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Fah Aug 2013
Sailing in a dhow at sunset after snorkeling off Mafia island, Tanzania.
'
SPILLAGE
The tree’s don’t sleep at night
they photosynthesize , by moonlight.
Leaves drink in the cool wise light
And give off dreams of softly fading starlight

Whispers of secrets , monthly unfurl
A single blossom falls at new moon
Hurtling to the ground, awake before noon
Ever noticed? The very word has the circle
Curled up in the centre , twice to make sure we remember , two full cups , not one.

Geko’s slip off old skins
And the croaking frog adds to the din
As thunder rolls in
Triggering the dogs bark
Guardian of the stark naked couple
Asleep in their parallel worlds
Together under the umbrella of ambient lighting
Not the natural kind either
But a shameless copy of pure sunlight
That emenates when their bodies collide
On the material plane.

Astral visions lead the way to headquarters
The address? Fax? Phone number?
I’m afraid you’ll have to dial again ,
Unless you’ve meditated on the vibration of emancipation
Then you would already know, you are already there
Doors are open , for those who care to try
No lock on this baby ,
Ain’t no safe to play safe
We bask in our humble glory
Under the shores on undulating tides
Rhythmic pulsations
no where to hide
The emanations come from within,
Without , a shadow of a doubt

There is a war coming , infact we’ve already been fighting for decades
Just like the change of winds, nature knows her stuff
Tip the seeds too soon and you’ll end up with a field full of fluff
But just in time and a harvest with enough to reduce every super market shelf to dust
Even though they already stock that kinda stuff
Clean up on Aisle 4, Aisle 3 , Aisle 2 , Aisle 1
Return the purchase , we’ve discovered the ****
In the cake
And we found the frog in the salad,
At least their habitat is intact
Or did you think I was still talking about the shops?

Ok , I’ll change tact
Change of pace.
No , no I will not join the Human Race
Running to where? Why all the running?
From what? To where? From whom , to whom it seems like we run straight to our tombs, without a second glance at perhaps the chance that legs can walk…
Wanna know where I’d rather be?

I want to be on a motorbike heading 70 miles an hour down empty roads
An island paradise , holding the hips of my dearest
To arrive at another home ,
where our friends relax to the forlorne strums of the blues
Tripping on love we depart ,
not without slightly heavy hearts
Peace , friends we’ll see you anon.

Pull into the golden arches , I tell myself ‘I can’t kiss those lips now they’ve touched that burger’
then I remember you’ve been working all day
before you came out to play , I wasn’t up for a dance I was too entranced in my own madness
But. Always the **** , walk up those stairs for me, softly you moan.
I agree in a semi tone. Secrets are meant to be shared,
we quietly told each other of love in the parking lot at 4 am. The pain in your eyes still wakes me up in the middle of thunderstorms.

Awoken to sorrows from the motherland, monsters creep to the door,
peep in the keyhole.
Oh,
I forget,
your door is activated by credit card numbers that spiral from lips of z-list celebrities.
So we’ll waste away the morning in each other arms,
you watch me as I dress. No underwear no less. Put on your bra properly, suddenly you get kinda frosty.
Not far from where we sat to have a Japanese lunch , pretty close to where I walked to meet you for tea , where you held my feet and handed me a phone I left in your brothers car.
Well that’s where we have breakfast coffee and papaya whilst tourists ogle at the dog guard.
Deaf to our calls , luxuriously taking his time. He didn’t find the secret beach either.
Although the sea was good for a float, and to hear the space journey’s musical manifestation
at every crash of every wave, the magnetic pull playing her crooked beat as she bypasses our feet.
Then, there are two nights with two Amsterdam gals , one smoked lucky strikes and had scars across her wrists , the other photographed trees for a living.
Both blonde , both fair , both with their own flair.

Expect the unexpected , beach raves full of people I don’t really want to be with , so we get tequila shots instead
and stand outside a shop selling knock off clothes when the bar needs to shut.

She took a break to the bathroom , we finally let out the kisses we’d been holding in all night,  
until she got back.

Who said we couldn’t control ourselves? Although to be fair, I could feel you reaching for me wayyy back.

Why should we be selfish? Why shouldn’t we? I still went home with you that night, there really was no two ways about it.
I had *** with you, slightly drunken ***, that was by no means gentle, by no means candle lit , by no means rose petals laid out on the bed, infact , if my memory holds true, there were no flowers apart from the ones on my dress.
I’d say you were lucky , but then I cried at home.
So much pent up emotion in that one act.
Enough to propel us in into another night and untold eons beyond, I’m skipping ahead now,
Where we drank red wine on the shoreline , I used the staff bathroom and noticed all the things that could be improved – seemed like work was wearing off on me.
Still, the best part was yet to come, yeah the *** was fun but nothing compared to the games we played. Dress up and salsa ,
mysterious temples
natures tickles leading to giggles at the foolish endevours of two ***** humans., smoke a spliff , enough to unwind the mind to a new point of time. A flash of something I’ve never seen before, nor have yet to be graced with again.
I guess that was divine. Well, wouldn’t you say….
It was about time.

So , am I still talking about the shops?
Or who wore what with kate moss?
No disrespect
she’s adept at her art but i don’t wanna read about boring old farts
Lets hear about the underground collective of conscious minds who are rewinding the clock , who won’t stop ,
warriors.

Well quite frankly

How long have we sat , year after year to be told the same **** and bull story.. my ears, my ears! MY EARS!!! They yearn for the sweet serenade of the truth

behind the crumbling arcade of rigged lottery tickets and games of black jack where the house always wins.
Fortunately we’ve been coming since we were five , we know the cards without seeing the faces, we hold all the jacks and aces, we’ve got time on our side

So…that’s why they are running , finding places to hide.

We’d only be stealing from the house to give to the houseless…
With the tools the house gifted to us…doesn’t it seem ironic?

I laughed until I cried the day I discovered the universe had a sense of humor. A dark , ironic , sarcastic tone that involves  a major chord. Maybe a G or a D.
For some reason , my first poem i ever posted here i cut short
i felt that the whole poem was too close
i thought i lost it on my old laptop
but seemingly here it is...

funny,

what i seek seems to be seeking me....
rey Sep 2018
I have been attracted to you for a while
but didn’t think you felt the same.
but infact you might even like me more.
you think i’m beautiful and special indeed.
you’ve trapped me in your heart and blue eyes
you tell me you were to shy to tell me,
but i was too shy to tell you.
do you love me?
do I love you?
do you love me afterall?
you say things that make me blush.
and tell me what i want to hear.
you call me baby and your love.
things really did work out, didn’t they.
I’ve missed this feeling of love.
i guess you just might love me after all.
thank you, you.
DieingEmbers Mar 2012
I saw the letters

that you tried to hide from me

infact... We all did.
Dea Sep 2018
How to start writing
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Write, write, write
Writing

Pick a subject for writing
Make sure you reference your writing
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Plus or minus 100 word max leeway for writing
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Read
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Your writing

