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"niether" poems
Hello, you I guess you're new Because anyone with any sense Would know that crossing me doesn't last I've dealt with plenty of ******* You're not new and niether are your words. Eliminating you is easier than drinking water. Doesn't cost much and takes little time. Surprised? Well, your grand mistake, Your extremely stupid move, Was trying to cross a girl like me Who has absolutely nothing to lose. Not for a while, anyway.
0
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 8:43 AM UTC
*******
a warrior poet Reflecting upon thyself In bed alone visited by someone else Golden in color niether man nor woman I was not afraid With a wave of its hand Two of me divided and I was transported To another place Where all were lost Lustfull, afflicted; some even possessed My heart was heavy with echoes Hopeless is this! A thunder of words interrupted my doubt "Yet the worst of these is laughter" A jester rose from the stone ground His teeth brilliant white fangs He whispers to cops and gangs Judges and jury. And they scoffed the weak. Meaning to them was bleak. Because its power we all seek. Artform is identified. And innocence is part of mine. But also destruction, Of that jokers function. The devil is my foe. And I will not be laid low. Again. Together; We win.                    He won. he lost. We win.
0
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 11:28 AM UTC
bushido (the mockers death)
I'm a freak. I don't fit in. I don't have friends. I have nightmares. I write bad poetry that no one reads. The scars on my legs spell "I'm still here." I don't know who the scars are talking about. I get beat up at school at home. I get bad grades because I don't care. I can't use public bathrooms because people can't tell if I'm a boy or a girl. Same with lockerrooms. I don't talk to people. I read to escape. You can find me behind the stairs at school. The teachers don't see me. Niether do my parents. I wish the kids didn't see me. I forgot how to be happy. I'm trying. Nice to meet you, I'm Max.
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May 21, 2012
May 21, 2012 at 1:11 AM UTC
Hi, Nice To Meet You
Leave Me Alone, I Don't Want To Play, My Eyes Are Hard As Stone, Because There So Many Things I Want To Say.... Dear S1 You Can Say It's All My Fault, Which It Mostly Is, But I'm Not The Only One To Blame, Why Do You Look At My Crying Face, And Look Away, Looking For The One Who Made My Tears, Fall Across My Face, To Take Them Home, To Drive Away, But Drop Her Off Again, To See Me The Next Day, I Know, You Love Both More Than Anything In The World, But Let Me Tell You, She Is No Perfect Girl, You Digest Her Lies So Fast, It's Like You Haven't Eaten For Days, Just All Of You Leave Me Alone, And I'll Be On My Way... Dear S2 You Are Foul, Wicked, Twisted, Stop Popping Into My Brain, Stop Lingering In My Thoughts, You've Already Caused Me Enough Pain, I Hate You, Because You Hate Me, I Know Hate Is Indecent, But I'm Slowly Embracing It, Because You, Are The Definition Of Evil.... Stop Prancing In My Dreams, Stop Tresspassing In My Soul, I Am Still Really Broken, I Hope You Know, But All I'm Asking You, Is To Leave Me Alone Dear S3 I Love Your Initals, That Should Be Your Name, Because That's All You Ever Say, Your Real Name Is Poison, Which Sits Upon My Tounge, Honestly You Make Me Feel Degraded... You Make Me Feel Unwanted, The Way You Can Manipulate People, Is A Real Gift, Congradulations, Well You Still Have The Upper Hand, I Really Hope Someday, You Can Just Leave Me Alone *Am I Really The Only Thing You Have To Talk About? Am I Really Worth All Your Time? Maybe I'm Over Reacting, But I'm Sick Of You And This Is Why... I Might Not Be Perfect, But Niether Are You, So Stop Acting Like It, Your Words Are Making Me Blue, At First I Didn't Really Care, But Now I Do, And This Is What I Want To Say, Leave Me Alone And ***** You*
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Sep 25, 2012
Sep 25, 2012 at 7:29 PM UTC
Leave Me Alone
