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Mark Edwards Jr Apr 2013
These thoughts so wicked, course through our veins, like riding a stallion and losing the reigns

They come down upon us, like an angel of death, the taking of life before its first breath

An act so unhinged, wild and free, like the death of a star, it’s a sight to see

Both horrid and gorgeous, you stand awestruck, never turning away, yet full of disgust

Yet you shun these feelings -- having been taught, but in a moment so pure, you’ve likely forgot

Loosing a display that's most unfitting, your peers be ****** ‘cause you’re unwitting

And so they say, you’ve no self control, shaming you back into your dark, damp hole

Thus denying yourself, due to what they say?  More than a pity, it’s a crying shame!

But I'll not be burdened by these pretentious *****, for I'll see them in ****, and goad their disgust

With a species so elegant and beautiful as ours, to shun our emotions is like shutting off stars

In a night sky, once "oh so pretty", remains nothing but space and a white noise emitting

So let yourself go and shine once again, giving no headway to those who pretend -

That they're on a new level -- beyond comprehension, paying their true selves no ******* attention

While they die of a death, so silent and slow, they'll take their last breath, and not even know

original:  07/16/2011

edit:  03/10/2012

Edit: 10/01/2018
OC Jul 2018
Soon I will forget
and soon after
I will forget even remembering
For the world is several
times my size
imprinting its pieces in me
as fading images
The raindrops that pool to a puddle
forget how they once were an ocean
and the tree trunk loses sight of
its humble stem origin
Just like those
I’ll forget in a while
what was once
where I head
who am I
piece by piece
past and future break from the
knowing nothing but grief
and not knowing
for what
Sorry for the lame translation. Proper English just could not capture what I was aiming for.
The sun sets,
But I lay awake,
Thinking about the last few days...
I wonder what it means?
Is it all in my head?

Replaying our conversations,
Thinking about your smile.
So many questions,
Not enough answers.

I wait for tomorrow,
Hoping to see you soon.
Waiting for another chance,
To be besides you.

The simple things you do
Mean the world to me.
Most people would overlook them,
But not me.

Hopefully you'll notice,
See how similar we are.
Notice our connection,
And give it a try.

Stop being oblivious,
Realize the signs...
I know you feel it too,
You don't need to compromise.

We can talk for hours,
From the simple to complex.
We don't have to do anything,
And be together all night.

You're so confusing,
Give me a sign.
Tell me there's something ..
Or if im waisting my time...
Regan Nov 2018
they couldn’t see past my smiles.
my hurt was invisible to them.
they didn’t see the blood drip on the tiles.
my wrists burning from the blades.

they saw a happy face,
but didn’t know my pain.
I would find myself pace,
with a gun rested on my lips.

they never heard my cries
or how i would scream for help
i was ready to die,
but you never noticed.

they were oblivious to my troubles
so i’m more dependent on myself.
even if the signs weren’t subtle,
i’ve moved on from my struggles.
English Jam Feb 2018
She is a ruler, proud in her glory
Sets hearts to flame, turns lovers to screams
Her nails alone are ripped from a story
Reduces soldiers to men without mean

Eyes marble-black, with sharp slits in the centre
Red glistens, and penetrating observations enter
With hair that waves as though in water
They know her tales, but none have caught her

What she requires - they all deliver
Her voice is a choir - that makes all shiver
She doesn't walk
She struts

Bends over in a seductive style
Caresses villainy in her seat
Crooning, intentions hidden all the while
Inaudible but the tread of her feet

March, march, march on to the drums
The Dark Majesty never forgets
Absorbing herself in hymns and hums
Oblivious to drunken admissions of regret

Queen of tyranny will never rest
But for serenity - she fails the test
She's majestic
But joy eludes her
There's a song by Queen (the rock band who did Bohemian Rhapsody and We Will Rock You) called The March of the Black Queen that was the chief inspiration to this. Give it a listen, it's simply amazing.
aj kamari Jul 2018
he has no clue
that he's killing her
he has no clue
how much he means to her
he has no clue
that she would die for him,
live for him,
or **** for him
he has no clue
that she loves him
and it's killing her
in every single way
Through the deception of sunlight,
and blue skies
There is a universe full of murkiness:
A place, and a time without light;
Dead of night,
And death.
Internal death;
External death.
Yet, no one knows it’s there,
And for majority of our life we are unaware
Of everything that happens around us.
In fate we trust
Too much.

