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"memeory" poems
Scream, Just let it all out, All that anger you couldn't shake before, Just scream, make that anger a memeory, Scream, like it will never end, Just scream, jump off the deep end, Scream, nothing can stop you, From expressing such anger, Please people, give humanity a riveting call of anger, Throw a riot, start a banter, Make people see how delusional they can be, That they're missing out on the depression that they created, Scream, and let people know, that you're alive, Alive and fighting, For all things to be right, Scream and let people know they have to fight, Let them know they're not alone, Just scream, scream out vengance Let the anger float to the heavens, and let them know, Things aren't too good down here, That they're lucky to be there, Just scream, scream it to the world, That they need to change their ways, before its too late, Just scream
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Jul 16, 2012
Jul 16, 2012 at 2:31 PM UTC
Scream
It was back in those days, the elementary school days, when we were all friends, characters to one anothers plays of nonsense. When we reigned over puddles with galoshes or brightly coloured gumboots. When we wore capes and knew all the sing along songs. And yes, I do recall, fondly so, that big park. We were all there, whether in soul or in spirit,we explored the butterfly gardens, our parents and teachers were there too, a school trip of sorts? Just a vivid  but fotgotten dream? Who may answer these questions but ourselves by eventually succumbing to the universes natural way and forgetting the questions and finding and accepting the universes other answers. The flowers of the light May day were in full bloom and that glass greenhouse, the one that intrigued me so, stood just like a castle. After lunch, when the children were running throuhg green grass or wiping sticky hands from oranges upon the damper grass of the shade and while our parents and teachers sat on their coats dilly dallying, I stopped. Stopped from my playing like a bunny caught in someones eyes. Was it a hand that grabbed mine or mine that reached out? Lead to a rivers edge, a little stream or pond. Ducking under willow and stepping over bushes and creeping through imagined dens of foxes or coyotes. My companion, my little friend, the face on the memory is blank, perhaps we had even more company. We held hands. We held hands like friends in our childhood innocence, before the concept of cooties, before the playground held terror. We sat hunched up by the pond poking sticks and reeds into the stream. Poking at the river flies and mud. Lost in a mystic realm of childhood unknowingness. And then it caught me. A glimpse that magnified. The little water spider, gliding on the surface as though the surface were glass. Oh water bug, from my bright eyes  and blurred warm memeory you stood out to me. Majestically skating in the reflection of my face. As though you were that man mentioned in grandfathers stories from the book he said he beleived in, that man himself, walking on water. Such grace and beauty in you're perfectly casual stride, a quality I later noticed and looked for in people. Oh water bug, slipping your little bug fingers through glassy streams like a figure skater on an ice pond. Do you remember me little bug? I was the one, the one with the little hands reaching out. I tried to hold your magic in my hands. I was the one that in awe reached out But like a snap dragon, in a blink, you were gone.
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Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 7:14 PM UTC
To a Water Bug
It was back in those days, the elementary school days, when we were all friends, characters to one anothers plays of nonsense. When we reigned over puddles with galoshes or brightly coloured gumboots. When we wore capes and knew all the sing along songs. And yes, I do recall, fondly so, that big park. We were all there, whether in soul or in spirit,we explored the butterfly gardens, our parents and teachers were there too, a school trip of sorts? Just a vivid  but fotgotten dream? Who may answer these questions but ourselves by eventually succumbing to the universes natural way and forgetting the questions and finding and accepting the universes other answers. The flowers of the light May day were in full bloom and that glass greenhouse, the one that intrigued me so, stood just like a castle. After lunch, when the children were running throuhg green grass or wiping sticky hands from oranges upon the damper grass of the shade and while our parents and teachers sat on their coats dilly dallying, I stopped. Stopped from my playing like a bunny caught in someones eyes. Was it a hand that grabbed mine or mine that reached out? Lead to a rivers edge, a little stream or pond. Ducking under willow and stepping over bushes and creeping through imagined dens of foxes or coyotes. My companion, my little friend, the face on the memory is blank, perhaps we had even more company. We held hands. We held hands like friends in our childhood innocence, before the concept of cooties, before the playground held terror. We sat hunched up by the pond poking sticks and reeds into the stream. Poking at the river flies and mud. Lost in a mystic realm of childhood unknowingness. And then it caught me. A glimpse that magnified. The little water spider, gliding on the surface as though the surface were glass. Oh water bug, from my bright eyes  and blurred warm memeory you stood out to me. Majestically skating in the reflection of my face. As though you were that man mentioned in grandfathers stories from the book he said he beleived in, that man himself, walking on water. Such grace and beauty in you're perfectly casual stride, a quality I later noticed and looked for in people. Oh water bug, slipping your little bug fingers through glassy streams like a figure skater on an ice pond. Do you remember me little bug? I was the one, the one with the little hands reaching out. I tried to hold your magic in my hands. I was the one that in awe reached out But like a snap dragon, in a blink, you were gone.
