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Trisha Apr 2014
Unfulfilled dreams
lost without at trace
crying all day
tired of faking
both a smile
and happiness
humiliated by
everyone everywhere
she loses all hope
sits on the window pane
cries her heart out
she feels helpless
finds no reason to live
grabs a knife
cuts her wrist
red all over
her last tear drop
last red
she thought all her
pain and sorrow
is all gone
but there was no one
to call her beautiful
every morning
no one to make her
feel special and happy

**Dont cut people, your skin is not paper, you're beautiful. Trust me, you are
I don't know.
Valsa George Apr 2016
The waterlogged lands have long gone dry
The soil is lying cracked and parched
The frogs that crocked in shallow pools,
Nowhere on land or water to be seen
The once full river has thinned and narrowed
Into a greasy smudge of faded stain
On the long yard of brown earth
The road is a burning stretch of black
Sure it can make the water steam and sizzle
Quicker than in an electric ***
The sun is seen a flaming ball in the sky
Darting down spears of smarting beams


Heat like a spiteful scorpion’s sting
Burns the flesh and the bared scalp
Watermelons or chilled buttermilk
Cannot douse the midday heat
The fiery tongue of humid summer
Licks up the last residue of green
The woods dread the fall of a spark
That can ignite an inferno, anytime

The cattle stay still with frothy foam
Dripping down from their drooping tongues
A thirsty crow beside a dried up pond
Looks around for a drop of water
(But alas, not as lucky as the parable crow
That finds a jar of half filled elixir)
A line of black ants carry a carcass
Clambering up the cracked stump of a tree

The brown grass sings
And the Etna seethes!
K Balachandran Sep 2014
Spinning top vanishes in a blur
motion finds an inward swirl
through a tunnel undaunted
find quietude, dazzling light, merge.
c quirino Nov 2013
I was caught in the wheel for 27 days.
my ring finger, left hand,
just below the knuckle.
flesh lay threaded through spokes.

lying there,
blood in cascade within my veins, away from the finger tip.
a bustling commute inside of me.

eyes upward, fixed there, even in rain.
overflowing in showers,
these bubbling iris pools.

I’ve had my fill,
and very swiftly i go.
on the mornings of journeys,
hesitation finds no home in me.

the only request i have is for a graceful exit,
swift, and defiant.
Kewayne Wadley May 2018
And like a bird
She flies away.
She sings her song in ultimate joy.
Her heart flutters.
Singing what comes to mind.
Soon as she is approached.
She flies away.
The wind beneath her arms.
She goes higher and higher.
Stopping in mid air,
Her arms tired & sore.
The life she deserves isn't far.
Gliding towards the horizon.
Soon as she finds peace.
It is easily disturbed.
Looking around to find the best place.
Seeking shelter she flies further.
Appearances aren't at all what they seem.
For this she is labeled and taken for granted.
Curiously placing one foot in front of the other.
Veering the opposite direction.
Her heart falling faster and faster.
They don't know her worth.
She flies higher and higher
Khaniek May 2020
I don’t think about you.
Instead, I think of ways to be happy.
You are not a part of that.

In my mind, love comes to me.
Loud and clear without hesitation,
Love finds me.

For this to be true,
I know it isn’t you.

Before,
The sun was my reason.
The stars, moon, galaxies, never ending space,
Guiding light, journey without end.
More than fairytales..

Love that is real.
Love that means more..
Susan O'Reilly Apr 2013
Some would say mysterious

I say dark and devious

from experience previous

He loathes strong women

doesn’t value their opinion

treats them as minions

He hides from my presence

doesn’t like my essence

petrified I guess

I find this hilarious

I’m just gregarious

and think he’s precarious

I should take it as a compliment

he finds me a worthy opponent

thought fills me with merriment
Big Virge Mar 2017
I ... REALLY LOVE ... *** ...
ESPECIALLY with ... My New girlfriend ... !!!

I Love ... women ...
but really can't be doing ....
with ... Arguments ... !!!

That's why ... My ... " Pen " ...
is my ... New girlfriend ...

We make ... " Love " ...
and Love the touch ...
of pen to page ....

When we ... Engage ...
It feels just like ...
A ... ****** High ...

NO ... NOT That Way ... !!!
You've got a ... SICK BRAIN ... !!!!!

There's Nothing ... quite like
**** ... Feminine Thighs ... !!!
but ... after *** ...
and ... Cigarettes ...

Some girls give ... STRESS ...
to their ... boyfriends ... !!! ...

That's why I like ...
to ... sit and write ...

Because ........

I Don't get stressed ...
by my ... New Girlfriend ...

Her name ... is ... " Pen " ...

NOT ... Penny ...
or ... Penelope ... !!!

Should I ...
say it again ... ?

My ... " Pen " ... is now
My New ... girlfriend ...
and YES ... we have ...
INCREDIBLE ... *** ... !!!!!!

The kind of ***
WITHOUT ... the stress ...
of ...... *** ......
or other types of ... STD's ... !!!!!

*** like this ...
is ... TRULY ... Bliss ... !!!

NO Condoms ...
and NO ... Colons ... !!!!!!!!!

Except ... for those ...
that fit in ... Prose ...

So ... NO ******* ...
and NO ... Mistakes ... !!!

Helping us to ... avoid ...
Long Term ... Headaches ... !!!

But ... EVEN If ...
by chance ... they do ...

Trust in this ... !!!

They're just ... " Removed " ...
Without ... tissues ... !!!

Or ... with trips ...
to ... " THOSE " ... Clinics ... !!!!!

If ... During ...
or ... because of ... *** ...
We make a ... Mistake ...

NO ... Pregnancy tests ... !!!
or ... Arguments ...

