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Reza Bavar Jun 2016
What is a Legacy
What's the equation that leads to the sum that is
A
Human
Life
The curtain draws as it must and
when it's done...
We spill out of this "Life" a grocery bag of idiosyncrasies, neuroses, hypocrisies, and other I-sees
What are we in the end but broken pieces of a puzzle we leave for others to assemble--who cares if the pieces fit.
Someone found a Kind word here
Another a Generosity
A memory of a Lie
Proof of a Cruelty
Acts of Humanity by a human being acting...
Who knows me well enough to define my Legacy?
Who else but "I"
I like spoken word poetry (a lot) and this poem works best if it's read in that type of tone.
Patricia Arches Sep 2013
Choices

This ever blotting simple thing that makes up things

as small as a mouse but also as deadly as sin itself

A simple formula of cause and effect

An effect

A result

A consequence

No pretences

Or fences that guard our decisions

Keeps it safe for being just a choice

For it is no longer just a choice

It is not that simple, see there is a formula to remember

An economic study to this choice where c=e

because

For every cause there is an effect

For every cause there is an effect

For every cause there is an effect

Let it dwell in your mind and affect you

Because that is where it all begins

Let us open up your mind and there we will find that

Alongside that implanted thought are a plethora

Of more thoughts that are placed beside your dreams

Nestled in between your hopes, skilfully intertwined with your visions

There they all lay

Our mind is our drive that takes us down

A road that is long and winding

A highway down to our hands

Which eventually become steered by, picked up with strings ever so delicately like a puppet

Held by that one thought

Your actions are birthed from your thoughts

We see these to be choices

To study these choices would be economics, to understand them would be sympathy

To take a leader who steals from his country

Or a mom who abandons her child to keep herself alive

And view this as sad, as a cry for help?

How and why?

Oh no! We do not stop at just those two ghastly choices

For this is a study of many

Choices

Of things that have happened to determine what will and to save us from what has been

Let us open up this book

And flip each page to see what decrees and laws

Revolutions and words put down on paper

Have anything to do with where we stand today

For the choices of the past still linger here

Mixed in with the choices of the present

Creating this air that we breathe in and out every single day

We would be infuriated with rage as we scan through the pages of this book of choices

A chapter of injustice

A paragraph of cruelty

A statement of selfishness

A line of adultery

But, wait! Oh, let us stop on this

One

story

For this I do not even understand

See I have studied choices, and put them into many formulas

To see the effects and the causes of each

but this story is different

For it is not just one chapter

One statement

One line

It is the whole story and each is intricately woven within it

In fact, the book is titled for this one story

And to begin it would be to start off with a choice

By a God

To send his son

To die for men

Men whose choices we see throughout the whole book

Men whose choices are vile and selfish and ruthless

Sinful men

*****

And yet a God so Holy and pure still sends down his son in His likeness for these grimy men??

See, if we picture it. It is a white cloth, pure and clean not just dipped but completely submerged in dirt

Now that is not a choice that I would make

But it was made

A man so untainted and holy

Came down

To die for the sinner

Who stole from the helpless woman in the ally

Who murdered an innocent child in the womb

Who told a tiny white lie to his mom and dad and gave himself away to drugs and peer pressure

Who lusted after the world and what seemed good but really was death covered in make up whispering

in the promises lie after lie

To die for the sinner who is you

You

Jesus chose to die for you

On that cross, with his hands bound by nails and his feet the same

And with every last breath, last drop of blood and whip of the chain

he thought of you

and that is a choice that no study, no analyzation could ever make sense of

but it was done

it is done

is what he said for you as his arms were spread out wide

and all your choices

he negated the effects, and ultimately the effect of death

and formulated a solution of eternal life instead

for this one choice

changed all the rest

Now, think, think it through

Every choice you make

and every choice that was made is made brand new, infused with grace

Remember this for when there is a test the formula of cause and effect

Still stand true

but also remember Jesus who did what you had to do

for you may make many more flawed choices without a thought

Therefore go down on bended knees gaze at the cross

where stood the Father’s son

never a doubt that this choice for you was a wrong one

that any effect wouldn’t be worth it

you are worth any effect

you are an effect

of that one choice made on the hills of calvary

look up at the cross when your lewd effects force out the mistakes of your personal choices