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21
I close my eyes, against the bright light and try to count the stars, yes with my eyes shut tight they flit away, my thoughts, like humming birds taking flight... I try to latch onto it , only to fail all the while whirling in a boat, trying to sail I search for it , but in vain and i'm left staring at the spot it'd lain. It teases me and taunts me of the paradise, that exists, just out of my reach, floating there it persists... It stays there the memory of a time without taint, and i follow the path that my tears now paint. She stares at the phantom girl, her eyes open wide, and feels the feelings crash into her, tide after tide. she ventures unafraid into the dreary , cold foreboding dark the cold does not bother her and she moves on guided by a spark. just beyond the realm of darkness, where she sees an inviting spark, the memory that taunts her, it lies just beyond the dark... She wades in through the murk, just out of her reach does the memory lurk. Through and through, drenched with fear as the doubts mount in numbers in the sidelines and leer. She runs towards it rather than away, facing the demon , unyielding to its sway. Its stares at her, with dark dark eyes taunting her yet again with promises, that are all lies. She stares back at it, through all the shadows, that lurk all the fears and doubts and beyond all the despair in the murk. The memeory rushes into her like a deep breath of fresh air, to fill her with love and happiness and all the joy that she could bear But suddenly, its blown away just as soon as it came disappearing within seconds,with a passing gust of air, she realizes nothing can ever be the same. That life is but momentary, and you don't live long enough to hear all the commentary That all things Love and Hate Fear and Courage Truth and Lies exist side by side and one thing has to die, for the other to survive and this is the rule by which, they all abide. I open my eyes to the brightnes of the sun-rise all the fear is washed away and so are the lies...
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May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 11:39 AM UTC
REACHING FOR A MEMORY
I close my eyes, against the bright light and try to count the stars, yes with my eyes shut tight they flit away, my thoughts, like humming birds taking flight... I try to latch onto it , only to fail all the while whirling in a boat, trying to sail I search for it , but in vain and i'm left staring at the spot it'd lain. It teases me and taunts me of the paradise, that exists, just out of my reach, floating there it persists... It stays there the memory of a time without taint, and i follow the path that my tears now paint. She stares at the phantom girl, her eyes open wide, and feels the feelings crash into her, tide after tide. she ventures unafraid into the dreary , cold foreboding dark the cold does not bother her and she moves on guided by a spark. just beyond the realm of darkness, where she sees an inviting spark, the memory that taunts her, it lies just beyond the dark... She wades in through the murk, just out of her reach does the memory lurk. Through and through, drenched with fear as the doubts mount in numbers in the sidelines and leer. She runs towards it rather than away, facing the demon , unyielding to its sway. Its stares at her, with dark dark eyes taunting her yet again with promises, that are all lies. She stares back at it, through all the shadows, that lurk all the fears and doubts and beyond all the despair in the murk. The memeory rushes into her like a deep breath of fresh air, to fill her with love and happiness and all the joy that she could bear But suddenly, its blown away just as soon as it came disappearing within seconds,with a passing gust of air, she realizes nothing can ever be the same. That life is but momentary, and you don't live long enough to hear all the commentary That all things Love and Hate Fear and Courage Truth and Lies exist side by side and one thing has to die, for the other to survive and this is the rule by which, they all abide. I open my eyes to the brightnes of the sun-rise all the fear is washed away and so are the lies...
