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"neer" poems
I Dreamt a Dream! what can it mean? And that I was a maiden Queen: Guarded by an Angel mild; Witless woe, was neer beguil’d! And I wept both night and day And he wip’d my tears away And I wept both day and night And hid from him my hearts delight So he took his wings and fled: Then the morn blush’d rosy red: I dried my tears & armd my fears, With ten thousand shields and spears. Soon my Angel came again; I was arm’d, he came in vain: For the time of youth was fled And grey hairs were on my head
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4.8k
The Angel
How sweet and pleasant grows the way Through summer time again While Landrails call from day to day Amid the grass and grain We hear it in the weeding time When knee deep waves the corn We hear it in the summers prime Through meadows night and morn And now I hear it in the grass That grows as sweet again And let a minutes notice pass And now tis in the grain Tis like a fancy everywhere A sort of living doubt We know tis something but it neer Will blab the secret out If heard in close or meadow plots It flies if we pursue But follows if we notice not The close and meadow through Boys know the note of many a bird In their birdnesting bounds But when the landrails noise is heard They wonder at the sounds They look in every tuft of grass Thats in their rambles met They peep in every bush they pass And none the wiser get And still they hear the craiking sound And still they wonder why It surely cant be under ground Nor is it in the sky And yet tis heard in every vale An undiscovered song And makes a pleasant wonder tale For all the summer long The shepherd whistles through his hands And starts with many a whoop His busy dog across the lands In hopes to fright it up Tis still a minutes length or more Till dogs are off and gone Then sings and louder than before But keeps the secret on Yet accident will often meet The nest within its way And weeders when they **** the wheat Discover where they lay And mowers on the meadow lea Chance on their noisy guest And wonder what the bird can be That lays without a nest In simple holes that birds will rake When dusting on the ground They drop their eggs of curious make Deep blotched and nearly round A mystery still to men and boys Who know not where they lay And guess it but a summer noise Among the meadow hay
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3.3k
The Landrail
How sweet and pleasant grows the way Through summer time again While Landrails call from day to day Amid the grass and grain We hear it in the weeding time When knee deep waves the corn We hear it in the summers prime Through meadows night and morn And now I hear it in the grass That grows as sweet again And let a minutes notice pass And now tis in the grain Tis like a fancy everywhere A sort of living doubt We know tis something but it neer Will blab the secret out If heard in close or meadow plots It flies if we pursue But follows if we notice not The close and meadow through Boys know the note of many a bird In their birdnesting bounds But when the landrails noise is heard They wonder at the sounds They look in every tuft of grass Thats in their rambles met They peep in every bush they pass And none the wiser get And still they hear the craiking sound And still they wonder why It surely cant be under ground Nor is it in the sky And yet tis heard in every vale An undiscovered song And makes a pleasant wonder tale For all the summer long The shepherd whistles through his hands And starts with many a whoop His busy dog across the lands In hopes to fright it up Tis still a minutes length or more Till dogs are off and gone Then sings and louder than before But keeps the secret on Yet accident will often meet The nest within its way And weeders when they **** the wheat Discover where they lay And mowers on the meadow lea Chance on their noisy guest And wonder what the bird can be That lays without a nest In simple holes that birds will rake When dusting on the ground They drop their eggs of curious make Deep blotched and nearly round A mystery still to men and boys Who know not where they lay And guess it but a summer noise Among the meadow hay
