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"rekindling" poems
we tend to lose control of what was once lost rekindling the passion that was never caught we end up getting drawn in that we forget what we once were every part and every trace we leave behind ends up becoming nonexistent and floating off with the flowers in the sea.
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Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 1:33 PM UTC
flowers in the sea.
why do we always inspire the young who idolise and idealise, make the middle-aged merchants and are spoken of by the old as necessary memories by way of rekindling their own memories of youth not travelled upon the paths of the various arts? modern world decided to depict the **** perfect family as a form of ****** now we're told the perfect family is within reach of our genetic understanding of things and how easily synthesised, how easily synthesised and rarely analysed to be mutually bored before the television content and silent... raising a family these days almost feels like committing an act of ******
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Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 7:07 PM UTC
******
Your sun stroked fingers smooth my dusted galaxies spoiling orbiting blues with swipes of stardust. You kiss meteors, murmur how you savored snippets of Jupiter's moons in the spaces of a poetic eclipse. Adorning Saturn's rings in your nebulous tombs, rekindling your smile with flames of lovers past. The memory is still buried within my core, a pounding resonance that evokes the bloom of summers kiss on Earth. A welcome release for the nights wandering stars.
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Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 12:08 PM UTC
Alienation
Thinking with short breath, gripping my chest, sinking with stress? Just to attest, Imagine putting stress to the test Over pushing boundaries set with intent Chasing leads, gaining lost time pursuing a lust with broken trust Only to rise to the question Can the duality of morals and ethics which define us.. Be overwritten? Misconstrued needs for skeptics lost in line Slowly assimilating breathless methods Hijacked Black rose petals spiraling to conclusion, Decomposing as if to forget this Why don't I neglect this elusive euphoria defined in terms of confusion? Split paths once veering in opposite directions begin running parallel I know I'm here, but who's that there? Ominous reflections veer back with eyes unfamiliar A face with no definition grabs my wrist lurching me forward Weightlessly ***** following a diverging direction with questioned intention. Where are you taking me? (Silence) Operating in two places at once, questioning who is the driver Hijacked There but ever increasingly distant, attempting to reach you The sunrise rekindling the spark of yesterdays intuitions Preserving eloquence like a flower in full bloom Suddenly fades eerie in an instant, dwindling on gloomy restless expressions Cloudy perception refracted by crystalline illusions The evanescent cypress terpene, king of bliss Flowing in the direction towards what has been calling it most An icy chill enters my chest, a constant race to chase an endless quest A ploy of acceptance with a cotton ball
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Aug 22, 2019
Aug 22, 2019 at 11:50 AM UTC
Dopamine
Thinking with short breath, gripping my chest, sinking with stress? Just to attest, Imagine putting stress to the test Over pushing boundaries set with intent Chasing leads, gaining lost time pursuing a lust with broken trust Only to rise to the question Can the duality of morals and ethics which define us.. Be overwritten? Misconstrued needs for skeptics lost in line Slowly assimilating breathless methods Hijacked Black rose petals spiraling to conclusion, Decomposing as if to forget this Why don't I neglect this elusive euphoria defined in terms of confusion? Split paths once veering in opposite directions begin running parallel I know I'm here, but who's that there? Ominous reflections veer back with eyes unfamiliar A face with no definition grabs my wrist lurching me forward Weightlessly ***** following a diverging direction with questioned intention. Where are you taking me? (Silence) Operating in two places at once, questioning who is the driver Hijacked There but ever increasingly distant, attempting to reach you The sunrise rekindling the spark of yesterdays intuitions Preserving eloquence like a flower in full bloom Suddenly fades eerie in an instant, dwindling on gloomy restless expressions Cloudy perception refracted by crystalline illusions The evanescent cypress terpene, king of bliss Flowing in the direction towards what has been calling it most An icy chill enters my chest, a constant race to chase an endless quest A ploy of acceptance with a cotton ball
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29
...The idea that there's something else turns into a dream of rising suns and tomorrows of what seem to be sweet flowers that bloom upon meadows beyond crystal horizons Shade of a butterfly's wings brings a cool breeze and a calm found only in the eye of the storm A glimmering hope in every grin of despair A sparkle rekindling lost breath turning into a bushfire of reckless raging forged by a selfish desire to be free And so this flight will soar into great heights 'til this quest enslaves us all...
