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"serched" poems
The poet doodeling doodel Dee doodel dumb ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Inspired by a dead mans words I scrached my mind to find a tear I serched my heart for creativity & my soul for anger past shallow I fall to mediocre phressed nonesece. a reddle that makes me feel at home an ink stain on a blank page like the person I'm not it's nolonger me DoOdel Dee DOodel doo Doodel DumB
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Dec 9, 2010
Dec 9, 2010 at 2:06 PM UTC
The poet doodeling
As in the tears light does escape in the darkest fear. Pleading in silence yerning for the departure of my soon lost mind. Why we we must travle a road only to see it's end. The path unsure requires a steady broken soul. My emptyness know great depth. A game of life a promise of death. Behind laughter pain does exist. Another night escapes me one of many regrets. The wind a companion the road a void of nights gentle embrace. Ive searched for a reason tangled in the traps of agony's plessure cast dellusion. A snow globe heart awaits its fatal dance with the floor. In the arms of passion we feel the wrath of times bitter truth. I am the clowns washed clean face. Ive serched for a depth. To find a poets soul ive found not a trace. I struggle to resist. She drops the glass as it breaks apon a slab floor. No longer the clown do I see. One pull and tommorows painting will be erased. From a spark of pure creation and a fatal destruction. Into a night a end of my choosing. Maybe we knew the past was soon to be are end. Heart's like all things bleeding easily betray. For only clocks and urns apon the mantle were ment to stay. In choosing this path it sets a page blank. Allowing many to read that which was never seen. In darkness the mystery leaves little light. So as we toast to a suicide. The trigger is pulled. A ****** up sesibility is matched only by a cryptic verse. As in chains we exist trapped in soul lost within the mind. Sunsets in red oceans of passions failure no longer free to the laugther trapped within my head. The soon to be forgotten fade. As in the depths we chase demons of are own creation shallow in thought. Washed in tommorows legend and dried by reallty's ever changing truth.
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Jul 21, 2010
Jul 21, 2010 at 7:10 PM UTC
The Return Of Your Leaving
As in the tears light does escape in the darkest fear. Pleading in silence yerning for the departure of my soon lost mind. Why we we must travle a road only to see it's end. The path unsure requires a steady broken soul. My emptyness know great depth. A game of life a promise of death. Behind laughter pain does exist. Another night escapes me one of many regrets. The wind a companion the road a void of nights gentle embrace. Ive searched for a reason tangled in the traps of agony's plessure cast dellusion. A snow globe heart awaits its fatal dance with the floor. In the arms of passion we feel the wrath of times bitter truth. I am the clowns washed clean face. Ive serched for a depth. To find a poets soul ive found not a trace. I struggle to resist. She drops the glass as it breaks apon a slab floor. No longer the clown do I see. One pull and tommorows painting will be erased. From a spark of pure creation and a fatal destruction. Into a night a end of my choosing. Maybe we knew the past was soon to be are end. Heart's like all things bleeding easily betray. For only clocks and urns apon the mantle were ment to stay. In choosing this path it sets a page blank. Allowing many to read that which was never seen. In darkness the mystery leaves little light. So as we toast to a suicide. The trigger is pulled. A ****** up sesibility is matched only by a cryptic verse. As in chains we exist trapped in soul lost within the mind. Sunsets in red oceans of passions failure no longer free to the laugther trapped within my head. The soon to be forgotten fade. As in the depths we chase demons of are own creation shallow in thought. Washed in tommorows legend and dried by reallty's ever changing truth.
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The poet doodeling doodel Dee doodel dumb ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~              Inspired by a dead mans words           I scrached my mind to find a tear             I serched my heart for creativity                      & my soul for anger past shallow I fall to mediocre phressed nonesece.                        a reddle that makes me feel at home                an ink stain on a blank page                    like the person I'm not                             it's nolonger me    DoOdel Dee DOodel doo Doodel DumB
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Dec 21, 2010
Dec 21, 2010 at 9:43 PM UTC
The poet doodeling
How long have I waited now ? How long must I wait ?. You awoke this morning with the need to sing , the air in your tiny lungs burst forth and your only thought the eggs you hatched . I witnissed the cloud wither behind the sun , yet still you serched for food ax if my table was empty . And so many rain clouds formed you feasted off bins of trash cans what ever came to mind ? Did you never look for this bread and wine ? Do you remember the hail stones how they stung against your face , you shivered in the wet lands without a smile I saw your face . To gruel and trout you ate , and grissel when there was no meat , and sang as the rain drops fell on your tiny black beak . Through Ashfords streets you sang above Costa coffee shops and church spires you perched . Then on Sunday morn when my table was full , with other birds you ate like the feast of a dove , You chirped some happy chorus sung , then past my window, you flew to the sun .
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Feb 13, 2018
Feb 13, 2018 at 8:52 AM UTC
The bird table .