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60
**** jy die **** van yster-gordyn wat val en die aarde omhels ten laaste sy afwaartse versnelling. Dit maak seer mamma... Gewere word neergelê as ń universiële teken van hoop en vrede , maar verlang na ń lid van die geledere. Dit maak seer mamma... Ons was almal naïef; in ons drome was daar plek vir twee, Ń eindelose see waar ons kon wegvaar van die ontbindinde spoke van gister, waar ons ons hande in soutwater-poele kon was iewers langs die kus van versoening... Dit maak seer... Niemand sou kon raai dat die jare se snellertrek en loopgraaf grawwe jou eens sagte vel kon magnetiseer nie... *** kon ek voorsien dat jy ń bietjie van die geweld gaan steel het om vir jouself te hou nie. *** sou ek weet dat jou vingers jeuk sonder die dooie staal wat dit streel nie... Een skoot Twee skote Drie skote Ń eenman vuurpelaton reën op my neer en dring deur my ope arms... Jy het nog altyd ń plek in my hart gehad, maar nou het jy dit beset met lood en alle onskuld uitgerook met brandende kruit... Dit maak seer... Dele van jou hang nog swaar op al die plekke wat saakmaak en seermaak en trek my af grond toe... Eina... Liefde ek het altyd geweet ons het mekaar se ruë gehad... ek hey net nie geweet jy was besig om ń rooi kruis vir jou fissier op myne te verf nie... Dit maak seer mamma... Koebaai
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May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 5:48 PM UTC
Kuikens na 'n oorlog
-Ek en my geraamtes het soms ook 'n uitval Verdoem deur drome van 'n wakker oog gee ek in tot die eindelose gekarring. Waaroor die ophef van 'n silwerdoek beeld die trane en inspirasie , aangemeld - en saamgesmelt in elke belydenis? Ek spaar toe maar my knieë en sak neer voor die rekenaar en fynkam die intrieke sydrade van ons spinnerakke Vergrootglas die letters, opsoek na: 'n Gebed vir - 'n Gebed vir hom... NEE MY! Toe speel my storie... Ag ek meen Sy outobiografie af en ek's aleen. Elke nou en dan en dan en wan vee ek oor die rekenaar skerm en skrik as ek sý gesig sien. Hy wou dit nie aanvaar nie! - ek wou regtig nie! Hy wou verander! -ek wou regtig graag verander... ek... - ek bedoel hy; Ons ma's was swertsend selfs godslasterik lief vir ons en haar stickynotes het ons oral vasgekeur , want Levitikus!!! Levitikus sê NEE... Ma sê die Bybel sê: "Ons is dood". Ma se sy wil ons nie verloor nie. Kom sy nie agter dat ons in haar geweierde woorde versmoor nie. My knieë is lank genoeg gespaar. Na 90 minute se snikke en trane val ek neer voor die Heer en almal wat nog wil luister. Ware ellende stort uit perelpoele en plas neer op die koue wereld. Uiteindelik bid ek vir hom, maar my gebede is te laat - met so dertig jaar of wat -. Ek hoop iemand bid vir my... ek hoop die gebede vind my - maar vir my , betyds-. Want ek sit met VIGS van die siel. 'n Tipe kanker op sy eie 'n lifelong companion om die eufemisme mooi te stel... Ek is Hy. Hy is ek. Ons is ons eie tipe mens. Amen
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May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
Nie 'n kas nie, 'n kluis
-Ek en my geraamtes het soms ook 'n uitval Verdoem deur drome van 'n wakker oog gee ek in tot die eindelose gekarring. Waaroor die ophef van 'n silwerdoek beeld die trane en inspirasie , aangemeld - en saamgesmelt in elke belydenis? Ek spaar toe maar my knieë en sak neer voor die rekenaar en fynkam die intrieke sydrade van ons spinnerakke Vergrootglas die letters, opsoek na: 'n Gebed vir - 'n Gebed vir hom... NEE MY! Toe speel my storie... Ag ek meen Sy outobiografie af en ek's aleen. Elke nou en dan en dan en wan vee ek oor die rekenaar skerm en skrik as ek sý gesig sien. Hy wou dit nie aanvaar nie! - ek