Through the deception of blank walls lie many uncanny things;
Underneath all that insulation are feelings, Many lost human beings,
Saying their greatings
To their graves
Where their bodies will go to waste,
Where they won’t be able to be chased,  
Or violently traced

But it’s all an illusion;
All a pretty delusion;
There is no actual conclussion
To suffering.
Our haunted memories will be hovering
On top of us as we try and walk away from life,
Taking each stride
With illusional pride,
With a blank wall to hide behind,
And all of us behind this blank wall lie
To ourselves...

We are not finally okay,
We are not finally good
Just because someone had misunderstood us,
Just because someone hadn’t recognized our emotions and how we actually feel;
Hadn’t pitied us,
And hadn’t made a big deal...
We are not fine!
No matter how hard we try,
Fine is not what we are.
The new persona we try
to take on is just a lie.
We are not fine!

We are so oblivious to one another that we can’t tell the signs of misery;
Can’t see the scars;
Don’t know ‘bout previous injuries
In the past...
Or sometimes we don’t dare to ask
Questions because we are too scared that
Someone may get mad,
Breakdown, cry,
and stare sadly
At us;
Scared that someone’s pain and torments will pass onto us
Like a disease,
Or like a sickness;
Scared to acquire a new weakness;
Scared to have more sleepless
Nights than before.
We are afraid that one day we will walk through the door,
And have eyes on glued on us,
Pierced on to us;
We are afraid to contract a form of social anxiety,
Afriad that we will have to shy away from society
And be forever alone,
And thrown
Hehe, this is a little rant poem from 2017.
Nosipho Khanyile Jul 2018
I was afraid to pick up the pen.

Afraid that my technicolours
would become a bruise in their eyes.

I thought what what intrinsic to me
would seem sadistic to them.

I was afraid
they would be oblivious to the glitches I showed them in society

I was afraid they wouldn't care..

I was wrong.
Cné Aug 2017
A tentative touch unsure
of erotica I've yet to explore.
Her sweet ripe ******* allure
my watering mouth can't ignore.

Tickling teasing touch to ignite us
giggling on our high
Soft soothing caresses in between
wondering why I was so shy...

Our fingers tangled in long blonde hair,
then gently stroking soft warm skin.
Bodies writhing, legs entwining,
where she ends, there I begin.

Oblivious to our thoughts
enambered with desires
Lips of wine in heated passion
soaring pleasures even higher.

Perfumed oil on bodies glistening,
**** laughs and playful fights.
Lace and heels and toys aplenty,
Girl, we'll make this last all night.

By EJ and Cné
A little wine
A little laugh
A little pleasure
For our own behalf

Thank you EJ for such inspiration
Steve Page Oct 2018
The riled route master and the hacked off hackney carriage weren't bothered by the boris bike, they simply barreled along the bus lane oblivious to the wobble, blind to the blindsided and bent on beating the amber to red, til they were halted by the growth factor of a chelsea tractor straddling lanes and field testing the choice of right or left and failing the screen test set by the sat nav, thereby giving opportunity to the swarm of office staffers snatching their chance and chancing their luck, dancing past with their fat chance of swiping in before nine and avoiding the chagrin of the boss who's been the bane of their short sojourn through the city of lost dreams, chance encounters, thin fortune and rushed hours. This is London.
Route Master = a London bus
Hackney Carriage = a black cab
Boris Bike = rentabike
Chelsea tractor = an oversized suv preferred by families who can afford Kensington & Chelsea
Lot May 2017
I am there too.
Where I can see them, feel them breathing.
In and out.
Fluid and with ease.
Bubbles of air escape from their mouths,
playful and free.
Oblivious to the murk that is me...
Valsa George Jan 2018
Mind, like a deciduous forest
has lost all its foliage,
all leaves torn away
by the autumnal blasts

The brain where great schemes were concocted
is now an abyss where spiders sway
It is bare – dismally barren
of all memories – sweet and sour
Like a kite afloat in the boundless sky
moving nowhere, but as the wind directs,
cut out from the past, turned from the present
with the future yet to surge from the abyss
or like serpents intertwining,    
hissing in turmoil within the brain,
unable to sense the gusty blast,
or hear the whispering air,
dead to sounds that disturb,
deaf to songs that soothe,
like a phantom he moves weird,
drifting far away
to a space and time impenetrable  
with nothing to make the mind agog
or depress it to let out a sigh.

Loitering on roads without hurrying feet
with no bliss coming on the way
to run or hasten to embrace
or fear to be missed sore
passing through dark labyrinthine tunnels
forever barred with no exit
churned in oblivion, oblivious of all,
he remains a spectral facsimile
of his onetime self
plummeting into a black hole

The pulse of a heart beat
is all that keeps him alive,  
all else is dead…… !  
with dreary nights ahead
that shall not know another morrow
Only others can throw a little light in the dark lives of its hapless victims!

