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"sholder" poems
A Ghostly Moon Climbed, Over A Thick Tree Line, The Ground Was Covered With Mud, Adreniline Swam Inside Churning Blood, A Lip Was Being Bitten, To Block Back A Scream, A Story Was Being Written, Even Though It Was A Dream Green Eyes Turned To Gold, Ontop Of Wood, That Was Rotting, It Was So Old, Talons Ripped Through The Moss, Her Heart Was Being Tossed, Around In Her Chest, She Wasn't Human Then, But She Was At Her Best A Sly Silhouette, Crossed Her Path, She Was Playing Russian Roulette, But She Faced The Wrath, She Layed On Her Back, To Ask For Trust, Piercing Her Neck, Teeth Felt Like Tacks, It Was Hard To Stay Calm But It Was A Must The Shadow Realeased Thy Grip, But It Didnt Let Her Leave Without Blood Drip, A Cut On Her Sholder, Left A Scar, One She Gained Underneath The Stars She Woke With A Fright, In The Early Morning Light, Blankets At The End Of Her Bed, A Red Hot Pounding In Her Head, She Looked Down, And What Did She See? The Wound On Her Shoulder, She Had Recived
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Sep 1, 2012
Sep 1, 2012 at 7:50 PM UTC
Shape Shifter
Dawn echos baby blue to eternity. Brilliant white bergs of foamy mist.... ....pulled in an invisible current.. Drifting in as one and out as another... In a brisk, cool wave of sweeping freshness. Up in my left periphial view a semi circle of gray... dissipates into powder blue. Simontaniously a vision... over my right sholder, a magnificant orb of intense illuminousness... peeks up and over the horizon, reaching and accending. Casting rays of clarity and perfection. And radiating warmth that catches in the breeze and softly lands upon my skin. It says to me,"Good Morning!"
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Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 2:45 PM UTC
This Summer's Morning
4 brothers born strong to withstand all that is thrown at us. When we stand side by side we are adamant to all dangers or obsticals. We protect eachother with our lives. When troubles or emotional times come we are there to be a sholder to cry on for eachother and to think of ways to overcome the problems. 4 Brothers born strong different parents brothers brought together by bonding friendships here foreachother for anything. 4 brothers born strong.
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Jul 31, 2010
Jul 31, 2010 at 1:16 PM UTC
4 Brothers Born Strong
I flick the Bic, take a hit, inhale, hold that **** exhale! Now I'm lit. Gone with the smoke and I love this **** im just shearin my feel the real. im the perpetrator/victim so i guess this is the **** Its ****** that he wrote. And I quote, "murder's what I wrote". take note; cause it's becoming real hard for me to cope. How am I supposed to be optimistic when I've lost all hope. Im rippin sippin and Thinkin wrong. In this world im alone and its starting to sound like the same sad song. The downside of it all is ive become so skeptical of everything i even  hate to ******  sleep cause of what i may see when i dream But **** it three tears in a bucket. The world that im familiar with hates and its made me do the same. Aint no remorse and or empathy Just the wrong and bad oh and i cant forget the shame. Now im lookin over my sholder waiting im hatin debatin And talkin out loud but no one hears what im sayin Cause I'm the type of dude who speaks my mind Im beyond mad but keepin kool calm and collected **** wasn't always simple circumstances lead to here and there And every situation i reacked it Now im in a hectic type way I can't say who it is or when their make the move but my last breath they will steal. I done some wrong's; to ***** and even to me myself and I. But that wasn't the deal ***** deeds done like nothing I didn't even have to try and hide. I'd Ride against the other side. Found what I wanted, lost what I needed. How long can I go on if my wounded heart bled all the love that it had inside and no longer has life to bleed. forsaken by my seed's, family, and Soul so full of envy hate and greed I agreed Went on to sign the deed I hope this all made sense to yall who were here to hear my story And so with that here i Toast to my ghost.
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Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 10:32 AM UTC
toast to my ghost
I flick the Bic, take a hit, inhale, hold that **** exhale! Now I'm lit. Gone with the smoke and I love this **** im just shearin my feel the real. im the perpetrator/victim so i guess this is the **** Its ****** that he wrote. And I quote, "murder's what I wrote". take note; cause it's becoming real hard for me to cope. How am I supposed to be optimistic when I've lost all hope. Im rippin sippin and Thinkin wrong. In this world im alone and its starting to sound like the same sad song. The downside of it all is ive become so skeptical of everything i even  hate to ******  sleep cause of what i may see when i dream But **** it three tears in a bucket. The world that im familiar with hates and its made me do the same. Aint no remorse and or empathy Just the wrong and bad oh and i cant forget the shame. Now im lookin over my sholder waiting im hatin debatin And talkin out loud but no one hears what im sayin Cause I'm the type of dude who speaks my mind Im beyond mad but keepin kool calm and collected **** wasn't always simple circumstances lead to here and there And every situation i reacked it Now im in a hectic type way I can't say who it is or when their make the move but my last breath they will steal. I done some wrong's; to ***** and even to me myself and I. But that wasn't the deal ***** deeds done like nothing I didn't even have to try and hide. I'd Ride against the other side. Found what I wanted, lost what I needed. How long can I go on if my wounded heart bled all the love that it had inside and no longer has life to bleed. forsaken by my seed's, family, and Soul so full of envy hate and greed I agreed Went on to sign the deed I hope this all made sense to yall who were here to hear my story And so with that here i Toast to my ghost.