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From this writing
And writing
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How do you write the words that you now want to be written?
MaryJane Doe Nov 2014
Our
   Emotion
Is an ocean
   We flow in
               A tide
      That we ride
   High and low in
                     A wave
                   Can behave
        To infact be the save
           You must know when
            To put your own toe in
A real man is not a person who can
impregnate a woman; any guy can also
impregnate a woman. Even a 17 year old boy
can impregnate a woman but that does not
make him a man.
A real man is not a person who is good in
bed. Any idiot can be good in bed.
A real man is not a person who beats his
wife/girlfriend. Infact it is only idiots that
beat their women.
A real man is a person who tolerates his
woman
A real man is a person who controls his
anger
A real man is the person who shows real
care and love to his woman
A real man is the person who knows how
to solve the crises and problems in his
relationship
A real man does not beat his woman
A real man is hardworking. He is not lazy
A real man can endure, persevere and be
patient
A real man can overlook the bad
behaviors of his woman
A real man corrects his woman with love.
Real men make their women happy.
Therefore, ladies, when choosing a man, date
real men only.
Marry real men only. If you are not happy in
your relationship now, that means your guy
is not a real man.!
Look beyond *** and money and go for
happiness and peace of mind.
—Do You Agree???
Aosxk Oaopa Mar 2014
Young lad,
I don't find it funny,
I find it quite rude,
Infact, young lad,
That...
Is...
The...
Height...
Of...
Rudeness.
Mario Hamblin Nov 2010
Kepp working, stay on my grind. God, school and moneys only on my mind. Lovely women happen to come by and that's fine. Touch my paper and I will decline.

Stress build, heavy weight on my mind. Trying to walk with god and take life one day at a time. People take what they want and ask for more. I don't hustle because I am poor (I'm not), its in my blood (a clot).

Had my hustle ever reached my core, it would attack me and stop my beat. Soul song silenced for eternity for desiring to achieve greatness. Such a paradoxacal oximoron drifts throughout my body keeping me alive unbeknownced to my concienceness.

My kryptonite is infact what makes me a super solider. For ever I will fight waging a mental spiritual war. I pull the trigger at whatever stands in my way and eliminate the prey for I am the predator. In future roles will switch and I will hear the heavenly bell ring, such a divine pitch.

So for no I fight and fight I will. Untill the kryptonite reached my heart and it attacks me. My internal double edge sword. Hustle.
Was going through some hard times financially and just threw my emotions into my blackberry.
Alex Nov 2015
I think I figured something out
Math teachers are, well,
Vampires
They find pleasure in ******* your soul out
Slowly draining the life out of you
By making you do countless
Long and complex equations
Until you are simply put,
A mindless zombie under their command
Just one of many in their legion of the undead
Continuously reciting number after number
nineteen, seven, thirty-two, twenty-five
x squared minus nine equals twelve
His unchanging face, fangs and perfect teeth
Of course don't help his case very much
They just help me prove that math teachers
Are infact, Vampires
Rick Feb 2018
Cat
There is a cat in my home, and slowly it has grown fatter from feasting on food that I own.
I go to work every day, so theres no possible way that this cat could look for pray.
Yet still, somehow, when I return, he's stuffed.
Belly filled with pizza crust he looks as if he'll bust.
Somehow he finds a way outside, where he roams to neighbors homes to fill up on old turkey bones.
Second breakfast and for lunch this hungry cat would munch, till diner came, then the game would change and just like that this cat would be back.

In the morning when I leave, this cat would beg that I come home with fishes. The begging grew bad, so I'de do exactly as she wishes. Heres the trouble: I feed her once, shes still hungry, so i feed her double. Hours of  her mighty meow. Her, just sitting there constantly, bellowing just like a cow, until I provide her with her chow. Now, I tried feeding her less and getting her to run but Im just competing with my stress when that cats not having fun. She would sit and moan, Oh the noises she'd groan as Ide remove her from the cushion she had claimed as her thrown.

After this cat had Disowned me, I had learned just like that, that infact it was actualy the cat who had owned me. See cats are a beast of nature, there a creature that can not be tampered. So when theyve been pampered and foods been delivered, you can bet a strong bet that this cat will expect to be treated with the  best packaged liver from a duck that Wal-Mart can deliver.
Crimsyy Sep 2016
I was drowning,
I was drowning,
but saved by thoughts of you,

Arms wrapped tight
arms with your mark,
with the bruise where your arms
lingered to hug away my wounds,

And I notice
how you keep me together
when seasons don't
match the weather;
it's spring and yet I
don't know what blooms in me.

I'll think twice
before i sacrifice my breath,
you've taught me flowers
can bloom out of the nicotine
in my lungs, infact;
the darkness can even be **the soil.
Alembic:
anything that transforms,
cleanses or purifies.
Amrita G Jan 2021
“He doesn’t even care to keep the knowledge of her possessions a secret, not the least worried about it being stolen”
“What’s worse, is that everyone knows his treasure exists. It’s common knowledge in town”
“How long will it take to get stolen?”
“It’s a matter of days, if you ask me.

He was, however, smiling in the corner. He coerced the enemy into being his friend.  This is why he doesn’t actually disclose himself to anyone, because she might be misunderstood, like what was unravelling right before his eyes. This time however, the misunderstanding just helped him protect his real treasure, something he thought no one could possess because……………

What if you need to think a certain way to know something; and you can’t think that way without feeling or experiencing something else. If that’s true, so much of this world remains hidden in sight, and we don’t even know its hidden.

You can, to an extent, disguise what arises from material belongings immaterially. That’s what makes the key to your locked doors. The keys to your secrets and trust. Our experiences may dictate the way we feel. Look closer however, and there will always be these cracks on the edges of interpretation, these nuances in feelings, small differences that stem out into larger and larger branches until you have at your disposal- uniqueness.

So, here is a complex network of questions and possible answers deconstructed to portray different perspectives of personality, trust and secrets.

Let’s start with trust. It should ideally start with mutual respect and admiration.   Most things fade away, so in reality you are not trusting the other person, you trust yourself to be hopeful enough to believe trust will not wither through time, which is why it may seem like it’s your fault or centered towards you when you are betrayed of trust.

Even the reasons for choosing why we trust others is vastly different for each person. It goes to show how ephemeral our mind is at the microscopic level., almost like no one can truly know us. The reaction of others and their understanding of you may be an external input. But after that the interpretation is yours. And interpretation is slowly built over cycles of overlapping feelings and subtle thoughts.
Can we use this as a “key” to explore parts of ourselves whilst keeping them invisible to others? Can we recover old feelings or find out what means a lot to us, but we remain ignorant to?

Many things that matter deep inside, tend to have a personal lock, like an unspoken connection, or a bittersweet memory we like to visit. The most interesting part about these is that the key for some of these is unpredictable! Any future incident could somehow serve as an access to it, which is what makes personal locks so magical. No one can possess it because of no one, sometimes not even yourself, knows it's meaning to you. Such a key is truly unique, two people may go through the same thing, but for one person alone, that experience could serve as a key.  Here, an experience from the outside world can awaken memories, thoughts that we inadvertently treasured. It can, in a sense, almost transport us to a different timeline.

