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lets release unnecessary tension
i am not surprised that you arrived here
we all reach this shore eventually
and we can only remain indefinitely
so come now we must speak freely
and release the ego’s defenses
now is a respite from mind
as life is blind
and fire is destructive
unless you learn to contain it
for then it transforms into radiant virtue
like a serpent and a vulture intertwined
a flame that never yields
i speak of a thousand rivers
who each have the power to heal you
let's swim naked in amazement and wonder
let's contain the cosmos in our smiles
let's adventure on the path of sacred warriors
and breathe beauty from our noses
slip slide along the coast line
life is like a zip line
and its fine if you smack into a cliffside
cause you'll get a brand new set of fingerprints
i am a complex sentence
i am an unformed question
you are the iris’ extension
you are bliss
you are lifting up my world
and i am peeking under your carpet
i swear i had lost my mind
but you found it reclining on the couch
i swore that there were no more secrets
and you revealed my insecurity
life is a queen
and in fragmented dreams
she keeps me clean as a star
Nebi Nov 2018
One day the sun and I rose in synchronicity
and I stretched up as the light shone down
warming the cracks along my back
from everyone who broke me.

Suddenly it came on strong
the flowing knowing of why I am alive
I speak it as my truth because I can't make this **** up
but I caught on to this notion while the pieces make up all I am.

With you it was the first time in life I could breathe easy
as if I could lean back, close my eyes and finally relax
Noticing all the right small things
I knew you saw me, who I was and could be.

I thought I could trust it because it was imperfect
my secrets glimmered in the dark and you crawled there too
that even though we didn't choose to be human
we could find solace in choosing each other.

I'm not one for being out in the open
my way is to keep my feels on lock and throw away the distraction
then you introduced me to encouragement
and like you and sleep deprivation I was done.

It's all about perspective
I learned you were the light and I the reflection
you act as if I could extract you
to go back to before we met.

Someday I hope you realize I can't just choose love
I am love, unequivocally, eternally, inside and out.
Cné Aug 2017
Fragmented lives entangled
but asunder in our journey
as our paths cosmically connect
in a romance of the arts

And who's to say what's real
to touch or deeply feel
what will truly last
or simply where to start

So I’ll
paint you alla prima
as I feel you playing me
in warm colors of merging ardor
a wet blending of artistry
my brush strokes of your body
painted in my mind
of impressions blushed in passion
in hues I can’t describe

Suspended in the moment
floating on a breeze
I revel in this picture painted music
almost in disbelief, unthinking…
knowing every nuance of our love
found only in our dreams

Like children in parallel play
I’ll finger the keys
and slip the locks
of all your orchestrations
filling the walls
of my concerts halls
with deep
splattered tones
in pinks and blues
the hues
that forever
bind us

And we’ll not look back
nor forward
but hang here in the moment
to display our
Painted Song
in the eyes
of giggly children
both doing
our own thing
together
on a string
curated
A collaboration with Howard Hilde
https://hellopoetry.com/u693528/
Arianna May 13
"Peace:
A jigsaw of innumerable pieces,
Fluttering away
Every which way —

Chakra butterflies fleeing my body
To become one with the universe
Somewhere I cannot follow...

The revelry of youth weighs heavy and tiresome,
Though I have never drunk of its wine,
Nor danced without care at its banquets.

"Denial is an affliction for one so young," they say;
Perhaps it is so...

If only: to be content
With the simple pleasures of life,
Rather than lusting after death
And moorlessness..."
Antonio Vivaldi: https://youtu.be/NQXsFtd3R3w

Mazzy Star - "Mary of Silence", "Halah", "I've Been Let Down", "Flowers in December", "Taste of Blood", and many more :-D

Miranda Lee Richards - " First Light of Winter"
If there were a language for walls,

It would mumble,
Per broken jaws.
The sun would shine through fragmented holes,

A windows' lone goal?
To magnify heat,
Til' all was engulfed.

With confirmed dead inside,
None knock, as they've read inscribed:

"Family tree,
Difficulty,
Unavailable."

"Family business,
Buy one,
One comes free,
Fire wood sale."
slay Oct 2018
Painted realize
Real lies
Contoured my jawline
Choked out fragmented, underchewed bites of asinine rhymes
Forcing my way back up mucked in stomach enzymes
Didnt anyone ever tell you to take your time?
Take smaller bites?
Or like women with strong personalities you bit off more than you could chew?
Drank far less tea than you once thought to brew
Did your mother ever blame herself when you couldnt finish your plate,
Or were you forced to sit there until its contents were scraped
Like the walls of my brain?
Digging my nails so deep into my hair i siphoned a drain
Relinquishing my lungs from the broth of my distain
Now that's where she really sealed my fate;
Letting you up from your dinner place before you cleaned your nightly plate
And so forth you learned what you wanted to take
Was alright with the woman who slaved hours of her day away
For the perfect texture,
Temperature,
Taste testing testamur
SO WHY NOT ME?
No man will ever know all the baby hairs ive tamed,
Couches ive rearranged,
Backs of earrings I've misplaced,
Shaved my legs,
Beat my face,
Smeared a fragrance down the nape n pinned my curls back only to let them fall with the grace you couldn't show.
Setting the dinner table, to which I was prone,
Pouring tea for two until I realized I was drinking alone.
Fragmented souls
embark upon precarious journeys.
Mosey, so cozy, tip toes-ey amidst  
the nuts, the berries, her frag grenades,
all whom are lost.

