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Qweyku Jun 2016
Why do the tongues of little birds
converse with the morning?
And their hearts stanza their beaks
to parley each dawn?

Have men lost their voice?

That creatures so small;
Should be the guardians of days night.



**© Qwey.ku
Stu Harley Feb 9
let
me
open
my wings
upon
the
darling blue sky
i
feel the light
flow
through
my eyes
where
my
soul wants to sing
lord
if
you
let
me
open
my wings
K Aug 2018
These open cuts lay open in remembrance of you.
Everything we had,
All that we did
All who we are, was-
and still is up to you.
You made a choice,
And picked your sacrifice.
You tossed me to the side-
As a new woman caught your eye.
Captivated by her beauty,
As if mine wasn't enough.
Constantly mystified by the twinkle in her eye-
As if mine wasn't worth the time.
You bruised me,
Your ignorance abuses me.
So these open cuts lay hollow,
And beg for your return.
Hoping one day you can heal them.
And ignite the fire that was never burned.
It is like a door.
With hundreds of thousands of people,
knocking and hammering on it all at once.
They kick and abuse the door until it is run down and beaten:
damaged and unreparable.
And although it's driving them insane,
still,
no one answers the door.
And likewise,
I am unresponsive.
And until someone answers that door,
they carry on knocking.
And again,
Until I speak for myself,
those thoughts wont be put at ease,
they will continue nagging
and making me crazy,
until I get the help I need;
silencing those thoughts for good.
Katelyn Sevier Jul 2018
We have all old habits we can never talk about.
The truth is I never told my parents about the way I could not go a day without his skin touching mine
and sometimes my mind would not get passed some days
Because mom and dad, I am sorry its hard for me to not be held.
The truth is I never told my parents what happened behind closed bathroom doors
And I wish I would have listened to Dad calling me beautiful
Because sometimes the mirror told me otherwise
Because mom and dad, I am sorry I have been beating myself up over the control I never had.
The truth is I thought I was going to die when he broke my heart
And how sometimes I still try to let go of him in the small moments
But even the small moments add up and that is when I think maybe I can never get better
Because mom and dad, I am sorry I gave a boy too much  of myself when he did not know how to handle it.
The truth is I never told my parents about the life I was living
And how sometimes blowing smoke and after the drinking and the throwing up and just wanting to be in love
Because mom and dad, I am sorry I never knew how to help myself.
I will be better.
WordsHelp Sep 2018
i have so many tabs in the books i read
they are color coded and when you flip open the book
i usually have some sort of comment there
these comments range from witty to cynical to dark to brutally honest
either with myself
or a general statement about the world
no matter what it says
whether silly or serious
those comments are my secrets
the tabbed off sections of my mind that i keep for only myself
the bruises i keep concealed
the words i’m too afraid to speak out loud
secrets between myself
my book
and my future self
who will one day read those tabs
those comments
and think back to the reasons they were left
think about all the obstacles i had overcome
and all words i had once related to
my truest self lies within
the margins of books
highlighted quotes
and color coordinated tabs
that no one knows the meaning of
i am terrified of someone reading those sections
someone picking up any one of my books
and knowing how i really feel on the inside
it would be as if someone had stripped me of my clothes
and left me for judgement
one day
i’ll be able to let someone open my books
to let them observe my truest self
and i hope that person is willing
to show me
their tabs too
Zane Jun 2017
are you sure you're being honest
are you sure when you say you love me
are you sure that i am what you want
are you sure i'm who i appear to be

because
i can be so dishonest
i can be so hard to love
i can be so hard to be around
i can be so easily deceiving

i can be
me

...
Jen P Sep 2018
Open your legs.
Wide.
Let them reach into
Your ****.

You are their mother earth
The abundant bounty

Let them Pick
And Pluck
And Stare

Let their hands
Smooth
And Sculpt
And Ware

Let them create their own space
Inside of you

You were born
for this.
Close your eyes.
july hearne Jul 2017
devil time
and Pyrex pipe

whatever will you find
so late on a weeknight
that is not found
every other night of every other week

Pyrex pipe
and devil time

margaritas, marijuana,
everything i need
and eye drops in the morning

my favorite gypsy
first cut
early take
quit while you're ahead
but you never do

that hammond *****
really shining something through
my favorite gypsy
don't get too friendly
but you never do

Pyrex pipe
and devil time

i was just a star
i meant for you to name
nothing more than that
you were just the devil
if the devil's name was music
and he still stayed up late
writing songs for everyone
takes all kinds
to give power to the name