then resurface that one choice made 2000 years before

bring it up amongst all the confusion and chaos

study it’s economic worth

hold it dear

smile at it even for

that senseless,

unexplainable,

brilliant,

grand,

intricate,

lovel­y,

merciful,

gracious,

holy,

divine,

choice

is all for you
grace Mar 3
I say the wrong things at the wrong time
Like when 'I love you' is thrown around at the drop of a dime
Lewis Hyden Nov 2018
Where do you see yourself in a year?

Still living here -
A tactile skyline atop pillars of smoke
Heavy with guilt
And the craftsmanship of a generation of men
To whom Earth is a rock, immortal
Untouched by the bouts of the smog which ascend
To hold up their forges?

Where that which is green must also be man-made
And an old plant-***
On an old window-sill
Is the closest to what was here before? Is it a facsimile?
Where your throat hurts,
Chemicals an ersatz flowing stream
Of purest water -
And why is rainfall the freshest you can drink?

You haven’t always been here.
Where were you before? Was it green
Or blue, or any other colour
Besides this abiding grey? Perhaps
There were rainbows and colours
And sunlight, unfiltered by smog
Or dust. Warm, purposeful.
Her fragility charmed you.

Because our Earth is not immortal. A wanderer
In space, motherly, who are we to defile her?
A species of smoke and tar turning her soft hues sour
Colours unknown to nature
Like a drop of arsenic in a stream flowing through rocks?
Do you see yourself living
In a fortress, tumultuous to its steel bones
Each day burrowing deeper into her body,
Claiming her for its own, and ruining her at the same time?

So you think about your opportunity.
This life which fills her air, pulsing and vibrant,
To restore the purity we are missing -

Because Human and Nature are as one,
Invention is necessary but we are losing our time,
Virescent leaves brushing in the wind,
Our friends are loving, laughing, living
And we realise now that we are able to do so much better.

Or does none of that matter, somehow?
We make money to spend on plastic.
We are born, we work, we breathe, we die,
But we are still yet to run out of time

So where do you see yourself in a year?
This is a spoken word poem I wrote for the short film, 'Human Nature', produced by Ethan Church. It was a semi-finalist in the Gottlieb Native Garden Green Earth Film Festival in Los Angeles and was also shown in the Arica Nativa Film Festival in Spain. The poem was read by the fantastic Gabriela Vivas, whose talents turned a semi-decent poem into a fabulous display of passion and integrity.
The film is available for free on YouTube for anybody who is interested.

© Lewis Hyden, 2018
psyche Mar 2018
hello. it all started with a simple hello.
who would have thought that this would lead to something more
i wouldn't say i fell for you but instead you tripped me, pretending that you were going to catch me...
But oh so stupid of me, oh so so stupid of me.
why didnt i bother to get up? why didn't i realize that it would be too much?
memories of you and I come rushing to me every night and it pains me every time.
what you see with your eyes isn't always the truth. how much more do i need to see the truth that you can't see with your eyes?
we were once happy, happily together... sure, we fight time to time but what's a relationship without some fights?
Though this was all in the past, something you've probably forgotten. but me? I remember every single thing...
“the past is in the past”
yeah right.
that's what they always say
but just because something is in the past doesn't mean it'll go away
it's already there and it'll always be there
it's like being stuck in another world...
a dark, empty void where all you do is run..
run,  run, run,  run...  a monster chasing me but the thing is, that monster is you... so don't try to pull me up from this hole i've made..  there's no escape and i know that i can't climb up 'cause i won't be able to and you can't....
an endless labyrinth i cough up spiders
an upside down, where in everything contradicts
stay away! Don’t go!