wou regtig nie! Hy wou verander! -ek wou regtig graag verander... ek... - ek bedoel hy; Ons ma's was swertsend selfs godslasterik lief vir ons en haar stickynotes het ons oral vasgekeur , want Levitikus!!! Levitikus sê NEE... Ma sê die Bybel sê: "Ons is dood". Ma se sy wil ons nie verloor nie. Kom sy nie agter dat ons in haar geweierde woorde versmoor nie. My knieë is lank genoeg gespaar. Na 90 minute se snikke en trane val ek neer voor die Heer en almal wat nog wil luister. Ware ellende stort uit perelpoele en plas neer op die koue wereld. Uiteindelik bid ek vir hom, maar my gebede is te laat - met so dertig jaar of wat -. Ek hoop iemand bid vir my... ek hoop die gebede vind my - maar vir my , betyds-. Want ek sit met VIGS van die siel. 'n Tipe kanker op sy eie 'n lifelong companion om die eufemisme mooi te stel... Ek is Hy. Hy is ek. Ons is ons eie tipe mens. Amen
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52
Ye flaming Powers, and winged Warriours bright, That erst with Musick, and triumphant song First heard by happy watchful Shepherds ear, So sweetly sung your Joy the Clouds along Through the soft silence of the list’ning night; Now mourn, and if sad share with us to bear Your fiery essence can distill no tear, Burn in your sighs, and borrow Seas wept from our deep sorrow, He who with all Heav’ns heraldry whileare Enter’d the world, now bleeds to give us ease; Alas, how soon our sin Sore doth begin His Infancy to sease! O more exceeding love or law more just? Just law indeed, but more exceeding love! For we by rightfull doom remediles Were lost in death, till he that dwelt above High thron’d in secret bliss, for us frail dust Emptied his glory, ev’n to nakednes; And that great Cov’nant which we still transgress Intirely satisfi’d, And the full wrath beside Of vengeful Justice bore for our excess, And seals obedience first with wounding smart This day, but O ere long Huge pangs and strong Will pierce more neer his heart.
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Upon The Circumcision
Though you be absent here, I needs must say The Trees as beauteous are, and flowers as gay, As ever they were wont to be; Nay the Birds rural musick too Is as melodious and free, As if they sung to pleasure you: I saw a Rose-Bud o’pe this morn; I’ll swear The blushing Morning open’d not more fair. How could it be so fair, and you away? How could the Trees be beauteous, Flowers so gay? Could they remember but last year, How you did Them, They you delight, The sprouting leaves which saw you here, And call’d their Fellows to the sight, Would, looking round for the same sight in vain, Creep back into their silent Barks again. Where ere you walk’d trees were as reverend made, As when of old Gods dwelt in every shade. Is’t possible they should not know, What loss of honor they sustain, That thus they smile and flourish now, And still their former pride retain? Dull Creatures! ’tis not without Cause that she, Who fled the God of wit, was made a Tree. In ancient times sure they much wiser were, When they rejoyc’d the Thracian verse to hear; In vain did Nature bid them stay, When Orpheus had his song begun, They call’d their wondring roots away, And bad them silent to him run. How would those learned trees have followed you? You would have drawn Them, and their Poet too. But who can blame them now? for, since you’re gone, They’re here the only Fair, and Shine alone. You did their Natural Rights invade; Where ever you did walk or sit, The thickest Boughs could make no shade, Although the Sun had granted it: The fairest Flowers could please no more, neer you, Then Painted Flowers, set next to them, could do. When e’re then you come hither, that shall be The time, which this to others is, to Me. The little joys which here are now, The name of Punishments do bear; When by their sight they let us know How we depriv’d of greater are. ’Tis you the best of Seasons with you bring; This is for Beasts, and that for Men the Spring.