Leave Me Alone, I Don't Want To Play, My Eyes Are Hard As Stone, Because There So Many Things I Want To Say.... Dear S1 You Can Say It's All My Fault, Which It Mostly Is, But I'm Not The Only One To Blame, Why Do You Look At My Crying Face, And Look Away, Looking For The One Who Made My Tears, Fall Across My Face, To Take Them Home, To Drive Away, But Drop Her Off Again, To See Me The Next Day, I Know, You Love Both More Than Anything In The World, But Let Me Tell You, She Is No Perfect Girl, You Digest Her Lies So Fast, It's Like You Haven't Eaten For Days, Just All Of You Leave Me Alone, And I'll Be On My Way... Dear S2 You Are Foul, Wicked, Twisted, Stop Popping Into My Brain, Stop Lingering In My Thoughts, You've Already Caused Me Enough Pain, I Hate You, Because You Hate Me, I Know Hate Is Indecent, But I'm Slowly Embracing It, Because You, Are The Definition Of Evil.... Stop Prancing In My Dreams, Stop Tresspassing In My Soul, I Am Still Really Broken, I Hope You Know, But All I'm Asking You, Is To Leave Me Alone Dear S3 I Love Your Initals, That Should Be Your Name, Because That's All You Ever Say, Your Real Name Is Poison, Which Sits Upon My Tounge, Honestly You Make Me Feel Degraded... You Make Me Feel Unwanted, The Way You Can Manipulate People, Is A Real Gift, Congradulations, Well You Still Have The Upper Hand, I Really Hope Someday, You Can Just Leave Me Alone *Am I Really The Only Thing You Have To Talk About? Am I Really Worth All Your Time? Maybe I'm Over Reacting, But I'm Sick Of You And This Is Why... I Might Not Be Perfect, But Niether Are You, So Stop Acting Like It, Your Words Are Making Me Blue, At First I Didn't Really Care, But Now I Do, And This Is What I Want To Say, Leave Me Alone And ***** You*
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58
You want to replace me? fine I can replace you too Just watch
0
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 10:36 AM UTC
Does your insurance cover replacements? Me niether
I smile. I laugh. I frown. I cry. I do all of these and more. Some of you can see that and beyond the eye, An area I still inhale and explore. Several years ago, I told everyone I had no idea: Who I am, what I am capable of.... If I follow or not the stereotypical criteria, Or when I'll fully understand that emotion called love. To this day, I still have no inkling of it. I look to those beside, in front, and behind, And only gain information in the smallest bit by bit, My eyes water, my smile falls, my heart and lungs grind. Who am I? A young African-American woman? What else do you see in my physical eye? Asain-American? Caucasian? Indeed I am all of these and more. This genetic make-up is my own. But you probably don't see my pleas: Will I still not know, even when time is grown? How much time do I have? Self-actualization seems so far, Yet so close now that my line is almost in half. Is my mentality up to par? Perhaps all that people know most is my mask, I'm sure they have all seen, smelt, and touched That casket that makes breathing such a complex task. Indeed, it is so easy to gain and manipulate trust, But don't think i have toyed with it yet, Or even ever, because I crave that social acceptance. What human doesn't feel that crave at least once to whet? Patience. Patience. Patience. Do I have that for you? Do I have that for me? Hah, niether. I have no patience for those two; But that area is where my mask has wealth. Forgive me for this length, And the tears on this middle binding. I say some know me, lies, you know less than an eighth, And I just love that caring look in your eyes when we're bonding. I thought I knew. I thought, I was sure, I believed it was gone... I am back with no answers not even a few, But I can ask questions until dawn. What more can I say to you? There really is no reason to frown. I am the poet, I am the rebel, I am the student and the slacker, I am the depressed girl who fell. I am the cutter, I am the life-taker, I am the raver and the intellectual, I am the middle child of three. I am the dreamer, I am the casual, I am the fight and the one who flees, I am all of these and more. And yet, i still don't know who or what I am.