so
let’s start with saying goodbye
goodbye to all the time we shared together, all our greetings, all the smiles that we shared together, a few moments with each other when we were just clueless children, a couple of oblivious kids.
Goodbye to all the stupid jokes, all the how are you’s, even if I’m the only one who seems to truly care.
Goodbye to all the waiting, the endless arguments that don’t make sense, and all the other senseless situation where we fought.
So forgive me love, for all the names that I and you only understand, the words that I want to throw with my hand, a few seconds, staring into each other’s eyes, we had.
All the memories I can’t forget, memories that you left, when you left me! Forgive me if it’s already annoying, if it just repeats over and over until it cannot be repeated.
Forgive me if I am or I am not the one you want, if I ask for things you cannot give, if I ever thought that “hey, you’ll stay” but I guess I was wrong.
I know, that there was a time, a moment, when I was yours and you were mine but not anymore! because you don’t want to and that’s why I shouldn’t anymore.
Even if you want to hear but can’t be heard, even if you understand but can’t be understood, even if you want..to forgive…… but can’t forget because you don’t want to and I shouldn’t anymore.
You don’t want to because there’s someone else, I’m sorry if I’m a mess, I’m sorry if this is taking so long. So please, forgive me, goodbye, let’s just say goodbye!
Goodbye to staying away and sorry for staying close. Goodbye to all the joy and sorry for all the pain. Love, I don’t want to end by asking for forgiveness but forgive me!
So I can set you free you must first let go! , because I can’t do it anymore.
Goodbye because I can’t do it anymore but love! ..... Wait! No, not love because you don’t love me and I shouldn’t anymore.
So let’s erase every single thing erase why should I say goodbye when you already left erase
im not the kind of girl who asks for forgiveness erase im not asking for forgiveness from you erase I don’t love you, I never loved you erase I don’t care if you still want to or if you don’t! I don’t care if you’re hurting, that I’m not worried! erase I don’t love you I never did I just wanted you!
Loving you is right too bad I’m always wrong so yes! Let’s write it once more!
Love, when I looked for you he came, and I thought he was the one, that! Was the biggest mistake that I did, was to look for you.
I don’t not love him because he doesn’t love me but because I looked for him, because I know you’ll come, I know you’ll come because I asked for you until now I still yearn for you.
So if you decided to come find me, the right person in the right time, so I would know that it's you. Find me and love me in a way that we both know.
A love that’ll never be wrong ever again.
this is a spoken word...that's why its so loooooooooooong

yep...
Secret-Author May 2016
Do you ever feel confused?

I see a million different
            r      r      r      r      r      r      r­      r      r      r      r
            o     o      o     o     o      o     o     o      o     o      o
            a     a      a      a     a      a      a     a      a     a      a
            d    d      d     d     d      d     d     d      d     d     d
            s     s       s      s      s      s      s      s      s      s      s        ­in front of me.

Yet I hesitate to move.

All are entirely d i f f e r e n t,
                                                       yet distinctly the same.

I can make out face
                                     f a c e
                                                 f a c e s
                                                             ­           in the distance.

But they merge together
                                            into every possibility.


They are:
warm.     cold.      livid.       smiling.      
                                                  ­           mine.     yours.   ours.

All  S M I L E at me.
Some show their teeth.

They are:
there.      here.    nowhere.       everywhere.        
                                           ­                                   past.    present.      future.

All  H I S S  at me.
Some have no tongues.

They are?
living.     dead.    or somewhere in-between.

Where your prejudice is my pain -

                          The grey reflected so brightly
                                        from your black and w h i t e  eyes.


In a space where your victories make me warm,

                           Or when your pain is bursting
                                         through my own heart,


Only then will we truly understand what road we should take.

For we are all one.
                    
                          We are all the light

                                                   all the dark

                                                           ­     and every road.
C X Rutledge Nov 2014
You can't escape the words spoken over you.

Forked tongues and twisted tones drive the nails which splinter the bones.

They've been telling you what you are for you're entire life.

Pronunciation brings forth desolation. They sound out who you are with articulation.