(With a heart heavy with gratitude, let me acknowledge my poet friend -  Kim Johanna Baker who gave sunshine to my poem who has thus honored me several times !)
Robin Lemmen Aug 2018
You taught her how to breathe
When her lungs had learned to make do
With air, holding nothing but fear
You showed her a man capable of loving
Something broken and delicate
For reasons obvious to you
But oblivious to her
You loved her well
But it broke down your walls
And you were not prepared for
Something so great
So you gave up, not on her
But on yourself
#love #romance #read #walls #intimacy #confusion #depression #art #lovers #metaphors #broken #hearts #selflove
Lorraine day Sep 2013
My mother is an angel
Who walked here on this earth
She touched every person
Oblivious  of her worth
Her tongue it spoke no malice
Her heart was lined with gold
Her inner beauty shone so bright
Even more as she grew old
She's helped so many people
With her tender loving care
She's sacrificed so many hours
Of love with time to share
Not just to her family
But to all
Who stepped her way
Not just sometimes
When it suited her
But every single day
My mother she's an angel
To know her
It's a pleasure
The respect I have the love I feel
For her
Is beyond measure
Im forever humbled by her ways
In her heart you'll find no doubt
I've never seen her cause discord
Or ever heard her shout
Her voice she spoke so quietly
She knew no selfish glare
She's my mother
My inspiration
Living proof
Gods really there.
Krysel Anson Sep 2018
Metal bones dropped over another
clashing sounds across the night of smoky denials
in a city of thieves, paupers and scholars.

Worn down and without memory, someone's father
brushes off the dust of a young person's tombstone.
The oblivious student bends over information
into another alarm bell of insatiable chases.

Huddled in a street corner
like sprites of another dark jungle,
workers in uniform and hard hats share
stories and spare time as if nothing else matters
but this fading incomplete point in time.

Overhead looms the impending bright dangers
and dim warnings being built
From metals and soil into another giant promise
trying to excuse itself as it rips through
the city lungs, calmly abiding
and seeming always ready to die or live through.
zoe Nov 2018
We pick fights
Childishly screaming
And we laugh
Spilling drinks on the floor
Sneaking glances in the crowd
I drunkly smile
Bijan Rabiee Aug 2018
The essence of love
Runs atop pillars of space
Anticipating to transform
The oblivious by-standers
Into inflicters of righteous pain
The pain that will set free
The reins of resistence,
Foreshadowing portals
Of everlasting beattitude.
The songs have all been sung
Yet not one has been able
To surpass the nightingale's
Who spins the sweetest darkness
Without a tinge of temptation.
The rhythms that fall upon thee
Speak eons of platitude
Of pedestrian coronation
Of revelation devised
Where the upshot is
Synchronized syndrom
That eats away the spirit
Like canker.
The flow of love
Is not a smooth ride
Like a luxury car on open road
Love's code is candor
That suffocates without killing
To reveal the lofty window
Toward unearthly meadows.
Tom Spencer Jul 2015
Cellophane wings beating
against the heavy summer air,
back and forth, all day long,
the blue dragonflies
chase one another across the pond-
their tails turned up
like neon scimitars
poised for a ******
that never seems to come.
Occasionally, a truce is called,
and they settle into place
on opposite sides of the reeds,
momentarily oblivious to their war.
Twice their size,
the red dragonfly idles in the sun.
From time to time it leaves its perch
to challenge the silhouette
hanging from the iris blade,
its spent skin,
as if it were a bad memory
rising from the green depths of the pond.
Below the surface,
the fish school together- a current of gold
slipping between the lily pads,
each aware of its place in the stream.
My reflection circles them all.
Drawn to the water
that both mirrors and obscures
I lose my place for a moment-
hovering between obligations and idleness
on cellophane wings.

Tom Spencer © 2015
Harry May 2015
The problem with love is that it’s as painful to lose
as it is beautiful to hold.
I was the eye of a needle in the eye of a storm;
Everything calm and clear where we stood under parity
Oblivious to my distant surroundings
And obsessed with the clarity.
Fresh air never smelt so good.
I knew they never truly felt I could survive but I could.
Now everything’s clear
And I am, this time, prepared;
My glass is half full but I’ll be careful not to spill my thoughts again.
My farcical haul through rugged-rough storms
And trivial pain
Has come to an unexpected but welcomed end.
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