0
Aug 30, 2010
Aug 30, 2010 at 8:06 PM UTC
These and More
I smile. I laugh. I frown. I cry. I do all of these and more. Some of you can see that and beyond the eye, An area I still inhale and explore. Several years ago, I told everyone I had no idea: Who I am, what I am capable of.... If I follow or not the stereotypical criteria, Or when I'll fully understand that emotion called love. To this day, I still have no inkling of it. I look to those beside, in front, and behind, And only gain information in the smallest bit by bit, My eyes water, my smile falls, my heart and lungs grind. Who am I? A young African-American woman? What else do you see in my physical eye? Asain-American? Caucasian? Indeed I am all of these and more. This genetic make-up is my own. But you probably don't see my pleas: Will I still not know, even when time is grown? How much time do I have? Self-actualization seems so far, Yet so close now that my line is almost in half. Is my mentality up to par? Perhaps all that people know most is my mask, I'm sure they have all seen, smelt, and touched That casket that makes breathing such a complex task. Indeed, it is so easy to gain and manipulate trust, But don't think i have toyed with it yet, Or even ever, because I crave that social acceptance. What human doesn't feel that crave at least once to whet? Patience. Patience. Patience. Do I have that for you? Do I have that for me? Hah, niether. I have no patience for those two; But that area is where my mask has wealth. Forgive me for this length, And the tears on this middle binding. I say some know me, lies, you know less than an eighth, And I just love that caring look in your eyes when we're bonding. I thought I knew. I thought, I was sure, I believed it was gone... I am back with no answers not even a few, But I can ask questions until dawn. What more can I say to you? There really is no reason to frown. I am the poet, I am the rebel, I am the student and the slacker, I am the depressed girl who fell. I am the cutter, I am the life-taker, I am the raver and the intellectual, I am the middle child of three. I am the dreamer, I am the casual, I am the fight and the one who flees, I am all of these and more. And yet, i still don't know who or what I am.
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56
A waterfall of tears find it's way to my cheeks Forever engraving its trail to become A stream. A wipe of the eye won't turn it dry. Niether cup or bucket could hold my amount Of tears. The tears I shed Keep running endlessly. They gather in a puddle I'm determined to drown In my tears.... I search for a shoulder to cry on, to form a river. So I roll myself into a ball and just fall. I take a breath.. I drown in my tears and my life is gone, my heart no longer has feelings For it no longer beats
0
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 1:20 AM UTC
Waterfall of Tears
It's only when your alone do we forget what a true pain in the *** people tuely are. Maybe for some it's just missing waking up next to warm body your face burried deep within her hair. Others may be something altogather different and for others it is a true friendship far beyond a cheap **** it's the laughter i miss. Thoose moments I took for granted i guess it's just her I miss. It was nine years of hell mixed with touches of heaven. I had tried to erase the memorie with gallons of ***** and cheap flings Forgettible faces *** can be empty at times and can do more dammage than we know. The bar that sits only a few paces from her door is still there. The places all the same yet they seem cold as I am no longer welcome there Or was it just me and a paranoid refletion. portsmouth is a strange place indeed where on one side of the street are people sitting outside in the summer sipping cocktails eating overpriced meals. and right across the street people wait in line at the soup kitchen. niether group looks towards the other like the old color lines during the times in america we'd all like to forget guilt is a ***** indeed. Still no matter the problems in this world it always goes back to are own simple lives why you may ask? Cause we cant solve the worlds problems and thoose who belive they can seem. to have this habbit of always getting shot. So here I sit in thumpers the local yuppie bar I used to look at from her window. the view was a lot better from her place but the drinks are a lot better here. Do I miss her? Yes. Will I knock on her door tonight and beg her for her love like some desperate love struck fool? No. I just sit here get drunk talk to some woman and if I'm lucky get laid close my in the mist of passion and pretend it's her. Maybe I'm a coward but I'm also a man and we all need that contact even if for only for one night. If only I could reverse that view maybe then I'd just sit there and remember just what a pain in the *** she was. And rememeber why I'm in this goddamed bar to start with. So I'll drink to her in my seat by the window underneath the neon sign. And pretend that my life was misery with her so I can stand this crap i'm living now. Women are the worst drug you'll ever know. But ****** there fun and I'll die befor I leave em alone.
