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"stonecold" poems
Her mind was in Hawaii, Dancing under waterfalls, Wandering through rainforests, Picking tropical flowers and Braiding them into her hair, Simmering on sandy beaches, And gazing at the stars. Her heart was in Normandy, Eating crepes and sipping lattes, Strolling through spring green fields And along lazy river banks, Kissing the walls of castles, And scooping up scallop shells, Soaking up French syllables. Her hands were in her pockets, High-fiving friends and Running through her lover's hair, Sewing, cooking, washing, Punching, tearing, scratching, Caressing and confessing, Catching the very first drops of rain. Her feet were on the streets of Seattle, Tapping to the rhythm of the bass, Shuffling in and out of the rain, Dodging puddles and strangers, Observing art and sculptures, Chasing down a taxi or her dog, and embracing the crisp autumn air. Her lips were on the edge of a soda can, Singing along to her favorite songs, Whispering sweet nothings into the air, Empowering the impoverished And scorning the injustice, Kissing a forehead, lips, and hads, And stonecold silent as her mind does the work. Her eyes were fighting back frosty tears, Swallowing scarlet sunsets, Painted in yesterday's make up, Tracing your stoic silhouette, Rolling like thunder before the storm, Lapping up dizzying moonlight, And buried in words, and words, and words. Her body was in Los Angeles, But, she was on a metanoia, Breaking free of past and future To find herself a presence That would always be worth fighting for, To reach sophrosyne, namaste, And to put her frantic body to peace.
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Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 2:53 AM UTC
A Girl Divided
Her mind was in Hawaii, Dancing under waterfalls, Wandering through rainforests, Picking tropical flowers and Braiding them into her hair, Simmering on sandy beaches, And gazing at the stars. Her heart was in Normandy, Eating crepes and sipping lattes, Strolling through spring green fields And along lazy river banks, Kissing the walls of castles, And scooping up scallop shells, Soaking up French syllables. Her hands were in her pockets, High-fiving friends and Running through her lover's hair, Sewing, cooking, washing, Punching, tearing, scratching, Caressing and confessing, Catching the very first drops of rain. Her feet were on the streets of Seattle, Tapping to the rhythm of the bass, Shuffling in and out of the rain, Dodging puddles and strangers, Observing art and sculptures, Chasing down a taxi or her dog, and embracing the crisp autumn air. Her lips were on the edge of a soda can, Singing along to her favorite songs, Whispering sweet nothings into the air, Empowering the impoverished And scorning the injustice, Kissing a forehead, lips, and hads, And stonecold silent as her mind does the work. Her eyes were fighting back frosty tears, Swallowing scarlet sunsets, Painted in yesterday's make up, Tracing your stoic silhouette, Rolling like thunder before the storm, Lapping up dizzying moonlight, And buried in words, and words, and words. Her body was in Los Angeles, But, she was on a metanoia, Breaking free of past and future To find herself a presence That would always be worth fighting for, To reach sophrosyne, namaste, And to put her frantic body to peace.
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Sailing soft, frozen in time-- Sat on your chair where I could've sworn I saw a past life regression flash along Your face. Stuck there now, I'm alone now and forever forth. For years I stored half my cash into a box without second thought just to end up spending it all in six months. that last crash erased all the academic pablum that proved less required reading more distraction. Just a border now, head against an extending wall, Witless and stonecold sober; At ease with every unanswered craving And coexisting with a life where nothing goes according to plan.
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Oct 18, 2020
Oct 18, 2020 at 1:11 PM UTC
Go0dbye
I witnessed the foreshadowing of my once bright sky, How living memories started to die Fathom my happy life instantly turn into lie Give me a second and I fool everyone a treacherous smile It began with...                I don't know actually Maybe when people turned their backs from me While their constantly saying that they'll never leave They aren't even aware that in every day they did Then, my fragmented soul, I promised, I'll be tougher Like a stonecold in the midst of sober Because in this universe, I am a one of a kind hue That can't even blend with the beautiful colors of you So today, I'll be climbing Mt. Forlorn And dive in the deepest sea of thorns So honey, listen to me, have sense of alertness Even your own shadow will leave you in darkness
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Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 8:24 AM UTC
Even Your Shadow Will Leave You in Darkness
the fireworks trapped in his eyes freed by the tears rustling dried out within me spark by dying spark all had fell the same & here we are tonight, one not-long-ago night we were here you looked through me as if I'm an everbright light & our firefly hearts ignited into the wildest of fireworks we surrendered all our withheld lights to a shallow sky the way you faded shadow-dark in the stonecold of a hollow fire while I'm still here we're but back here where we fell in love then out of it & now I look like the brightest light running out of you we were but just mere men who fell in love it was when we fell in love that we fell in love only to tell goodbye
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Aug 18, 2019
Aug 18, 2019 at 3:23 AM UTC
Fireworks
that man... he's a goner trapped in a physical flesh he trusts no one well, I guess and hatred is feasting his soul he's a stranger everyday and no one knows him that man... he's good at deprecating himself in his mind, you'll find an eccentric kind of chaos in his heart, it is over a negative hundred fahrenheit -- stonecold. but that is my man he is a beautiful chaos I see him as precious as a water to this earth I want to hold him moreover a forever until he bleeds no more until he could smile a genuine one until his heart becomes warm in my embrace but my man clothed himself in thick sheets of anxiety yet, I will reach brokenness to cover him with my love, I'll do it until it fix him yes, I really love that man.
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Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 12:03 AM UTC
that man
Man starts dreaming— greedy dreaming. He begins to burn a different kind of fire. His heart like an ember can be fiery and fervent can burn a silhouette a shadow in love a ghost in grief all in his deep shades of crimson blue. Here he is here he's been here he will be burning memories– photographs and things in pages curling into black the stench of obliviun is one with the smoke that is how he builds a different kind of fire. Plunged his hand it shines in his very eyes dancing gracefully like a wild gloriosa rustled by the winds restlessly, like a scarlet swan in a lake of stonecold ashes, as if the only thing at peace in a holocaust of memories. Then stares back before it sways back into being the ordinary flame it was. If he would listen the fire has a pulse a flicker beat almost like his. The flame did not burn him as if it has always been a part from within as if he was made out of it as if it was made out of him. He felt the soul of the fire. It's pulse— felt like home.
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Jul 20, 2019
Jul 20, 2019 at 2:26 AM UTC
Pyromaniac
I push you away Roll my eyes on you Put my hands in my hips Till you leave So I can cry In bittersweet relief Leave, I tell you I do not care I have myself And that is all I need But when you leave I look out of the window Watching you go Praying you will turn around Come back And finally See me How I really am But I can not show I can not break I need to be strong So before I cry I will scream Before I break I will go The world has teached me That those that show weakness Will be run over So I pretend Till one day I don't have to But you never turn around And my heart It keeps breaking As I push you away It scares me How good I can lie How I can pretend To be stone cold While I break In silence
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Mar 12, 2019
Mar 12, 2019 at 12:40 PM UTC
Stonecold
the midnight wind howls a petal is plucked from the lotus' heart it drifts away the reflection of the moon snow-white on the frozen pond— illuminates the lotus beneath the ice it's stonecold lonely when you're only a touch away but we're forever apart when there's no ripple anymore but blossoming thorns of ice; as the midnight wind lulls the last shred of hope fluttered from the frozen, sullen heart it withers away across the sky-deep, empty hollow to the infinite darkness beneath scentless & snow-white
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Jan 17, 2021
Jan 17, 2021 at 10:07 AM UTC
The Lotus Beneath The Ice