The phenomenon of getting goosebumps from listening to a piece of music (called frisson), and experiencing a surge of sensory feeling could be a doorway to some great things and could be a sign of higher levels of creativity. When you re-listen to a song you hadn’t listened to in many years, you can relive the time you originally heard it to startling detail. You may notice newer things about memories, be aware of nuanced feelings. Essentially, it becomes something that’s only yours, because you can’t predict how you yourself will be. The only key for such a secret is a unique reaction to an external input.

When you listen to this song, even ambiguously (not attaching it to any particular person or experience), even then when you later hear it, it will be infused with meaning. Why? Because the environment around you at that time possessed some emotional meaning, even if you didn’t know it. It became like recovering a part of you. Like recovering your own perspective on what’s in front of everybody.

Suppose instead of attaching significance, you simply create scenarios in your mind. You just imagine instances and do this repeatedly. Over time, the song’s original meaning will tarnish away. Such imagination gives temporary satisfaction, and even though one can imagine a variety of different scenes and emotions; imagination itself, feels the same. It does not carry any value by itself. It would seem that listening to a song a couple of times and then years later seems to be the world’s best time machine, but when we overplay it, and tamper it using imagination, neural networks get diluted and may not be serve as a very effective train of reminiscence anymore. *^


Mulling things over in our mind in loops can change almost everything about it- it may change a happy sentence into a sad one, a normal experience into a special one, and now these emotions that have been created by you, are like small filters that complicate further experiences.
Consider that two people go through the same experiences from birth. They may not feel each experience to the same degree. The second point is that subtler feelings are experienced by each of them. One may react more heavily, and the other may have auxiliary feeling in more magnitude than the other. Though these differences may be minimal at the start, these subtle thoughts become triggers, just like the initial experience.
Look at what’s happened. Now the seed of subsequent thoughts and emotion is no longer EXTERNAL. Its internalized. As they grow, though material interactions give rise to initial waves of thoughts, our lives are culminated by infinite intertwined feelings and emotions- so for each material interaction, a hundred immaterial ones are processed subconsciously. A symphony can’t be broken down to violins, piano, and drums separately. The feeling that arises when they are played in unison is simply “different” though its just a conglomeration of its parts. This is similar to our mind, and the concept of “The whole is greater than its parts”. What’s more is that the thoughts occurs in different order, and a different order creates a different story.
The concept of “personality” is viewed as abstract sometimes”.  Like character is something that describes the mind, rather than the experience. But this is contradictory, as “Personality” is immaterial, while the experience, the derivative, is material. So, there is a possibility that during this invisible conversion process, our internal reactions and what we make of things in our mind may gradually shape our personality more than the experience itself.


In a strange way, that makes us original. Perhaps not completely original, but it’s possible that no two people are the same, even if they have gone through the same things.
But since the development of originality is subconscious, let us look at conscious examples to put it into application:

Often, there is a part of a song that appeals to us, a favorite part.  When we ask ourselves why that particular melody appeals to us, it may be hard to pinpoint the source of what produced your liking in that part.  Sure, it may mean something like “freedom” or “joy” of remind you of a memory. But why does it mean a specific emotion to you? This is an example of how something that has no direct connection with a memory could possibly trigger a feeling. This is a magical occurrence. It’s extraordinary that a melody can awaken in you a unique emotion, that others may not react to in the same way. It goes to portray how subtly different our minds are. Furthermore, when we create things out of that feeling we derive from the music- make a story based on the feeling, write a new song, or even play it on an instrument- now you have made something that is unique from the depths of your mind. Your own subconscious interpretation.  
Frequency of frisson was positively correlated with overall Openness to Experience, as well as five of its six sub facets: Fantasy, Aesthetics, Feelings, Ideas, and Values. *This may also mean that extensive feeling, or sensing is related to creativity.

Sensory influx, the visual imagery, nostalgia, all point towards creativity, and many renown creative geniuses draw on their sensitivity to fuel creative processes.

Highly sensitive people tend to be more creative, as the depth of feeling offers scope for exploration. The interpretation and emotion felt greatly corresponds to the creation of ideas, and is similar to how interpretation even creates association between senses, or synesthesia.
Infact, drawing on nostalgia can increase imaginative processes


You might have heard of the term “synesthesia”, where sensory experiences get interconnected. A person with grapheme synesthesia, for example, associates letters and numbers with colors. A person with musical synesthesia sees colors effuse out of musical notes. Some synesthetes taste words, smell numbers, etc. It is also a fact* that Synesthetes don’t necessarily share the same sensory experience-though there are commonalities ( ex: most synesthetes associate either black or white with zero), the difference in perception is linked to the environment of growth, childhood*, and if its occurrence is natural, then synesthesia is developed in childhood or at birth.

A Symptom of synesthesia is also reading sentences that seem personified, as though a stranger with different personalities are narrating them. It is interesting to relate this to how there might be different personas in our own head, and sometimes constantly make commentary on our life! It’s like seeing yourself through different perspectives, except these perspectives have defined forms, which makes it easier to assign little quirks to them. If this helps us sense and perceive the world better, and makes us see through multi-colored glasses, it can be very creatively satisfying to have internal conversations, in a positive and uplifting way. We can be a stranger to our own experience, and wouldn’t a change of view be enlightening?

Synesthesia also, may be linked to creativity and metaphors, * and is in a way a example of consciously coming up with original sensory interconnections, a creative process that becomes part of character.  It's connecting something unrelated and different, and an original combination of connection.

So the rearrangement of feelings, and extent to which people sense and feel can contribute to original creations. It is no surprise that many artists and musicians have synesthesia.

Such experiences, with music, nostalgia and conditions like synesthesia are examples of a how we interpret and sense can consciously contribute to originality.


The bottom line is that synesthesia obtains its roots from childhood, but morphs into something complex enough to blur lines of emotion. The proportion of how things are mixed is unique. That proportion is the starting line for all character, and the proportion can be random and unique.
Thoughts feel so diverse and interwoven, that experiencing different facets of it itself can seem synesthetic. Seeing a neon sky, for instance, may not just bring happiness or excitement, but very specific sentience, and a connection to memory, even if it has never been a part of your life at any point of time. The neon sky could mean regret and eccentricity, and flashes of senses may correspond to it. You may feel the aesthetic of a place to strange degrees, and sometimes a simple scenery can seem “wrong” or “sinister”.


  “Why does the neon sky seem eccentric?” “why are roses connected to a past memory that had nothing to do with roses?”

These questions have some intangible meaning behind them. So, it’s not just that people perceive things differently, it’s that their reality itself, a culmination of perceptions is unique, and so are thoughts. And don’t thoughts and ideals shape character in some way? Don't these interpretations become a part of you? A filter for how you perceive the world?


