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Israel Caudillo Mar 2014
Noises, voices, news, comercials, advertisements, pop ups.
All day we spend time been invaded with all kind of sounds, images and smells
Dragging our mind to the outer abyss
Being influenced, affected or accesory.
At night trying to sleep becomes realy hard
Those sounds, images and smells have created feelings
Ideas attached to my mind and they don't go away.
No at night I'm affraid, at night is quiet, it's dark
But my mind is bright, full of life and energy more than ever
Being in calm, darkness, quietness... Silence
Yes I'm affraid of silence, cutting of the external influences
Finding a way out of that outer abyss
Entering in that inner universe
Where the mind has no limits
There is not borders, there is an entire inner universe to explore
Where the mind has all the space to expand and try to be able to understand
And fail get up and try again.
Fear invade me at night
My mind get used to the limits, borders, the edges setted in the outer abyss
Setted by "morality", "customs", "traditions" anyway what people say is "correct"
My mind wants to be free, but is to scared of what could be found beyond.
Some times at night the outer abyss clashes with the inner universe being my mind the only witness.
hami Apr 2023
and there she is,
known as cruel wicked for speaking.

her hair was tied,
her neck was strangled,
her eyes were poked,
her lips were stapled,
her arms were rotated,
her feet were collected,
and she were dressed into something new.

but she did not like it all,
and broke the strings above her.
they called her a demon,
setted her into fire,
darted her heart with spears,
dragger her into venous snakes,
tangled her with ruling hurricane,
just to let her meet their god, lucifer.

yet she is still there standing,
hoping until her last breath—
after all, she is the woman of god
who died from people she devoted for.

"war may be over— but inhumanity remains" ; @wordsbyhami
Andrea Diaz Nov 2011
When the sun rose,
You sat so proudly on your high horse,
And as your horse grew higher and higher,
You had so much pride that it multiplied into five
And grew by eleven.
                                                                                                                                                             We were your pride
When the sun setted,
You fell so far from grace.
And as you fell,
Your children cried,
You smiled as you passed,
For you knew you were no longer of this world,
When the night came,
You were gone,
Where you lied,
A grave sits there.
Where your high horse once stood,
Is now a house filled with memories you created.
When the morning sun came,
Your laughter remained.

Physically speaking,
You’re buried underground.
But if we take it spiritually,
You’re always around.
This was a poem I wrote for my Papa who passed away the last Saturday of October.
amme Nov 2016
This new age happy truth life ****, I dont condone it beacuse when life hands me lemons... I turn it into haze and smoke it, thats just how my soul is.
Happiness? too hard to control.
Ego? too easy to promote.
Life? too many do and donts.
I dont curse life but when you love something too much you have to let it go!

Wow..

I cant afford to earn dough. Money on my mind but my heart changes flow. Went solo, had nobody swinging the ropes.
Didnt choose the thuglife so in my apartment stayin broke.
Smoking **** drinking coke slowly dying on my own.
Remeniss, think a while of everything from before.
Go to sleep with achievements setted out to score, wake up in my mothers home with nobody to call my own.
Everyday is a struggle to get through the door. Wake and bake or else my body's saying no.
Anastasia Webb Jul 2015
last time we made love.
   stagnant heat bitter night,
    the smell of petrol from the highway,
        the old wind out on the balcony,
              our open windows,
our thin white curtains,
    our industrial city,
      our smogged stars.
                               and then –
our fast breathing and oh gosh,
           when you slipped your skull against my mouth
         i swear i could taste the scene:
some romantic technicolour western
     we’d watch in our friend’s garage
                        on their old TV.
                            (years gone past)
your hand against my skeletal
       cheek; our wandering minds;
                    our palm tree resorts,
       our electric hollywood dream;
          the setted sun
               the golden beaches
                       the tangerine taste in my mouth
                            from your love,
           the smell of our skin.

two.

  alone.
Mike Hauser Feb 2015
Mike H. Excuse me, didn't we already do an interview?

Me. We did and although I asked some really hard hitting questions I feel your answers weren't up to par. Have you lost your edge?

MH. Lost my edge? Are you kidding? We spent hours on the interview!

M. Yea...that's kind of a ******.

MH. What are we going to do now?

M. Well personally I'm going to ask the same questions, your just going to have to up your game...

MH. Then should we get started...again?

M. Mike, I thought I'd never ask!

MH. Then take it away Mike!

M. So Mike it seems to me and I'm you so that would be us. Well we've been curious why every year in January you disappear from Hello Poetry.

MH. Well I like to take the time to refocus...

M. Epppp!!!

MH. What? What'd I say??

M. That's why I scraped the last interview....BORING!!! This is the new millennia and we're really not that interested in the truth.

MH. So should I talk about my being on the run from international spies?

M. Perfect!

MH. Or how while I was away I jet setted around the globe giving interviews to all the magazines about my world renowned poetry.

M. Do tell!

MH. And after that I was on a jungle safari and was kidnapped by that tribe of pygmies only later to be rescued by a jungle man calling himself Tarzan of the Apes?

M. You have been busy!

MH. But none of it is true!

M. Uh...your starting to bore me AND our mega readership again.

MH. Well after all that I canoed my way back across the ocean and here I am!

M. You know at times I truly amaze myself...

MH. Don't I though.

M. You know we should do these interviews more often. Hanging out with you otherwise can pretty much one...big...yawn.

MH. Did I mention the sharks?
Oh that smile make my heart skip a beat,
It makes me think i can perform any feat.

When im with you i see everything in symphony,
My expression changes in a different harmony.

Your company has given me a sense of serenity,
Yet your absence drives me to literal insanity...

And I've taken a liking to that laughter,
Those parted lips that cant be any softer...

So may i drown in those eyes full of depth?
My soul is quaking it really needs a rest.

I've never intended yet to be found,
Living in my sanctuary free and unbound...

Yet i didn't knew that sanctuary was a prison with no gain,
Where i bounded myself with woven chains...

You broked those chains and setted me free,
You saved me from the falling debris...

And you made me forget all the pain,
You've given me hope to love again...

Yet i cast away these shallow eyes,
so you may not notice these unspoken lies...

And now my despair is giving me away,
You've read this now i wonder what you'll say...

Will you cast me away and call me a creep?
Or dive in my soul and save it from eternal sleep?

Maybe you will shout and say "leave me be".
What can i say, its your choice, I'll just wait and see...
>.<
I used to write poetry only for the
fame.
It was nothing more to me, then mere child's game.

As I grew up, I wanted something to blame,
So I wrote my poetry with saddened flames.

My heart got broken, so I wrote for a claim,
But I didnt had it in me to write the
same.

But then I met you and I setted my
aim
So im writing this poetry  in your
name...
And her beautiful brown eyes, they made me homesick for the home i never had
Dacia B Aug 2015
"Science will save us" was the early diet off all education. Once the child could look around and gather some smatterings of bearings.
Armed with a microscope and the absorption of former minds work, they set off to conquer the academic world.
Their buildings glittering with the unspoken ideals of their field, a jump above and the zoning in a small nature of the universe, playing with God's laws, staring him in the eye.
And we sit back in our leaky, sun-setted windows buildings, desiring the human condition, exchanging empathies of existence and lamenting the archaic actions of ancient revising their records:
"Day 51: with these crazy apes"
The dreams, the beard strokes, the pondering lost who fear for our lives. As we watch through our sunset windows the dawn of the new scientific man. A world without our thought

— The End —