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I have been a dream
I have been a tempest
And a flood
And a raging fire
I have been the creeping dark
The terrible sun
I have been the ghost that knocks my plants over
I have been the spilled soil, too
The branch that taps against my window
I have been a car crash
And a mirror
And a stunted cry in the night
I have been a brilliant sunrise
A bloated ocean
The ghost of my father
I have been the cracked rib of my mother
The snakes’ yawning mouth
Eve herself
I have been a leaking tap
A righteous man
A little sin
The blade and the wound
I have been the wolf and the howl
A bulbous moon
I have been a dream.
From Potent Treasures despite Five Months past
The Sixth Great Angel suddenly appeared
Reminding my Lost Voice which Virtues last
And preached the Sermon of True Self revealed
How Wonderful must your Header advise
Being the Younger of your Sister's sprite
From there Unknotted Loyalty devise
Though snubbed by Pink Dandelions in spite
Now I can see why he chose over you
His Charming Sense knew your Heart was that Pure
And please keep on; Keep that Silver Disc blue
Coat them with your Wings from being demure.
Yes I Agree. Of your True Coating's stand
Thank you so much for reminding me at hand.
#daleysangels #katierobsonx
ˏˋDalPalˊˎ Oct 2014
Here's a thanks to my grade school teachers

thanking my first grade teacher
for getting me into writing

thanking my second grade teacher
for letting me write a longer book than anyone else
and teaching me it was alright to be different

thanking my third grade teacher
for being stern with me
and letting me know that not everyone is going speak to you with sugar coated words

thanking my fourth grade teacher
for showing me to share a little bit of yourself with everyone

thanking my fifth grade teachers
for helping me with the first year of middle school when no one else would

thanking my sixth grade teachers
for probably the greatest year of my life and teaching me life lessons I wouldn't have gotten until now

thanking my seventh grade teachers
for teaching me that being funny and creative is nothing to be afraid about and giving feels just as good as receiving

thanking my eighth grade teachers
for making me feel alright about the scary transition coming up and bonding with my classmates even more

thank you for helping me grow up
Just going down memory lane
Bryan Lunsford Apr 2018
With one month–two months–three months–and then four,
As I'd say it was about the fifth month that I just couldn't take it any more,
For there, with thoughts of a woman's departure leaving my mind to feel torn,
I sit here trying not to cry with these tears continuously hitting the floor,
Where I sit here in a dark room that I don't want to sit in anymore, I continue to write about this woman that consumes everything within my universe,
With her possessing a soothing beauty that I adore and with such grace that could never be ignored,
She simply is the most amazing woman that I've ever met before,
And that's why I'll be here all alone, forevermore, just wishing I could hear her say one last and final word,
Though, as I've been ignored, and with her staying miles and miles away,
I've slowly began to lose more and more of my faith, where I have been sleeping most of the days away,
Because only in my dreams do I ever get to see her face, but tonight I won't be able to sleep and will be wide awake,
As I'll be writing all day and night with her on my brain, with today being the anniversary of the sixth month that she's been away
laura Mar 2018
if you can’t see what’s in front of you
you lose what you could’ve got
baby baby friends since the sixth grade
now you’ve seen me *****
and you know you want more and more

im a loving mistress and im a sub
want love and can’t get enough
what
I.
And my hair became too much

It overtook the walls
made its way into the office on the sixth floor
and then hung
like a dripping willow’s branches
over the desks

By the time they thought to find me
I’d already been wrapped up in a cocoon of brown hair  
indistinguishable from the walls
that was now
also covered in the thick strands of undulated hair

II.
everything and everyone became consumed.


III.
In hairy chrysalis, the scissors uselessly
hung on some poor frantic pair of hands
forced into pupa

IV.
It was on the third day that the streets surrounding the corporate buildings were once again
populated with people, that a young woman in heels swore she heard a
faint choral singing coming from the 5th or 6th floor of a dreary grey building.


V.
everything cocooned
everyone consumed
all in pupa

VI.
During metamorphosis, a caterpillar digests itself leaving only behind imaginal discs
that shape it’s adult body.  

everything becomes consumed.
lmbf Aug 2018
Dear good old friend,

I don't regret a minute of it. Being given the chance to play with you, laugh with you amidst the grassy plains of our old schoolyard. Fifth grade mancala and sixth grade basketball games, the people may have changed but the memories stay the same. And I remember you, me, and our group of friends, and all I can associate with it is the feeling of finally being free.

Who would've known that just four years later, we wouldn't be able to recognize the person standing in front of us?

