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"mazed" poems
My mind is a maze Mirrored walls Sloped floors I can't find my way out of it Like a circus freak show My mind freaks me out Terrorizing me in the night Invading my resting dreams But in these times I'm lost Although I'm scared and alone There is peace in these halls Of my mazed mirrored mind
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Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 5:51 PM UTC
PTSD
A stranger has come To share my room in the house not right in the head, A girl mad as birds Bolting the night of the door with her arm her plume. Strait in the mazed bed She deludes the heaven-proof house with entering clouds Yet she deludes with walking the nightmarish room, At large as the dead, Or rides the imagined oceans of the male wards. She has come possessed Who admits the delusive light through the bouncing wall, Possessed by the skies She sleeps in the narrow trough yet she walks the dust Yet raves at her will On the madhouse boards worn thin by my walking tears. And taken by light in her arms at long and dear last I may without fail Suffer the first vision that set fire to the stars.
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7.5k
Love In The Asylum
This land in midst of mazed vales and meadows, Of lofty icy Himalayan peaks and forestry. Unique are the means utilized by the power players, Be it the Islamists or Hindus on either borders. Claim of their right to rule this land of the free, A people distinctly different from their ideals. Compassion for us seems long forgotten, As we are constantly crunched beneath boot heels. Where forth must we look for our liberation? Has our God also forgotten our stressful plight?
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Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 8:15 AM UTC
Liberation Sought
i think it's hard to be friends or lovers with a writer. here's why: 1) you have to be careful of what you say, because the writers mostly take every word of yours literally and try to find the meaning in it. say what you mean, and mean what you say. 2) you also have to be wary of your grammar. those people, whom you know as writers, are grammar nazis. if they don't correct you in speech, fret not; it has been done in their word-mazed minds. 3) they will rant and rant and rant, because written words are what cool them off without having them to speak aloud. curse words, words which carry a tune, words which burn into brains... hear them out. do not be lazy to read their rants if they trust you with it. (they could rant about you TO YOU in the end.) 4) this is the hardest part. just remember that they will write about you no matter who you are or what you've done (or maybe you haven't even done anything). these people will write about how they see you. and most of the time, those writings are not so favorable. if you do not want to (literally) end up in their bad books, beware. their words may not last in ink forever but embedded into the hearts of those who read them. happy reading and living with a reader!
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Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 3:07 PM UTC
knowing a writer: the difficulties
'Neath the Willows, cloaked in brume, as streams the night time a deepening. Enshrouding all in shadows womb, I espy true loves awakening. Eve tide slumber found a youth, within the mead, where I do dwell. Wont was I, to bespell, forsooth, tis truly, one thing I do well. Mazed, stands young swain, aside his bay, embracing nymph, of flaxen hair. Bedewed, were eyes, by impish fay, for it be a swine, he holds there. Of deep laughter, I do partake. As disenthralled, young swain awakes.
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Oct 12, 2010
Oct 12, 2010 at 6:11 PM UTC
Sprites Do Dwell
My mind is a maze Confused and dazed I turn one way and end up in another direction Walls so tall enclosing all Never to show the world Dark and dreary Vines capturing my words Running inside twirling around Unorganized and lost My mind is a maze Confused and dazed
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Jan 20, 2011
Jan 20, 2011 at 8:46 AM UTC
Mazed
Behold me, in my chiffon, gauze, and tinsel, Flitting out of the shadow into the spotlight, And into the shadow again, without a whisper!-- Firefly's my name, I am evanescent. Firefly's your name. You are evanescent. But I follow you as remorselessly as darkness, And shut you in and enclose you, at last, and always, Till you are lost,--as a voice is lost in silence. Till I am lost, as a voice is lost in silence. . . Are you the one who would close so cool about me? My fire sheds into and through you and beyond you: How can your fingers hold me? I am elusive. How can my fingers hold you? You are elusive? Yes, you are flame, but I surround and love you, Always extend beyond you, cool, eternal, To take you into my heart's great void of silence. You shut me into your heart's great void of silence. . . O sweet and soothing end for a life of whirling! Now I am still, whose life was mazed with motion. Now I sink into you, for love of sleep.
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1k
Dancing Adairs
Two people Two minds Mazed by constant confusion. Unsuring by mix signals. One hoping. . . holding out a hand in the dark One searching. . . Seeking farther from the reach. Two people But. . . One heart.