Some song forms a golden thread link with some intense feeling which is connected to a memory you never knew you possessed (this memory may be fictional even) which is linked to a whole little city in your world.  Everything means differently. And as we think and think, these meanings become fine-tuned, and create emotions, thoughts and perspectives that shape our individuality. The essence is that your character may have obtained its roots from the world, but your proceedings, both on the inside and outside, are truly yours. And gradually, proceedings reflect character. More than the roots. It’s a many layered mind that could seem impossible to strip down.

Memories can be similar, but the sequence of memories and thoughts, will likely not be the same.


Here we gently skim the daunting surface of the philosophical idea of “Fictional realism”. A main idea here is to try and question what the definition of something has to be to be considered real. We say “It was a dream, not reality” But did it not feel real? When we read a book, or a movie, and voraciously delve into fictional landscapes, does it not truly feel like we are integrated into it, or rather, it is integrated into us? In that case, since we are real and it is now a part of us, can it be real too? Or can it be real, simply because it exists in our minds? Love and loathing also exist in our minds, but we regard them as a real thing, pulsating with its repercussions. Do we regard something as real only if it has a scope for action? Or if it’s something we can touch or see? In that case, the world will be limited, and there would be a loss of explanation for what gives rise to those actions. It would be like saying “imagination seeds reality”.

Memories and thoughts can be similar, but the sequences of them, even if  slightly  different can grow to be hugely dissimilar. If we can consciously create things when exposed to sensory information, why can't we consider the possibility of subconscious creation of individual character?
Happiness isn't found in alcohol,
Its not found in drugs,
Its not found in ***,
Its not found in anger,
Its not found in tantrums,
Neither is it found in bad moods,
Happiness is only found within,
Only you can decide to be happy,
It all begins from within you,
Its a choice,choose it!
Realise all the benefits of happiness;you live a healthier life,more energised and vibrant and more fulfilling,
The search for happiness elsewhere  apart from you inner being is infact in vain,.
Nothing can make you happy if your inner state isn't made up to be happy
CHAMELEON

Change colours people, even more often than a chameleon would ;

Thought the chameleon, many times I wonder, how easily a human, ever do that could

Infact the chameleon itself wondered, how come these guys are faster n better;

A passer-by somehow the chameleon's thoughts guessed; n told it, "a man is a go-getter"

"Aww.... may be, may be", said the chameleon, "but humans shouldn't so selfish be"

Said the man, "do this you, to yourself save, from your enemy; so that it cannot, you see;"

"But a man, knowingly immediately colour changes to suit his selfish motives n needs"

"Infact many times an innocent human he entangles, blames, or even outright, him weeds"

"Never must you mess with a human, because guess you cannot what goes on, in his head"

Most scheming he is; and can easily, an innocent one harm; if wishes he, in a moment, you will be dead".

With a sigh of relief, said the chameleon, "people sometimes, a blood-sucker call me;"

"But bro, as you truly say, now onwards, of a human, I too very careful will now have to be".

Armin Dutia Motashaw
stone the bear Apr 2016
I think with my heart;
not my head
in my hand
or buried deep under the sand.

Because when everything comes from the core,
i don’t need to wonder any more.
Thinking is not a chore:
like folding laundry into a tidy drawer.
But that’s what draws our glass floor,
and causes us to continully snore.
But what we chose to ignore,
should be infact, exactly what we adore.
Then maybe we’d ask for an encore
instead of a 24/7 drug store.

_______

To you, i may be a boar,
but we must bust down the door.
Stop fighting the war!
Live for evermore(
if we wish to soar).

_____

But today our biggest sore
may be the us marine corp.
i hurt for their souls, scattered galore.

it is i who they fend for,
it is why their blood continues to pour.
But that doesn’t effect you,
because it happens on another shore.

Your questions? i have answer for,
but please don’t ask me the baseball score.
Those fact are not in my houses’ decor,
all forms of politics, i choose to ignore.

__________

You can call me a dinosaur,
regardless, I am not a cannibalistic carnivore.

_________

I know you may ridicule,
but i prefer to be the recluse,
only coming out, when looking for a spruce.

So, when i do explore,
you will not find me with the busy bodies,
you will find me with the mircoscopic spores.
After all, it's we they provide for.

After this adventure, i know they swore,
they could create me a commodore.
On our yaht, somewhere offshore.
There would be no more war.
just hugs, tugs, and kisses galore.

Before, I was a skeptic, *******.
i now believe holeheartedly in folklore.
My faith in prewar,
is now eternally restored.

Because mother against man always out scores,
that is why i look no more.
Nature is my only mentor.

________

now, i see myself as a matador.
i can be anything,
that is the underscore.
https://www.flickr.com/photos/140736599@N08/26397561165/in/dateposted-public/
God bless the woman,
God bless the queen,
An Angel,
Whose immeasurable services,
Are never appreciated,
A varied flower,
Which decorates the world,
And makes life,
Worth living,
A being,
That is just another way,
Of making another being,
God bless her.


You are so many things,
In one,
As much as you are one,
In so many things,
Daughter, sister,
Mother, wife,
Comforter, consoler,
To mention,
But just a few,
And an irreplaceable extension,
And conduit,
To man,
You are some unique kind,
Of symbolic,
And unbending sanctity,
A conspicuous epitome,
Of courage,
And encouragement,
As confirmed among other items,
By the pain,
You endure in labour,
But not minding,
To go through it,
Again and again,
And again.


Man,
Can only imagine how it feels,
To carry an unknown live object,
In your body,
In the darkest,
And most precarious waters,
Of humanity,
Changing your living habits,
Owing to a vacuumed unknown,
Incognizant of what to expect,
At the end of the long,
Tiresome wheelbarrow push,
A snake or a lion,
A murderer or a saviour,
A ******* or a nun,
A president or a dissident,
A Mugabe or a Mandela,
Yes,
All these,
Came out of your generous belly,
And made you to sweat,
Scream,
Writhe and wince,
In burning,
And torturous agony.


You are peripatetic,
And ubiquitous,
A convincing symbol,
Of unfailing love,
Infact,
Love personified,
You imbue pride in us,
And our children,
And a very infectious sense,
Of longing and belonging,
Mother of man,
And woman,
Mother of the station,
Mother of the ration,
Mother of the nation.


Your heart is soft,
Like your breast,
And is fraught,
With forgiveness,
And care,
Despite that,
Some of your sisters,
And daughters,
Engage in heartless,
And heinous baby dumpings,
And others,
****** our innocent,
And defenceless unborns,
Fathers,
And mothers of tomorrow.


Like us with the sun,
You fall and rise with us,
Feeding us,
And fostering us,
When we are sick,
Having sleepless nights,
When our progeny are unwell,
While we snore,
And dream of fake riches,
A literal pregnant mine,
You really are,
Rich and abundant,
In love for us,
And a very nourishing fluid,
For our young offspring,
An offspring you strive to nurture,
Even single-handedly.