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52
When I needed some one to lean on You stepped away and watched me fall. You said you would always lift me up When I was crashing down you did nothing at all. Any time you needed a sholder to cry on I was the first in line to be there. When tables turned and I had to cry My sorow was too much for you to bare. You cut me deep, my soul left to bleed With your lies and wicked schemes I don't need your fair wheather friendship You take two-faced to a whole new extremes.
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Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 2:14 AM UTC
Fair Wheather Friend
There's a gap between what I fear and what I think to fear; there's a night, sure, between those tiny things Because to fear is to live, as the leaf in the burning forest still breathing, fearing not the death, but leaving the living I do not fear the death I just fear the night falling over my sholder, my head; my integrity what it means being me I fear those things I'm not certain of (as the rest of living things I think) But scarier is to know that we truely do not know the certainty of all the things we say we know And of all those nocturnal dreads there are a few that keep me awake waiting for an answer that will never come as the lost remembrance of an ancient love as the farther forefather of a forgotten folk as the man watching through my window in a windy storm passing by the city There's a lot of dreads at the midnight that keep me awake thinking about things that I should not but I think all the condamned are bound to write about nightmares and imaginariums that does not belong to us but yet, they're ours to transform And maybe one day the dreads will go far away from our city, as the storm maybe one day we will burn as the leaf and then we will stop fearing what we do not really know
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Apr 13, 2018
Apr 13, 2018 at 2:19 AM UTC
All the nocturnal dreads
how lucky the sweet blue sky clouds bursting in green clovers with an Irish moon looking over your sholder
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Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 2:53 PM UTC
An Irish Moon
Cathy said catch me, as the sky grew dim. The story of wolf for people like him. He laughed at her text and he scowled at her tears. He thought she was a faker but she was nothing near. Cathy cathy, caught in a web of her mind. catch me catch me, before I fall behind. Louise was a artist her dreams were her art. But her dreams soon grew darker and so did her heart. She thought it would pass by, but soon she'd retreat. Never to leave home, cuddling to her feet. Cathy cathy, caught in a web of her mind. catch me catch me, before I fall behind. Louise Louise, cannot leave home for a tea Leaving Leaving, she'd like to but she can't be free. Rose smelled like her name, caught boys in her thorns, and her love was a game, but some loves had horns They'd treat her like a trash, crumpled up, thrown away. At night she'd be bleeding, but look fine by the day. Cathy cathy, caught in a web of her mind. catch me catch me, before I fall behind. Louise Louise, cannot leave home for a tea Leaving Leaving, she'd like to but she can't be free. Rose Rose, charred sholder and ER trips Bleeding Bleeding, tomorrow a new set of lips. Talor was the joke of school, each year a new clown, but he was always their fool they'd steal his shoes, and force him to drink ***** His parents lost hope, but acceptance was like a rope. Cathy cathy, caught in a web of her mind. catch me catch me, before I fall behind. Louise Louise, cannot leave home for a tea Leaving Leaving, she'd like to but she can't be free. Rose Rose, charred shoulders and ER trips Bleeding Bleeding, tomorrow a new set of lips. Talor Talor, what kind of name is that? Failure Failure, starving since they called him fat. And there is a story in everyone's past but today you judge the present.
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Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 11:12 PM UTC
Everyone has a story
Cathy said catch me, as the sky grew dim. The story of wolf for people like him. He laughed at her text and he scowled at her tears. He thought she was a faker but she was nothing near. Cathy cathy, caught in a web of her mind. catch me catch me, before I fall behind. Louise was a artist her dreams were her art. But her dreams soon grew darker and so did her heart. She thought it would pass by, but soon she'd retreat. Never to leave home, cuddling to her feet. Cathy cathy, caught in a web of her mind. catch me catch me, before I fall behind. Louise Louise, cannot leave home for a tea Leaving Leaving, she'd like to but she can't be free. Rose smelled like her name, caught boys in her thorns, and her love was a game, but some loves had horns They'd treat her like a trash, crumpled up, thrown away. At night she'd be bleeding, but look fine by the day. Cathy cathy, caught in a web of her mind. catch me catch me, before I fall behind. Louise Louise, cannot leave home for a tea Leaving Leaving, she'd like to but she can't be free. Rose Rose, charred sholder and ER trips Bleeding Bleeding, tomorrow a new set of lips. Talor was the joke of school, each year a new clown, but he was always their fool they'd steal his shoes, and force him to drink ***** His parents lost hope, but acceptance was like a rope. Cathy cathy, caught in a web of her mind. catch me catch me, before I fall behind. Louise Louise, cannot leave home for a tea Leaving Leaving, she'd like to but she can't be free. Rose Rose, charred shoulders and ER trips Bleeding Bleeding, tomorrow a new set of lips. Talor Talor, what kind of name is that? Failure Failure, starving since they called him fat. And there is a story in everyone's past but today you judge the present.