Our friend ... " Tipp-Ex " ...
is our ... " Best Mate " ...
Just like ... THAT ...
Mistake ... ERASED ... !!!!!!!!!!

I'm telling you ... Straight ...
Our *** is ... GREAT ... !!! ...

I think that ... Pen's ...
My New ... " Soulmate " ... !!!!!

She's ... " Tall and slim " ...
and at a ... " Whim " ...
Can change the colour ...
of her ... Skin ...

And ............... If I think ...
She's a bit .... " TOO BIG " ... !!!

She Doesn't ... fume ...
if she gets ... Ditched ...
for ... Another Pen ...
I choose to ... " Pick " ...

This simply is ...
The way of things ...
in our ... *** Relationship ...

" IT'S ... ONLY *** ! "

is what she says .........

but makes sure that ...
it's NEVER ... Bad ...
when she's attached ...
to my ... " Notepad " ... !!!!!!

She's ... QUALITY ... man ... !!!!!
and i'm ... SO GLAD ...
that she ... " Found Me " ...
Through ... " Poetry " ...

She told me ....

" Virge, I love your rap ... !!! "

but then ... Of course ...
I answered back ...

"Come on now Pen,
It's not just rap !
Don't get it confused
like certain crews !
This is something
Beautiful !
What we do,
leaves people moved,
just like you,
whenever you choose,
to *** it up,
in my front room !!!"

She simply said,

"Big Virge that's true !
How about this view ?
Your way with words
makes our love work !"

I'm ... Telling You ...... !!!

She's a ... SPECIAL ... girl ...
who makes me feel ...
On ... TOP OF THE WORLD ... !!!!!

She loves me with ...
Her heart ... FREELY ... !!!!!

and chooses to ....
Just .... let me be ........

Until it's time ...
to just ... recline ...
and let our souls ...
Make Love ... through scrolls ...

It's MORE THAN ... *** ...
when this .... Unfolds ......................

NO GIRL ... provides ...
Such ... " Loving " ... vibes ...
WITHOUT ... " Conditions " ...

That's ... THE CRIME ... !!!!!

Whenever I write ...
It's a ... JOYOUS ... Ride ... !!!

Even when ...
My Anger ... finds ...
A place within ....

" Poetic " ... lines ...

But ... EVEN ... then ...
" My Pen " ... Still Shines ... !!!!!

and let's me know ...

" Hey Virge it's fine
I'll Love You til',
the day you die !"

She is ..."  My LIGHT " ...
and my ... SUNSHINE ... !!!!!
and is ... " The Love " ...
that ... FILLS ... My Life ... !!!!!!

When I just .......... sit ...........
and HOLD ........ " My Pen " .......

She ALWAYS sends ...
My brain ... these scripts ...
that ... in the end ...
are ... Celestial Gifts ... !!!!!!!!!!

Negative ... or ... Positive
The balance reached ....

REJECTS ... needless
........... Vanity .........

but Welcomes ... MORE ...
.......... Humility ..........

That;s why ... The *** ...
is ... SO **** GOOD ... !!!!!

because ... My Pen ....
will NOT BE .... " Pulled " ...
Away from ... ME ...
for Cars ... Babies ...
or .... BIG MONEY .... !!!

She just ... " LOVES ME " ...
Through ... " Poetry " ...

Like My Mother ...
did ... DAILY ...

From ... UP ABOVE ...
These days ... My Mum's ...
STILL LOVING ... Me ...
Through ... " My Pen " ...

UNCONDITIONALLY ... !!!!!!

So ... NO WOMEN ...
NO ... Arguments ...

Just .....

Me and ... " My Pen " ...
as .... " ****** Friends " ...

Until ... I FIND ...
within ... " This World " ...

A Truly ... **** ...
SPECIAL Girl ...

Who ... in the end ...
when we're in ... Bed ...

Makes me ... " Feel " ...
just like ... " My Pen " ...

and makes these words ...
run through ... " My Head " ...

Because of her ... WOW ...

I Really ... Love *** ... !!!!!!!!!
As far from *** as you could imagine, but my love for this art is expressed in this piece
Graff1980 Jul 2015
Soft yellow petals paint the earth, falling like tiny feathers back and forth in a cradling fashion and settling quietly into the dirt. A small figure howls his lamentations. He leans over the earth pounding his fists against the open ground. A vacant face with almost ape like features seems to be silently sleeping. Grunts of sorrow fill the mournful morning sky.

The small man-beast cries. Behind him tiny fingers clutch his light brown matted hair, muffled sobs slipping from their tiny mouths. He turns, cradling the younglings in his arms; then tightens his embrace, smothering their pain with his till there is a small sense of comfort left.

     A flaming arrow soars above a shimmering pool of water, whistling at its own reflection as it seeks its target. He floats gently in the pond a stark contrast from his own life. Once warrior now rotting corpse. Sword ceremoniously placed upon his chest; arms crossed. The flaming arrow falls. The body is consumed. In the distance a tribe stands stoically holding in tears of sorrow mixed with a tense sense of pride.

     Somewhere in the stone city a poets sings his sad rhymes, echoing the love of a stranger, the wrinkled form now fallen. The people pass in a small procession. He lets their soft sobs fill him up. A young man hands him a coin in gratitude for the melody and the honorable words then walks away his shoulders heavy with grief. His body sags as if the gravity has been multiplied by ten. A little girl sniffs the dry dusty air taking in the oils and perfumes, waiting to see if Hades shows up. The poets passes the newly earned coin to a starving stranger sitting quietly nearby.

