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"lefted" poems
I never noticed how someone could come so fast into my life. 2 months. Just 2 months, He came and up & lefted me. He had a bright smile that could light up any room he stepped in. A gorgeous & toned dark skinned body that protrude against my caramel skin. He was everything, I had ever asked for in life. He was my life until he left me in a blink of an eye.
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Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 11:46 PM UTC
In A Blink Of An Eye
In a strange mood - see/write art in a strange way, disorganized but straight on, light tinted magenta, issuing, in frothy large pours, from my mouth, knowing what to say, and the meaning too, I can more than walk, can write, on water, where all can read weeping, Mary-miracles of seeing, living words, themselves, on light waves lapping in a shifting rotunda vision, color reorienting spatial senses.^ in a strange, strange stitch, seasonal spirits and witches, Chagall, Baez, Dylan Thomas, Donovan, Richie Havens doing their knitting in my brain, from Montmartre to the Midwest to Monterey, painters and poets in lockstep head-messing with me, imperfect clarity but still one voice, see/write art, so went and caught the wind, going gently into night to banish the hodgepodge of uncertainty from inside out. knowing well you don't understand fully, but jumbling tumbling verses are sliding off my rusted tongue as fiddlers fly above, roughened words, hewn from a paper cup, spilling diamonds uncut, imported from Sarajevo, Montparnasse, the Lower East Side. wretched me, in the hour I first believed, this amalgamated conception conceded, seceded from my mind into your palate for a tasting, tho neither drugged, nor deaf and dumb, just slammed poetical-like, this write is all I have to portend is your affections, your attentions, to yours, am beholden. a ***** well respected man in daylight, the hidden references accuse, woke up to see Wednes-day Caesarian born, askance glanced at the prior passages of the night before, when my palate clefted, when eyes chose not to distinguish between right and lefted, in the nightlight, a ***** man disrespects language convection/convention, and lays before you activating stanzas and his mind, prone, but always the truth, speaking, the visions, leaking, mind to eye, recombinant, into our minds eye. ^ http://www.guggenheim.org/new-york/exhibitions/on-view/james-turrell Rather than write extensive notes on the many references, inspirations in this poem, if there is a line that intrigues, ask me
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Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 2:49 PM UTC
In a strange mood - see/write art
In a strange mood - see/write art in a strange way, disorganized but straight on, light tinted magenta, issuing, in frothy large pours, from my mouth, knowing what to say, and the meaning too, I can more than walk, can write, on water, where all can read weeping, Mary-miracles of seeing, living words, themselves, on light waves lapping in a shifting rotunda vision, color reorienting spatial senses.^ in a strange, strange stitch, seasonal spirits and witches, Chagall, Baez, Dylan Thomas, Donovan, Richie Havens doing their knitting in my brain, from Montmartre to the Midwest to Monterey, painters and poets in lockstep head-messing with me, imperfect clarity but still one voice, see/write art, so went and caught the wind, going gently into night to banish the hodgepodge of uncertainty from inside out. knowing well you don't understand fully, but jumbling tumbling verses are sliding off my rusted tongue as fiddlers fly above, roughened words, hewn from a paper cup, spilling diamonds uncut, imported from Sarajevo, Montparnasse, the Lower East Side. wretched me, in the hour I first believed, this amalgamated conception conceded, seceded from my mind into your palate for a tasting, tho neither drugged, nor deaf and dumb, just slammed poetical-like, this write is all I have to portend is your affections, your attentions, to yours, am beholden. a ***** well respected man in daylight, the hidden references accuse, woke up to see Wednes-day Caesarian born, askance glanced at the prior passages of the night before, when my palate clefted, when eyes chose not to distinguish between right and lefted, in the nightlight, a ***** man disrespects language convection/convention, and lays before you activating stanzas and his mind, prone, but always the truth, speaking, the visions, leaking, mind to eye, recombinant, into our minds eye. ^ http://www.guggenheim.org/new-york/exhibitions/on-view/james-turrell Rather than write extensive notes on the many references, inspirations in this poem, if there is a line that intrigues, ask me
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I grow up in a place that has a lot of blood Every where you walk by is a hole of blood bombs everywhere , gunfire sound, people head's flying in the ear. Can't see anything because of the dark ear that flow by. Lost in the wonderland of darkness. Don't know the direction in her country people bother her , judge her and laugh at her . All because she didn't know what's going on . She went to school only for 5 years , then she quit school , because of the killing in her  country and in front of her eyes . Aylin lefted her country behind and moved on to U.S.A to have an adication , her dream is to be a soccer player . Aylin went to school called fugees Academy , witch is soccer program she's a soccer player but she's fighting for her dream to come true one day :)