I let go a long time ago, but try as I might I can't bring myself to forget those years; and every moment is conflated with the kindness of your smile. Almost like it's a portrait frozen in time. While now I know that's nostalgia casting its rose-tinted spell, part of me still wonders whether you think of me, your good old friend, when those years come to mind, too.

You taught me the meaning of seasons. That every season ushers in new people, new meaning; and that what is given sometimes has to be taken away. Though I questioned this truth for a very long time, I no longer hurt over the year we fell apart. In fact, I embrace it. You taught me how to see the joys in life (even when I wanted no part of it) and you taught me how to love. And in doing so, you taught me how to let you go.

People often say that someone might leave your life after you have learned something from him/her. But you always were the exception; you made sure I knew that life goes on no matter who's in it. No matter if you've learned your lesson right away or not.
That just as we learned in seventh grade biology that the human skin repairs itself, we, too, will learn to heal - and maybe even to love others again.

Thank you.

Yours,
l.m.b.f.
Summer Freewrite Sessions 2018 //
though now i can't even recognize the man he has become, here is an old friend whose memories and whose lessons i will always treasure. the wisdom he (albeit unknowingly) imparted upon me before we said goodbye forms a central part of the progression of "SFW 2018" and of my personal growth  this past summer, too. so i felt it necessary to honor him through this piece.

if you have been reading my works this past month - through trending, through your home page, or through a friend, thank you so much! thank you for receiving SFW Sessions warmly and for sharing it, it means the world to me.

if you haven't, i encourage you to check them out. it would be greatly appreciated! (and also some parts of this piece might make more sense.)
sophia Jun 2017
his words were the mellow sound of church bells on the sixth hour
of the holy day. they were gospels, an ardent call from the angels
that hushed down the depths of my ears. but mostly he had all power
but left them all unsaid.
Ylzm Apr 5
The sixth opened on the sixth
history prophesised, future past

sun and moon eclipsed
heavens and earth shaken
moon bloodied, stars fell
earth ripped apart, time perturbed

graves opened
the dead arose to life
the living buried themselves
immortal died
mortality perished

blood spilled, living marked
wait for the number of Man
The 6th Seal and the 6th Hour
Tammy M Darby Sep 2016
Staggering explosions of venom-laden light
In a world of darkness constructed by man
Debauched genius and greed tainted sight
In second blinding rays of silver filled the skies

Trillions of once living humans lay dead
Empty warm footprints were life once led
Gray piles of ash on radiation kissed the ground
The species ended
Beating hearts unbound

It was not the first bombed dropped
Nor the cause of their fall
Or the second
That followed
When Azrael began to call
The third
The Destroyer
slowly seeping life
The fourth
Spreading it fiendish tentacles
Created from evil and lies
The fifth
Came in waves of poison rippled sound
The sixth
Was death cold sister come to hover round

But came the seventh
In clap of thunder
None now left to worship
In awe and wonder
The seal had been opened
The convent broken between God and man  
The punishment foretold
Revealed in the blood of the lamb

@Tammy M. Darby September 3, 2016. All poems are stored in author base
Evan Stephens Nov 2017
It flickered in the air,
sagged branch to branch,
pushed against the windows:
a death was pulsing.

It spilled into the streets
of my hometown.
I opened an old phonebook,
the names were humming.

I was cut to pieces by it.
I knew her as a little girl,  
she knew my sister
in her hippie period.

The telephone lines cowered
beneath the gray massing of moon.
The faces of houses screamed
ceaselessly at me as I drove.

It is so insistent,
her sixth-grade smile
in my old class photo.
It hovers inside me.
Nassif Younes Mar 2016
Another day and up goes
Another indoor ski *****
Another indoor hunting range
And another underwater golf club
All built on the backs of Blistered Men
In the blistering sun
Who hydrate on warm water by day
And wash in ***** water by night
As towers cut holes in the sky
Through which the heavens rain down
Their radioactive rays.

At dusk, the Imam ****
Who wears on all ten fingers
Rings bearing ten different precious stones
Waves his winking hand
At the ******* Cop
Who smiles back showing his teeth
Cunningly freckled with golden flakes
While a voice from the nearest mosque hangs over them
And says something
About morality.

