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Antino Art Sep 2018
Who draws strength
from watching the passage of time
after dark
blur against the windows
of a moving train bound
for ends uncertain.

Who walks most balanced
on the beams of empty tracks.

In the shuffle of strangers
at a crosswalk, who finds
direction.

Who sees
clearer through rain.

Who finds their place
in the limbo of airport terminals,
on delayed flights
between chapters,
over open roads that branch
into tales of cities unseen,
in the turn of pages unwritten.

Who can keep track of time
during the improvised chaos of jazz,
catching notes scattered
in the winds of horns.

Who understands
that wind moves
fastest through dark places like tunnels,
during storms in late August.

Who finds their center
hurled in flight,
always coming and going.
Storm flight trains movement
Knit Personality Aug 2015
I wish to be that rarest kind of artist:
The greatest artist of my ilk and age.
I wish to be that one who flies the farthest
The paper airplane made of ink and page.
I do not wish to be this flying ace
For medals or for glory or for fame:
I wish to tell the eons of your grace,
And loop the sky forever with your name.
But I'm no clever paper engineer,
And flawed design will keep my plane aground.
No matter how it's thrown the crash-site's near
Because its whole construction is unsound.
My plane won't fly because it has no wings,
And good intent alone can't fly the lightest things.
Ruby Payberg Nov 2018
I know a butterfly with broken wings
He’s made of smiles and light
Oh, he loves it when I sing
I’ve seen it make him cry

He said he found a way to fly
Even with that broken wing
I told him I’d never seen flight
Quite as beautiful as his
He claims that he can fly
But cannot move his wings
He only rides the breeze
I fear the wind will leave
Shofi Ahmed Aug 2017
The flight is
   already
      booked
         at the right
           time and space.

   Get
      going!
        Don't wait
          to be dead.
Shofi Ahmed Jun 2018
Without a rope but
squaring the circle
the giant man gives it a try
takes a flight off to the sky
only to fall flat on the ground.

She turns around
gives the circle her pi.
He bounces back
and retakes the flight
Que Sera, Sera on the way!
If I had wings
And I could fly
I'd watch over you
Wherever I'd go

But what good ever
Could come out of this
When all I ever do
Is falling hard for you

Not that it would change much
You never needed me
Yet here I am still falling
Hoping that one day you might

No if I ever got wings
I would leave, fly far away
To the deep and dark oceans
Where falling would hurt much less

But then I would be sinking
Seeping deep into your lies
Your dark, beautiful eyes
Never to leave my thoughts

Drowning in your shadow
I would then realize
Flaws to my demise
Needing compromise

So if I grew wings
I'd cut them clean off
Fall down and cry
Never to fly
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Thanks millions!
-The Positive Pessimist   {  ):)  }
Dawn of Lighten Feb 2017
Dimension beginning of vile ****** exposed,
And the Emperor has no clothes,
While helplessly strut a mighty walk without a shame.

Course of history repeating itself,
Like the flow of water meeting in the river of streams,
But recycle through the clouds and back to the ground it flows.

Are we so blinded by the glimmer of the mirage of oasis in the desert,
We toast with sands of dune to quench our thirst of our plight,
And all is but a fickling light ducktaped by words of unintelligible muddled murmur?

This is truly the flawed design of our time,
When we no longer promote arts and crafts of philosophies,
And religious cults of zealots condemned the science and Academia by berating it's achievement.

Likes of ancient times of Agora and the height of it's human enlightenment,
There are forces of deconstruction of society of choas ensued by hateful fear mongers,
And systematic inward of national fevor of berserkers leveling progress.

Maybe another dark age is inevitable,
But little seed of hope I feel tangible,
And sometimes event maybe a phoenix.
Religion is all sense of purpose is a illumination of hope in human plights,
But those who seek absolute power by controlling devotees, then it is no longer a religions but a cult of designed by vanity.
Tori Sep 2018
Soft, moonlit wings glide under the light of the moon,
while shadows dance on the snow below.
Flying into the unknown, breathing in whimsy,
she refuses to land or succumb to the fatigue.
But the frosty silence lulls her to sleep
with pinstriped stories delicately written onto her skin  
until her mind succumbs to the stillness

and she no longer flees from the snows embrace...
mila splawska Jul 16
“she slept at his last night”
i can’t deal with the feeling
that fills even
my fingertips with pangs of pain  
fight or flight?

“oh ok”

i choose neither, there’s nothing i can do
Alyssa Underwood Dec 2016
O morning sky of endless blue
Tinged with purply-pinky hue
You tell me of His mercies new
Whose heart pursues my own

O geese in wingèd winter's flight
Your honking cries arouse delight
And lift my gaze to seek thy sight
As wooing from His hand

O softest breeze which skims my face
And stirs with such mysterious grace
My soul to reach for Love’s embrace
You brush me with His kiss

O snowflakes falling to the ground
You pierce my heart without a sound
To crave a purity only found
Beneath a bloodied cross

O setting sun in half-light glowing
Waning day’s last glorious blush showing
You paint with fire my spirit’s own knowing—
This life is fading fast

O stars of midnight’s blackest sky
Paraded forth, you pull my eye
Toward One Who speaks this ceaseless cry:
“I’m coming back for you.”

O creeping fog to dawn’s light clinging
You whisper, Love’s veiled message bringing,
With haunting echoes faintly singing,
“Lose all of you in Him.”
~~~

"The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge. They have no speech, they use no words; no sound is heard from them. Yet their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world."  ~ Psalm 19:1-4a

~~~
Hannah Jones Nov 2017
Forgive me
as I learn to
soften the blow
of my words.
I have a gift
for slipping daggers
into conversations,
making you bleed
before you realize it
with my sharp wit
and cutting edges.

I want nothing more
than to retire
this arsenal
because I know
picking fights
is no way
to win hearts.
I've always had a quick wit and dry sense of humor. I've also had a hard time knowing where to draw the line. I'm glad to have friends willing to tell me when I've hurt them; here's to learning how to avoid further injury as I mature.
Ashley Kaye Jul 2
I remember long days longer nights
unsung sorrows
humbling flight of night things
the grand silhouette of the sky
empty with all but
your hand in mine held above
our minds.

We lept from the ledge
Fell gracefully...


now I’ve crashed to earth
A nocturne in music is “a short composition of a romantic or dreamy character suggestive of night, typically for piano”. If only I hadn’t forgotten yours. 7/1/19
Logan Robertson Jun 2017
their passage of time
tick-tock in unison hands
thick-talk in chorus

Logan Robertson

6/07/17
Michael Briefs Nov 2017
This floral world
surrounds
her blackened wings.
Thorns hover, blood-stained,
above ashen lips...
they taste the sting.
The flight of myriad starlights
shows the way
for the final plunge
to the lonely tomb.
The creature is revealed...
it has arrived.
She has found us.
She has come home.
atlas voyager Nov 2018
there we were, late for takeoff
and too early for landing.
all bruises and tears,
and ringing in the ears.

there we were, barely standing.
we were clinically, morbidly,
gloriously grotesque,
and **** picturesque,
nonetheless.
heart is heavy today
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