But nevertheless,
We cheat on you,
And lie to you,
With absolute uniqueness,
We abuse you,
Belittle you,
And inhumanely eviscerate you,
We make you our slaves,
And regard you,
As being beings with no rights,
Nights and tights,
Days and bays,
Yet,
No matter how much,
We subjugate you,
Or how diabolic,
We treat you,
You continue to love us,
May God bless you,
On earth and in heaven.
                                                 ________

“If I could have it my way, everyday would be women’s day” - Dr Noah Marutlulle
Arihant Verma May 2017
Cockroaches, I can understand that
if you had our ears, you would
run at the screams of my little sister,
who screams like she had seen a monster
crawling on the walls of the washroom
when instead she had just seen you
strolling in the late evening
basking the glory of tubelight.

But me, I come from peace,
I’m not disgusted by your existence.
I do not get flabbergasted by your
occasional flying skills. Infact I,
say hi to you when I come to brush.

But you, you go haywire in fear.
Do you sweat? Is there something
equivalent to that, that you do?
You needn’t, I wish I could talk
and tell you that I love you, and that
I do not want to **** you.
Douglas Oliveira May 2013
London is inside his house
London is white,
He is white, and blond, and has beautiful pair of blue eyes.
London love himself,
Love thinking about himself
And see his reflection on the mirror.
But London hardly never looks through the window
And when he does he hates what sees,
And he sees London,
And London is completely different from him,
He has black hair, and black skin, and dark eyes,
And this is enough to London conclude that London stinks.

But, outside, London knows he doesn't stink
And he couldn't care less about London's blond hair, white skin and blue eyes,
He doesn't like those eyes
He says they are ugly
Because they judge through what they see.
But, infact, he doesn't think they are ugly
Deep in his mind he thinks they stink
Stink for nothing else but for being different.

So London is not really better than London
Because London hates London,
But London hates London in the same way,
So they are the same
They think they are different,
But they are exactly the same;
And they  look at each other
But they can only see themselves,
Because all their lives are about themselves;
And if they can see only themselves
They can only say that themselves stink.

And that is what they do
All the time

But London is not only black and white
And neither as gray as people think,
London has the seven colours of the rainbow
Plus brown and some kind of reddish greenish aeneous colour
Which  doesn't even have a name.
And London has many sizes too
So it's very difficult to fit London inside London
Because London is larger on the  inside than the outside.
Others even say that London is inside out,
That London is too old to be fashion,
But London laughs
And replies innovating
And saying that he has never being inside out;
Maybe, in his most, a little bit outside in.

Definitely, London is not affraid of anyone,
He knows his history is not just in the past
Because London makes history as he goes.
And London is good,
And London  receives everybody from anywhere with his open arms,
Because the rain has never forbidden London from being warm
And if in some places the sun shines everyday
In London the sun shines at night
Because London doesn't sleep.
Never sleeps.

But, unfortunately, not everybody is like London,
And while London is so kind and human,
London is completely opposite.
London was born in London
And think London belong only to himself.
London doesn't like those who come from overseas,
London dislike anything which comes from abroad.
London hates curry,
London even hates the smell of curry
But he eats curry anyway,
because he doesn't have his own food.
And London is powerful
And he doesn't want to see anyone stealing his job,
Polluting his city,
Breathing his air.
So one day London simply decide that London must go
So London  makes up rules to send London away,
And now London are not allowed to work anymore.
But London doesn't want to go,
So London hide from London in the inner of London
And in there he survives,
Sometimes using of ilegal papers in legal jobs,
Others doing ilegal jobs without any papers.
But London survives,
Survives to hate London and all his power,
Survives to sell drugs,
To sell his body,
To sell other's people body,
To **** and steal.
Indeed, London has his own reasons to hate London;
For long years he had being  bullied and harassed,
And for more than one decade he had to hide like a rat for being chased like a rat.
More than one decade of humiliation.
Definitely, that wasn't the pain London wanted  to feel,
That was the pain London wanted to spread,
Like  he used to do when he was in his own country
And like he will do again
As soon as he hide from London long enough to be part of him,
Part of all his power
Part of his ideology and intolerance.

And this is going to happen,
Inevitably it is going to happen,
Soon or later;
Because London is not so different from London,
Actually they are the same.
They are London,
We are London,
Its walls and as well his flesh,
And, inside London,
For London
We fight London;
And it is a beautiful fight,
Because London has strength,
Because London wins,
London always wins
And if we don't see his victory
It is just because the fight is still not over.
Because London reborns from ashes
Like we know happened before.

So here I stand,
Watching the fighter of the fog
Unveiling the art of his movements
In this epic  battle
For an empty cause.
Here I stand with tears in my eyes,
Waiting for the moment in which London
Will choke on the champagne of his victory,
Because I know London will win.
Because London  always win,
But now, for the first time,
London will also loose.
Fah Jul 2013
The tree’s don’t sleep at night

they photosynthesize , by moonlight.

Leaves drink in the cool wise light

And give off dreams of softly fading starlight



Whispers of secrets , monthly unfurl

A single blossom falls at new moon

Hurtling to the ground, awake before noon

Ever noticed? The very word has the circle

Curled up in the centre , twice to make sure we remember , two full cups , not one.



Geko’s slip off old skins

And the croaking frog adds to the din

As thunder rolls in

Triggering the dogs bark

Guardian of the stark naked couple

Asleep in their parallel worlds

Together under the umbrella of ambient lighting

Not the natural kind either

But a shameless copy of pure sunlight

That emenates when their bodies collide

On the material plane.



Astral visions lead the way to headquarters

The address? Fax? Phone number?

I’m afraid you’ll have to dial again ,

Unless you’ve meditated on the vibration of emancipation

Then you would already know, you are already there

Doors are open , for those who care to try

No lock on this baby ,

Ain’t no safe to play safe

We bask in our humble glory

Under the shores on undulating tides

Rhythmic pulsations

no where to hide

The emanations come from within,

Without , a shadow of a doubt



There is a war coming , infact we’ve already been fighting for decades

Just like the change of winds, nature knows her stuff

Tip the seeds too soon and you’ll end up with a field full of fluff

But just in time and a harvest with enough to reduce every super market shelf to dust