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Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 9:47 PM UTC
Lost in the darkness
You’re the cold side of the bed Come monday morning A quiet whose screams echo those same words "I dont love you. Anymore." A putrid piece of magic. Coated with the pungency of sin And id dance with you But these feet are like no other Vilified and scarred and lefted And lost beyond repair. And i’d sing to you With the shot voice upon which David danced to But i've left my voice behind Traded for a moment of what i call justice and I’d offer you a drink But alas, all I bear are these Battle scars and foreign thoughts And all these empty bottles
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Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 7:28 PM UTC
Empty Bottles
Life is a pirate that Sails the open sea, Raging his fierce sword to Any that dares to challenge thee. Hatred is his worst enemy Who vows to destroy his hope And the reign of love, Leaving him hanging by a rope. A battle is inevitable, a ****** one In fact. One will surely fall. Many innocent people will be victims Of this ****** conflict, as the other stand up tall. The loser will be forced to bow Down on his knees and mope. And all his followers lefted will witness Him hanging by a rope. His muscle will buckle up And his limbs will dangle down. His voice will scream for help But no one will hear a sound. His eyes will open wide And his body will slowly slope. He will gag for more air While he is hanging by a rope.
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Apr 3, 2013
Apr 3, 2013 at 10:49 PM UTC
Hanging by a rope
When the moon faints into the dark There comes a girl who sells sunlight Wearing dark bruises into her scratched skin, Followed by vicious wolves with ****** teeths, To ward of the gloom To paint the dark, For what was been painted on her colored hopes, Was Labyrinth of suffering She stoles the sunlight from the day At least the sun doesnt mind it, She bends to the peoples who needed the sunlit jars in the moonless dusk. For their darkling shore of the heart They try to go to her, But is held back. There's a girl who sells sunlight Dipped in lefted ecstacies And fades As None had a strength to follow her into the dark
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Oct 9, 2022
Oct 9, 2022 at 3:18 AM UTC
A girl who sells sunlight
The dreams I had Was set on fire by the world Lefted only dust Slowly fell to the dirt The chemistry went out of hand I need time but I ran out of sand Been here forever I stand In this unforgiven land If only I can fix these legs To get out of the deep space Stop wondering how sweet does her lips taste I wonder how far I can go, if I fix these legs Whenever your name I wrote My poems glows But I have to bury the blooming rose To see her happiness grows
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Oct 2, 2020
Oct 2, 2020 at 2:40 PM UTC
I Buried A Blooming Rose
She went to sleep,with love between her lips, happiness between her teeth, her cover is relieved, she is the women in black always with sadness on her eyes, i died many times and lefted with words i couldnt say, and now lost while she is away, days are past like years and i still remember her tears that rolled of her cheek, her lips that studderd affection, but gone like an arrow
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May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 2:30 PM UTC
Beauty sleeper
*I am no longer a slave to fear, I suffered and struggled, but all was lefted higher when I let you cary me through the fire. I gathered my well I built my wall’s stronger all in your name, I gave you all of my strife and excepted my life. I lived as life pushed on harder, as is your well and your desire. You gave me kindling to build my fire, allowing my flame to grow higher. I have just one desire, to live for you and grow until I can’t grow any higher. You are my hope and dreams, you bring me to my knees, not in vain but for strangth and exceptance. Aman* © 2017 By Amanda Shelton
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Nov 14, 2017
Nov 14, 2017 at 3:01 AM UTC
Lifting Me Higher
On a cold night a woman did lie, Alone in her blood she'd been left to die, Remembering what she'd been told to do She begged for life her intentions true. Twas a man who heard her cry, And not wishing to see her die Revived the life that had been lost, Even though he knew there'd be a cost. Later that night a girl came into being, Twas the goblin's bride many ghosts were seeing, Back at the scene left behind, Their souls a grim reaper didn't find. Years later on a tragic night, A young girl had discovered by birthday light, Across from her-her mother she didn't see, A ghost was what it appeared to be. Leaving her cake the girl had cried, Longing for her mother who had long since died, Twas a man whom she did meet, From the grim reaper she made her retreat. A hard life was what the girl faced, With an aunt where love lefted no trace, Yet she tried to push through, Knowing that was the best she could do.
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Jun 27, 2019
Jun 27, 2019 at 12:53 AM UTC
Fate