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Wishing both Passion and Anonymity The same side of two coins After ever, Eternity First defeat had won A growing cold beneath the flame The careful waters nurtured A passing notion for a kiss Death presents His virtues Will and Strength both in jest Along with Constitution Stir the muddied waters Governed by Inspiration Now chastened Fear beneath the moon The aweful sonnet wispered Left drunken Sorrow quite confused On how he could have missed her The quiet chains of Solitude Sorrow kept in tow Drug over the corpse of Pain Where flowers never grow The Writer with hypothesies Sleeps beneath the covers Quietly while on His sholder Torture kindly hovers
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Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 8:38 PM UTC
The art of writing
If it handn't been for you I would've never stood here With all these women Competing to find The strongest Highlander I doubt anyone here Is an actual Highlander The one with the temper She's from Spain The ultimate butch Is an Algarian ******* Finland and Poland Are represented And you, we may never find out Who gave life To your exquisite existance But as I sat down under the pear tree With you "dominant girls" I hear a soft whisper I wish I could reach up and give you one I smiled and whipered back so do it And sure enough As we spoke beneath The tallest pear tree One fell down And hit you on the sholder We roared from laughter I said grace To the voices For restoring my faith In that one voice Who always echoes In the depths of my heart The one who has always been Out of reach and out of touch And it's fine Because he's here anyway.
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Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 3:30 PM UTC
Faith and gratitude
As you come into the world, and you see the light, you hope you don't see it again, for a long, long time. You make new friends everyday, and gain opportunity. If you don't take some chances here and there, you have no right to say you're living, because to live is to have conflict, questions, answers, death and loss. The thing to remember, is not to cry, is not to whine, is not to make a fuss, because if you do, they will never stop staring, because they don't know the real you. If they don't know the real you, they'll think your over reacting, that it's all you. They might think that they know the problem, that they know the answer, but they don't, so keep quiet, always smile, never look at your feet, and most importantly, ignore the negativity, the comments, the devil on your sholder. Because you ARE worth it, and you DO matter, you are NOT a tiny voice in the crowd, you are a blooming Caterpillar, waiting to bloom into a beautiful Butterfly.
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May 22, 2017
May 22, 2017 at 4:59 PM UTC
A Tiny Voice In The Crowd
If you want to laugh, I will be your smile. I will be anything that you need. If you want to fly, I will be your sky. Anything you need, that's what I will be. If you want to cry, I will be your sholder. Everything you want, that's what I will be. If you want to love, I will be your heart. I will always be what you Neded.
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Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 9:36 AM UTC
If You
Everyones all alone, silent for all but the sound of families hearing bad news. Those are the real screams, the screams that ruin the joy you feel on the rollercoaster with but a memory, the screams that stop films with worry for someone no one worries for. The screams that all def men fear, and the hearing will never truly hear. those screams, I pity those who have to hear almost as much as I pity the rain, the family, the winter. I walk alone tip tapping through these drained white halls, with cold floors, closer doors and frigid screams sending chills through my mind. And there she lies, alone on a bed that might as well be a wet floor, It's so ***** with the bleached out stains of the lives it lost and the ones it took for more. Those consistent beeps, all that's left of her voice that grows colder and colder, a cold ******* sholder And winter Winter grows closer, like a rabbit to its end. Winter A string with a single beep on a screen,all that she left was thoselong red streams of strings now they falter my wrists. And oh, those screams. Made by the rich yet poor, left in winter alone without a coat and they keep screaming and screaming until they run out of air. And even then when they cough up their lungs and they don't know what to do. They still scream a sound that only the blind can hear, all alone in the cold it grows closer to frost. And yet they make the sound that chases off autumn and frosts out the dents left behind by the maggots and hope that their sound will escape soon from winter.
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Dec 2, 2020
Dec 2, 2020 at 2:24 PM UTC
The Winter Of Loss & Peppermint Barks
Everyones all alone, silent for all but the sound of families hearing bad news. Those are the real screams, the screams that ruin the joy you feel on the rollercoaster with but a memory, the screams that stop films with worry for someone no one worries for. The screams that all def men fear, and the hearing will never truly hear. those screams, I pity those who have to hear almost as much as I pity the rain, the family, the winter. I walk alone tip tapping through these drained white halls, with cold floors, closer doors and frigid screams sending chills through my mind. And there she lies, alone on a bed that might as well be a wet floor, It's so ***** with the bleached out stains of the lives it lost and the ones it took for more. Those consistent beeps, all that's left of her voice that grows colder and colder, a cold ******* sholder And winter Winter grows closer, like a rabbit to its end. Winter A string with a single beep on a screen,all that she left was thoselong red streams of strings now they falter my wrists. And oh, those screams. Made by the rich yet poor, left in winter alone without a coat and they keep screaming and screaming until they run out of air. And even then when they cough up their lungs and they don't know what to do. They still scream a sound that only the blind can hear, all alone in the cold it grows closer to frost. And yet they make the sound that chases off autumn and frosts out the dents left behind by the maggots and hope that their sound will escape soon from winter.
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