Even though they already stock that kinda stuff

Clean up on Aisle 4, Aisle 3 , Aisle 2 , Aisle 1

Return the purchase , we’ve discovered the ****

In the cake

And we found the frog in the salad,

At least their habitat is intact

Or did you think I was still talking about the shops?
Alice Burns Apr 2014
The chill engulfs me in a warm embrace
Encapsulating me entirely in an explosion from my core
Brings tears of mourning to my eyes that sparkle with joy
Fueling my blood and bone in waves of soothing water
Filling my eyes with sights so ******
So blinding the light burns brightly as hope
Your love although its flavour so scarcely offered
I savour and cherish all the more.
Rai Dec 2012
So back again
Walking the shadows of sleeplisness
This time
Tablet in hand
An answer maybe
But not the one you may assume
If only you could read my mind
Probably best not to
Confusion has taken up residency of late
Such a strange moment
When technology astounds us once more
And words change their meanings
Ok I'm waffling
Sleep comes not fast
As the wind hounds bark
And the silver moon plays havoc
With my instincts
I would walk the moors
But there are no moors around here
So in dreaming I must excape I guess
First to down this tablet
Technology
And I don't even need water
Infact I'll just place it on the bedside table
That's all there is to it
Once I've switch it off that is.
Nikita Jan 2014
Nobody in the world understands me
I wanna run away and set myself free
I look around i see happiness
but the time i look inside i can see nothing but a complete mess
With no strength left inside me
I get up but failure is what i receive
Crying is what i do every night
Thinking next morning i may get to see a different site
But no its still the same
Infact its worse and all my efforts are in vain
Everybody takes me wrong
Its difficult to deal with it and stay strong
I just wish for that one day
When i would get someone who would make it okay
Make my life better
When everything would be sweeter
But it seems impossible
Just like my never ending pain .
Bharti Singh Mar 2016
Emptiness is NOT nothing
One is empty of something
Like an empty cup
Is empty of tea in there
Still full of air
Likewise
I am full of cosmic miracles
But empty of self existence
Thank you mother nature
For lending me
A bit of earth
A bit of air
A bit of water
A bit of fire
And all that you share
With your borrowed elements
I came into existence
Infact I am just a manifestation
I cannot exist on my own
There my emptiness is born
I realize this truth
That's why I now know
Emptiness is NOT nothing
One is empty of something
This thought is not negative
Infact, it makes me humble
And pay due
Gratitude to you
anastasiad Jan 2017
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stone the bear Oct 2016
I think with my heart;
not my head
in my hand
or buried deep under the sand.

Because when everything comes from the core,
i don’t need to wonder any more.
Thinking is not a chore:
like folding laundry into a tidy drawer.
But that’s what draws our glass floor,
and causes us to continully snore.
But what we chose to ignore,
should be infact, exactly what we adore.
Then maybe we’d ask for an encore
instead of a 24/7 drug store.

_

To you, i may be a boar,
but we must bust down the door.
Stop fighting the war!
Live for evermore(
if we wish to soar).



But today our biggest sore
may be the us marine corp.
i hurt for their souls, scattered galore.

it is i who they fend for,
it is why their blood continues to pour.
But that doesn’t effect you,
because it happens on another shore.

Your questions? i have answer for,
but please don’t ask me the baseball score.
Those fact are not in my houses’ decor,
all forms of politics, i choose to ignore.

__

You can call me a dinosaur,
regardless, I am not a cannibalistic carnivore.

_

I know you may ridicule,
but i prefer to be the recluse,
only coming out, when looking for a spruce.

So, when i do explore,
you will not find me with the busy bodies,
you will find me with the mircoscopic spores.
After all, it's we they provide for.

After this adventure, i know they swore,
they could create me a commodore.
On our yaht, somewhere offshore.
There would be no more war.
just hugs, tugs, and kisses galore.

Before, I was a skeptic, *******.
i now believe holeheartedly in folklore.
My faith in prewar,
is now eternally restored.

Because mother against man always out scores,
that is why i look no more.
Nature is my only mentor.

_

now, i see myself as a matador.
i can be anything,
that is the underscore.
https://www.flickr.com/photos/140736599@N08/26397561165/in/dateposted-public/
Paul Hardwick Apr 2015
Born was a leopard
who only had two spots
well I say spots
but more like dots
one on his ****
and the other at the end of his tail
this leopard was no snail
infact
this leopard was so fast
that when god painted him
he just shot past.
Not so true story, but good all the same     P@ul.
Nana Yaw Ofori May 2019
Drops round and run down low
Mud forms and creates tiny valleys within.
Red roads drop and rises ,
As insults flashes like thunder bolts.
Horns deafen ears,
As blood blinds eyes .

Rollercoaster highways,

Or more like riding a bull,
Feel the aches in the waist.
Infact the mechanical horses were older 
than earth herself.
You could see holes and rust 
in the metals.
The government stood by the red road idle,accepting fines and kinds.
If only they had listened to their cries,
Blood would still remain in veins.
Most road accidents in my home country are due to bad roads, old rickety trucks and careless drivers. Some blame the government, others blame the traffic police (they believe it's their job to check these things yet their corrupt ways make it impossible!....  The citizens call them "aban" which means "government".)
You're choking on your troubles, Engulfed by all your panic,
You're making plans that keep failing,
Your thought patterns are manic,
You don't know how to cope,
With life scratching at your heels,
And your sadness has made marks,
Scars that simply don't heal,
You tell them that you're drowning,
And all they can say is "Swim faster!"
But at this time remember,
Your life Guard walks on water,
He's taken care of your worries,
That you laid at his feet,
And He's fought all your battles,
God knows no defeat,
All your troubles and your panic,
He'll wipe the slate clean,
He absorbed all your sin,
Before you even came into being,
He created you human,
And as humans we have flaws,
But God doesn't turn us away,
Infact He opens His doors,
He made us with intentions,
A pathway of greatness,
It comes with its problems,
But with God you can take this,
He's show'n us with Ephesians 6,
The Armor Of God,
Is what we need to stand righteous,
Even though we are flawed,
Now I know what you're thinking,
"My flaws are too great,
For this God to still love me,
I'm only a mistake."
Now the only mistake,
Is what you've just said,
Because its for You that he died,
And then rose from the dead,
Our God has no fine print,
No way he won't accept you,
Because he planned your path ahead,
And in seeing his end, he still died for you!
Now none of us are sinless,
And that's why we were saved!
We were not made perfect,
But we were perfect enough to be made!
nathan sabellini Sep 2010
It was all going pretty well, infact very well if i had to be pushed....
but then i started to realise happiness is just an ilusion born in the fabric of the mind and thats when it all started to go terribly, partly because my legs are very wobbley there like jelly really (probs strawberry flavour) but more importantly where the hell are golden grahams they say they were cancelled because of the salt but it wasnt there fault they were taken away so young but at least we know theyve gone to a better place, theyve gone to live in the sea with the plaice (im going for the worst poem ever written can you tell :)).......i think i love you so i wrote it in a card you replied i think you mentle but i think we should just be freinds :( (that bits not true *** i dont know who you are :D) right back to the poem infact il start a new one :).
Em MacKenzie May 2019
I only wish to be by your side
I wish for it every single night,
but you didn’t bring me along for the ride,
infact you didn’t take notice until I was out of sight.

Bury me alive,
don’t leave me at the door.
I’ve been stretching this drive
down to the corner store.
I’ve been chain smoking,
and breathing the cold air skies,
I’ll tell you that I’m joking,
and if you cover my ears, I’ll cover your eyes.