0
Oct 29, 2009
Oct 29, 2009 at 12:43 AM UTC
Dreams Of Another
It's only when your alone do we forget what a true pain in the *** people tuely are. Maybe for some it's just missing waking up next to warm body your face burried deep within her hair. Others may be something altogather different and for others it is a true friendship far beyond a cheap **** it's the laughter i miss. Thoose moments I took for granted i guess it's just her I miss. It was nine years of hell mixed with touches of heaven. I had tried to erase the memorie with gallons of ***** and cheap flings Forgettible faces *** can be empty at times and can do more dammage than we know. The bar that sits only a few paces from her door is still there. The places all the same yet they seem cold as I am no longer welcome there Or was it just me and a paranoid refletion. portsmouth is a strange place indeed where on one side of the street are people sitting outside in the summer sipping cocktails eating overpriced meals. and right across the street people wait in line at the soup kitchen. niether group looks towards the other like the old color lines during the times in america we'd all like to forget guilt is a ***** indeed. Still no matter the problems in this world it always goes back to are own simple lives why you may ask? Cause we cant solve the worlds problems and thoose who belive they can seem. to have this habbit of always getting shot. So here I sit in thumpers the local yuppie bar I used to look at from her window. the view was a lot better from her place but the drinks are a lot better here. Do I miss her? Yes. Will I knock on her door tonight and beg her for her love like some desperate love struck fool? No. I just sit here get drunk talk to some woman and if I'm lucky get laid close my in the mist of passion and pretend it's her. Maybe I'm a coward but I'm also a man and we all need that contact even if for only for one night. If only I could reverse that view maybe then I'd just sit there and remember just what a pain in the *** she was. And rememeber why I'm in this goddamed bar to start with. So I'll drink to her in my seat by the window underneath the neon sign. And pretend that my life was misery with her so I can stand this crap i'm living now. Women are the worst drug you'll ever know. But ****** there fun and I'll die befor I leave em alone.
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29
Home. It's more than a word or single place. Niether building nor house could capture such a definition. Home. I've never thought of it or explored the various denotations. Never have I inquired into the multiple connotations. Home. Homesick I've wandered... So lost... So confused... Home. The realization came clear and loud. It rang out against the bleak road I stood upon. Home. It's the feeling of safety, of security. The idea of warmth and happiness. Home. The dweling of love and joy, this place is within and all around. It radiates brighter than any star. Home. I found it once upon a time, this place so rare. I found it waiting. Home. I laid upon clouds and soared through heaven, in that time. That time I spent in my Home. I only experienced that settled "this is right, meant to be" feel- Once and in that time, my Home. Now I'm homeless and alone. And love, well, it walked out without any mercy on my heart. Home. A distant memory... So far away from this barren, desolate place. Home. Where is my home? Well, that is quite a depressing tale. So in short Home- It's you. Home. Your warm arms, your sweet smile, Your bright eyes, your soft touch, your silky voices... Home. My heart, my soul, my love all reside in your care. You. Home You are my home. Home. I've been homeless and alone because you are my Home. A distant memory because you are my Home.
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Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 11:47 AM UTC
My home
i love you with welling emotions that pour over my cup i dont question these feelings niether do they waver to another persons but i question wether it will be returned this feeling towards you i also doubt you'll be happy with the future that's in our presence i dont know wether we'll die together or be torn apart by faith i love you the most but is it enough to bend worlds
0
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 12:06 AM UTC
questions
The chaffed red thighs of the streetwalker And darting yellowed eyes of the nervous talker Do not meet in this celibate exchange This strange therapy in a musty room No thrusting hips or sweaty faces loom Niether dips down or drips above the other With weight of body or intent that smothers No sound of slapping skin She punches in the clock Sits, looks, listens He licks his chewed lips And in the light they glisten
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Mar 22, 2010
Mar 22, 2010 at 12:32 PM UTC
Strange Therapy
Two clowns with tremendous feet stacked upon each other one a miniature of the other these clowns have diminutive heads plump bodies pieced together monstrous feet out sizing their legs pigeon-toed outwards with a big toe the size of a meatball both have screaming faces eyes set atop their heads without eyebrows- but it's not unnatural ether floats off the larger clown on the bottom radiating from the knee and the torso sides and shoulders the larger built like a body builder with massive shoulders and a v-torso the diminutive clown has massive ears and skinny arms facing outwards with hooked fists on rollerskates the anger spewing from the larger lower clown is parodied on the upper's face they are both men both squat, human made of circles nothing is a straight line in their make-up niether naked nor clothed it doesn't matter these clowns represent nothing they simply are; they are in the world but where, I can not say.