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Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 1:39 AM UTC
One Heart
Behold me, in my chiffon, gauze, and tinsel, Flitting out of the shadow into the spotlight, And into the shadow again, without a whisper!- Firefly's my name, I am evanescent. Firefly's your name. You are evanescent. But I follow you as remorselessly as darkness, And shut you in and enclose you, at last, and always, Till you are lost,-as a voice is lost in silence. Till I am lost, as a voice is lost in silence. . . Are you the one who would close so cool about me? My fire sheds into and through you and beyond you: How can your fingers hold me? I am elusive. How can my fingers hold you? You are elusive? Yes, you are flame, but I surround and love you, Always extend beyond you, cool, eternal, To take you into my heart's great void of silence. You shut me into your heart's great void of silence. . . O sweet and soothing end for a life of whirling! Now I am still, whose life was mazed with motion. Now I sink into you, for love of sleep.
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801
Turns And Movies: Dancing Adairs
He had a paper maché heart, and weekly, it was layered again with more glue, protecting him. And one day, it completely snapped in two, he tried so hard to be free. Now his heart is mazed in crumbles, and he's lost in the debris-
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Dec 23, 2017
Dec 23, 2017 at 7:34 PM UTC
Debris
my mind is a football stadium filled with sports anchors hallowing our conversation in class the other day did I say this right? did you mean your laugh? i am nothing but a child! mazed by a fable or some sort of fairy book story i imagine the other day in class, wanting it to be all days all moments in different aisles of hallways different shades of walls i am still a child picking on my mind like a sunflower on valentines day "will he like me" "will he not" and you have nothing to do with this but you are everything to blame my poems are just passive voices asking you questions without saying your name indirectly it is 10:03 I am lying between the covers of my bed pondering when you told me you like music i am listening to the same song over and over each time, thinking of you differently
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Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 9:57 PM UTC
being a teenager (last)
An pleasant night...Amore mild ,than wild. You..zoomin,stumbling,moving alright for my most,minimised sets of vision insights. Made in...moved in for meeting without no consciences of moonshine. We Smiled..it shined,tough to deny the uprise..the valued climb. Where everything seems to rhyme. Or was i at the center of meltdown on my melting point.And you kept mesmerising. It took a'while to memorise..you were too mazed to measurise,to my surprise. Or was it you,on the monocyclic ride in &off; my mind.And i'd still moo down like an moonbeam ,my way. Morphed down,above some waves...moss hags, mrches across our way,the muted disguise. Dis-mantling apart my motor cortex and hers as well. Motoring,defflexing us far away Misprized off,what we hold of we were misplaced...mislayed so cruel,the perfect mishap. Waving off,from the monstrance of our  retraction irreticulating without no demise Avowed i stood by..Upon those marks,beyond the maze of multiplicated edges 'Hope they'll know..Coz we knw weGA
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Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 7:27 AM UTC
few fine sights.
Astigmatism effects many around these Sylvan parts, Where word's turn to bullets, False love flies between transpired sparks!!! Arrogancys lost child mourns mercantile traits, Wherein fears art nothing but fate , Materialist confirmed to promise!!!!! Whereth art thou mender? Lover? Dutchess!!!!!! Mentality struck down, Memory foam pounds lit to green bushes!! Maunder thy jail time feeling's, Their nights goeth short to cold!!! Thine melodramas Soo grant I'm watching it all right here!!! Darling, dear, So mazed , Soo sincere!!! Mistaketh nothing, for thy monastery only can play out to thine escort lost end, Unmonogomous prelude of gratis sphere radiance!!! Countess of impurities, Traitor to mall town frivolity!!!!!
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May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 10:28 PM UTC
mall town shopper
Running after you love Is like chasing the sun Always in my sight but never getting any closer Yet you light my life with the shine of your eyes and all I want is to touch knowing I would burn Now I am getting familiar With the starry night Intertwining with all the darkness inside Catching fireflies in the sky Hoping they could fill that void Mazed moths flying into fire Sudden urge of life to expire Makes sense to me now If I be the flying bug and you my demise somehow then i will have my grave dug surging willingly to you longing for one last hug.