I’ve been trying to catch the ocean,
but ended up drowning in her eyes.
I’m stashing away every emotion,
and she accuses my sentiment for lies.
I want to go on a joyride,
I want to drive away but not to hide.
I want to go on a joyride,
but I’m feeling alone and you’re not by my side.
So I’ll turn up the music,
and ignore my pride.

Travelling the dark street
of that old quiet ghost town,
the ferret was very discreet,
but warned of us of the bear and to slow down.
Losing track of time and missing our exit,
with conversations holding a life of their own.
I’ll remind you so you won’t forget it,
now I’ll drive that highway completely alone.

Bury me alive,
oh wait, you made the shallow grave.
I’ve been stretching this drive,
it’s pitch black but I remind you to be brave.
I’ve been listening to our favourite song,
the lyrics I easily memorize.
Eliza Dushku’s turn was wrong,
but if you be my ears, I’ll be your eyes.

I know your measurements; head to toes,
and you’re perfect just the way you are.
You know I love how you look in my clothes
when you sit beside me in my dark car.
And all the streetlights went out
as we silently took a joyride,
it’s not unusual for me but I have my doubt,
that it wasn’t amplified by her by my side.
Found an older one, not the greatest but...eh.
Kim Essary Aug 2018
Looking back in my life, where has the time gone?
I have lost so much, yet gained so much more.
I have had so many unanswered Prayers, but later realized in life that those unanswered Prayers was infact answered by not being granted.
I have had material things stolen, ruined in a tornado, and burned up in a fire, but received more than enough to replace them and give to others in need.
I have lost relationships that I thought would last forever,
But realized to trust in God because he gives for a reason and he takes for a reason.
I have carried many struggles that weren't my own just to be hurt, but those struggles helped me to be a better person in the end.
You see I've learned alot throughout my life and have so much more to learn.
But one of life's greatest lessons have taught  me that for every negative there is a positive and if you dwell on the things you don't have or lost or never received, then you miss out on all the Blessings you will overlook because you never tried to find just one positive to every situation!
No matter my state of mind or attitude, I do my very best to wake up every morning, look in the mirror and find just one positive about myself to carry me through the day. ,
I would like to challenge each and everyone to try this for one week . At the beginning of your day look in the mirror and find one good thing about yourself, it can be anything your smile your eyes just anything and all throughout the day Everytime a negative pops in your head cover it with that one positive. Ex.  Your car won't start!  Before you get all down think of your positive, my car won't start but I have pretty eyes , it will clear your mind and give u a chance to find a way to fix your problem. I challenge each one of you to try this and let me know your results
Fah Jul 2013
What?

What is that you say?

All the roads are one now?

Old children? Paradox?

I think so but then   those are the most fun of all

The spaced out interplay inside of intersections

That wind to the mountain floor and up again to volcanic shores

Cloud forests , cloud atlas , clouds messengers of the dawns ,

I hear a storm is coming , didn’t we say this before?

The dawn is already upon us , we think we’re waiting , we’ve been playing for months

Well hidden , well hidden , we don’t got no tracking devices but the markers of time that are the rising of the sun and the falling of the stars from space swirls near and far

Closer than the nearest galaxy but not as far as Sirius B

With wings that fly by night , the tips burn orange , the shades turn a musky blue , dipping into the silver water the enclosed shoulders

Harbor secrets yet,

Until we meet again my fair friend , again is right now

The full stop is redundant as there never is a full stop , you don’t have to try to decipher what I’m insinuating with my punctuation , there is no deeper meaning to it apart from my keyboard broke

But, then I decided that it could mean something more , that is the core

Nothing ever starts with a meaning we just add more! There is no meaning to this life , but there is a quest, no not a test but a quest



Mine I figured is in my smile  , my ability to weave together the nonsense into sense by calling the sense nonsense and serving the ball back over the net to sense who bats it back with a sharp backhand to nonsense who hits way out to the field beyond, hitting meaning on the head, poor meaning , meaning to have a quiet  nap under the plum tree , sorry! Screams nonsense or was it sense?



Either way , the quest has lead me here , the ultimate quest to make sense out of the nonsense that is my self

Hmmm self , hmmm self, hmm; well it was always going to be self on the highest  shelf  next to the cookie jar,

Oops can’t keep my hands out of the mess that we call blessed or taboo



Lets meander down that avenue for a while and taste the delights of forbidden fruit

Not a melon or a dragon fruit , nor is it a kiwi , infact I shouldn’t think it’s a fruit at all

Far too litteral although they are good for your body

How about for the mind , I feel like my body functions better without the excessive consumption of meat and milk does make me ****

Oops toilet talk , is that rude? I never got that, we all burp and **** and belch and **** and **** and flake off dead skin cells all day long but you never hear anyone complian “ excuse me Jones, but I did just inhale your dead skin cell” well silly moo , you’ve just inhaled jones’s and about everything you can’t see with your very eyes in that last lungfull



So you see, to me why waste time on silly buggers like swear words, change the meaning of them if it offends you so , who said that all the words have to stay the same? Really are we that stagnant ? didn’t some dude shakespere invent a ton of new sayings and no one questioned him! In fact we still use his words now, I’m sure they all thought he was bonkers, but then I guess the queen said it was cool



Hmm , queen bee , not unlike the popular kids at an out lawed place called school , dictating her orders through her minions – my definition of minions : cute slaves



The same story played out over and over well I wonder why , if we only see what others like and refuse to explore the unknown in our own right? Perhaps we just didn’t realize there was an option not on the tick list



Can I write like this

wItH aLl mY lEtTeRs FuNkY , is that not still writing ?

what?

What is that you say? What am I talking about? Am I rambling again?

Right

Back to my main point



I really like tea and I really like smiling and I really like laughing until I cry do you?

Here is a funny story:



The 3rd most watched video on a very highly esteemed newspapers website was a  low quality video of a monkey swimming in a pool , this ranked higher than a man being force fed through the nose – this is the kind of thing us humans are apparently really good at

No, not swmming silly,

Torture,

But that’s not the funny part , the funny thing is that one time my friend Paul went bowling and he saw a woman wearing a shell suit, she had a monkey polishing her bowling ***** and when she hit a strike he would clap, he also wore a matching shell suit , safe to say , it was an odd sight



Well maybe you just had to be there



But I like that , I like the ridiculousness we have created

Bowling allies and chicken and chip shops , buses , gallaries , houses , shoes , ice cream , microscopes , bath mats ,  fake ***** for children to **** their fake formula while we steal all the milk from a very much alive conscious mammal who proberbly wanted to give that milk to her baby



Ya’know stuff like that



I like it because it reminds me of what we can create , and the true power each one of us holds, because somebody came up with the idea to make high heels that **** up your back and someone came up with idea of cars that are nice to take drives in with music , someone came up with a portable music player , someone came up with the idea for a train! And then someone else built it !!!!!