Deep south a disfigured body dances in the breeze, swaying in time with the leaves of the tree. A mother wails; she is restrained. Her body, hardened by years of labor, crumbles for a moment. Her brown skin moistened by tears glimmers in the days harsh rays. Shaking with anguish, she struggles against the strength of those she loves. A male voice warns her against the dangers of trying to recover the body. Even so, it takes two grown men to hold her back.

A robed figure stifles his sorrow beneath the strong veil of faith. The restraint takes much of his mental strength leaving him emotionally fatigued. There is a small body laying limply in his arms. Blood paints his loose flowing robes red. His beard is sticky with sweat, sand, and snot. The face of the child is ruptured. That which once enraptured and inspired fatherly love now terrifies. The reality is a massive wound paralleled by the sickening hole in his child’s face. Brittle bone broken and bent sinking inwards as what should be there disappears. All that is left is a mess of flesh and pain. Barely a foot away one brother softly whispers his prayers to Allah on behalf of his nephew.

I close the eyes of my grandfather, or at least I imagine that I close his eyes. I do not have the strength to touch him. I do not know why. I want to pay him some grand respect out of love and gratitude. The guns sound a salute as strangers honor him more than I am able to. A folded flag finds its way into my arms. I am merely holding it for another. I look at my shirt, a weird black button up thing with short sleeves and flames, wishing I had worn something better. I wish I had a poem, or petals, or even a flaming arrow but all I have is this stupidly stunned face numbly staring out at the world.

Suddenly, I feel the softness of tiny furry fingers interlace with mine. Then the music of a foreign language plays in my ears. To the left, a strong brown calloused hand squeezes my shoulder in a statement of compassion. Behind me I feel the pat a powerful palms slapping against my back in pride. In front of me a thin skinned black bearded figure sits on his knees. He lowers his head, hands gently pressing against the ground. He prays, and I hear a beautiful accent in a tongue I cannot comprehend, but I understand the intent. Then the bearded stranger raises his head again, repeating the process a few more time. I nod my head in solemn gratitude.
Alyssa Beddoe Aug 2012
Late night dancing
When the music starts to play
Its hard not to dance to it.
As I twirl around the room
In to your arms. Dancing
On the soft notes of a violin
Echo within the house.  I dance
On my toes towards the door
Out in to the yard under the moonlight.
I dance to the beautiful music. The light
Soft violin floats over and through the
Cracks of the other house mixing in with the
Drum solo of the ******* rock song.

He dances in a different way
He bangs his head back and forth
To and fro letting his hair fall any ware.
He cranks it up to let the whole neighborhood
To hear. It escapes through the chimney traveling
Through the neighborhood till it reaches a
House party.

Teens buzzing every ware rubbing up on each other
All the ***** dancing adults hate. Listing to remixes
Of there favorite songs, the beat and screech of a siren
Fills the night sky, dub step is joining the party in the
Sky.  

Up in the clouds with only the moonlight to project the light
The music notes dance tonight.
The soft music twirls and spines around stage like a ballerina
She finds the boy with the head banging and teaches him how to
Spin while she learns how to shake her head.
The loudest of the party shows up and starts ***** dancing with
Everyone around.
The party becomes bigger as more of the neighborhood wakes up
To dance tonight.
Country and tap-dance the music notes find new partners
And dance the night away under the moonlight.
Janine Jacobs Feb 2016
more often misunderstood than not
i dance in spectrums of gray
where right and wrong is blurred
and faded edges
complicates this maze

i get lost in my own mind
blissfully wandering off
fixating about trivial things
staring at the moon for hours
waiting for it to answer me

perhaps im too different
beautifully broken yet starry eyed
quiet demeanor with a chaotic mind
and you, unfortunately,
are too the same

oneday i will find the soul
that finds peace in all of me
and we will wonder
and wander
together
Megan Parson Jan 2021
~°~°~°~

The rosy bride didn't pace the hall,
Nor was there a wedding ball.
No bridesmaids, no flower girls,
Nor did I wear my mothers pearls.

For without the groom,
Playeth not the loud bassoon,
Tis the words that played,
While my heart like thunder relayed.

Melancholy, like Caesar, did I feel,
Piercing eyes, put forth the deal,
Closer to a faint, did I reel,
And like Calpurnia, I now kneel.

Hoping you'll read this through,
Hardly ebbing the feelings, I grew.

~°~°~°~

Commit I, what I detest,
& leave you culprit, like in Gone Girl.
Painful thoughts, my mind did protest,
To new ventures, it would whirl.

A letter of love & apology,
on the very last day.
bearing, like Juliet's analogy,
Concealed beneath the fray.

'What ifs' sadly got the better,
But letter, tis the right way!
Or so I thought, while my mind did fetter,
To take action, a letter will I lay...

Sans number or address,
To test you, cuz love finds a way.
But this too, did I redress,
The masts somewhere else will sway.

"Don't be so ******* him,
Leave your number deep within."
"No, no, that'll make him dim,
give not even the pin."

Yet another did say,
"Leave clues, in & out,
work em woe till the gray."
These nasty devils dashed about.

~°~°~°~

At last did I none,
But write this terrific pun.
I know you know what I did
last summer. That has rid,

All that went on for the past 3 years?
Reality had become my fears,
Alas you believe the deed is done,
But you're right, you weren't the one.

If you had the patience,
To read this till the end.
Sans showing indifference,
Gratitude, I do extend.

By now, far away I'll be,
If Shrek could reach, so could you to me,
But there's a reason, it's a fantasy.
So goodbye, cuz I see,
Life has bigger plans for me.

~°~°~°~
Hey guys! Back after a looooong break & writers block. This poem was inspired by The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, an all time favorite ❤️
Leo Mar 2020
Sometimes I feel like I am about to figure out the punchline.