In the middle of the desert
In the highest room
Of the tallest hotel
Sits The Perfumed Prince
Enjoying his favourite meal -
Lobster with pieces of fillet steak
Clutched in the pincers
And both eyes gouged out
And the sockets fitted with white truffles.
The waiter holds his breath before returning with the bill
And the Prince tips one of The Blistered Men
With a rare shellfish
Which he does not know how to eat
Without getting poisoned.
After his meal, The Perfumed Prince
Relieves himself in a solid gold toilet
Which makes his ***** look like fresh water
Whilst his pet falcon innocently crunches the carcass of a baby rat
In the other room.

On New Year's Eve
As the baking sun had set
And sweated out into a stinking humid haze
The sixty-three storey Downtown hotel caught ablaze
Because - reports say -
The owner tried to squeeze into it
A sixth star.
The Imam **** of Many Rings
Suggested postponing the scheduled firework display next door
And charging people to watch the fire.
The Gold-Flaked ******* Cop
Argued this was impractical
And insisted the show go on
As it would omit the sound of people screaming
Something about priorities.

The fire was contained
And the firework show a success.
The Perfumed Prince flew in the next day
And resolved that the burning hotel was structurally flawed
And should have been
Bigger.
"If we're going to have an inferno,"
He said,
"It had better be the best inferno this world has ever seen."
And so he set The Blistered Men to work
On wobbly scaffolding
In the blistering sun.

The women have been blocked out of this story
Much like they are in the streets

But in other news
Somebody, somewhere
Has just resolved
To eat less red meat.
Johnnie Woods Aug 2018
There are five widely known senses.
Sight, hearing, touch, smell and taste.
We've got some minor ones as well, such as balance, temperature and many more.
However, people fail to realise that there's also the sixth major sense. Thoughts themselves.

   If we look closely, all these five senses have the same base. Specified cells in eye react to energy of light, cells of ear recieve energy in form of air's vibrations, skin cells pick up energy of mechanical changes, and so tasting and hearing depend on translation of certain substances' chemical energy.
   These cells in different organs differ in their structure and the way they appear, however, if we stop looking at them in such small scale, we can see that ALL of the cells or organs responsible for any sense translate the energy.
   So, a light enters the eye, certain wavelenght of certain energy stimulates the eye's rod or cone cells with a certain intensity. Then the energy of light is translated to energy of electrical impulse, which goes straight to the brain, creating the sensation of sight.
   If it comes to smell, a certain particle enters the nose, binds to a smell receptor cell, and the chemical energy of this particle is, again, translated to energy of electrical impulse, which goes straight to the brain, creating the sensation of smell.

   Now, let's move to the crucial part. The sense of thoughts.
   During the creation of thought, pathways in our brain that collect memories(and many more known or unknown pathways) connect. First, there's this spark of electricity, that moves all along the neuron and releases a dose of neurotransmitters(amount of different NTs is equiavlent to strength of this spark, basically resulting in "creating" various thoughts).
Then, chemical energy of NEUROTRANSMITTER is translated to energy of electrical impulse, which happens in the brain, creating the sensation of thought.
   Therefore the 'sense of thoughts' reacts to and is stimulated by neurotransmitters themselves, with receptors on neurons' membrane being receptors of the stimulus. So, kind of like smell, the stimulus is chemical, compared to sight, where it's electromagnetic wave; anyways the result in all of these is electric impulse in neurons (hence the idea of "thoughts" as a sense, due to the same basic layout; transfer of energy).
   The 'smell particle' connects to receptor and is translated to a certain amount of neurotransmitters/certain strenght of neuronal impulse. SO, again, we can see that when the first outer layer of this communication is cut off, we're left only with the neurotransmitters and impulses themselves. Anyway, the transduction of energy remains.

   If it comes to "sense of thoughts" the receptor lies within us, whereas in sight or smell or touch it's external. However, does it matter if it's on the surface of skin or under it if it all comes down to neurons of our brain?
   When you lie in a dark, silent room, without any external stimuli, you still retain your thoughts, colorful, vivid or complex. All the magic of the brain - still happens. So, how isn't it a separate, full-fledged sense?
Willoughby Aug 2018
I'd love to peer into that brain of yours and see the actual mechanics of your thinking.  Where those creative juices of yours throb and pulse. Ya, I'll drink to that.

   Maybe use one of them scopes to explore the left ventricle of your heart (you know, that chamber of the Heart that pumps blood through the aorta).  Figure out that sensitive heart of yours.

   Explore the rubber consistency of the lining of your lungs. With that heaving chest and ******* of yours, those lungs must be so healthy in their pinkish hue.   Just some barstool thoughts while waiting for closing time.

