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Axel Deion Ngsy Jan 2014
You always seem
to live.

I see you play
with stones and swings,
Leaping from one tree
to another, then falling.
Scratched by twigs and thorns,
that you once played with.

I see you read
with books and notes,
skimming headlessly
from one page to another,
then putting them down.
Burned by the knowledge,
that once enlightened you.

I see you eat
with cakes and cookies,
tasting one dish then another,
voraciously.
Then you're suddenly fed up
with the food
that once nourished you.

I see you bathe
in streams and rivers,
splashing countless ripples,
and popping bubbles,
only to dry yourself
from the water
that once cleansed you.

I see you sleep
with soft pillows and warm blankets
protecting you from the dark,
the cold night,
caressing your dreams.
Dreams of folly, of laughter,
of despair, anger,
life's fallacies.

Silence.

Then for sometime,
you live
for what may have killed you.

Stay with me
for I see you.

I just watch you.
with my eyes that never close,
with my tears that always flow,
with my light that never blinds
with my sight always unseen.

Hoping that someday,
at the break of dawn,
when you truly awake,

My eyes
will be only
and forever
yours.

(I love you.)
Basta ikaw, Lord.
Amelia Louise Nov 2013
So I fell.
Recklessly,
headlessly,
in all of the ways I said I wouldn't.
I fell deep
and hard
and fast.
Like the skydiver who's cord won't pull.
Like the traindriver who's car is full
I moved too quickly.
There was no time to stop and realize
this could never end well.
Whether now or in twenty years.
And all I have done is postpone the expiration date.
It hurts sometimes.
Especially when I realize the way I miss you
now
is nothing compared to the way I will miss you
then.
The day you lock that door for the last time will
**** me inside.
I gave you the code
to everything about me.
My fantasies, my family.
My deepest fears, my future dreams.
The words I speak will form the key that allows you to unlock me.
Leaving my heart broken open,
spilling all my tokens of
rejection and affection.
All my lifelong infections in
my lungs
my heart,
my brain.
I don't hold things back from you because I
can't.
I can't be anything but my crazy, needy, sad, scary
self, when i'm with you.
But recently, that isn't true.
I have been bottling everything.
Saving it for the perfect moment when
I could say it
and you could own it.
And that moment hasn't come.
It is no where in sight
and that makes me run from
feelings
like these
that I have for you.
I keep thinking an end is the right thing to do
but something in me won't give up on you.
Some part absolutely must refuse
my heart in letting go of you.
And I
am *******
terrified,
that this thing might be really true.
But I can't shake the feeling it isn't.
What is it about you that you keep hidden
that drives me along in my endless mission
to stay with you?
And will I find it
before you find out
that
everyone leaves eventually.
samantha Sep 2014
Rebecca i saw you yesterday
with my mom 's blood stains on the corridor walls
headlessly  stabbing her dignity
walking about with perfection up your sleeves

i should tell you this
your husband enjoys rubbing my ******* with the finger that was soaked in the deep walls of my ******
after a vigorous ******* of my ***** lips
i know
he would lick his lips in anticipation of this scene too

Rebecca my mum is just a tax payer who might be lacking
but needs you guidance as her supervisor to do well
i strongly urge you to redeem yourself

i tell you what
if you dont
i will be a name stained on your tongue
i am going to plug those electric cables on your ****
immerse your body in that lake of water
you know what next
i will let your kids Mark 8 Jane 6 watch this Hitchcock Direction

Rebecca i want to respect you
have mercy on you
maybe in the next lifetime treat you like a sister
but you offend me
Kindly start living a righteous life
James R Aug 2019
Cobble-Clad, steeped streets
Adorned with arches and artefacts.
And tales of Tribes.

Relentless rain, sea-slanted
Culls the cowering crowds now
tucked tightly in touring traps.

Plain-plied propaganda inflates
Whilst the bloated brogue corpse bawls shanted slang to captivate

Massed mobs headlessly herded
Past wretched ruinous remains and craiced carcasses; innards infected with shameless shlock and schtick.

And what of the poets? The artists? The mused? If seeing such sights absolved and abused.

Their lyrics unwritten and verses unstated; but no matter; such history is now antiquated
A poem about summer holidays

— The End —