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May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 3:26 PM UTC
To my demise
Cigarettes after cigarettes after cigarettes , Barrels of nicotines Sometimes green flowers with harsh smoke veil , Her tunnel she mazed with mist of darkness , Weaving the oblivion never knew where it leads , How it ends , She kept practising over and over again . His voice was cold , Yet heavy and bold , Paving the dim yellow lights He drilled the night's routine , Chased the bewildered dream , Like a wind and unseen , Reached the volcano's end , He saw her glistening eyes , No matter how dark the shade was , How in distant it was , Still shined like the silver queen of the sun , In her nest , panting , uncanny was her dance beat , Euphoric ideas enthralled by his sight , Roared in her veins , Like a blue bird she wanted to fly away , Like a humming bird she was crooning to his breath , A gorgeous gladiolus that she smelled , Quivered her toes from beneath the planet . Between the bars two glances were met . ©
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Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 1:15 PM UTC
Between The Bars
Look-- You took a book, Filled the pages with your wages Of sixteen silver sages-- What does it mean to me? Fire prints, laundry lints, The phone call that made me fall. Walk down that hall where I feel so small. That tricksy pixie lightened, tightened The reigns in the rain I fell through a drain Wish I could go insane. Our feet in the mud, I watched Throne of Blood, The Fallen City of Ludd Come back to me Come Back To Me. I'm a hack a washed up sack On a beach I feel that leech Begin to teach me the meaning Of screaming Out my emotional, devotional Love for you. Please be happy, My thoughts are sappy. I lap the sap, feel like crap, Mazed in a trap, There's no going back. Forward..... Motion. My devotion like the ocean ends at the shore I am a ***** Difficult rhymes for difficult times Leaning on a crutch "The human mind can only stand so much" I would Do anything I could To make it good For us to be--like the sea-- Crashing Together Forever Whenever You wanted.
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Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 3:49 PM UTC
All Broked Up
Ginsburg threw me a line… "on the black waters of Lethe", as I floated by. A ware, launched in antiquity as tonal code, lazily waiting the call, dum did dum dum dum, drum drum drum Big bass, tickled in tune to the whistler washing dishes, in the back, we've all seen in the back, on TV but are you, really, for all reality is worth, are you experienced, have you gone this far before? Have you changed a diaper on a rich old lady? Seems like, right, one word to another, line upon line, precepts perceptively retained. Precious little is as it was. Pre is a time-wise measure, how can we think past thoughts, we never cross the same river twice. No question demands an answer in truth, demands are put on servants, while we are known as friends, to all those floating on the Lethe, well below the leavee, see, there those same ol' good ol' boys discerning whiskey from rye. They see time's a river, and I agree, says this story to me, but I say, it is a river of light on a bubble's inner edge, I been there, Age of Lethe, a game I invented, -- a virus, plays by lethargic rules, no effort needed, living to steal and **** and destroy, a minimalist First Person Shooter, steal **** destroy, then it was hacked, steal **** destroy, mutated into take **** destroy give, which was odd, because all truth comes in three pointy things, if then else oops opposites spoo ffffffff effect ****** drama writ large, it was us, the muses, dis-mazing the mazed again a loss of time, too bad. Three points equal one try. Aim. So sad. Grieve for the fallen all we never knew, the heroes unsung. Goto the ant, thou sluggard living in a floating Barco Lounger, drifting aimless--- ah, what if not, what if I know a place, just around the next bend, and we get off there? What then, it's my story?
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Dec 24, 2020
Dec 24, 2020 at 4:46 PM UTC
Christmas in Covid-era state of mind
Ginsburg threw me a line… "on the black waters of Lethe", as I floated by. A ware, launched in antiquity as tonal code, lazily waiting the call, dum did dum dum dum, drum drum drum Big bass, tickled in tune to the whistler washing dishes, in the back, we've all seen in the back, on TV but are you, really, for all reality is worth, are you experienced, have you gone this far before? Have you changed a diaper on a rich old lady? Seems like, right, one word to another, line upon line, precepts perceptively retained. Precious little is as it was. Pre is a time-wise measure, how can we think past thoughts, we never cross the same river twice. No question demands an answer in truth, demands are put on servants, while we are known as friends, to all those floating on the Lethe, well below the leavee, see, there those same ol' good ol' boys discerning whiskey from rye. They see time's a river, and I agree, says this story to me, but I say, it is a river of light on a bubble's inner edge, I been there, Age of Lethe, a game I invented, -- a virus, plays by lethargic rules, no effort needed, living to steal and **** and destroy, a minimalist First Person Shooter, steal **** destroy, then it was hacked, steal **** destroy, mutated into take **** destroy give, which was odd, because all truth comes in three pointy things, if then else oops opposites spoo ffffffff effect ****** drama writ large, it was us, the muses, dis-mazing the mazed again a loss of time, too bad. Three points equal one try. Aim. So sad. Grieve for the fallen all we never knew, the heroes unsung. Goto the ant, thou sluggard living in a floating Barco Lounger, drifting aimless--- ah, what if not, what if I know a place, just around the next bend, and we get off there? What then, it's my story?