The A's, the E's,  their eye's, their ohhh's,  and then you're used... These words define you.
Wordplay future life
Madison Sep 2018
for some people, love is still pure and good
something you'd never think could
do you harm
the comforting arm
around one's shoulder
growing special as one grows older
i envy those who still are in love
those who still get butterflies
the stars in their eyes
the ones who bubble over and blush
as their blood rushes through their veins
those who have yet to feel the pain of true love

they say you don't know what true love is
until that person rips your heart out
leaving you to bleed out
all over the floor
and nothing in the world
could ever be more true.

first you think you'll never find love again
after your true love comes to an end
you're a goner, your mind wanders and you ponder
the thought of dying alone when you're old
you're sold that that is your destiny
then the anger rushes through you

you hate the person who was your everything
who is now your nothing
you wish hell upon them
as your stomach turns
you want their body to burn
the way your heart burned for their touch
you could never get enough,
here you go again

you start to feel the sadness
feels like madness
wondering how long it will last, it
doesn't forever I promise
you just need to let the tears out
no matter what you're crying about
don't keep it inside
or after some time
you will feel like a bomb waiting to explode
even though
you don't want them to see
how bad you are suffering

for some people, love is still pure and good
but for me, it is ruined for good
easiest thing to write about. thank god I don't feel this way anymore, but I did for a long time.
Secret-Author Mar 2016
Do you ever feel frustrated?

I'm overcome with a million words
                                                                ­that I know I'll never say.

Time stops around me,
But my brain is  a l i v e.

Thoughts gather,                
                               and 
                                              jmup 
                                                  ­               aornud
Until I can't make sense of what I'm feeling.
E v e r y t h i n g  becomes me.
I'm a deep, wide river
                                dried up in the sun.
Somehow barren,
                              yet
                              ­        drowning.


I'm walking along this road,
                                                     not going anywhere.

I'm living each day of the year,
But it's routine, copied,
                                            routine, copied,
                                                         ­                   routine, copied

The same    t i c k,    
                                    t o c k,    
                     t i c k,  
                                    t o c k,

Until I can't make sense,
                                          Of where I'm going.

I am nowhere.

I'm spinning in every direction,

Standing on top of the world.
                                                      
                                                                ­                L O S T

But here
All the same.
her eyes glistened
with the light of
a thousand stars.

they told me
she was not enough.

her scars were painted
across her canvas called skin -
each one unique to itself.

they desperately
cried out for help.

her glossed lips smiled softly,
pulling her ****** features
into a jovial facade;
allowing a melodious
voice to fill the air

it said
"i'm okay, thank you for asking."

- v.m
she is incredible and doesn't deserve to feel like anything less. she is you. you are incredible. keep reminding yourself of this until you believe it.
Mary Velarde Jun 2018
I sometimes look back at 6th grade classroom settings
and i wonder about the times
i would raise my hand low enough
to be seen,
but high enough to be acknowledged
that i tried.

I reminisce about the times
when the words could’ve easily
catapulted out of my mouth
but there had always been bright orange road cones
placed on my tongue
with a permit;
my signature on them forged by
the things in my head that cause me to tremble
when i ask for directions without practice,
if i raise my hand without practice,
walk around without practice,
do some-*******-thing on my own without practice,
practice, practice, p-pr-practice, don’t stutter,
practice, perfect.
I sometimes fold my paper in half
because i know what its like
to take up too much space.
Turbulence always equals
plane crash.
Chances, to me, were always either just one, or only ever finite.


But he’s got that infectious laugh,
and he held my hand
the whole cab ride back home
until they stopped shaking.
When he wraps his arms around me,
I begin to understand that vacant parking lots
never stay empty for long and sometimes ringing car alarms
are better than the silence I pretend to love.