   Staring into this shot glass in front of me, my memory harkens back to the time you cut your arm and I ****** the blood from it, so salty and all.  I want to bottle you up in a liquid formula or capsulize your essence in a unique pill form where I can digest and absorb you and grow new cells from the energy I receive from the calories of your precious body.

   Maybe with the power of your bodies flesh I can grow a sixth toe, develop a third eye, build an *****.  I love you so much I could eat you up!

   Barkeep says this is last call so I better drink up and be on my way.  I wonder what your left ventricle really looks like under close inspection?  
   Just wondering, do you have any x-rays of your body I could have?
                                             See ya,   Creepy  Ray Ray
Willoughby  NEWSLETTER:   Coming soon, more Willoughby life rules and yes, this isn't the last you've heard from Creepy Ray Ray.  Also, middle of next month in honor of National Sheep Day the long awaited posting of "My Wife is a Sheep". Sweet anticipation!  And finally if your a little creeped out or shocked ---- Exactly!
Yenson Sep 2018
Swept in on the sixth of the first
Icy winds sluiced on dripping fleecy snow showers
I saw a raging storm coming with vile foreboding nursed
Staple in peace in love in goodwill laid a fitting banquet for all hours
Rewards for toil and strive in minds attuned and goodness versed

I knelt supplicant before my Lord
Laid my just heart bare and without fear or dread
laid a ringing vow as in warmth or bellowing thundering cold
I rest in the forethought I am girded to sail sun's flames un thread
For no blooded being can justly state I harmed or injured in my fold

I will walk this vale of tears
Meet with demons and the ****** of the outer worlds
Face the volcanoes in **** and shame blazing red lava ingots
I will not cower before deadly serpents or baulk at icy frozen walls
If I fall I will stand again an again till God's time uneaten by maggots

I implored my Faithful Lord
Take me down grind and cast me asunder and bereft
If this be ordained that an innocent soul pays an unjust price
The darkest storm has raged wild and furious a depraved joy theft
My God upholds me and holds that truths and honesty never a vice



[email protected]
Fragmented souls
embark upon parlous journeys.
Mosey, so cozy, tip toes amidst  
the nuts, the berries, her frag grenades,
all whom are lost.

I get the sense
she stimulates the local economy.
Her sixth sense
is my first sin;
subsequent Saturday night mass.
However,
in her unique meek way.

She moves divergent
from the wandering.
Please,  I implore,
just as you sat
on the park bench
pondering;
a failed attempt
at being inconspicuous.
tres de septiembre
covered in wet leaves
juggling espresso, laced
with my final exalted request-
roll up your sleeves.
chocolate skin illustrations
depict a sad story.
Don't stop smiling.
On the eve of our
improbable introduction
after impossible instructions.
Ignore the jilt,
it was a jolt,
prompted by your voltage.
Despite all your glory
I was over caffeinated,
under compensated,
out of cahoots,
deemed arbitrarily scholarly,  
presumed clinically copasetic;
according to the nurse tying a knot  
in Dr. Martens Boots.
I never trusted a stethoscope,
nor the script; it
read so cryptic.
"Dredge my flaws with his amphetamines"?
Societies newest drudge,
Earth's newest quagmire.

Theres nothing flat about her earth;
What's a man do with his hands?
there's nothing meek about me.
[Car door slams]
Kiva Beth Jan 2018
Narcissists are the anomaly,
The inexplicable sixth kind -
The bend and snap of neurology,
The frequency turns horizontal,
And pulsates to vent, it stops -
And somewhere in the wound
Bend -
Something cannot heal
Snap.
Brayden Allen Aug 2018
The first time I kissed someone I wasn’t held
It felt more like a grab
The first time a man layed me down
He pushed me down
The first time I said no
I was ignored
The second time I said no
I was ignored
The third
Fourth
Fifth
Sixth
The first time I told someone
They told me to stop being over dramatic
She said that I was crushing on him for a month
That I got what I wanted
That I should be happy
When I tried to be okay with him
With her
With the whole situation
I tried
And we were alone once again
And yes there was alcohol
And yes I did say yes
And yes I did change my mine
And no I didnt say no
I would think the act of
              S
H
         A
                            K
                   I
      N
                                    G
Would say enough
Nothing changed
From the first time
Except now when I tell people
I’m labeled a tease
The first time I told my therapist
She said I needed to work on using my words and quickly changed topics
The first time I told my best friend
She held me
And told me she was sorry
And for the first time
I felt safe again
But I now know safety is
An illusion
Because I will always
Feel his hands
Grabbing me
As if he’s holding onto to
His own safety
After all if he doesn’t let go
I can’t tell anyone
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