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"revalations" poems
Razors pain you Rivers are damp, Acid stains you Drugs make you cramp Guns aren't lawful and nooses give gas smells awful ...you might as well live I don't quite remember where I heard this little rhyme before but it has kept me from doing a lot of things all the videos on YouTube with there promises "IT GETS BETTER" the words circulate the world through the copper chords that connects us all the shrinks and the doctors and the counsellors and priests with all there powerful words ...words that empower you for a while but sadly fades to the back of your mind as tears fill your eyes and someday, with the instrument of death at your fingertips.. you realise that all these words and revalations are all just empty lies empty little lies empty little lies empty little lies empty little lies empty little lies empty little lies empty little lies one for each day of the week one for the strong and one for the weak one for the man with riches and fame one for the woman in filth doth have lain one for a smile that should not exist and lastly one... for those who insist that nothing matters and nothing will change tomorrow brings tears yesterday created fears this problem has no solution my soul is lost amidst confusion I don't believe the lies no more but I won't answer the truth, knocking at my door I choose to end not my life but the potential I have the beauty the radiance the hope I might bring to the hopeless the health to the sickness the laughter to the tearful the protection to the fearful I choose not to end my life because I believe that my path is set not for the benefit of myself... we have no happiness on our path we must create it... find it in giving that which we do NOT have to the ones we do not love this is our curse... and don't say it's not fair because life is not fair !! because Angels and Saints ...which we seem to be the chosen of... rarely gain fame while living or being happy, or loved no... we are the angels we will only be recognised as soon as we lay our heads down and all the bricks we have laid in this world start to radiate with our legacy!! Be strong, for sprouting feathers is a painful process Be heard, for the voice of justice has been silenced to long and be proud... ...simply... because you are
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Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 8:45 AM UTC
Little lies
Razors pain you Rivers are damp, Acid stains you Drugs make you cramp Guns aren't lawful and nooses give gas smells awful ...you might as well live I don't quite remember where I heard this little rhyme before but it has kept me from doing a lot of things all the videos on YouTube with there promises "IT GETS BETTER" the words circulate the world through the copper chords that connects us all the shrinks and the doctors and the counsellors and priests with all there powerful words ...words that empower you for a while but sadly fades to the back of your mind as tears fill your eyes and someday, with the instrument of death at your fingertips.. you realise that all these words and revalations are all just empty lies empty little lies empty little lies empty little lies empty little lies empty little lies empty little lies empty little lies one for each day of the week one for the strong and one for the weak one for the man with riches and fame one for the woman in filth doth have lain one for a smile that should not exist and lastly one... for those who insist that nothing matters and nothing will change tomorrow brings tears yesterday created fears this problem has no solution my soul is lost amidst confusion I don't believe the lies no more but I won't answer the truth, knocking at my door I choose to end not my life but the potential I have the beauty the radiance the hope I might bring to the hopeless the health to the sickness the laughter to the tearful the protection to the fearful I choose not to end my life because I believe that my path is set not for the benefit of myself... we have no happiness on our path we must create it... find it in giving that which we do NOT have to the ones we do not love this is our curse... and don't say it's not fair because life is not fair !! because Angels and Saints ...which we seem to be the chosen of... rarely gain fame while living or being happy, or loved no... we are the angels we will only be recognised as soon as we lay our heads down and all the bricks we have laid in this world start to radiate with our legacy!! Be strong, for sprouting feathers is a painful process Be heard, for the voice of justice has been silenced to long and be proud... ...simply... because you are