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Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 12:49 PM UTC
Chains of the Quest
There is a new kind of emotion A feeling of rekindling fire This romance once thought lost  Is now burning with a new desire It might just be my imagination Or maybe there's really something in her smile. But whatever it is  It's a brand new creation The lives we have led have been far Yet intertwined And as I look in her eyes She must know she's destined to be mine
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Nov 7, 2011
Nov 7, 2011 at 10:52 PM UTC
Rekindling Fire
*Electric Dreams Of My Radioactive Ex, Bio-Digital Jazz Tap Dancing Us Into *** Lucid Infatuations Infused In Whiskey, Cupid Fairytales Conceiving Frisky, A Perpetual Beauty Smoldered In Ecstatic Bliss, Sublime Sins Between Her Rosy Lips With Velvet Kiss, Romantic Burns Galvanized In Her ****** Desires, Seductive Stardust Enchanting My Feisty Fires, Encoded Serenity In Her Decoded Virginity, Recoding Obscenities Of Her Fragrant Sexuality, Hazel Echoes Raining Intimate Bouquets, Rekindling, Her Drug That Fondles In Her Moaning Glaze, Enraptured Catalysts Animating In Her Cuddles, Euphoric Elations Climaxing Into Her Satin Snuggles. - 02:17AM -*
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Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 5:00 PM UTC
Bio-Digital Jazz
Draped in bridal red Amidst widowed landscapes she stands With her veil swaying gently in the breeze And blossoms tinkling at her feet Fractured light decorates her Revealing rubies hiding in her tresses She brings forth her veil Shading weary scorched souls An oasis Amidst desolate desert sands The forest fire rages Against fate which brought upon us this drought Rekindling hope Of new birth and mercy And rages Until it's time for gentle showers and soothing greens Then tired Sleeps until the end of spring
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May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 5:36 AM UTC
Gulmohar
Countless series of melancholic oceans Hitting through waves of adversity Only to be repulsed by provocations Disjointed affections falls effortlessly With no such contemporary feelings Choked amongst the walls of solitary Praying silently for a better ending A hopeless romantic it seems evidently Voyaging away from the sufferings Patching holes of memories Rekindling fire from breathing Dreams torn away in fantasies Sober desires creates a lustful reality Shone away ignoring a truthful beginning Nothing can hold us against this treachery Forsaken our love has left me begging ©2014 Maman Screams
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Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 12:21 PM UTC
Indefinite Feelings
Her voice is green growing old rekindling nature’s minty breath. His voice is grey dull and diminutive diminishing our white light. Splitting the prisms by dismissing good wisdom. My voice is diaphanous blank slates silver screens vanishing nature retreating beneath the fury of the unknown. Skin scraped deeply, wound stinging. Until, it is naked and raw.
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Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 3:24 PM UTC
The Synesthesia of Existence
Rekindling of spirit (folding in, billowing out) with which we end the day, I dare you to leave me. The sun begs you to stay-- Give him the week off! He needs a dozen drinks! Whiskey, gin, Pinot Grigio, the whole lot! He deserves a feast! And so the London Fog stayed. Coat and tea in hand, thrown onto the mesh ground despite, tea arriving on cue-- Shallowed issues gone askew, Heart-screams louder than the heart-worms awash across the sidewalk Day dark like Night The London Fog Holds me tight
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Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 8:10 PM UTC
London Fog Coat
Rise from smoldering ashes, bring forth new life in a outward burst of flame, and holy cleansing fire. Like the phoenix, I have been given another chance to live again; You to can rise from the ashes of a world that is too clouded to see, take my hand, and begin to fade until there is only an ember glowing among ash, and erupt into a fiery flash blinding all who witness becoming a new you rekindling the flame of life, and beginning again. You have done to me what I cannot thank you enough for. You have given me a reason to rise from these ashes, I will in turn give you a reason to rise from your own ashes, or I will burn out with you.