I get the sense
she stimulates the local economy.
Her sixth sense
is my first sin;
subsequent Saturday night mass.
However,
in her unique meek way.

She moves divergent
from the wandering.
Please,  I implore,
just as you sat
on the park bench
pondering;
a failed attempt
at being inconspicuous.
tres de septiembre
covered in wet leaves
juggling espresso, laced
with my final exalted request-
roll up your sleeves.
chocolate skin illustrations
depict a sad story.
Don't stop smiling.
On the eve of our
improbable introduction
after impossible instructions.
Ignore the jilt,
it was a jolt,
prompted by your voltage.
Despite all your glory
I was over caffeinated,
under compensated,
out of cahoots,
deemed arbitrarily scholarly,  
presumed clinically copasetic;
according to the nurse tying a knot  
in Dr. Martens Boots.
I never trusted a stethoscope,
nor the script; it
read so cryptic.
"Dredge my flaws with his amphetamines"?
Societies newest drudge,
Earth's newest quagmire.

Theres nothing flat about her earth;
What's a man do with his hands?
there's nothing meek about me.
[Car door slams]
Evan Palmer Oct 2018
I lost myself the other day and found myself
falling swiftly through the air of destruction
hitting the ground--crushed by the weight of my burden resulting in a complete dispersion of the fragments of my fragmented being— looked down and saw the frail corpse of my appearance laying at my exposed feet

leaving my body at the scene, I began the
search for the scattered pieces of my spirit

As I walked down the road you joined me
and I found a piece of my poise
in the fabric of your support, and you
sewed it together so I could wear it
When I walked past your sepulcher I found
my tears buried in the ashes of your
intelligence , and I left them there with you
As I travelled through your gallery I found
my creativity in the strokes of your brush
and I seized them as my own
When I passed through our discourse
I found my cognitive empathy, and in the
presence of our fracas', I let it grow durable
When I ran through your teachings I found
my intellect in the beauty of your mind
and I dedicated my fervor to you
As you join me in the search for myself
I am eager for what pieces I may
find in you, and I cherish this feeling
because it is the perception of love
A few years ago I reached a point in my life where I believed there was nothing more that life could offer me. I found myself sitting on a windowsill with my legs hanging in the air. While I never physically jumped, metaphorically I did. This event made me realize just how broken I was and once I recovered, I began the search that I describe in the poem. Each instance in this poem where I find a piece of myself is a specific moment in my life and each instance has a specific person attached, but they will remain nameless as I refer to all of them as "you".
Renee Danielle Dec 2015
my roommate likes to play dress up.
sometimes, she will look just like me;
other times, she looks like fragmented bits
of my worst weeks thrown together
in old calendars I've tried to lose.

you tell me this is a cry for help,
but "help" is a foreign word
that will always sound funny
coming from my lips.
keeping myself together
is a language I never learned to speak.

a merry-go-round of feeling bad
about feeling bad
about feeling bad.
I can't remember the opposite of sick.
my stomach is hurting
and my head is spinning
from all of these circles.

I've been avoiding my reflection
because I'm afraid she'll be disappointed
to see what I've made out of her.
I don't want to keep running from people
who once loved me.
Pagan Paul Jan 27
.
Cohesion has been fragmented,
merely an old dissolved memory.
A shroud darker than pitch black
heralds the omni-directional strangler,
seeking to crush the fragile neck
and slowly asphyxiate the minds reality.

The turbulence of mute non-existence,
trapped in an endless glass sphere,
a cold snow-globe paper weight,
screaming for the end of the world.
Terror dissipates all common sense,
the inner head explodes and implodes.

A wracked skeleton of fevered flesh,
the violated remains,
beautiful and torn,
left,
when the butterflies of darkness
******
the fire.



© Pagan Paul (2017/19)
.
Pagan Paul May 2018
.
Aimlessly wandering
   with a feeling of agitation,
      caught somewhere between
         browsing with interest
            and prowling with intent.

Distressed and unsettled
   like anticipating trauma,
      mooching with an emotion
         that something is imminent
            yet its nature remains veiled.