Everyone stops and watches.
Waits to see if we can end the charade.

Here—
Let me try—

Infant dies in NICU, never gets to question the nature of its existence.

No—
Wait—

Three year old child chokes on toy labeled not for children under the age of four.

No—
Hold up—

Six year old drowns in pool; parents too ****** up to notice.

No, no—
****—

It doesn’t have that ring of humor to it, that can’t be it.

I can feel it though, the laughter on the tip of my tongue waiting to boil over.

Here—
Let me try again—

Nine year old finds his parent’s candy, suffocates on his own *****.

No, no, no —
I’m close, I can feel it—
How about—

12 year old child plays with power tools, electrocuted.

No, no, no—
No, no—

21 year old man drives drunk, crashes into cemetery.

No, no, no—
No, no—
No, no—

25 year old man gets ******* sick of trying to see what’s on the other side of the painting, takes a bath in his own blood.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no—

Wait—
Here—

ENTIRE GENERATION spends their whole lives trying to distract themselves from the fact of their mortality.

None Survive.
dilshé Jul 2021
The teen-age finds
Infamy attractive
& the 'unlawfully fun'.
I heard that
There's no better feeling-
than being on the run.
Some made rebelling,
their creed
& saw thrill-
in ruination.
Amid the juvenile drama,
a thirst for-
retribution.
On top of
great parapets
& in thickets-
we hide.
Don't we all
want to be~
Infamous inside.
Sjr1000 Jul 2017
Loving kindness
Feelings of affection
Sweet hugs
Warm words
Feeling good about yourself
Feeling joy for the other finding that which makes them happy
So easy hanging out
Acceptance and understanding
The wonder of it all

One person's breakdown
Another person's break through

Sometimes bliss finds consciousness
Sometimes consciousness finds bliss

And that's the way it is
Always ambivalent occasionally right

Riding many ribbons
Twirling in the winds
Many sunrises
Many sunsets
Moment by moment
as one creates their life.
Kai Jul 2014
What is to become of the You who _*

a) finds herself traveling through the sharp, acidic, triangular tunnel while attempting to drive home from a drunken love and self worth/self control final exam?
b) finds herself looking at the life inside of her in a stiff, unsettling room with a stranger in a white coat and heels; the only literal touch of support from salty drops of on lens cleaner?
c) finds herself with fingers cut from stacks of paper, as well as the stacks of paper cut by her struggling, broke fingers and overloaded, broke mind?
d) finds herself with sore cheeks from pulling an expression with a falling face, falling down with the *sky
and her sister's damp, isolated ground in a field of yellowed bones, shed hair and disintegrated skin?
Dear "friend,"
You are going down a rocky path and you're not watching your step. You've got the wrong, non-supportive people surrounding you now and we can't seem to get through until you physically see how it benefits you. I can see your future and you should have seen it too, when it should have flashed before your eyes in the moment where my beautiful word choice crashed into a ******* mailbox.
jordan Oct 2015
I hope he finds his Ms.Understanding, because all he is was misunderstood.
Jenna Dixon Jul 2013
Her dove flies among the highest clouds
Soaring and cooing completely at peace,
She perches on a golden twig beside a long lost friend
Happy with her reunion she looks down
And finds a gathering of people dressed in black—

She glimpses the tear stained cheeks,
Understanding she flies down—unnoticed
And sings her last lullaby,
Although it may be hard to hear
Just absorb the silence around you and listen—

Feel the unheard notes of her lullaby,
Soon she flies back to her perch
And is welcomed back
She continues to sing her song,
You can hear it in your heart—

Look inside yourself
And feel the soft touch of a dove.
Wrote this a LONG time ago.
MindInTheClouds Aug 2015
Time ticks and ticks as the writer’s mind fails to click.
Paper blank white
And obsidian ink drips.
Ideas passes through the writer’s mind, but cannot seem to make it flow.
Where to start?
Where to go?
A hero girl ready to start a new adventure?
But later wakes and finds herself in the middle of an English literature lecture?
No, no. Too cliche.
Give her flaws and write in a difficult situation.
Like perhaps
And have her sail to her next destination!

Sorry, I got writers block… couldn’t finish the poem. Bye.
1

Lo di che han detto a' dolci amici addio.    (Dante)
Amor, con quanto sforzo oggi mi vinci!    (Petrarca)

Come back to me, who wait and watch for you:--
    Or come not yet, for it is over then,
    And long it is before you come again,
So far between my pleasures are and few.
While, when you come not, what I do I do
    Thinking "Now when he comes," my sweetest when:"
    For one man is my world of all the men
This wide world holds; O love, my world is you.
Howbeit, to meet you grows almost a pang
    Because the pang of parting comes so soon;
    My hope hangs waning, waxing, like a moon
        Between the heavenly days on which we meet:
Ah me, but where are now the songs I sang
    When life was sweet because you call'd them sweet?

    2

Era gia 1′ora che volge il desio.    (Dante)
Ricorro al tempo ch' io vi vidi prima.    (Petrarca)

I wish I could remember that first day,
    First hour, first moment of your meeting me,
    If bright or dim the season, it might be
Summer or winter for aught I can say;
So unrecorded did it slip away,
    So blind was I to see and to foresee,
    So dull to mark the budding of my tree
That would not blossom yet for many a May.
If only I could recollect it, such
    A day of days! I let it come and go
    As traceless as a thaw of bygone snow;
It seem'd to mean so little, meant so much;
If only now I could recall that touch,
    First touch of hand in hand--Did one but know!