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46
Dont wait tommorow for what can be said today. Ripples in the water. Cast from stone so easily fade away. The difference in a day plays apon your face. Regret tangles the most simple questions. All to often we mask the stubborn actions and pass them off as fate. How could I ever let you slip away. Burns a heart only to freeze over. The road is never a clear direction. A cold night a lovers embrace like a blanket gives a false a sense of protection. Now I hold a memeory not a friend. We cant mask the distance. So how can we continue to pretend. Old love letters a window to a moment in time. Tears flow freely in the confines of my emptyness. In the illusion when I knew you as mine. Sweet kisses are wasted apon the bitter soul. Times fragments splintter to all but vanish from sight. It's a struggle to live in the moment when you cant even get ast a single night. Tommorow I wont let it repeat today. No longer will I settle to simply exist. Watching lines once strong as they fade away. Sometimes the best canvas should stay blank. Colored by hopes not strokes of pain. More words are needed to exist with my deepest emotions in silent reframe.
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May 2, 2010
May 2, 2010 at 5:09 PM UTC
The Multilayred Confessions Of A One Dimesional Soul
I never knew what loneliness was until I your cure for it you detached me from identity you dismissed me from a capaticy to feel and ignored that I ached for you ached to love you with my faceless face ached to love you with my body that you made mechanical ached to love you with my soul that you denied, refused, dismissed, me of having your intentions blurred me into nothing and you say that that was not your intent but why do you take me like you mean to write me into poetry but then erase my essence off your pages you are a black hole diminishing me into an abyss of your neglect, and rejection so I am ceaselessly falling into your darkness and not your love to love you with all my exsistencne nonexsistently I alway love with all my exsistence nonexsistently I am alone in my accidental purpose and reasons and secrets and confessions and everything unspoken i want to be silence to you the silence that echos with words and feelings that exsist but remain nonexsistent and i ache to love you with my voiceless voice but whats the use in emphasiszing my insanity by speaking aloud to myself? so ill stay consumed in thinking to myself thoughts meant for you deprived of meaning by you I've been alone in love every time I've loved and alone I love more but i've never felt such utter loneliness before as you keep a memeory but forget me within it fade me into insignificance so my name is a word and not a meaning, not a nickname for my essence but remembered as just a presence a witness to you breathing-dissolving myself into your inhale and vanishing as you expel me with your exhale i look into your eyes like i look into a mirror trying to see myself inside but being nothing more than a surface reflection i never understood lonliness until i felt yours the disconnect as our eyes connected the detachement as our hands attached the distance as our lips met never have I felt so far when being so close never have I craved so much an intamacy that will never be intimate never have I felt love in being so unloved before i was alone but did not feel the pain of solitude before i was in solitdue but did not feel the hurt of being alone now i'm in a lonely love for you and i'm addicted to the nothingness you make me but i wish you loved me into something i wish you loved me
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Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 1:00 PM UTC
feeling lonely
I never knew what loneliness was until I your cure for it you detached me from identity you dismissed me from a capaticy to feel and ignored that I ached for you ached to love you with my faceless face ached to love you with my body that you made mechanical ached to love you with my soul that you denied, refused, dismissed, me of having your intentions blurred me into nothing and you say that that was not your intent but why do you take me like you mean to write me into poetry but then erase my essence off your pages you are a black hole diminishing me into an abyss of your neglect, and rejection so I am ceaselessly falling into your darkness and not your love to love you with all my exsistencne nonexsistently I alway love with all my exsistence nonexsistently I am alone in my accidental purpose and reasons and secrets and confessions and everything unspoken i want to be silence to you the silence that echos with words and feelings that exsist but remain nonexsistent and i ache to love you with my voiceless voice but whats the use in emphasiszing my insanity by speaking aloud to myself? so ill stay consumed in thinking to myself thoughts meant for you deprived of meaning by you I've been alone in love every time I've loved and alone I love more but i've never felt such utter loneliness before as you keep a memeory but forget me within it fade me into insignificance so my name is a word and not a meaning, not a nickname for my essence but remembered as just a presence a witness to you breathing-dissolving myself into your inhale and vanishing as you expel me with your exhale i look into your eyes like i look into a mirror trying to see myself inside but being nothing more than a surface reflection i never understood lonliness until i felt yours the disconnect as our eyes connected the detachement as our hands attached the distance as our lips met never have I felt so far when being so close never have I craved so much an intamacy that will never be intimate never have I felt love in being so unloved before i was alone but did not feel the pain of solitude before i was in solitdue but did not feel the hurt of being alone now i'm in a lonely love for you and i'm addicted to the nothingness you make me but i wish you loved me into something i wish you loved me
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