The horizontal line defines a stability and yet,
it has started to list off to one side.
Tiny perforations promise fragmented logic
by osmosis revealing the storm implied.
The tap of excitable energy is dripping slow
threatening balance with a flood rip tide.
Empathy walks with the expectant father pacing
and coils of despair knot so deep inside.

A nervous anxiety
   grips psychology and waits,
      caught somewhere between
         bleak submissive acceptance
            and stark naked panic.



© Pagan Paul (22/05/18)
.
Pagan Paul May 28
.
Light hits my retina
through the prism of a tear,
distorted faces pass
with images fragmented
inside out
and the smell of tallow
as a candle splutters,
falters and winks out
for the wick collapses cruel
like a hamstrung dancer.
The tear exits stage left
and rolls down the wings
of a thoughtless cheek,
teeters on the brink of catastrophe
and falls upon a blank page,
reviewing its brief life
as a lazy metaphor,
so I look at the remaining solitary candle
and grieve for the lost tear,
as an understudy takes its place.




© Pagan Paul (28/05/19)
.
5th entry in Fool's Diary.
.
Kara Jean Jun 2016
Her
She's the women
You imagined
Stepford wife
She sit's with Hands clasped tightly
Courtney Loves drunken sister
Resonates within
Her wilted box keeps disintegrating
Her barricades
Useless
Soaking filth from the ground
She would cry
Tears dry
Salt is only producing
She's a mist uncontrolled
Wild growing daisy
Sitting in a ticky tack
Garden
She sees freedom
Fake
Placed in the deserts hot sun
Thirsty
Last drink
Now haunts
Suited up in her dress
She carries on
Fragmented
Dissapointing denial
Elizabeth Zenk Oct 2018
i've
                    shattered
my finest mirror      
so   that
   maybe   my  
fragmented                      
                     reflection
will look
more      perfect  .
am
i    
beautiful yet
    ?
: )
am i beautiful yet?
PG Sep 2015
A blank page waits for words that it will never see
Created from the head of someone writing a story
Characters, plot, setting, theme, are central to the tale
Without them every narrative is simply guaranteed to fail

Stakes and consequences must exist for someone to pursue
Whether treacherous of heart, or noble, brave, and true
And if these traits stand not alone but mixed in with the rest
That simply adds more intrigue to the outcome of the test

Will he get the girl?  Will she rise above her station?
Can a rags-to-riches fable captivate the nation?
Who done it, where and why?  Are three questions most effective
But often ****** requires the help of a detective

These may seem like idle, fragmented bits of a much larger whole
But actually they’re not; every type plays a role
For you see, “someone” mentioned above is not a professional writer
But an individual on a journey, and we all must face it like a fighter

Characters are those you know and love, plot is what you choose to do
Setting is where you live, theme defines what is important to you
So why a fighter you may ask, someone who faces pain and strife?
Because we encounter both good and ill as we write our book of life
Anecandu Sep 2016
Fragmented pieces of scarlet memories,
trees of stout arms reaching.... affection the fruit it carries,
Mauvey plumes sprout this golden harvest of my imagination.
I'm drawn to taste commitment's nectar of delicious dedication.

Hear now the sitars melody, notes in Arial Black on Milky White,
I climbed the apple tree in this garden of light,
The colorful wind melodiously blowing a heretic hero's demise,
Though shaken my grasp prevailed the prize.

Alas through and through my vantage point reveals a view,
The floating dislocated memories on a river of silky love,
That rise and brush the teardrops from my cheeks,
Then spirit away like frightened doves.
Avary Oct 2018
No, I don’t have a boyfriend.

I don’t have the desire to see another end;
after exhaustive months of getting to know
a fictionalised persona, fragmented, so

No, I don’t have a boyfriend.

The last one hurt and you didn’t see,
but that doesn’t proclaim the scar less prominent to me,
my feelings numb, I no longer crave the intimacy - detrimental to me.

No, I don’t have a boyfriend.

The last boys touch was for him not for me
and my body still screams cause he won’t let it be
and you’ll never understand as the trauma won’t subside
and my self esteem is diminished by his lies.

No, I don’t have a boyfriend.

I humoured a guy who gave it a try
but all I could feel was nothing inside
and when someone bumps into me sauntering by
the unwanted touch still makes me cry.

No, I don't want a boyfriend.
Brynn S Feb 2
Bloom from decay
Follow moss of black rain
Run towards shattered laughter
Pierce nightly noose as if to welcome him
Wait and stay patient
“Time will arrive soon enough
Though, only few understand”
The mystic in teardrop’s reflection whispers
She is a woman, creature, a not-yet-spirit
tallons reach to comfort
Iris torn, fragmented judgment
Those eyes melted off skin
They sunk towards the floor
Deep depths of pit, madness separated weeks
Fall, fall slow, invite the insanity
The lady with the crook smile and stolen wings
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