And I didn’t get it.
I didn’t get how people could be so courageous.
Anxiety has a weird way of
making the process of falling the scariest
thing of all instead of the actual landing.
But those brown eyes had reminded me that
love lullabies our troubles to sleep.
Love turns the quiet into a symphony
of voices of all the people
whose heart you keep in your palms.
Love turns the trembling into a warm embrace.
Love never had to be a home.
it was a resting place
even for the restless.
This piece is meant to be read out loud.
Limbotheclown Oct 2017
"Words that were hushed, now have been said. Stolen from the ears that belong to the dead.
Your eyes danced in mine as we lay on your bed. Legs entangled, hands clenching, touching head to head. I memorized every line of your song that is true.  Its got three words and only one verse,  the name is, I Love you. "
Secret-Author Aug 2016
Do you ever feel overcome?

A work of art made of a million layered stencils
Where nothing makes sense until the last dot dries

Nothing, no one,
                               abstract, confusion,
                                                      ­             dot dot dot,
                                                                ­                        and then,

there it is.
                       THE MASTERPIECE.


A violent bruise of emotion that is so
                                                              ­      S T R O N G

You see colours.
                            Light peels across your eyes

Fazed. Dazed.

Feeling everything at once
                                             you take nothing in

Numb to everything
                except -
                        your heartbeat

beat
We are so perfectly broken -
                                        that it
                                                  
           ­                                        almost

                                                        looks like we are complete.

And we are.
I am.

In so many way.
                       So. Many. Ways.

But,
It's just,
            I mainlyyy

                           Kindaaa
                                         Don't feel
                                                         okay.

And I spend most of my time,

                                  Left wondering,

Is it just me?
May Elizabeth Apr 2018
I am human. I am just like you.
There is nothing different between us.
But that’s where it gets complicated.
I am not the same as you. I am a different person
I have a different life. I have a different background
I have a different face.
I have a different past, and I have a different future.
If you look around yourself, this is true for all of the faces that surround you.
But we are the same, right?
We are all human; we are all part of the same earth
The same creation story. But that’s not true either.
Your creation story might be different than my creation story.
And your story might not accept me as a part of humanity.
I cannot change who I am. When I was born
I fell into a concept most of you didn’t.
The faces I first saw were so similar. Both bearded.
Short hair, tears running down their faces.
Two men sobbing tears of joy. Their daughter had been born.
The first two years of my life I thought that having two dads was normal.
Little did I know then, it was. But not the normal other people think of.
People think normal is a mom and a dad and two beautiful children.
I was never able to call anyone “mommy,” and I turned out perfectly fine.
My whole life I have been surrounded by men loving other men
And women loving other women etc. My best friend has two moms.
One day, when we were seven years old
Someone came up to us and said
“Hey, your dads should get married to your moms.”
I laughed then and walked away, but I never realized
How much that would hurt five minutes later.
Those words were like knives. They burned like fire.
I wanted to go back and yell at that kid.
His ignorance blinded me, and I could not speak.
His words didn’t leave my head and never have.
I like boys, yes, but guess what? I also like girls. And that’s normal.
I can love a boy, but I can also love a girl.
I have been telling myself this my entire life, and I realize that it’s true.
It’s who I am, and I can’t change it.
I don’t want to change it, because I am human
And you are human, and you can love whomever you want.
This piece is a spoken word piece I performed at a GSA assembly for my school. It means a lot to me because it is all true.
c Nov 2018
I look in the mirror at a person I don’t recognize anymore. Prodding and pulling at my skin just to make sure this is who I am I only cake on so much makeup because this is the me I don’t want them to see.

So they don’t

They don’t see me and time is just running away and what if I can’t make them see me before time is up?

It’s not that I’m invisible, I know they can hear me and they tell me that really, I’m fine, and I’ve never been an issue but then why do I feel so out of place in my own day to day routines?

In fact nothing is routine anymore I have no constants. Eating, sleeping, it’s all ireggular and sometimes I can’t remember doing any of it at all.

I have pictures filling my camera roll of happiness in a moment that I can’t bring back, why do I keep them for happy if all they do is make me sad?

The clock is ticking and I can hear it but they can hear me so I can’t scream, they don’t see me but I’m tearing at my mouth trying to get out the words that I really want them to hear.

And they tell me, that it’s okay to be yourself.