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Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 12:17 PM UTC
Phoenix
a relit cigarette never taste the same and that's all I'll preach on rekindling old flames.
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Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 4:52 AM UTC
1:6
The pain sharp Memories raw Delightful joy so true The feelings fighting in my soul Call me back to you As love's presence fades To its relics I return Reminding and rekindling The passion that once burned Yet You're long gone No going back Time cannot reverse All that's left To soothe the soul Is putting love to verse
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Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 7:23 PM UTC
relics (1)
Waning  dappled  moonlight mantles the margin at the wild-wood edge Stiff tufts of summer dried grass spears sporadically sway — raking against the  scarlet  poison  oak  leaves gently sweeping away the moonlit silence airing the sounds of velvet antlers rubbing barkless mountain willow trunks bare Subtle nuances constantly animate twilights rhythm;  heaven flickers upon a dark umbrage of forest pillars softly as a candlelight’s  fluttering  glow evanescing  half way  across  the  sky; the  sparse  illumined  clouds  stream through the lambent halo around the rutting moon fleeting in the blink  of  sleepless eyes and like the silent touch of a talisman, transfixed eyes are entranced by all the  restless  night  disrobes, captured and cocooned by the seeker’s awakened senses An erratic,  familiar feral bark peals haughtily; a pack of maturing spring pups yip, bellow and shriek in youthful pursuit;  the howling report back, ignited by the scent of a rabbit's paling squeal, aroused by the pulse of brother wolf rippling deeply through their blood The dried grass game-trail crackles towards the ridge top: an aging full moon is not enough skylight to see beyond a seeker’s stirring silent reverie the coyote choir’s sudden reveling echoes rekindling an extraordinary sheltering intimacy within; bending slithers of moonlight into a dull moonlight mantle but I can feel its weight breaking me ,... forlorn I can't physically reach out to touch them in an absolving moment  — understanding love was always the purpose of being ,... futilely repining — I  can't  face  myself  alone  again             harlon rivers ... October  2019                                                   .
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Oct 21, 2019
Oct 21, 2019 at 8:39 PM UTC
Soul of brother wolf
Waning  dappled  moonlight mantles the margin at the wild-wood edge Stiff tufts of summer dried grass spears sporadically sway — raking against the  scarlet  poison  oak  leaves gently sweeping away the moonlit silence airing the sounds of velvet antlers rubbing barkless mountain willow trunks bare Subtle nuances constantly animate twilights rhythm;  heaven flickers upon a dark umbrage of forest pillars softly as a candlelight’s  fluttering  glow evanescing  half way  across  the  sky; the  sparse  illumined  clouds  stream through the lambent halo around the rutting moon fleeting in the blink  of  sleepless eyes and like the silent touch of a talisman, transfixed eyes are entranced by all the  restless  night  disrobes, captured and cocooned by the seeker’s awakened senses An erratic,  familiar feral bark peals haughtily; a pack of maturing spring pups yip, bellow and shriek in youthful pursuit;  the howling report back, ignited by the scent of a rabbit's paling squeal, aroused by the pulse of brother wolf rippling deeply through their blood The dried grass game-trail crackles towards the ridge top: an aging full moon is not enough skylight to see beyond a seeker’s stirring silent reverie the coyote choir’s sudden reveling echoes rekindling an extraordinary sheltering intimacy within; bending slithers of moonlight into a dull moonlight mantle but I can feel its weight breaking me ,... forlorn I can't physically reach out to touch them in an absolving moment  — understanding love was always the purpose of being ,... futilely repining — I  can't  face  myself  alone  again             harlon rivers ... October  2019                                                   .
