying anyway I kept on dying at the same place I thought was giving life to me Because the day, you decided to give up on me I already gave up on myself.
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Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 10:56 AM UTC
A suicide note from my love letter
People often ask me what love is And I seriously don't know what it means All I can think about is you Your eyes, those brown eyes Those eyes which saw me naked You saw every scar on my body Yet the only thing you said was “You are beautiful” Love, I am not beautiful Scars, stretch marks, blood, wounds Doesn't mean beautiful I am not an art Yet your lips kissed me The way the sun kissed my skin every morning Without a fail, without any doubt You smiled. And the only words that came to my mind was **** this is trouble" My love, your words hold me like a hostage Trapped inside an empty box, finding a way out. A way I can never ever get a glimpse of. I knew that this love Our love would last a lifetime Or so I thought We were torn apart by hatreds, insecurities, confusions Maybe if it wasn't for distance We would be still together, we could have worked it out But maybe, no matter what decisions we'll make We will still come to an end Confused about the future Insecure about other people Hating each other You, giving up And me, craving for more Craving for something that can fill up the hole inside my chest I wanted you to stay forever, here beside me But every time I would ask about it You always said "You deserve so much more" You were once my everything My other half My partner in crime You were someone so freaking important to me You were the kind of mistake, I wouldn't mind repeating I fell so hard for you And guess what happened? Love, I am broken How many days, months, years For me, to forget That once upon a time You were here I was there Hands holding tighter Eyes locked to each other Hearts that beat in a synchronizing manner How much would it cost? For the pain to stop For the memories to abandon For the feelings to fade My love, I did not expect any of this I didn't know that love can be deadly A love that can force someone to commit suicide That loving someone means tearing every part of yourself Now, do you think I'm suicidal? Love, do not be afraid I'm not going to die Being suicidal doesn’t mean killing yourself Suicidal means I wouldn't mind dying I kept on dying anyway I kept on dying at the same place I thought was giving life to me Because the day, you decided to give up on me I already gave up on myself.
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My little friend is now gone My tragic life must go on; despite that His evil eyes and his cheeky smile still burn in my mind He no longer exists except For my memory of him And I rejoiced When I heard the news Still I can recall how I sobbed When he gave me his evil eye for the first time When he hurled glass and other projectiles at me when he was hungry When he spent hours upon hours pondering the fabric of society I hated him I wished For his death I was depressed It was like paint peeling off a wall It was like finding a dead leprechaun at the end of a rainbow I was expecting some sort of remorse when he left Funny how heartbreak works Now read this in reverse Because sometimes all you need Is a little change of perspective To truly understand someone
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Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 12:28 PM UTC
My Little Friend
They look out from the terrace. At the borders of sight live rocky hills behind brown and golden and olive crop under a cloudless sky. BANG! An artificial cloud. “Mira,” she points, “Venga!” They fly down stairs, diving like sparrows into the street. Boys sprint across pavements and climb; men vault over fences in time for news to reach ears. "¡Ya vienen!" Excitement and fear. The rattling of cow bells and galloping nears. Men bait and dodge horns and escape through doors and up and over red wooden bars. Sticks beat on the concrete ground and closer, louder, gallops sound. Seconds away – until the last, he side steps into a house; indoors, apart, he runs through the foyer and up the stairs around a corner with long strides too fast to follow. She chooses left and sings soprano when doors won't budge and        it                       crashes                                        in. She turns and the fear is paralysing. "FERMIN!" "FERMIN!" "FERMIN!" He hurdles the stairs and explodes but it rams her to and fro, thrashing her head against the wall where horns sin and gore cement and brick. He clasps the tail and heaves its hide from side to side as hooves smash crates of wine - they slip and slide in fractured glass; he finds a horn and yanks the head! He's yanked instead near dead before the men arrive down stairs to punch and kick it; strike and stick it smack and hit it; 'til it fits and quits and flees the foyer, fast and frantic, flying flustered by the frenzy, finally finding pattering paves it peters off down the street. "¿Que ha pasado?   ¿Quien ha sido?   ¡El Balbotin   y la Chicha!   ¡Que una vaca   les ha pillado!" "¿Estas bien?" Dizzy she's there with searching hands and scolding. "Podria haber sido peor"
0
Apr 25, 2018
Apr 25, 2018 at 7:09 PM UTC
Fermin el Balbotin
They look out from the terrace. At the borders of sight live rocky hills behind brown and golden and olive crop under a cloudless sky. BANG! An artificial cloud. “Mira,” she points, “Venga!” They fly down stairs, diving like sparrows into the street. Boys sprint across pavements and climb; men vault over fences in time for news to reach ears. "¡Ya vienen!" Excitement and fear. The rattling of cow bells and galloping nears. Men bait and dodge horns and escape through doors and up and over red wooden bars. Sticks beat on the concrete ground and closer, louder, gallops sound. Seconds away – until the last, he side steps into a house; indoors, apart, he runs through the foyer and up the stairs around a corner with long strides too fast to follow. She chooses left and sings soprano when doors won't budge and        it                       crashes                                        in. She turns and the fear is paralysing. "FERMIN!" "FERMIN!" "FERMIN!" He hurdles the stairs and explodes but it rams her to and fro, thrashing her head against the wall where horns sin and gore cement and brick. He clasps the tail and heaves its hide from side to side as hooves smash crates of wine - they slip and slide in fractured glass; he finds a horn and yanks the head! He's yanked instead near dead before the men arrive down stairs to punch and kick it; strike and stick it smack and hit it; 'til it fits and quits and flees the foyer, fast and frantic, flying flustered by the frenzy, finally finding pattering paves it peters off down the street. "¿Que ha pasado?   ¿Quien ha sido?   ¡El Balbotin   y la Chicha!   ¡Que una vaca   les ha pillado!" "¿Estas bien?" Dizzy she's there with searching hands and scolding. "Podria haber sido peor"
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