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The Spring
Though you be absent here, I needs must say The Trees as beauteous are, and flowers as gay, As ever they were wont to be; Nay the Birds rural musick too Is as melodious and free, As if they sung to pleasure you: I saw a Rose-Bud o’pe this morn; I’ll swear The blushing Morning open’d not more fair. How could it be so fair, and you away? How could the Trees be beauteous, Flowers so gay? Could they remember but last year, How you did Them, They you delight, The sprouting leaves which saw you here, And call’d their Fellows to the sight, Would, looking round for the same sight in vain, Creep back into their silent Barks again. Where ere you walk’d trees were as reverend made, As when of old Gods dwelt in every shade. Is’t possible they should not know, What loss of honor they sustain, That thus they smile and flourish now, And still their former pride retain? Dull Creatures! ’tis not without Cause that she, Who fled the God of wit, was made a Tree. In ancient times sure they much wiser were, When they rejoyc’d the Thracian verse to hear; In vain did Nature bid them stay, When Orpheus had his song begun, They call’d their wondring roots away, And bad them silent to him run. How would those learned trees have followed you? You would have drawn Them, and their Poet too. But who can blame them now? for, since you’re gone, They’re here the only Fair, and Shine alone. You did their Natural Rights invade; Where ever you did walk or sit, The thickest Boughs could make no shade, Although the Sun had granted it: The fairest Flowers could please no more, neer you, Then Painted Flowers, set next to them, could do. When e’re then you come hither, that shall be The time, which this to others is, to Me. The little joys which here are now, The name of Punishments do bear; When by their sight they let us know How we depriv’d of greater are. ’Tis you the best of Seasons with you bring; This is for Beasts, and that for Men the Spring.
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48
I yearn to feel more than I am capable of I hate to see what I'm not capable of I try but nothing in me is obtainable i's like nothing is available but I am just not capable or that is what, I tell myself at night undeniable I see things that I just can't stand I turn around and walk away to fast  some might say when it's neer I sneer I guess I am just incapable of love
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Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 11:22 AM UTC
capable incapable
Last thing I remember, was that drastic times called for drastic measures She was out of town He was out of order The amalgamation of ***** little secrets and the insecurities I picked at Which put me between Scylla and Charybdis Urging me to make Hobson's choice Tie up loose ends Went to the bazaar To pick up an ambigram of the word "Psalms" And mirror image of the word "Proverbs" Buyer beware We speak in  strange slanguage here So get on with it Share sugar Sniff out your own kind Only time can tell Tell time to hold up Bank on tomorrow On Eastern/ Pacific/ Mountain time Local and global Try to save face Not aimed at any anyone specific If you're wearing the shoe, you must fit it Overbearing I'm painted as a neer do well         -Tommy Johnson
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Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 12:21 PM UTC
Spasmodic Eleventh Hour
I thought humans could be seen by the naked eye And that only angels and demons could neer be seen But i am the outsider And outsiders will never be seen for who they truly are Because the people whose hearts are invisible Stay invisible Because no one ever tries to widen their own perspective So they. Are the selfish ones And to me, they have become invisible So let me be the family i need the most And let me be the outsider I was never an indoor person anyway.
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Jun 21, 2018
Jun 21, 2018 at 4:06 PM UTC
The Outsider
They talk we hear they walk then reappear where did they go? its all too queer should thy know? bother they would say a world sat on the ledgr a sarp one at that it saif in anuncertain tone im going to die why? \the Lord called my name I came in, dropped by to say goodbye neer a true word said in jest......CHERYL
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May 30, 2019
May 30, 2019 at 10:05 AM UTC
Crashing
I was literally ***** Over four years ago, And I'm not over it yet. I feel so ******* defeated. And I've neer stop thinking "I might as well just **** myself now, Because this is pretty ******* pathetic." But I'm still here. And I think I regret the decision To stay in this world. But I'm not sure. I'm just so ******* defeated. And I know it's up to me to fix my problems And be my own hero And put positivity into my life. But I tried And I can't And I'm weak. And I realize it's supposed to be hard. But I actually can't do it. I hate him. And I hate you. And I hate who I am. And I hate I hate I hate.
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Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 5:22 PM UTC
Get Out of My Place
De beste kerst is kerstmis met rode wijn en gerst en nat en koud en sneeuw van goud dat, dartelend, de lucht kartelend, neer dwarrelt. De beste kerst heeft koord gevroren, zilver glinsterballen om de oren van de takken van de boom. Wat ben jij groot geworden, moeder, neef en nicht en oom, ze drinken koffie na het eten, doen *** best niet te vergeten dat ze nog moeten rijden, wetende dat we op de simpelweg elkaar met gezelligschap kunnen verblijden. De beste kerst is draagzaam over lange afstand, ondanks de periodes zonder elkaar. De beste kerst is nu, een beetje al vandaag en een beetje uitkijken naar die van volgend jaar. De beste kerst is schappelijk, aannemelijk tevredenheid, de beste kerst is profiteren van het feit dat mensen al jaren godheden vereren, zonder gevoelens te bezeren. De beste kerst is middelmaat, onwetendheid. Want zij zijn zalig, heilig, zacht getroffen, daar zij tevreden zijn met een trui of nieuwe sloffen. Zonder beter moeten, hebben, zijn, je wint maar niemand vindt dat fijn. Het waar geluk zit dan vanbinnen, dus laat het avondmaal beginnen.