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Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 11:15 PM UTC
Twin Clowns
...---*---... **Don't write me ******* poetry** * The love that helps a knight traverse a mountain Yeah, well you don't have the words for that the passion that curls toes just doesn't sound the same when you describe it 'nice' is not a romantic word niether is 'I wanna **** you' but the way you do it; yeah...
0
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 7:55 AM UTC
Folder: Love and other related ********
A note slid underneath my door. How marks on a page can crush the heart worse than steel breaks the bone. The oceans tide has come to take me away. I dove twice as deep. In laughter apon the first. In regret of that which I could not grasp. Glimmers of light lost in the waters depth cast so far away. Missed lines the old sometime must think young. I found hope on nothing's promised embrace. A ring of lies one moment of truth. Remember me for times I can no longer attend. Troubles untold sometimes outside is easier than A insiders view. The cards werent right and thoose at the table knew a jokers laugh was a far off cry. No words can be spoken in the emptyness of loss for which there is no return. A shore apart a heart jaded but always true. no blame is to be placed for a road must surely one day end. The words read last a souls release. The tide must always kiss the sea. A city of emptyness reflects all that is left inside of me. Stay as was my plea. Crazy how could anyone truley know the madness that is seldom understood by even me. Words apon a page ive traded ink for life blood of my soul. I left the note unread. As spiders cast webs woven of time. Cold as the peace final rest to torment. That is the barbwire within my head. It was time for a much overdue rest. A co writter in life is better than apon the page. Niether is my path no hope as the clock points to a dark hour shadows have returned to stay. Heaven was mine for a moment. Hell is more my style I guess. As in stories and legends im already on my way. Voices all speak within there own key. Torment, addiction and isolation. Are all thats left of me.
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Jan 28, 2011
Jan 28, 2011 at 10:48 AM UTC
Not To Be Replaced/A Much Overdue Rest
A note slid underneath my door. How marks on a page can crush the heart worse than steel breaks the bone. The oceans tide has come to take me away. I dove twice as deep. In laughter apon the first. In regret of that which I could not grasp. Glimmers of light lost in the waters depth cast so far away. Missed lines the old sometime must think young. I found hope on nothing's promised embrace. A ring of lies one moment of truth. Remember me for times I can no longer attend. Troubles untold sometimes outside is easier than A insiders view. The cards werent right and thoose at the table knew a jokers laugh was a far off cry. No words can be spoken in the emptyness of loss for which there is no return. A shore apart a heart jaded but always true. no blame is to be placed for a road must surely one day end. The words read last a souls release. The tide must always kiss the sea. A city of emptyness reflects all that is left inside of me. Stay as was my plea. Crazy how could anyone truley know the madness that is seldom understood by even me. Words apon a page ive traded ink for life blood of my soul. I left the note unread. As spiders cast webs woven of time. Cold as the peace final rest to torment. That is the barbwire within my head. It was time for a much overdue rest. A co writter in life is better than apon the page. Niether is my path no hope as the clock points to a dark hour shadows have returned to stay. Heaven was mine for a moment. Hell is more my style I guess. As in stories and legends im already on my way. Voices all speak within there own key. Torment, addiction and isolation. Are all thats left of me.