But only around certain people. Because society wants you to have curves but never in the wrong places. They want you to feel free to speak your mind as long as it’s something that they want to hear. If you keep your secrets to yourself you’re hiding something and if you share them you’re being too open.

But time is passing.

I need time, I need routine, and I need to remember happy so that I don’t fall in love with sad because far too many do.
So I will scream into the wind where they cannot hear me.
And paste on my paper facade.
Someday, they will see me.
Now you don’t.
I tried to make this in the form of slam poetry, which I’ve never really done before. Any feedback is appreciated! :)
Glass May 19
the crystal faith you praise
is fractured with dysphoria
that two years from now you won't be able to distinguish my beauty
and we'll fall apart into
a open concept of bigger questions (hydroxide pause) and then my scenery
will be vivid and fluently spoken towards repeated
images and small - town secrets
of surprise but tomorrow isn't sunny,
the damage
has already begun

- G
For those who already don't know my poetry is published on Border Grey Magazine. Please Check it out! http://greybordersmagazine.jigsy.com/issues
So, you ask,
How would I explain it?
Well certainly, as something
Not fun.
It's like...
It's like carrying a leach around with you.
When I walk, I can feel it,
It is a dead weight on my chest,
******* the life from my arms,
Making my hands and face slender,
What should be full and strong
It's like...
It's like when you're sick to your stomach.
That feeling of tar in your gut,
But instead of being isolated, it's everywhere
Throughout your body,
It makes you feel sick everywhere.

This is how I explain dysphoria:
Have you ever looked in the mirror,
And wanted to just rip all your hair out?
When a bad hair day gets out of hand,
Have you ever felt the need to just start over?
Even when you tear out a clump of hair
And your scalp looks raw and a little ******,
But you keep going anyway,
Just to get rid of that stupid haircut?
...no?
Alright, how about,
When you're watching the outtakes of a 3-D animated movie,
the scenes that have "gone wrong",
When the girl's eyes are far too big and pop out of her face,
Her arms are disconnected from her chest,
Her head moves but her teeth do not,
And you just want to scream "DELETE IT!"
Because it's obvious that someone has ******* up here,
And this nightmare, this fever dream
Is not what they intended their creation to look like.

Alright, well have you ever
Done a pencil drawing?
And you've put a lot of time and effort into it,
You're so proud,
This is one of your best works,
But something about it is just off?
You might not be able to tell what it is,
This will bother you for a long time,
You will spend hours on end thinking
About what exactly separates this piece of art from everything else,
What it is that keeps it from perfection...
Until suddenly one day, you realise,
You notice exactly what's wrong,
You grab an eraser to fix your mistake
But then, oh no
Your eraser was *****,
And when you tried to rub out that single wonky line,
You leave a huge black smudge across your paper
And now there's no way to get rid of it
All your work on this piece, ruined,
And you're really upset,
You were so proud of this drawing,
It was so close to being perfect,
It could have been so beautiful,
It was almost perfect, but now...

But now, it's wrong.
It just looks wrong
It just IS wrong,
It wasn't meant to look like this
I am trying to explain as simply as I can
That this body is wrong,
That it wasn't meant to look like this,
That it wasn't meant to BE like this!
Don't you understand?
This is how I explain dysphoria:
Have you ever looked in the mirror
And wanted to just rip your chest out?
Do you ever see your body, your parts seeming broken,
Your chest, legs, hear the sound of your voice
And just scream "DELETE IT!"
Because it's obvious that someone
Has ******* up
Someone was using a ***** eraser
When they created me, erased me,
And they've left smudges, mistakes, that I
Cannot get rid of,
And however hard I try to pretend
That I don't care,
I do,
And I still feel the need to erase them.
These leaches that I carry around,
They drain me,
And I was so proud of myself
I,
This body...