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Dec 8, 2019
Dec 8, 2019 at 7:36 AM UTC
Schappelijk
🧭Ik kan me niet meer voorstellen met welke fout het begon. Maar ik weet wel dat ik het met mijn eigen krachten overwon. 🧭Maar nu weken later denk ik echter. Doe ik het nou zo beroerd of ben ik gewoon niet zo'n vechter. 🧭Want steeds stapje voor stapje tikt de klok mij aan. Het is zo verwarrend hoe laat de zal wijzer slaan. 🧭Ik begon in het Nederlands maar toen ging ik echter plat. naar blijken is ruw zijn nog veel erger als glad. 🧭En welke taal ik ook spreek of welke ik niet kan verstaan. Er is op dit moment gewoon geen ene bal meer aan. 🧭Over ballen gesproken Rond, groot en klein. Maar waarom rolt de mijne niet? Het zal wel een ovale zijn. 🧭Of ligt het aan de wind en waait hij continue naar west. Of hier in het noorden werkt dat dan niet best. 🧭Ik kan honderd dingen denken maar schijnbaar niet dat ene ding. Want waarom val ik in de put als ik er daarnet nog boven hing. 🧭Ik denk dat ik een gokje wagen kan: het is de innerlijke kracht. Ik was overtuigd dat ik sterk was, word ik daarom neer gebracht? 🧭En toch ben ik wel overtuigd dat ik vol zit met wil en moed. Maar dat ik toch nog twijfel niet over een ander maar wat ik zelf doet. 🧭Waarom is het in het oosten niet zoals in het westen. En waarom zijn er boeren die zo onlogisch gaan bemesten. 🧭Het hele doel is toch om het land goed te maken. Waarom zul je dan zonder duidelijkheid je mede mens afkraken. 🧭Wat heb ik toch zo fout gedaan dat de wereld toch zo doet. Nee absoluut ik deed ook fout maar, momenteel bedoel ik goed. 🧭Hoop toch dat de mens nu ontdekt dat ik veel goed wil doen. Maar nogmaals ik begrijp het niet waarom is het ineens anders als toen. 🧭Ik bedoel, ik ben ook maar mens Iedereen maakt toch weleens een fout? Of ben ik de enige zonder peper of zout? 🧭Had graag willen weten wat de echte reden was. Maar waar ik ook woon, merk ik dat ik leef zonder duidelijk kompas. 🧭With full heart: Diegó. P. Siemsen.🧭
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Apr 11, 2020
Apr 11, 2020 at 8:31 PM UTC
🧭Zonder Kompas🧭
🧭Ik kan me niet meer voorstellen met welke fout het begon. Maar ik weet wel dat ik het met mijn eigen krachten overwon. 🧭Maar nu weken later denk ik echter. Doe ik het nou zo beroerd of ben ik gewoon niet zo'n vechter. 🧭Want steeds stapje voor stapje tikt de klok mij aan. Het is zo verwarrend hoe laat de zal wijzer slaan. 🧭Ik begon in het Nederlands maar toen ging ik echter plat. naar blijken is ruw zijn nog veel erger als glad. 🧭En welke taal ik ook spreek of welke ik niet kan verstaan. Er is op dit moment gewoon geen ene bal meer aan. 🧭Over ballen gesproken Rond, groot en klein. Maar waarom rolt de mijne niet? Het zal wel een ovale zijn. 🧭Of ligt het aan de wind en waait hij continue naar west. Of hier in het noorden werkt dat dan niet best. 🧭Ik kan honderd dingen denken maar schijnbaar niet dat ene ding. Want waarom val ik in de put als ik er daarnet nog boven hing. 🧭Ik denk dat ik een gokje wagen kan: het is de innerlijke kracht. Ik was overtuigd dat ik sterk was, word ik daarom neer gebracht? 🧭En toch ben ik wel overtuigd dat ik vol zit met wil en moed. Maar dat ik toch nog twijfel niet over een ander maar wat ik zelf doet. 🧭Waarom is het in het oosten niet zoals in het westen. En waarom zijn er boeren die zo onlogisch gaan bemesten. 🧭Het hele doel is toch om het land goed te maken. Waarom zul je dan zonder duidelijkheid je mede mens afkraken. 🧭Wat heb ik toch zo fout gedaan dat de wereld toch zo doet. Nee absoluut ik deed ook fout maar, momenteel bedoel ik goed. 🧭Hoop toch dat de mens nu ontdekt dat ik veel goed wil doen. Maar nogmaals ik begrijp het niet waarom is het ineens anders als toen. 🧭Ik bedoel, ik ben ook maar mens Iedereen maakt toch weleens een fout? Of ben ik de enige zonder peper of zout? 🧭Had graag willen weten wat de echte reden was. Maar waar ik ook woon, merk ik dat ik leef zonder duidelijk kompas. 🧭With full heart: Diegó. P. Siemsen.🧭
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65