I mean , come on! But the best thing I like to marvel at is nature, because no one really came up with nature , nature just kinda happened

That’s the best mystery of them all  an open ended mystery is like a really good open ended question
Deovrat Sharma May 2018
●●●
it all set
and
finally he left
assign no reason
or argument
◆◆◆

what
to regret
about his act
I never wish
to discuss infact
◆◆◆

he is always
in my remembrance
i perceive
his presence  
in every object
◆◆◆

forever
he is with me
and lives
in my heart
never to forget

●●●

© deovrat 24-05-2018
My Dear Poet Mar 2021
I have a bag full of money
Filled only with paper notes
it’s not really all that heavy
Infact, It’s so light it often floats
So I’m glad I don’t carry
The weight of the rich
on my back
because life would be so scary
weighed down by a sack
I’d rather be up and airy
strung along by a balloon
Flying up like a fairy
Scattering money from the moon
Livingdeadgirl Jan 2015
I feel so alone
Forget this life
Someone is playing my life
It's just a huge joke
A game to them
I'm about to be done with people
They bring mostly pain
Forget the knowledge
In my fathers eyes I'm a know it all
I guess I'm worthless
It's all so much *******
I'm ******* tired
Growing up I was quiet
I was so..........
I don't even know anymore
My grandma tells me a lot
She says when I was a baby
I didn't cry, not for anything
Infact, I was loved by a lot of people
The gypsys, and a biker gang called Hell's Angels are a couple.........
My mom told me the leader of Hell's Angels even bought me my first car seat, and that he REALLY liked my mom.........I'd like to meet them one day...... To say thank you for everything...... They may remember..... :)
When I was first born, I had a crescent moon on my forehead....it went away a few hrs after birth
The gypsys used to tell my mom about me
Infact it was a gypsy that told my mom I would be born twice blessed and be a girl
My mom thought I was a boy, because I had my legs crossed and I covered my self, so no one could tell from a sonogram......I laugh to here that.....
But even after my life, it's hard to move on sometimes........
I sometimes think about why I'm here
I'm not always wanted
Hell, more people wish me dead than love me or even want me around
People tell me how ******* stupid and ******* I am........ I'm running out of the fake chearfulness to say thank you and smile at them
I swear, I don't belong much of anywhere........so I still wonder why I'm here, going through the ******* that I endure, and have endured for the past several years......I wonder *** I did wrong........ I just don't know.......
I'm just to tired to care anymore.........
Raven Jan 2014
Gazing into the abyss,
Experiencing extraordinary bliss.
Irrefutably tranquil and content,
How foolish, to proudly circumvent.
The prominent beauty you observe
Could surely devistate and unnerve
This deceitful cunning entity
Obtaining the essence of identity
Becoming a grotesque atrocity
Such unexplainable ferocity
A strong burning temptation
Revenge and retaliation
Your surges on the rise
Underestimating you was unwise
Exhibiting robust and hostile motion
You are, infact, the ocean.
Fah Jul 2013
iI don’t wanna fix you , I wanna heal you as you heal me Inadvertanly , we do it anyway because we are happy I wanna feel you , as you feel me I wanna know you as I know me I wanna touch you , on metaphysical planes And see the star’s shine out of your *** , as you see mine Fly with me, my love , fly with me to the unkown lands where time hold no power Where the flower is preserved in the desert mist And the animals are small and the trees are big Where penguins live on land and zorros hunt I’ll keep you warm in the winter nights so we can fall asleep at sunrise Or maybe tonight we’ll get to bed before twelve and see sunrise instead And salute the sun with our yogic bodies Lets see the town built on the hillside , precious gems of house, stand blue and pink , perhaps we can walk the cobbled streets and stop for a drink; in the stand up bar sipping coffee or whisky who knows how far We can travel the lands by plane or by car Lets hold hands as we stare at the galaxies underbelly in a desert where there has never been rain We’ll welcome in the water to the dry drought that’s awashed our planet, They say We are emerging from a mini ice age , that is a drought of warmth, of love, of feeling Some call it the Kali Yunga either way they prohacised this Lace like web is splendid for all to see , all to share Lets build a world for us where we can care Lets make a business of our happiness and smile: Smile at your smile so you can smile at mine , endless smiles Until I kiss your soft lips as the rains fall and we don’t mind getting wet at all I remember you said you hadn’t met anyone who didn’t mind getting wet like that , or something along those lines and how time flies Our futures collided the day we met , infact we’ve been waiting for this we’ve been building for this , if we had met any sooner any later there wouldn’t have been a chance in hell , we needed each other then more than ever And so we answered the call and prehaphs that can be our greatest contribution our humble contribution to this revolution , the full cycle Our love child I feel like with you , my future could never be dim , traveling whilst sitting still Evoking the unkown in our hip hugs and our last hugs I wonder if anyone else has felt this before? The great wonders we’ve found at the shores of lust and the shores of greed and the shores of plentiful need Will you heal the world with me? We will heal what we can and no more For me , that is plenty
He tripped over my shoe, neither of us fell , we just started to float a little i hear we're somewhere over the pacific ocean now
Jay Jimenez Jan 2013
Me
today I realized that I'm perfect with who I'am
atlast in my life I know who I'am
What things im good at and what I need to work on
IM NOT PERFECT
infact im fragile and weak
I'm scared of knowing so much about myself
It's the truth
I KNOW who I can become
either good or bad
I know what the future holds
for my good decisions or my bad
If only today myself could talk to the young boy who struggled so long
trying to be someone he was not.
I'd tell that boy to not follow the crowd that he thought was so cool
That to listen to your mother
to stay away from the drugs
even if the other kids called him a loser for not playing along
The really unique kids are the ones who dont follow the normal teenage rebellion
the real rebels are the ones who study hard
hang out alone
and even wish they could go out and get hammered drunk and puke everywhere
or sleep with a random girl not for love but just for ***.
But they dont
I want to tell my rebel self to be a true rebel like those kids
the kids who later on in life
will have money to go out and enjoy the things I enjoyed as a rebel teenager
to be able to hang out with there grown up friends and to fun doing grown up things.
Instead I'm a 24 year old sandwhich artist
the teachers always said keep partying you'll look back and regret these days
I told them they'll regret saying that when I make it big
years of writing
years of sitting up late with a bottle of ***** and a lit cigarette
like my life a long ash forms off the cherry as it burns waiting for the whieght of itself to break off.
I KNOW who I'am
I'm a voice for this plugged in generation
I'm the sticky **** on the bottom of your shoe
I'm the viper in a room full of gardner snakes
I'm the demon with a halo
a hybrid of a soul
hell hound instincts
but a butterflys swagger
soft but hard
sweet but sour
I'm the reason for a middle
im the reason why things stay balanced
for not for people like me
the Balanced
the Beaten
the hardened and the Understanding
the Counter Attack
the person who has seen the roughest parts in life
has been down to pennys to his name
Im here to tell you dont give up
because even during the rain the sun can shine
those days amaze me
when its pouring but sunny
Does it make since no
but do we watch in amazement when it happens
yes
That my friends is me
thats who I'am

— The End —