    3

O ombre vane, fuor che ne l'aspetto!    (Dante)
Immaginata guida la conduce.    (Petrarca)

I dream of you to wake: would that I might
    Dream of you and not wake but slumber on;
    Nor find with dreams the dear companion gone,
As summer ended summer birds take flight.
In happy dreams I hold you full in sight,
    I blush again who waking look so wan;
    Brighter than sunniest day that ever shone,
In happy dreams your smile makes day of night.
Thus only in a dream we are at one,
    Thus only in a dream we give and take
        The faith that maketh rich who take or give;
    If thus to sleep is sweeter than to wake,
        To die were surely sweeter than to live,
Though there be nothing new beneath the sun.

    4

Poca favilla gran fliamma seconda.    (Dante)
Ogni altra cosa, ogni pensier va fore,
E sol ivi con voi rimansi amore.    (Petrarca)

I lov'd you first: but afterwards your love
    Outsoaring mine, sang such a loftier song
As drown'd the friendly cooings of my dove.
    Which owes the other most? my love was long,
    And yours one moment seem'd to wax more strong;
I lov'd and guess'd at you, you construed me--
And lov'd me for what might or might not be
    Nay, weights and measures do us both a wrong.
For verily love knows not "mine" or "thine;"
    With separate "I" and "thou" free love has done,
        For one is both and both are one in love:
Rich love knows nought of "thine that is not mine;"
        Both have the strength and both the length thereof,
Both of us, of the love which makes us one.

    5

Amor che a nullo amato amar perdona.    (Dante)
Amor m'addusse in si gioiosa spene.    (Petrarca)

O my heart's heart, and you who are to me
    More than myself myself, God be with you,
    Keep you in strong obedience leal and true
To Him whose noble service setteth free,
Give you all good we see or can foresee,
    Make your joys many and your sorrows few,
    Bless you in what you bear and what you do,
Yea, perfect you as He would have you be.
So much for you; but what for me, dear friend?
    To love you without stint and all I can
Today, tomorrow, world without an end;
    To love you much and yet to love you more,
    As Jordan at his flood sweeps either shore;
        Since woman is the helpmeet made for man.

    6

Or puoi la quantitate
Comprender de l'amor che a te mi scalda.    (Dante)
Non vo' che da tal nodo mi scioglia.    (Petrarca)

Trust me, I have not earn'd your dear rebuke,
    I love, as you would have me, God the most;
    Would lose not Him, but you, must one be lost,
Nor with Lot's wife cast back a faithless look
Unready to forego what I forsook;
    This say I, having counted up the cost,
    This, though I be the feeblest of God's host,
The sorriest sheep Christ shepherds with His crook.
Yet while I love my God the most, I deem
    That I can never love you overmuch;
        I love Him more, so let me love you too;
    Yea, as I apprehend it, love is such
I cannot love you if I love not Him,
        I cannot love Him if I love not you.

    7

Qui primavera sempre ed ogni frutto.    (Dante)
Ragionando con meco ed io con lui.    (Petrarca)

"Love me, for I love you"--and answer me,
    "Love me, for I love you"--so shall we stand
    As happy equals in the flowering land
Of love, that knows not a dividing sea.
Love builds the house on rock and not on sand,
    Love laughs what while the winds rave desperately;
And who hath found love's citadel unmann'd?
    And who hath held in bonds love's liberty?
My heart's a coward though my words are brave
    We meet so seldom, yet we surely part
    So often; there's a problem for your art!
        Still I find comfort in his Book, who saith,
Though jealousy be cruel as the grave,
    And death be strong, yet love is strong as death.

    8

Come dicesse a Dio: D'altro non calme.    (Dante)
Spero trovar pieta non che perdono.    (Petrarca)

"I, if I perish, perish"--Esther spake:
    And bride of life or death she made her fair
    In all the lustre of her perfum'd hair
And smiles that kindle longing but to slake.
She put on pomp of loveliness, to take
    Her husband through his eyes at unaware;
    She spread abroad her beauty for a snare,
Harmless as doves and subtle as a snake.
She trapp'd him with one mesh of silken hair,
    She vanquish'd him by wisdom of her wit,
        And built her people's house that it should stand:--
        If I might take my life so in my hand,
And for my love to Love put up my prayer,
    And for love's sake by Love be granted it!

    9

O dignitosa coscienza e netta!    (Dante)
Spirto piu acceso di virtuti ardenti.    (Petrarca)

Thinking of you, and all that was, and all
    That might have been and now can never be,
    I feel your honour'd excellence, and see
Myself unworthy of the happier call:
For woe is me who walk so apt to fall,
    So apt to shrink afraid, so apt to flee,
    Apt to lie down and die (ah, woe is me!)
Faithless and hopeless turning to the wall.
And yet not hopeless quite nor faithless quite,
Because not loveless; love may toil all night,
    But take at morning; wrestle till the break
        Of day, but then wield power with God and man:--
        So take I heart of grace as best I can,
    Ready to spend and be spent for your sake.

    10

Con miglior corso e con migliore stella.    (Dante)
La vita fugge e non s'arresta un' ora.    (Petrarca)

Time flies, hope flags, life plies a wearied wing;
    Death following ******* life gains ground apace;
    Faith runs with each and rears an eager face,
Outruns the rest, makes light of everything,
Spurns earth, and still finds breath to pray and sing;
    While love ahead of all uplifts his praise,
    Still asks for grace and still gives thanks for grace,
Content with all day brings and night will bring.
Life wanes; and when love folds his wings above
    Tired hope, and less we feel his conscious pulse,
        Let us go fall asleep, dear friend, in peace:
        A little while, and age and sorrow cease;
    A little while, and life reborn annuls
Loss and decay and death, and all is love.