I fantasyse a fodder/ who myght feeed mye goost/ amende it atnyght/ when thee darke nd dreade onlee drenche/ nd drowne my hart in sorowe/ I am lost/ softlye now tale me/ all thee preteee thyngs I wont to heere/ tale me/ you love me/ that I am evrythynge u’ve wonted neer/ that mye prestencts dose not alarm you/ that thes sun is bryght/ yellow/ fool of energee nd lyfe/ that you are proud/ of me/ not ashamed/ of my bryght colers/ tell me you love me
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Dec 27, 2019
Dec 27, 2019 at 11:14 PM UTC
Meadnyght Dreems
There were times where thoughts didn’t exist people didn’t confuse me and everything was alright in the world. There were times when I didn’t worry and stress didn’t control my digestive system and I didn’t need to medicate. There were times I did not trust to be alone by myself, for fear of my own destruction caused by myself I didn’t understand the strength of the situation. There were people I trusted who now are no longer they don’t carry the same heartfelt endearment that was gifted they don’t have a care in the world. There were times where I neer thought about looking scrolling through messages to find a false a death occured. There were times when I was somewhat whole, somewhat capable, somewhat caring of my own rights and my own dreams. There were times where I put the right things first, There were times where I said the things that were meant to be said There were times where I saw myself in a succesful way of life There were times where I did not want to just run away There were times where I knew myself better There were times where I was allowed to feel There were times where I saw the people around me care There were times where people actually meant something to me There were times where I knew things had worth There were times where I believed There were times where I sought love There were times where I sought truth There were times where I sought life There were times where I felt I wasn’t a caged animal And now I’m in hell, prison, being objectified and slaughtered by those who are of lesser caricatures than life There were times where I knew the face of the devil There were times where I would banish this evil But for some reason I think I’m stuck I think I’m here for the realness promised There were secrets kept, Lies told, And trust lost!
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Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 2:08 AM UTC
~There were Secrets kept, Lies told, and Trust lost~
There were times where thoughts didn’t exist people didn’t confuse me and everything was alright in the world. There were times when I didn’t worry and stress didn’t control my digestive system and I didn’t need to medicate. There were times I did not trust to be alone by myself, for fear of my own destruction caused by myself I didn’t understand the strength of the situation. There were people I trusted who now are no longer they don’t carry the same heartfelt endearment that was gifted they don’t have a care in the world. There were times where I neer thought about looking scrolling through messages to find a false a death occured. There were times when I was somewhat whole, somewhat capable, somewhat caring of my own rights and my own dreams. There were times where I put the right things first, There were times where I said the things that were meant to be said There were times where I saw myself in a succesful way of life There were times where I did not want to just run away There were times where I knew myself better There were times where I was allowed to feel There were times where I saw the people around me care There were times where people actually meant something to me There were times where I knew things had worth There were times where I believed There were times where I sought love There were times where I sought truth There were times where I sought life There were times where I felt I wasn’t a caged animal And now I’m in hell, prison, being objectified and slaughtered by those who are of lesser caricatures than life There were times where I knew the face of the devil There were times where I would banish this evil But for some reason I think I’m stuck I think I’m here for the realness promised There were secrets kept, Lies told, And trust lost!