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39
i tried to prove my worth to you, show you i was a good choice, a good mate i took care of you when you were sick, when you had a bad case of the flu i pulled my weight, cleaning the house, doing laundry, grocery shopping i provided, making sure you never wanted for essentials, little luxuries i protected, getting into a fight, when a guy harassed you i did all these things to show you i cared and loved you, but it wasn’t enough it’s been a year, i still find myself, missing, hating, loving you my heart was broken, it’s slowly mending, still painful to certain memories i am angry, you let me live in hope, in bliss, you knew you were leaving, that you were going to break my heart, destroy my world, my life, my soul of all the women that i have loved, met, you are the one i wish i hadn’t your actions shouted louder than words ever could, but i was deaf you made other plans, building a new life, in another land, rekindling an old flame like the phoenix, you destroyed everything in our lives, so you could rise, to love another i am still in shock, still grieving, slowly recovering you are no longer mine to nurture, love, take care of like a passing training, no longer visible, i can still hear it’s whistle my love has faded, but you left a mark, on my heart, that will never disappear
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Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 10:51 AM UTC
lasting mark on my heart
They're the one that everyone sees as the light, the one who clears out the darkness their gentle hands masterfully working between the twisted gears and wires But so much time does the mechanic spend polishing gears and rekindling hope that those blind eyes pass over, glazed with the false belief that the mechanic's own fire is still burning strong Each clock they fix, each machine they clean, enigmas within the mind they give their own light and their flames die slowly no longer holding hope for themselves Still, they gather the pieces around them, shattered, broken, bent and twisted tweaking and twisting till everything's perfect, because their work keeps the embers alive, barely aglow amongst the broken parts within them It is the last hope they have left
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Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 8:26 PM UTC
The Mechanic
You Are Fire, and you are the spark to my life, my drive, my desire. I know I broke things off with you with the possibility of rekindling things in the future, Only after I'd gone off on my trip this winter and did some serious soul searching, But now that we've been talking again for a scant few days, I feel everything coming alight and those old embers threaten to catch fire. The old layers of baggage and ash finally were allowed the chance To blow away with the winds of change and the gusts of time, Letting those old wounds and scars heal, the pain to dull and subside. But this renewed communication with you comes dangerously soon, And I fear for you and I about my self control when it comes to how I feel for you. I still have the impending six weeks abroad coming up this winter, And the contrasting schedules and the wild lifestyle that's expected over there Is one of the major reasons I decided that it was for the best to put us to rest, But these renewed urges so soon will be a test to see if I make it Until I leave on my trip without rekindling old passions. The last thing I want to do is compromise on my morals, Leaving you here with promises While I head beyond the horizon to unknown experiences. At this age I don't trust myself that far. We both need time off and away to grow and develop mentally. I just hope that you're still here when I get back so I can let you know, I love you.
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Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 3:32 AM UTC
You Are Fire
Electrifying insides much deeper than skin Rekindling the temple's flame that burns away perceived sin & Shine in a new light while a new life begins Into the pond I saw beyond This span that exists currently Left me then, besides dread, was the sense of urgency Along with the notion of taking things so personally Now's a good time for a lot more breathing and a lot less worrying Give me some zaps that will act as a lucid inducer Insane synapse blasts across my tribal mind maps Programming much faster than a supercomputer Inside the Youniverse, past mask diffuser Crafting within the infinite, Based on each individual intention Everything changes from each shift in perception Let all the walls fall releasing the demons in the form of apprehension You're beautiful the way you are, a floating eyedea of perfection~
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May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 5:48 AM UTC
~Our Space~
i'm just bored of having to feel what other people feel, limiting the realism of things, a woman with a child's  severed head in moscow is sensationalism to them, but when they get a mild reality, Kashmir chilly  on the palette, they make cheap Monty Python jokes to scare the facts away... the so-called satire that requires canned laughter; was given a library of 25 philosophy books, not one of them by an englishman, went as far back as the greeks, i guess the version of english egalitarian was not worth a communism, somehow the two synonyms became antonyms... 25 volumes of philosophy, not one english philosopher... the english intellectualise: i.e.: regurgitate facts.... the english do not philosophise, i.e. instead they cite facts... they're intellectuals by rite of citation, the citation of facts, they can't philosophise i.e. not cite (facts)... they intellectualise, they cite and recite facts with a dogmatism that fears a demolition and no rekindling of interest... to philosophise is to avoid citation: to work from nothing, the english cannot philosophise because they intellectualise and by intellectualism they cite and recite facts like an ave maria pi = 3.14... Galileo's spectacles... etc. the english cannot philosophise, they're just intellectuals, they cite and recite facts, they cannot engage from non-citation or non-recitation of a fact, like a greek might ignore a stone and fool himself claiming it's nothing, the english cannot allow a confiscation of a subject and treat it as nothing, it would not make sense as to why charles i was the precursor of the french aristocratic en masse meeting with the guillotine if darwinism wasn't discovered on the islands of Galapagos... although i beg to differ with a thought on Gauguin and the islands of Tahiti: make a turtle yawn and you'll jinx yourself a blessing to live to be one hundred years old.