    11

Vien dietro a me e lascia dir le genti.    (Dante)
Contando i casi della vita nostra.    (Petrarca)

Many in aftertimes will say of you
    "He lov'd her"--while of me what will they say?
    Not that I lov'd you more than just in play,
For fashion's sake as idle women do.
Even let them prate; who know not what we knew
    Of love and parting in exceeding pain,
    Of parting hopeless here to meet again,
Hopeless on earth, and heaven is out of view.
But by my heart of love laid bare to you,
    My love that you can make not void nor vain,
Love that foregoes you but to claim anew
        Beyond this passage of the gate of death,
    I charge you at the Judgment make it plain
        My love of you was life and not a breath.

    12

Amor, che ne la mente mi ragiona.    (Dante)
Amor vien nel bel viso di costei.    (Petrarca)

If there be any one can take my place
    And make you happy whom I grieve to grieve,
    Think not that I can grudge it, but believe
I do commend you to that nobler grace,
That readier wit than mine, that sweeter face;
    Yea, since your riches make me rich, conceive
    I too am crown'd, while bridal crowns I weave,
And thread the bridal dance with jocund pace.
For if I did not love you, it might be
    That I should grudge you some one dear delight;
        But since the heart is yours that was mine own,
    Your pleasure is my pleasure, right my right,
Your honourable freedom makes me free,
    And you companion'd I am not alone.

    13

E drizzeremo gli occhi al Primo Amore.    (Dante)
Ma trovo peso non da le mie braccia.    (Petrarca)

If I could trust mine own self with your fate,
    Shall I not rather trust it in God's hand?
    Without Whose Will one lily doth not stand,
Nor sparrow fall at his appointed date;
    Who numbereth the innumerable sand,
Who weighs the wind and water with a weight,
To Whom the world is neither small nor great,
    Whose knowledge foreknew every plan we plann'd.
Searching my heart for all that touches you,
    I find there only love and love's goodwill
Helpless to help and impotent to do,
        Of understanding dull, of sight most dim;
        And therefore I commend you back to Him
Whose love your love's capacity can fill.

    14

E la Sua Volontade e nostra pace.    (Dante)
Sol con questi pensier, con altre chiome.    (Petrarca)

Youth gone, and beauty gone if ever there
    Dwelt beauty in so poor a face as this;
    Youth gone and beauty, what remains of bliss?
I will not bind fresh roses in my hair,
To shame a cheek at best but little fair,--
    Leave youth his roses, who can bear a thorn,--
I will not seek for blossoms anywhere,
    Except such common flowers as blow with corn.
Youth gone and beauty gone, what doth remain?
    The longing of a heart pent up forlorn,
        A silent heart whose silence loves and longs;
        The silence of a heart which sang its songs
    While youth and beauty made a summer morn,
Silence of love that cannot sing again.
Samantha Nguyen Aug 2018
this is it,
the downfall of our empire that took so long to build.
it’s over.
while the music of defeat is playing,
the princess can’t hear the beautiful, sad melody.
all this girl hears is noise.
she walks through the ruins of her empire.
has this happened because of her mistakes.
slowly, it begins to rain.
but this rain is nothing compared to her tears.
her senses aren’t working properly. she can only see.
she sees the hatred in your eyes.
your stillness that sets her off.
your expression reveals anger.
some things she can’t see right now.
the princess doesn't see her mistakes.
she can’t see what pain she caused you.
but what she will see eventually is another girl in your arms.
she’s prettier than the princess and doesn’t lie to you.
she will keep all your secrets and make you happy.
she won’t make mistakes and she’ll be perfect.
she won’t be the broken princess, she’ll be your princess.
the invisible girl will see that she wasn’t worth it
and she’s going to run and not stop till she finds someone who wants her.
even if it means leaving home and everything behind.
one day later she sees a white rose.
it has been torn by the rain and withered.
life and beauty has left it.
when the shattered girl will see you,
she can see all the life and beauty in you and your new princess.
the destitute girl will envy your princess.
Blatant self destruction
That you can't seem to see
You won't find your answers
At the bottom of the whisky sea

No solemn faith at the bottom
At the bottom of your bowl
Who the Hell are you?
You're not the girl I know.

Yet,
Alive.
And Yet,
A lie.

So turn away the ones who care
And face your fight alone
But when Rock Bottom finds you
You can always return home.

And I will be here.
I will wait
For you to come alive.
FreyaXO Feb 2019
I am phenomenal,
Fierce, strong, and brave.
I am proud to be owned,
Honored to be His slave.

I find strength in my servitude,
A peace I’ve never known.
By His hand I have flourished,
Through His teachings I’ve grown.

With devotion I serve Him,
With gratitude I kneel.
He awakens the deepest parts of me,
Where once I could not feel.

He protects me from harm,
When I lose my way.
He always finds me,
When I get scared and run away.

He knows just how
To summon the goddess in me,
His words are enough,
To set the wild woman free.