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40
Among desolation, Hidden, buried deep, The vaults of gods, Lost secrets do keep. Though all creation Succumbed to the blight, The precursors foresaw, And sealed their might. In dark chasms below, Do great engines lie in wait. For the predestined time To fulfill their grand fate. Though those now above, Twisted and broken, Sing of wicked things, That should neer be spoken, They will not inherit What remains of this world. Their end will come, When the stars lie unfurled.
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Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 1:24 AM UTC
The Stars Unfurled
Tell them I'm in a mood A constant spiraling mood ******* me in deeper and deeper Not even wanting to admit to myself The intensity and severity The more I try to climb out The harder the fall Neer completely escaping But momentary relief My own silence deafening me My mouth dry, empty of word My heart, empty of anything usefull Just letting myself freefall Further and further It's easy for everyone to not notice The quiet girl in the corner Screaming for help
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Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 4:42 PM UTC
The Pit
Ik ben een leeg bed, leg je neer, bedrijf iets zot, vervul mijn lot. I am an empty bed, come lie with me and fulfill my destiny.
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Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 7:07 PM UTC
Per twee talig
Ik hoef het niet meer te voelen. Ik heb mijn prijzen al gekregen. Ik snap niet wat jullie bedoelen met 'mijn goede naam wegvegen'. Welke naam? Welke dag was de eerste waarop jullie zagen wat het meeste vragen deed herrijzen, de meeste lagen deed verwijzen naar het begin van de ring? De ring is rond, gesloten, mijn tijd is afgerond en goed bevallen. Helaas is mijn laatste keer, op de grond neer gevallen, omgestoten.
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Mar 16, 2019
Mar 16, 2019 at 5:52 PM UTC
Het hart onder de riem
Schommel, wip, een touw aan banden, als ik spring, mag ik dan naast jou landen, kan jij mij dan toevertrouwen dat ik dichterbij de gauwe afschriften mag zien en voelen of dit nu is wat ze bedoelen als ze zeggen, liften gaan niet heen en weer en wij gaan al een tijdje niet meer op en neer.
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May 30, 2019
May 30, 2019 at 12:22 PM UTC
Afstandelijk
(                                                                                   )         (                                                               )     (             ) \/ /\ /    \ ####### and such the Melodrama Here ! In the dyin days !! • Well / what do YE wanna do ? DO IT ! //                                                            ( bring it on Down )                                                       // Good bye little crippled boy You are not needed anyhow ! •• The school is on fire with lust Shame And hate But it's only slave children in the flames !! // ( amid the gunfire in the afternoon From the poisoned neighborhood  ) •• ALL IS SWELL In the demented minds of us neer-do-wells !! // So long ! I'm off to a higher ground You know where I can be found You can find me if you want
0
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 2:17 PM UTC
End
Wil je bij me komen liggen? Als biggen aan de trog, mijn ledematen log, leden zwaar en lid zo licht als op en neer veren. Waar de hals zo zacht bedrukt mijn lippen durft ontmoeten, daar wil ik je lief ontzoeten.
0
Jul 8, 2019
Jul 8, 2019 at 2:54 PM UTC
Zoet
The Scots neer wore a diaper, so the Welsh absorbed their leek- A Swansea song & Corgi Prince is all they have to speak. The w.a.s.p's have had their hay day, as they paddle up the creek. <> While Paddy’s watch with bated breath, the union jack to streak!
0
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 7:51 AM UTC
Ménage à trois.