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Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 10:49 PM UTC
Darwin Galapagos / Gauguin Tahiti
i'm just bored of having to feel what other people feel, limiting the realism of things, a woman with a child's  severed head in moscow is sensationalism to them, but when they get a mild reality, Kashmir chilly  on the palette, they make cheap Monty Python jokes to scare the facts away... the so-called satire that requires canned laughter; was given a library of 25 philosophy books, not one of them by an englishman, went as far back as the greeks, i guess the version of english egalitarian was not worth a communism, somehow the two synonyms became antonyms... 25 volumes of philosophy, not one english philosopher... the english intellectualise: i.e.: regurgitate facts.... the english do not philosophise, i.e. instead they cite facts... they're intellectuals by rite of citation, the citation of facts, they can't philosophise i.e. not cite (facts)... they intellectualise, they cite and recite facts with a dogmatism that fears a demolition and no rekindling of interest... to philosophise is to avoid citation: to work from nothing, the english cannot philosophise because they intellectualise and by intellectualism they cite and recite facts like an ave maria pi = 3.14... Galileo's spectacles... etc. the english cannot philosophise, they're just intellectuals, they cite and recite facts, they cannot engage from non-citation or non-recitation of a fact, like a greek might ignore a stone and fool himself claiming it's nothing, the english cannot allow a confiscation of a subject and treat it as nothing, it would not make sense as to why charles i was the precursor of the french aristocratic en masse meeting with the guillotine if darwinism wasn't discovered on the islands of Galapagos... although i beg to differ with a thought on Gauguin and the islands of Tahiti: make a turtle yawn and you'll jinx yourself a blessing to live to be one hundred years old.
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44
When lying upside down I see the whole world hanging on a silver cloud Stare at it long enough it begins to become right side up Roots grow towards greater heights with no end to their soaring flights They reach for the stars interlocking with earths loving arms Making a perfect way to lead us to life’s golden gate Opening our souls pouring wisdom into our minds’ empty holes Rekindling us once again to be one with the universe, moon, and sun
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Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 2:01 PM UTC
Upside Down, Right Side Up
rekindling lost love is like teaching a flightless bird to fly. the wings are wounded as are we, but we still try to reach the sky. we have dreams of what we could be, even if they are impractical. love equates to delirium, and I don't wish to see reality anymore.
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Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 10:02 PM UTC
flightless.
My Middle East is torn Divided into sects and stones Desert full of rage Ancient cities bearing witness to atrocities In the name of the merciful Let the killing begin Seek justice in an afterlife For God is deaf Ceasefire! long enough to bury her face Under the classroom's desk Or onto her dead mother's chest Nameless casualties in numbers Gaze at the brilliant night sky Rain of shells, rekindling the dark-ages No truce is left For God is deaf The Father carried his young one A lifeless log returned to earth Faith unshaken among shouts and prayers Let the words avenge you Curse the creator in whispers And spiral not into an uncharted nihilistic ground Fuel your hate For God is deaf Commemorate the dead With roses on their heads Or with poems on their gravestones instead Morality embedded in poetry, blood is shed Humanity on trial Blame not my words For God is deaf And in my Middle East He remains, Undead.