The sound of His voice,
Like music to my soul.
Singing to my broken heart,
Making it once again whole.
A love so true, so profound, I kneel in gratitude.  Grateful for all good which found its way to me through you.
Heavens-Rain Oct 2015
Don't apologize for compassion
If when you see
Someone hurting
And you feel their pain
While a tear finds it way down your cheek
Don't apologize
When you have experienced a low
And then someone you know
Goes through that same low
Then you reach out a hand
To help that person up
Don't apologize
Be strong enough
To feel what you feel
With no apology needed
Jeremy Betts Dec 2023
I think I'm startin' to get that feelin' again
That sinkin' sensation followed by intense anticipation of the end I feel I'm facin'
The hell my life is based in
Then I meet up with my fear of drownin'
Thoughts not safe havin' come crashin' in
Will I ever learn or is this far beyond teachin' a lesson
Up against my dark passenger, the undisputed, heavyweight champion
And the challenger, in the blue corner noticably panickin'
Just some guy with a crazy look in his eye but no business challengin' his demon
My Hyde side stays undefeated while I've never recorded a win
Bringin' my mental discipline into question
Knowin' my armor's thin
Knowin' I've already taken one to many to the chin
It's  constant whisperin' drowns out everythin'
Top tier manipulation allowin' the interjection of it's own spin
On this tailspin my doomed zeppelin always finds itself in
I feel like I should mention, it's not one, it's Legion
Not a friend, it laid claim and became kingpin
I could only watch like I was fifth in a five deep bullpen
No consent given, not even a conversation
Rushed past me like I was a doorman at a Motor Inn
And I stood there silent, broken, incapable of motion
Often thoughts and feelings are left unspoken
Paralyzed with fear, just standin' here like a dollar store mannikin
Behind a display of 151 and Heineken
Made it easy for it to find it's way up under my skin
I hardly even knew what was happenin'
Now I don't know where it ends and I begin
Not sure there's any separation

©2023
Too much to lose.

Another issue with the smart people starting businesses is that they often have the most to lose. The smarter you are -- unless you have the social graces of a wild ape -- the more options you have available to you. You will be able to make a lot of money in a variety of fields and have room in your career to become promoted and make even more money.

This means that when you start a business, you have a lot more to risk than someone who makes less money and has fewer career options. This is often referred to as the “golden handcuffs” dilemma. Because you have more to risk, this means that you need to have a business opportunity that is going to provide an even bigger reward for it to be worth it to you.

If you make $250,000 a year (or have an opportunity to do so), your business is going to have to be five times more successful than the business of someone making $50,000 a year to get the same return. Additionally, it is a lot harder to found a business that will double your yearly profit when you make $250,000 a year than it would be if you make $50,000 a year.

So, with the most to lose, a wide range of other options available and the penchant for more intricate, complex endeavors, don’t be surprised when the person “Most Likely to Succeed” from high school ends up in corporate America and it is one of the more average students that finds success in his or her own business.

This blog is adapted from my bestselling book, The Entrepreneur Equation.

Related: Stop Waiting for the Mythical Mentor
whatsso cl pat your baby searies sope **** u onefe
Holly Salvatore May 2014
Pretend that you are a snake

Pretend that the ground you slither on is live coals,
the lilacs are in bloom,
and there is an old woman after you with a shovel

Pretend the coals burn you, belly down,
and the old woman's rusted shovel finds the back of your neck
like a blade

Pretend the lilacs are the last thing you see
as your head is severed
Pretend the coals cremate you more or less instantly

You can be reborn a bird
if you burn all the heaviness
out of you and you can fly away


You can be reborn with legs and feet to skip across the coals
and you can dance quickly so you never even feel their heat


And when the lilacs bloom
in May on Helen and Constantine's feast day
you can wear them as a crown


As if you've never been burned and never felt the sting of change
Annie Cynthia Nov 2016
The seeker seeks for a treasure,
His treasure.
When he finds it, he lays his life to get it.
Though there are several thousand treasures all around him,
He yearns for one.
His body and soul are bound to its way,
Making not him seek the treasure, but it seeking him.
JJ Hutton Oct 2016
I buy the gluten-free protein bar, peanut butter and chocolate, because this is who I am now. This is me. This is me as a lighthouse of personal fitness, a man of discipline, of a principle or two. And I surf only the most densely populated dating apps, looking—somewhat feverishly, I must admit—for a likeminded woman, a scholar, a child of the moon, a frequent quoter of the Dhammapada, an insatiable and acrobatic lover, and I imagine her driving the dark streets seeking me. Polly in a Prius. My future muse, near but out of reach. We'll reclaim the arts district. She'll piggyback to the open mike, her ****-me shoes clicking in her hand. We'll spend a year politicizing every ****** encounter. Consensual assaults in perpetuity. And she'll say I'm a white man. And she'll say I think this is my privilege. And she'll say she's into leather and she finds my *** offensive and she'll hold my head against the wall. And at the end, if there's an end, I imagine our naked bodies wrapped in a stained comforter, all of the desire spent. I imagine our minds sober and clear, wondering how we could have ever been so kinked out, so on fire for something, and yet so ******* unable to remember a single ****** or whether or not we transcended. I'll vacuum the apartment. Polly will take her Warhol prints, pack up the Prius, and go anywhere, anywhere not here. Seattle. Maybe Portland. A few weeks will pass, and I'll find a note in whatever book I'd been reading before she left. It'll say: I loved you to the max. I loved you to the max. I loved you to the max.
Andy Plenkers Mar 2012
Cease your perpetually rushed tendencies,
and listen to a boy who believes himself to be wise.
Calm the churning of your thoughts,
open your eyes and broaden your horizons.
Feel the steady beat of your heart.
Slow your breathing, and ready yourself.
I speak in metaphors and analogies,
in an oftentimes futile attempt to understand life.
I spend my days writing, singing, hoping and dreaming.
Sometimes, it is an incoherent and nonsensical mess.
Other times, I find myself caught in an epiphany.
In those moments, I take one step closer,
closer to an answer, to that one question all ask themselves:
What is my purpose for being here?
In the short span of years that I have been alive,
I have experienced a diverse multitude of things.
Some of them possessed of a ravishing beauty.
The soft caress of a lover, her sweet words whispered in my ear.
Or the involvement in something greater, better than myself.
Others have had abhorrent and malevolent qualities.
The loss of oneself to the avaricious fingers of addiction.
Or the helplessness of holding a loved one as they leave this world.
At times I have found myself fighting for my very life.
At others I have found myself willing to leave it behind.
I incessantly find my heart vying with my mind for *******.
I have foolishly stood by and watched with apathetic eyes,
my slow and agonizing departure from sanity.
Even consumed by insanity there is truth to be gleaned.
If only one finds in themselves the exit from its’ purgatorial cell.
Life is not preordained, it is not predictable, or even reasonable.
Life simply exists in its’ entirety with multitudinous choices.
The body is the vassal for life, and thus, you have a choice.
Life is what you make it; you can choose to make it good.
Or, whether through naivety or foolhardy bravado,
you can choose to make it irrevocably bad.
This is not to say you will always choose what is right.
But rather that you alone have the power to define yourself.
I am no longer a child, nor do I profess myself to be aged.
But I can say with undeniable certainty, that my mind,
being enigmatic as it is, has surpassed my physical age.
If only now I might find the remedy to purge my heart,
for it pumps the poison of love into me everyday.
But even being as caustic and acidic as love may be,
to rid yourself of it would be to squander your life.
Harness love and you wield a double-edged sword.
It can cut you down just as easily as another.
I have released my heart to do as it will.
In someone else’s hands it now lies insecurely.
But with a stubborn valor it remains there despite my calls.
With askance acquiescence I call no longer.
I wait with a stoic trepidation overshadowing all hope.
But even cast in shadow as it is, hope has its own light
So now I find myself waiting, forever if I must.
The answers I so desperately yearn for are just on the horizon.
If only I could reach out, with feeble, trembling hands,
and sieze them before they escape my grasp again.
Perhaps then I will reminisce upon the past,
therein finding the reaason behind every occurence of importance.
I've never been the most hardy of people.
But despite all of the walls obscurring my path,
I have somehow endured, and so I shall continue to do.
Kelly EC Jul 2013
Mornings greet me frantically
With persistent beeping,
And my hand reaches groggily
For more time to be sleeping.