It could have been so beautiful
An attempt at a spoken-word poem. I wrote this a while ago but I came back and edited it, and figured I’d finally publish it. It's very different to the style I usually write in, I think at some point while writing it it just turned into venting. I figure if this speaks to one person, I've done well.
Madelynn Nieves Sep 2018
Every time
You extend your hand
I reach out to emptiness
Vacant
Words
Toying with my emotions
You play the game
Always winning
With your looks
Pale skin
Red lipstick
Smeared on my collar
Where your head would lie
All of those times you lied
You see it differently
Of course you do
Playing the victim
Saying I’m always attached
And that’s why you would never
Take this dive with me
In reality
Terrified
Of what would happen
If you committed to something
Other than yourself
Ivan Brooks Sr Jan 2018
The world's gone mad but my mind is made up.
Time to let ya'll into the darkroom of my mind,
A place where I'm the referee of a poetic world cup.
This is where I am creative even though I'm blind
Don't get me wrong I am not leaving from town.
No more radio or TV saturated with all the sad news,
I have got enough breaking news of my very own...
Breaking to me each and every moment as it brews.
Come and meet the hard drive of my creative doom,
That contains my beautiful and liberated mind.
Welcome to my one bright side I call my darkroom,
It's a place that's so special, I reckon it's one of a kind.

You have to know that I always act blind but I see.
In my mind, I can walk stack naked and levitate.
My mind is where I remain totally black and free.
Come join me set my poetic dial and help me activate,
The code that will outshine any power on this earth.
My mind is where I live and where nobody has access,
Here I can run a poetic marathon without taking a breath,
Call it my playground and intellectual fortress.

My mind is deep, a place of absolute calm and refuge,
Somewhere I will always see as the final frontier.
It is dangerous and toxic like a nuclear centrifuge.
In there, I am all alert and vigilant like a soldier.
My mind is a darkroom where I give birth to new ideas.
It is a vessel and place in which I do magic with letters.
It is my holy land of thoughts, my own creative Judea,
Where each idea is sacred and light as bird feathers.

Welcome to the epicenter of my creative mind.
This is where I turn letters into spoken words
A front line of creativity where no one leaves behind.
Come and see where all words become useful swords.
My mind produces powerful words like some light beams...
Courageous and powerful words for extra motivation.
Spoken Words that will light up people's faded dreams.
Now you know that up in my mind are no limitation,
There exists an enormous capacity of time and space.
Welcome one, welcome all to the darkroom of my mind
Take a seat and be calm, be quiet this is my place
For this here is my personal creative post of command.



www.poemhunter.com/IvanBrookssr
#Vanguard-poetry23
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twitter @ivanclappers
@Bassapoet
My mind is the final frontier..the bright side I call my darkroom where I process loose letters into spoken words.
Madison Jan 24
You wanna know how I got these scars?
See, I ripped every piece of my flesh out
That you ran your fingertips over
and over and over
From my knees to my shoulders
I should’ve told you to
Keep your hands to yourself
Because I've never felt
So much pain
Trying to erase a stain
From my skin
The sin
We committed
It just wasn't worth it.

You wanna know how I got these scars?
I became target practice for cupid
You can't imagine how stupid
I felt
When I kept falling for guys
And it was only a matter of time
Until they threw me to the side
After deciding
They were done with me,
They didn't want me anymore
But picking up my shattered heart
Was too much of a chore
For their sorry-*****.

You wanna know how I got these scars?
I took pieces of myself
And gave them to men who were so undeserving
But I was yearning for love
Burning for love
******* love
I hate you, love...
It was never returned
And trust me, I learned
My lesson
I will never invest
In a human being like him
Ever again.

So, you want to know how I got these scars?
You can blame love,
Something I am now numb to
Because of you.
ThePoet Nov 2015
They don't know how it feels

to awake every morning,
and all they can wonder is
why they had even awoken.

They don't know how it feels

to pick up all of their pieces,
and put them back together
but still feel like they're broken.

They don't know how it feels

to say all that they can say,
and still feel like there's more
but every word has been spoken.

They don't know how it feels

to go to sleep every night,
and the only hope they have
is that their eyes will not open.