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Passing around a fatal flaw like a joint in a hot box, Refreshing baths of Coca~Cola and regretful indulgence We are wasting away in a paradise of my creation Poems tinted grey through abstinent romanticism, and an inexplicable undertone inherent to my prose. As everything starts to return to a drumming constant. It all sounds the same. We've been sunbathing in porcelain skies and empty daydreams. Drab and dreary and acid washed. Interrupted like a beach by the sea, By the little pieces of drug soaked warmth that act as comforting distractions. A smile or a shoulder or a sunny day to drink from. Summer and solitude, the likeness of warm bodies in a cold pool. So. Compose me an opera of Soda Cans and of choral song. Synthesise two bass lines and slow drip coffee and pollen and folk. Make it for me so I can watch you as you work. Let me listen and bask in its ludacris vanity, and clean shallow waters. How I would relish the time spent muddying the current. Destroying the tide I desired out of boredom. And black hot frustration. Flowers painted in acid and acrid accounts of repetative revalations in the context of rude rosy cheeked romance. Blonde haired ignorance and one dimensional delusions. Blue eyed terrorists armed with air and arrogance. Give me seatwarmers and handholding Or corvettes and convertables. Give me arrowheads and heart attacks Humble my bones with a cardiac !F.R.I.E.N.D.S.! SITCOMS ADJASENT PLOTLINES mumble rap AND ***** TALK HOTLINES four letter words with little context or meaning and selfless expression that's often demeaning Its September in January and it rains for a day And despite all our efforts The days waste away
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Jan 24, 2020
Jan 24, 2020 at 12:26 PM UTC
Exurbia, Rock Ballads and Soda Cans
Passing around a fatal flaw like a joint in a hot box, Refreshing baths of Coca~Cola and regretful indulgence We are wasting away in a paradise of my creation Poems tinted grey through abstinent romanticism, and an inexplicable undertone inherent to my prose. As everything starts to return to a drumming constant. It all sounds the same. We've been sunbathing in porcelain skies and empty daydreams. Drab and dreary and acid washed. Interrupted like a beach by the sea, By the little pieces of drug soaked warmth that act as comforting distractions. A smile or a shoulder or a sunny day to drink from. Summer and solitude, the likeness of warm bodies in a cold pool. So. Compose me an opera of Soda Cans and of choral song. Synthesise two bass lines and slow drip coffee and pollen and folk. Make it for me so I can watch you as you work. Let me listen and bask in its ludacris vanity, and clean shallow waters. How I would relish the time spent muddying the current. Destroying the tide I desired out of boredom. And black hot frustration. Flowers painted in acid and acrid accounts of repetative revalations in the context of rude rosy cheeked romance. Blonde haired ignorance and one dimensional delusions. Blue eyed terrorists armed with air and arrogance. Give me seatwarmers and handholding Or corvettes and convertables. Give me arrowheads and heart attacks Humble my bones with a cardiac !F.R.I.E.N.D.S.! SITCOMS ADJASENT PLOTLINES mumble rap AND ***** TALK HOTLINES four letter words with little context or meaning and selfless expression that's often demeaning Its September in January and it rains for a day And despite all our efforts The days waste away
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I woke up and wrote your letter The Morning sun wash shining After a long rainy night I spent it trying to understand How I am supposed to float How the trees are supposed to wrap and squeeze The raven on his branch ****** harm of the moon White light through forest seeps Forget the meaning of a moment Pressing on the tile How your skin was warm And your hands alright Fire burned from Hades that day And the claws of demons reached up To scratch my screams Your parables are a common monolouge ******* in my brain Revalations and Galatians, Ezekial, Jeremiah John the APOSTLE to christ Was exiled to the island Patmos A bullet would put my brain on ice Character Speech of Naked demons Pouring Fire onto the world to ash to ash to ash The seven seals Breath the ash in and out Standing strong footed in the Millenium Where he rules again With an iron rod Despair Rebellion Screams in the blood of your young heart A spray of ****** violence against a creator of lust and love and pain and ash The prince of peace Whose blood anointed the sins of the childerens childrens children Speeding up to heaven on winged steeds Let your words pierce my armor Unto my very bones It is better than this pain I feel Your own annointed son Bleeding on an alter Incense swirling this I wish the mounains Would fall upon me
0
Dec 22, 2011
Dec 22, 2011 at 10:56 PM UTC
Eternity
Between the light the darkness dances Teasing glowing ebbs of thought Shifting to the edges of revalations Betraying subtle workings of morality. Softly influencing choices made Pursuing naught but a challenge Taunting the light with whispers of song The light so silent and still. Behind the light the shadows play Fulfilling dreams of desire Secretly knowing the heartstrings by touch Serving the mind's subconscious. So when the light fails our hopes The delicate waver blown out All that's left was always there The music and the dark.