My finger finds the snooze
Once, twice, thrice
As if I have all day to lose.
A few more minutes will suffice.

But this unusual morn,
My lids part to silence.
I turn over forlorn
From the emptiness of your absence.

You make my night,
Then play in my dreams.
When I wake to first light,
I expect you next to me.

I prop up my body,
Scan the pillows with my eyes,
My vision so foggy,
Believing my mind’s lie.

I rest my head back in place
And smile as I figure,
One day you’ll fill that space
When a ring is on my finger.
Elaenor Aisling May 2014
Alone she weaves her tangled web
Twisting, tying, all amiss
and she sees not the darkened threads
that twine about her wrists.

A single light in a darkened room
one window one mirror, little sight
to the world outside her bower wall
Blurred separation between day and night.

Her head swirls with tangled threads
forgotten thoughts and anguish low
the monotony of a thousand days
left to weave and wind and sew

Sighs escape now from her lips
those ruby lips, once known by kings
now known to only lament and sobs
for what she lost in love-lorn pining.

"Faithless have I been, O father."
she breathes at morning prayers
as pearl beads slip through milk white hands
and dust hangs about the air.

When all is done, and mass is sung
she retires to her cell
once again to sew and weave
her rich and long, sad, tale.

First she finds the pale while thread
and then she finds the blue
And quickly, with her shaking hands
weaves the face she once knew.

She weaves the gown of green she wore
on the fated wedding day
and adds the flaxen hair he praised
When laced with the flowers of May.

At last she finds the golden thread,
but pauses, silent, the room a mess
she lays the golden spool aside
and kneels before the long locked chest.

With trembling hands, and gleaming eyes
she lifts the lid, on the life she once had
A rush of air and dust and mould
and feeling, at once, joyful and sad.

First she takes the bright blue gown
and then she takes the green,
finds the jewels her mother wore
it's all where it should have been.

Within the dusty corner dark,
the twilight fading, sun going down
she sees the gleam of gold once more
and takes from the depths her golden crown.

In the flickers of the candlelight
the jewels they sparkle once again,
And all the memories come rushing back
From childhood days to the kingdom's end.

Tears are falling from her eyes
when again she takes the golden thread
and reverently she weaves the crown
upon the figure's head.

At last she's cut the final string
and takes a step back from the frame
she sees her life before her eyes,
and feels the tears come again.

There Arthur stands, in kingly garb
His soft eyes staring back at her
and in his arms, her younger self,
she remembers, how happy they once were.

To her left stands Lancelot
his shining armor gleaming bright
his pleading gaze finds her again
with the love that turned to blight.

Between these two men she still stands
Two heros, once in brotherhood bound
She chose the Knight above absent King
and three hearts were trampled into the ground.

Memories swirl about her head
as she takes the knife flashing flint,
and drives the blade into the silk
Till every thread once whole, lies rent.
Took a few cues from the Lady of Shallot, plus smatterings of several different Arthurian traditions. It is said that Guinevere joined a convent after Arthur died-- hence the mass. Tapestry making was a common pastime for noble women--I'm not sure about nuns, but it's not as though she were an ordinary nun.
makenna k Feb 2015
fulfillment becomes a foreign concept
nothing fills the void
the search for acceptance seems to near impossibility
the door won’t stop swinging
beings constantly walking in
walking out
words lack meaning
anything that used to be finds its own ending
a frigid cut in warm tender flesh
each word
each step
the heat escapes leaving me in livid shivers
all i am is open wounds and loose salt
rapidly decreasing as every moment passes
the time is seeping out from under me
can’t seem to grasp any solidarity
can’t seem to find anything genuine
this lump in my throat has become a constant reminder
on the verge of something
on the edge of my own cliff
the only difference now is the fear in my stomach has morphed into an intense hunger for flight
the fear of falling is no longer valid

— The End —