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Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 3:24 AM UTC
My Middle East
I wanted to write a poem about the incessant discomfort I always feel in my left eye whenever my contact lenses become old and dry I thought about how it tickles but scratches at the same time and starts off alright just a minor annoyance but quickly, overtime becomes almost unbearable like my pre-school bully himself is folding down one of my eyelashes just enough for it to poke me at the slightest movement then I thought about how I'd sooner write a poem about my life and how it started out equally alright and quickly, overtime became almost unbearable as if my pre-school bully didn't do it right so I found him in his adult life many years later wife, two kids and a mortgage yappy staffy-cross, two cars and an alright job as a graphic designer his garden full of gorgeous flowerbeds, a full head of hair and a fading right hook "MAKE ME FEEL **** LIKE YOU DID THEN." a puzzled look on his face, garden hose flooding his drive and the yappy staffy-cross still yapping away at the living room window "I'M DEAD SERIOUS ANDREW, NOTHING HURTS LIKE IT USED TO." so he called the police and I never got to feel young again unless you count scurrying away from a council estate under the threat of a poor meal at Parkside police station the rekindling of my youth so this is my infomercial poem about how not to confront someone always be fully clothed that's very important avoid being drunk any mind altering substance is best avoided in my opinion remember just because you care just because you remember does not mean anyone else does oh and don't eyeball craft beer when you still have your contacts in you know what? -just don't eyeball craft beer
0
Feb 1, 2021
Feb 1, 2021 at 6:02 PM UTC
Too Good at Scaring Neighbours
I wanted to write a poem about the incessant discomfort I always feel in my left eye whenever my contact lenses become old and dry I thought about how it tickles but scratches at the same time and starts off alright just a minor annoyance but quickly, overtime becomes almost unbearable like my pre-school bully himself is folding down one of my eyelashes just enough for it to poke me at the slightest movement then I thought about how I'd sooner write a poem about my life and how it started out equally alright and quickly, overtime became almost unbearable as if my pre-school bully didn't do it right so I found him in his adult life many years later wife, two kids and a mortgage yappy staffy-cross, two cars and an alright job as a graphic designer his garden full of gorgeous flowerbeds, a full head of hair and a fading right hook "MAKE ME FEEL **** LIKE YOU DID THEN." a puzzled look on his face, garden hose flooding his drive and the yappy staffy-cross still yapping away at the living room window "I'M DEAD SERIOUS ANDREW, NOTHING HURTS LIKE IT USED TO." so he called the police and I never got to feel young again unless you count scurrying away from a council estate under the threat of a poor meal at Parkside police station the rekindling of my youth so this is my infomercial poem about how not to confront someone always be fully clothed that's very important avoid being drunk any mind altering substance is best avoided in my opinion remember just because you care just because you remember does not mean anyone else does oh and don't eyeball craft beer when you still have your contacts in you know what? -just don't eyeball craft beer
Continue reading...
54
Ripples of water, reflections of the night sky and inflections of why, words came but all authors’ pens dried and faltered, moments of the divine lost to the sacrilege of time, feeling came but altered. Darkness came and surrounded, confusion came and confounded, as deep as valleys, as tall as mountains, heartbeat in chest pounded. Little lamp lead the way, the end is not today. Tomorrow will come and stay, so do what I must to stay a lit by this gentle flame, as all of will not be in vane. I said aloud in a moment of panic to stay sane. But time came and the light did not falter, faith grew in this little, little light of mine, and it grew to shine without any signs of alter. Hope flickered as the flame stayed a lit on the twine. Alone and afraid, frayed rope dwindling burning as vibrant kindling, however closer did it fade luckily in the darkness laid, countless stars swindling. My heart rejoices as I have made it to the rekindling. No longer alone, no longer afraid pulse dropped, pounding stopped the stars came and a lit my flame I need to thank them all by name. As I laid staring up at the stars, feeling so small and alone on Mars, I forgot all of the people who have came who shared their soul and flame. I hope I can keep being your flame, and a piece of yours mine. Days will be dark and dreary, but shine on and shine forth into the night.
0
Mar 25, 2021
Mar 25, 2021 at 12:03 PM UTC
Stars