© Sarah Ahmed (ThePoet)
Jessica B Jul 2018
A constant is control
Your every surrounding contains a constant
Constantly ever changing
in what ways are we shaped by our own constant?
Our society?
How does it mold our perception?
it is but a constant
I am who I am
I can only hope that
creativity defines me
As my flaws weave through each definitive line of my life
And My colors define me with each shade of its own
It was once spoken that
“Imagination was greater than knowledge”
Because It is all its own.
Creativity is freedom ❤️
Alyssa Underwood Dec 2015
When all of worldly beauty's lost
When form and face have borne the cost
Of life's sojourn upon this earth
A greater glory then springs forth

When vanity is cast aside
With long-dashed dreams and fallen pride
At last a better hope I see
One anchored in eternity

When no one gives a second glance
Or offers promise of romance
I know the One whose love is true
Who looks beyond what most men do

When wit and charm have fled from thought
And company's no longer sought
There's still One friend who longs to hear
My every word, desire and fear

When awkwardness is more the rule
Than competence and being cool
His words I hear so gently spoken,
"Come, poor in spirit and all who are broken."

When those around me criticize
With disapproval in their eyes
He spreads His arms with full embrace
And wears acceptance on His face

When kindred spirit can't be found
And understanding's wayward bound
The One who knows me best will be
Thinking precious thoughts toward me

When foot is slipping, mind astray
From trying to fix things my own way
He rescues me with hourly grace
And sets me in a spacious place

When all my naught attempts at fame
Lie crushed beneath a weight of shame
I seek the fame of Him instead
Who calls my name and lifts my head

When youth and vigor fade away
And triumph seems an ancient day
My strength can rest in One who brings
Fresh power to soar on eagle's wings

When my last breath some day I take
Death's shadowed crossing, hence, to make
Upon Christ's nail-scarred feet I'll fall
To kiss that One who is my ALL
"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary,
but what is unseen is eternal."
2 Corinthians 4:16-18

~~~

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gtzAciGlgKE&spfreload=5
Shofi Ahmed May 2017
Hidden within the earthy depth
only emerges with time
only dances in tangent
now slips out with the butterflies.  
Now the nightingales singing aloud!

One has spoken out, one blew
a kiss out off the dark seed.
Ah, what then broke through?
Up from the sky the blue-nymph  
dropped down on the scene!
One that hid blurring that's image
on the mirror is that now been seen?

Pouring rain singing down to primulas
paints it with all the colours of the wind
now the Spring picked up her paintbrush.

Rain some colour blow a kiss of the flower
paint it out of the mirror!
lila Feb 21
i was at work this evening
sweeping back and forth
back and forth
and back and forth
...12 times
mind plagued with compulsions,
ocd, anxieties
i hear the whispers
muttered by those who think
that u were the one
who did this to me
wow, u really drove me mad,
drove me crazy!

but back to the scene at hand
i hear the opening notes
of that band
i know and that song
that became so comfortable and
oh so familiar
...zz top, sharp dressed man

i’m taken into a trance
this image of you smiling on this couch
oh so deceiving,
yet so inviting
i give in and sneak a glance
of you
playing your own one man air band
drums and guitar
with you’re long hair flying everywhere
like a crown around your head
...before those toxins turned your hair
as thin and frail as you

there’s a tug at my heart
and it hurts a little
what’s this feeling?
i haven’t felt this towards you in a while
but it comes by sometimes
hand in hand with that deceiving smile
for a fleeting moment
...i miss u?
before i remember
what lay behind
that venomous grin

then i’m angry
for once not at you
but at myself
i hate you!
i hate you
i’m supposed to hate you
right?

i didn’t know what to feel
before i felt that familiar sensation
a heavy weight in my chest as
my heart rate speeds up
and i have to pull myself back
into reality
quick! before i lose control
thoughts spiraling around me
focus on something else
anything else!
anxieties, ocd, compulsions
maybe it’ll ease the weight on my chest
i grip the broom in my small, sweating, trembling hands
and begin to sweep
back and forth
back and forth
and back and forth
...24 times this time
1/22/2019
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