Continue reading...
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Whispers, telling me give up You will never win her ‘Come on’ don’t be coward You love her, you can’t give up on her, she is your everything What’s that humming This dilemma is suffocating me
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Mar 8, 2018
Mar 8, 2018 at 4:35 PM UTC
Mazed
friend I dreamed of you that you came to see me and for an hour or two my fantasies played true as we tossed and turned we made one from two and now I am lost
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Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 10:04 AM UTC
A Mazed
*I am lost Inside the maze Of my convincing words*
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May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 10:15 AM UTC
(A)mazed 10w
******* Juxtaposed are our hearts now, Embracing me is your soul, Near or far from glow, Inside, like blood you flow, Far you are yet so near, baby, Amazed I stand in your precious love. I want to say this now. Love, care, or affection, Oh call it whatever you may, Very sure I am by the way, Enjoying I am this infection. You make your mind, Only me you marry, Unless death tears us apart.
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Sep 7, 2019
Sep 7, 2019 at 8:07 AM UTC
Our Hearts United
I'm on a polar thing, I'm on a polar thing, I'm on a polar thing, from the north pole to the south pole, stuck in a maze, so I went out and Mazed talent out. With my name in the middle, with double T left, where I'm from means you, and nothing comes easy. Just check how dark my hallway was, till I found the light. O Glory, O Glory stay with me, a bayberry root to find my love. Feel the passion, chasing the spotlight, this is where my Demons are. All I ever hear is that is very rare, the eye of return. It could be because of the Isolation mysterious, in a ration of stations, a formation of God's creation. I'm on a polar thing.
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Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 3:45 PM UTC
I'm on a Polar thing.
Connections laced on a thin fibre of hair, diminishing, a once felt happiness fades away like waves, a true passion inside, fire burning, unfinishing. Honesty buried deep within the dirt of earth, scarse to find a willing person to bare thier soul, thier subconscious awareness searches for thier worth. Mazed thoughts unable to reach the end, a complex puzzle, an uncrackable safe, a decadent direction of a willing faith. A stressful peace unheard off, like a light to a moth, a frail confused mind. a seared picture on a glazed eyelense, Unable to let go of such inadequate thoughts.
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Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 9:34 PM UTC
????
Dear Life... Thou the silent watcher of time. Death call's thee "A beautiful lie". World Changed... So did love! Thou cozen with oneself and the world...wherefore? Verily...I have changed! Thou let me... mazed by the situation. Yea! Time with thee tantiving like stallion. Collecting betimes as much thyself can. Cause where there's no plight, a mighty ship can sink as well.... So does a relationship!
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Oct 27, 2018
Oct 27, 2018 at 9:59 PM UTC
Letter to Life
Ships coming down Straits of bone To the bottom hole Last to see First to go Hallowed fields of gold Brushing gently Upon little toes Running to hearth and home Earth grown Empty sounds Go unnoticed In this field of brown Ghosts roam around Knowing not life Like a winged fowl Piercing gaze And hunter's scowl The reaper comes down To mazed fields Graced by dark and light The fields change While shadows roam by Seeking peace in dualities Opposite extremes Scythe in hand, harvest is swift The shadows gaze with uncertainty Of the unseen And all within intuition's grasp Of the threshing fields Shadows move in sun and moon Seeking Fields of gold, An end to rough terrain, Answers to the pain
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Feb 8, 2021
Feb 8, 2021 at 9:39 PM UTC
Fields of Gold