Pyrex pipe
and devil time

my favorite gypsy
stays up all night
devil's got a lot of songs to write

that hammond *****
really shining something through
if you could hear it as clearly as i do
but you never do
08/12/2013
my last days
"turn that vocal up just a little bit"
Alexandria Hope Oct 2018
This is my chipped cup,
This is my broken mirror
This is my burnt lover,
This is my other
My partner, my boyfriend, my love
Who knows where this goes
But he's my 'us', our 'we',
And he's with me
And we're both free.
Shofi Ahmed Apr 2017
Open your heart paint your dream.
Do it in the broad daylight,
it’s your colour scheme.  
If the twilight falls on your colour plate
before you’re done painting the noon,
keep drawing down the moon!

Breakthrough at the first light.
No sunrise is any bird’s sleeping pillow.
They are on their wings, out and tweeting,
singing on the past night’s dreamscene.

Any of the fair duo, the Sun or the Moon,
sleek sunny golden or the silver line,
neither one of those can you catch.
They know their science  
like you count your time.

You can set your mind any time,
pick any number to count your time,
but you won’t have the last one.
There isn’t one, the mind is spotless fine.
But if the solar-lunar duo can count the last:
ask them to stop the time.  

Be truthful as you speak.
Open the heart into your eloquent word.
Never think you are alone, you are
complete with the complete world!
Run free, my friend,
Your fear need not hold you
The lights are to highlight
Your best features
And warm your trembling hands
You're safe here
So stretch your legs
And explore as far as you wish
Until you have to rest
Then sleep in the open sky
Love is knocking
Knocking
Knocking
Love is knocking evermore

Love is knocking
Knocking
Knocking
Love is knocking at my door

Love is loud, like a joke
Love is quiet, lightly spoke
Love is here, evermore

Love is knocking
knocking
knocking
Love is knocking at my door.
Thought of this one quite spontaneously, hope you all enjoy the words.  It sounds kind of nice as a song too.
Nicole Alyssia Aug 2016
the worst part of having
a mind like mine
is how it opens the doors
and welcomes
     insanity
with open arms
Umi Apr 2018
Open, oh eye of ones heart
The spiral of desire continues with no end to it, if lies are to pollute the world it is time to purify yourself from them all, one by one.
A hearts eye, sees through lies, but that is not its only purpose in a chest full of light and compassion in which it can greatly be found,
It serves so much more, all sealed uner a truthful surface and a righteous core, careless about anothers looks, the way they speak, superficiality such as shallowness are wiped out by it completely,
The hearts eye sees anothers soul and what they truly are, a judgement far away from personal preferences or falsities caused by instincts of ones heart which are likely to bring light headed frivolity,
It cherishes the good, the beauty of the soul except for wealthy appearance, mavelovence within greedy devilish behaviour and spite,
Projected like a story, the fear of what they see is but of themselves, if such an eye hits a devil right on the head, exposing his  treaciousness
What lies behind such a courtain of darkness, may it be good? Evil ?
Come pray by my side, if you shiver from that far away I cannot help you, as sadness clouds your vision in a courtain call of pure grief,
Let me open your eyes, so your wounds may heal.

~ Umi
july hearne Jun 2017
i met him in 1989 in a study hall class
and haven't forgotten him since.

a month ago,
i found out he had died in 2014.

the girls liked him
he'de tell me what was playing on his walkman
so i listened, learned, put a penny in an envelope
and mailed it off to columbia house

some weeks later i received my 12 cassette tapes.

i quit eating and got creative with eyeliner.
i memorized a lot of cure lyrics and went to study hall
prepared.

the semester ended and we weren't in the same
study hall class anymore. he ended up transferring to another school.

but i still had hope.
i had memorized so many lyrics.
i had gotten my hair cut into an inverted bob
and learned how to dye it black.

it felt like anything was possible
and it felt so good.

the next year
i transfered to the other school, but he wasn't there anymore.

the year after that
i transfered to an even worse school
he was there

finally.

soon after that,
emily became his girlfriend

one day, i ran into them at the park and ride
as i was getting off the bus

we spent the night on the sidewalk
outside of emily's dad's house.
none of us were allowed to go inside,
not even emily.

but emily managed to sneak inside
and stole a jug of homemade alcohol,
which we did not call moonshine.

emily fell asleep with her head in his lap
while we talked, smoked three packs of cigarettes (all mine), and drank the homemade alcohol that her dad had made.

emily wanted to be a fashion designer.
he really believed in emily and her drawings.

the sun came up

and i caught a bus home.

we both ended up
dropping out of highschool.
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