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46
Traction, It's keeping yourself on the alloted trail, Like a group of spikes pertruding from your hiking shoes. Hidden underneath bleak chances to run off course, There is traction. Ascension, It's the higher sense of letting go, Like a swell from the waters of slightly unsecured mentality. Stationed right above the need for grounding. There is ascension. Illumination, It's the spurt of clarity, intense maturity, Like a smith of fine silver, molding his first ring. Seeing what might be, and generating the material. There is illumination. Perfection, Its understanding the material is but a spec of truth. Like something without beginning,.. without end. Immortal, appearing mortal, But, sincerely niether There is perfection. That is what you are. I am.
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Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 12:22 AM UTC
Life Mastered
"Do you guys have a thing?" no at least not what you mean by that but yes we do have a thing called friendship "Did you guys have a thing?" did you think now that I moved away my answer would change niether of us ever wanted anymore than our thing called friendship "Don't you miss your thing?" I do miss our thing called friendship
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Dec 19, 2017
Dec 19, 2017 at 6:57 PM UTC
A Thing Called Friendship
What's really the cause of its arrival: "it"'s questions. "I"'m music. I'm the part where words are said that's to say not sung. The context of my head's no more object than thought. We'll take a while to talk about it. Assuming "it", "talk", and "we" are any realer than the words within them. If not then flesh, now you've eaten. This is where it becomes convoluted. uuuuhhhh Is its own stanza this "uuuuhhhh"'s in your voice in your head now. In or outside, your heads still a part of it strange enough. Out or inside, my hands still a part of it strange enough. strange enough my hands outside or in "it". "it"'s been explained. I want "you" to picture"me" holding a rock to the sun asking why neither are thirsty. "you" want "me" to be a rock in a picture of the sun, "you" don't need to ask to be thirsty, "i"m niether. Water and a handful of pennies makes a mouthful for a moment. Last nights moment's a *** of coffee in my mouth, told to self I really was trying to sleep. How many "you"s in this poem's really "you" "you"'ve asked. I'll say so much as to know the answer's the sun, that said that still I'm not sure. How many "I"'s in this poem's really "I" "I"'ve asked. You'll see so much as to guess the answers: under pain of death. That's your words, my head. Set your things on top of me, I'm auditioning for the part of a table made from a different table . I've played the part of the one who built it. Neither move. Lines please.
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Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 4:15 PM UTC
Because Janis Joplin's Take Another Little Piece of My Heart Is On The Radio
They said curiosity was the urge of the generation I for myself, can hardly beg to differ It was Friday Austin was moist there were raindrops all over my tyres I drove on in an enchanting madness I was alone there when I got there. There were some of you whom I thought I knew but I actually didn't. I felt amongst friends Then the familiarity of some emotions struck me those emotions, that once and for all, is beyond race, ethnicity and national origin. You were mesmerized, but people from your country are supposedly known for nonchalance and indifference. He had something for you But niether did you know nor did I what would be true if I were him. Could we go back to the shades of the past Could we disappear in black and in white so that you would look beautiful and I your gaunt lover. I came back after pausing a moment to wonder. You and him, tap danced away. It was exhilirating for me to watch all the excitement and yet surprisingly not being a part of it always forgotten always uninvited. But then I was invited somewhere I became the face of the crowd But then you called. The rain didn't stop . It poured and poured. We chatted, briefly. You became silent on the other end of the phone. I waited on this end. The rain kept pouring and pouring. A thunder rolled. I kept waiting for Saturday morning. I watched the rain from pools, streams, rivers of connected waters washing away everything from the window of my room a window that I seldom open. Saturday came unknowingly. The rain had stopped. It had left its scent. I watched the branches of moss laden trees and wondered. A cold wind blew towards me. © Nothing Personal. Feb 18 2012.
