"stangers" poems
They are strange things; strangers.....
There are so many of them
Yet, although these strangers are strange to me
To you they may be a friend
They are a strange species; these strangers
They overpopulate almost every place
Yet, they go about living similar lives of their own
Each one with a different story or face
Strangely, we are taught not to talk to strangers
And trained to avoid them
Yet, each one, whether strange or not,
Is, strangely enough, a person.
Strange is the way we feel about strangers
We fear them because we do not know them
Yet, these strangers are unknown to us
Because we choose not to know them
What strange mystery these strangers possess
Each one of them has a life,
A secret,
A past,
And a name
Just like us....
Yet, we label them as strange.
Yes, strange thing; these strangers
Yet,
The strangest strange
Is that, strangely enough,
We are all strangers.
Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 2:43 AM UTC
What distance separates
After being this intimate
And holding tight
To the one out of sight.
A stranger under the covers
The soulmate out in the open
Lovers at bay
And lovers that will not stay.
That chatter of passerby
The friendly advice
One too many
One is enough.
May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 7:30 AM UTC
I remember you saying,"You're a good person".
Now the words you last spoke to me ring in my ears.
I deserved it, but does that mean I don't deserve to be happy
now?
Now that we're stangers, I wonder,"Did you ever really know me enough? Did I ever know myself enough?"
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 1:17 AM UTC
There is beauty in tears--
trembling to the floor
they represent passion
the truest expression
of magnificence
the meaning of human
rest inside these feelings.
This is our fantasy
the wonderment:
of watching their pain,
bearing themselves,
and perching each step
nearer to the fifteen floor edge,
that extends itself to the bottomless
apartment complex.
The stangers are preying from below
just out of sight, but close enough
to hear an echo of cries
bouncing off the empty space between them.
This is some form of release
the 'rubbernecks' sing a song akin to Kumbaya,
but instead of seeking harmony
they are predators only desiring
of blood and flesh
to distill their minds
of indiscretions.
They are burdened
by their own unflinching enthusiasm
and ravenous emptiness.
Displacing myself from my perch
I feel an unpleasant revel growing through the crowd,
as I clear their 'emptiness'--
it is always an unpleasant sight
when seeing it all come to an end.
Aug 13, 2017
Aug 13, 2017 at 8:29 PM UTC
Some voids
You just can't fill
But that never
stopped you
From loving me.
Some of us
Go too astray
To ever come back
To who we once were
But that never stopped you
From calling out my name
Some things
You just can't repair
But that never stopped you
From trying
Some flowers
Wilt when you touch them
But your tender touch
Only livened their petals
Some angels
Are destined to fall
But somwhow you were always
At the right place
To catch one of them.
And today when
I stood among stangers
In the pouring rain
Waiting for my train
I was reminded
How it felt
Without you
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 10:58 AM UTC
and i know one day you'll forget about me
i bet you're all already doing it
i'll be a distant memory
a nostalgic song
you'll remember my rights
and whatever went wrong
but be wary o, you familiar stangers
be wary of my ghost
because i may be gone
but i'll haunt you til the day you cease breathing
Oct 3, 2020
Oct 3, 2020 at 2:49 PM UTC
If these words are my soul,
we'll never be stangers.
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 4:10 PM UTC
My favorite people,
Are the ones I don't know.
They are the only ones,
I can let my feelings show.
I feel a little greedy,
Stocking ideas in my head.
Everyone I know around me,
Not knowing what I have said.
But all you great strangers,
Who happen to read my poems.
You are the only ones,
Who I invite into my mind, my home.
I do fear the day,
When certain people find,
That almost every word I think,
I subconsciously put in rhyme.
Or that I feel so radically,
About certain subjects.
Don't even get me started,
About the opposite ***
And what if she reads them?
Will she color me insane?
Not you people,
Your opinions runoff me like rain.
I'll never really know,
What you think of me.
But you will all know more,
Because you'll let me be.
Jun 20, 2012
Jun 20, 2012 at 8:43 AM UTC
Empathic
I feel the worlds suffering
I feel the sadness of lost souls
I feel the love in stangers hearts, a flame that will never burn out
I feel the anti socials anxiety
I feel
I feel everything
I feel everything so passionately
I burst in to tears
I bust out in laugher
The energy is just too much to ignore
I feel everything
I feel everyone
Nov 21, 2015
Nov 21, 2015 at 10:33 PM UTC
Old teacher spoke to me
Said god is an outdated conscept of which you need to be freed
Don't speak, only listen
Work or be missing
Don't get caught up in love
**** every dove
Don't do any drugs
Don't give stangers hugs
Everyone needs to go to school
I said if you knew I was dying would you feel like a fool
We're all ghosts
Our bodies are just the host
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 9:10 PM UTC
-
even the streets are dark
(The lamps are broken )
Just can't afford light no more
••
Can barely see the walls
Can barely read the slogans
Don't know
Here from there
••
I heard once was love
( or somethin)
Then the love songs came
And love was gone
~~
Little child
Let us not be stangers
Seems like we're the only ones still here
Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 8:14 PM UTC
And if closing the previous chapter
meant meeting beautiful stangers,
discovering new places,
and saving souls
then
the pain in leaving that chapter
is so much worth
knowing that the hurt
will soon grow its wings,
grow into flowers
and soon—
She will bloom
in
love
Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 10:58 PM UTC