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Nov 8, 2010
Nov 8, 2010 at 6:06 PM UTC
The Music and The Dark
In case you hadn't noticed The thought of you has infected me And to elaborate you made your way  into the deepest parts of me You spliced the skin I let you in, a virus taking over me And like tears made of real life tragedies, you broke fourth in full force immersed yourself in my anatomy Walls I built to keep you out crumble in my own shame Cause when your in you will see all the dreams that sprung from your name Making me fight within my self for self revalations but its of no use Cause I dont know who I am, haven't known where I stand since I met you I am not well these hallucinations are so real I can almost feel your love for me But it's the wrong time, and it's to soon, and life couldn't really let this love be But it's so strong, and I'm too weak And my heart seems to really want to do this. So I sit back and back track and pray that I dont lose it See I'm seeing things in different ways, and I'm not sure that I trust myself to know If these are my eyes, if this this is my life, where I am where I should go And You shine in a shade of light I've never really seen before Im waking up to hopeful ways, nights filled with things I couldnt dream before And it's shown me things about love and life I would never have believed before it can get pretty tiring To sit in dismay day by day thinking of every way to say I want you and I love you and have that turn to second thoughts harbored in fear of never being worthy of you
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Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 8:31 PM UTC
just listen
It's hot, Stripped down and striped up, Lightrails crossing table town, Music playing that no one hears, A pretty girl hiding guilt, Covering feelings like a quilt, Old men talking with tattoos, About ******** not paying the bills, We're all looking for someone to relate to, At least till, The stop they get, Off, Groceries, naps, napkins, Cell phone checks, Mingling mindfulness of, "oh **** Did I miss my stop?" Odd questions of should I, Wake them up? Dope sick lovers praying for moonlight And another hit, Feelings of nostalgia, art, and of A life never lived, Passengers passing downtown, Dropped out and college bound, Books about addiction, Distracted because the game is on, It's a blow out, Stable songs adding stability to a quiet ride, Mr. Tambourine man has two kids now, With a guitar an ex painted cardboard, His world with wings, Asking, When are we going to take off, Come on, No cords to pull, Step off and away, Short distance relationship revalations, It's my stop.
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Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 1:18 AM UTC
Community Bridges- A Lightrail Tale
I've read 1000 upon 1000 of poems Where I see not many write about God I challenge you all, to write about God. In your own words and you can scream it out loud In the beginning It started with Adam and Eve. There was then Noah, follewed by Moses. They have, Psalm, Proverb's, Ecclesiates, Songs of Solomon Is poetry about life Along with the rest of the old testament Disciple's, Apostle's, Major and Minor Prophet's Along with the history of God Now to the new testament Where we have the following Letters to the church Along with the gospals Where Jesus speaks to you And you see how he lived With his words of silence Now we have Revalations What a strange place So many creatures That will **** the human race Me, I'm by far not Godly I curse and I sin I desire flesh of women But I try to live his ways I know many things About our God I do read the bible And sometimes out loud Yes, I have been reborn Still figuring it out But I'm one of God's creatures And that's without a doubt
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Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 3:27 PM UTC
challange, read below
Sometimes, There is no point In holding onto hope. Sometimes You just exisit. Maybe you are cast away, Riding on the notes of of a piano That drift into the empty lobby. Where the carpet reminds you of your first apartment. Maybe sometimes its all nonsense that fills your mouth and hoodwinks the special moments that shouldve felt like a rising sun after hours sitting in the cold. Thinking of revalations. Maybe this cigarrette tastes like nihilism and the smoke looks like you feel. Maybe your fingers are burning with lust of creation but the rest of you cant catch up. Maybe you swallow and shift in your seat trying to peice together the exact moment that you couldnt stand waking up anymore. Maybe this nothing just isnt enough and you need more because the ciggarets stopped working a month ago and everytime you see yourself in the mirror its a shade of blue youve never seen before. And maybe in the shower with your head pressed agaisnt the tile you wonder how well the water would mix with your blood and how long the curtains could hide the scene. Maybe when you look at the stars it doesnt look like forever but feels like a box with little pinholes poked in the top so you can get just enough air. Maybe your chest collapses trying to figure out how to breath again and maybe nothing helps and it all tastes like ash and maybe you punch the ground, ****** your knuckles and look at the damage with a strange curious numbness wonder what just happened. Maybe tomorrow... Maybe not.
0
Sep 16, 2017
Sep 16, 2017 at 6:44 PM UTC
Maybe..
Sometimes, There is no point In holding onto hope. Sometimes You just exisit. Maybe you are cast away, Riding on the notes of of a piano That drift into the empty lobby. Where the carpet reminds you of your first apartment. Maybe sometimes its all nonsense that fills your mouth and hoodwinks the special moments that shouldve felt like a rising sun after hours sitting in the cold. Thinking of revalations. Maybe this cigarrette tastes like nihilism and the smoke looks like you feel. Maybe your fingers are burning with lust of creation but the rest of you cant catch up. Maybe you swallow and shift in your seat trying to peice together the exact moment that you couldnt stand waking up anymore. Maybe this nothing just isnt enough and you need more because the ciggarets stopped working a month ago and everytime you see yourself in the mirror its a shade of blue youve never seen before. And maybe in the shower with your head pressed agaisnt the tile you wonder how well the water would mix with your blood and how long the curtains could hide the scene. Maybe when you look at the stars it doesnt look like forever but feels like a box with little pinholes poked in the top so you can get just enough air. Maybe your chest collapses trying to figure out how to breath again and maybe nothing helps and it all tastes like ash and maybe you punch the ground, ****** your knuckles and look at the damage with a strange curious numbness wonder what just happened. Maybe tomorrow... Maybe not.
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