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Feb 18, 2012
Feb 18, 2012 at 4:14 PM UTC
The Artist
They said curiosity was the urge of the generation I for myself, can hardly beg to differ It was Friday Austin was moist there were raindrops all over my tyres I drove on in an enchanting madness I was alone there when I got there. There were some of you whom I thought I knew but I actually didn't. I felt amongst friends Then the familiarity of some emotions struck me those emotions, that once and for all, is beyond race, ethnicity and national origin. You were mesmerized, but people from your country are supposedly known for nonchalance and indifference. He had something for you But niether did you know nor did I what would be true if I were him. Could we go back to the shades of the past Could we disappear in black and in white so that you would look beautiful and I your gaunt lover. I came back after pausing a moment to wonder. You and him, tap danced away. It was exhilirating for me to watch all the excitement and yet surprisingly not being a part of it always forgotten always uninvited. But then I was invited somewhere I became the face of the crowd But then you called. The rain didn't stop . It poured and poured. We chatted, briefly. You became silent on the other end of the phone. I waited on this end. The rain kept pouring and pouring. A thunder rolled. I kept waiting for Saturday morning. I watched the rain from pools, streams, rivers of connected waters washing away everything from the window of my room a window that I seldom open. Saturday came unknowingly. The rain had stopped. It had left its scent. I watched the branches of moss laden trees and wondered. A cold wind blew towards me. © Nothing Personal. Feb 18 2012.
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57
I don't blame you niether do I blame them I don't blame history though they are a scandalous trend I don't blame friends niether I my family but sometimes my finger keeps poking on the enemy I don't blame my job cause my man yelps after I draw out his honey I don't blame the government for conspiracy theory and force of democrocy But I can't seem to understand the not knowing of the ****** of Pac and Biggie o_O I don't blame God but I guess I am in total shame of denile Politics are an excuse for judgement on oneself when all we need to do is get up off our donkey ***** and get a job. © S.T. Rebel of Eden
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Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 11:36 PM UTC
THE BLAME GAME
Love has happened, It has been exchanged This is the place to live and die These arms; these paths Where would this trickster go leaving them behind My heart may be innocent, it may be a rebel But tell me love; will we be together or not Changing colours in each lifetime We blossom the behind the curtains of dreamland We are travelers on the path of love We'll meet again as time goes by The heart calls out when someone falls in love Say something, my darling Now there's a pain in my heart I'll build a house infront of your's, even if it's inadequate I wish someone would love me even if it's a lie My Prince Charming with the beautiful steed So what if the world calls me a Barbarian You flit from place to place, so my heart calls out "Yahoo" With stars wrapped around you G-D I bow to you Niether thorns or stones can hurt us, no matter what the world does My partner for life, the Prince of my dreams This journey is a beautiful one People will always comment, don't listen to them All I want is peace to my heart; pray that I get it Oh heartache; agonies of the heart I want to show the world, I'm not less than anyone I have to show you that; that's ny promise To me you are my moon, sun and stars My heaven and Hell, and my sky
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Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 5:01 PM UTC
We Will Met Again
In years gone passed I have failed to mention A lovely boy of Blue eyes Dark hair Deep soul to bare He is my friend Have I failed to mention There's no body like him He is tall and trim with a infectious laugh and shiny grin He is niether here nor there of where I have been But he is beautiful to all once you've laid eyes on him He lives NY but when the moon is blue You'll see the shadow of a boy I once knew Now he's a man of special occasions Like theatrical ones have I failed to mention He can sing like a bird and charm a bee Make me feel embrassed when he's looking at me Someday that man will get married And I don't know when that will be All I know is that he is beautiful to me
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Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 5:11 PM UTC
Have I Failed to Mention
7 years Feels like 7 days Everything you want to remember Fades Everything you want to lose Stays Not all memories come back And niether do days there were good days and bad days Time won and time waste Time slow and time haste There was love won And love lost Sacrifies with and without a cost Things gained and things lost But in the most The world never stops It stands up Sits down Turns around And then hops All the clothes that you wore on a special day Never mattered anyway The books mattered a lot Hope gos a long way Faith even longer The power that my mother had Made me even stronger So don't be mad or have sorrow If I'm not here tomorrow Because love made me stronger
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Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 11:28 AM UTC
Love Made Me Stronger