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"suppress" poems
it's cold and dark and calm outside so you make sure that i'm tucked up tight but i need fresh air so the window is open ajar whilst there in the corner lays a battered guitar i'm high as hell so you carried me home and wrapped me up into a bed of your own you throw a lumpy mattress by the guitar on your floor and apologise in advance for the fact that you snore because i can't even remember my name may give the green light to most, to see me as 'fair game' my hair is a mess and my clothes are askew but that doesn't seem to matter to you i'm taken aback as you toss me a shirt you try to stifle your laugh but i catch you smirk as i try to escape from the clutch of my dress i hear a laugh which you fail to suppress i wrestle your shirt with my limbs in a tangle you yank it over my head, for which i am thankful i wriggle free from the blanket and sit up cross legged as you fling yourself down at the foot of your bed you tell me you've just got a text from my mother who says she trusts me with you and no other and that you are under very strict instructions to keep me away from all teenage destruction it's 1.30am and my thoughts are cotton wool but our bottle of ***** is still three quarters full my eyes spy the battered guitar in the room and i beg you to play me my favourite tune an undeniably slow start as you mess up the chords and ramble on about how i'm probably bored but my eyes fix on yours with an encouraging grin and as you continue to play, goosebumps rise on my skin and as you place the battered guitar back down you sarcastically ask whether i'm happy now the buzz of my body and the smile on my face shows that here, happiness is truly the case
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May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 6:17 PM UTC
a case of happiness
it's cold and dark and calm outside so you make sure that i'm tucked up tight but i need fresh air so the window is open ajar whilst there in the corner lays a battered guitar i'm high as hell so you carried me home and wrapped me up into a bed of your own you throw a lumpy mattress by the guitar on your floor and apologise in advance for the fact that you snore because i can't even remember my name may give the green light to most, to see me as 'fair game' my hair is a mess and my clothes are askew but that doesn't seem to matter to you i'm taken aback as you toss me a shirt you try to stifle your laugh but i catch you smirk as i try to escape from the clutch of my dress i hear a laugh which you fail to suppress i wrestle your shirt with my limbs in a tangle you yank it over my head, for which i am thankful i wriggle free from the blanket and sit up cross legged as you fling yourself down at the foot of your bed you tell me you've just got a text from my mother who says she trusts me with you and no other and that you are under very strict instructions to keep me away from all teenage destruction it's 1.30am and my thoughts are cotton wool but our bottle of ***** is still three quarters full my eyes spy the battered guitar in the room and i beg you to play me my favourite tune an undeniably slow start as you mess up the chords and ramble on about how i'm probably bored but my eyes fix on yours with an encouraging grin and as you continue to play, goosebumps rise on my skin and as you place the battered guitar back down you sarcastically ask whether i'm happy now the buzz of my body and the smile on my face shows that here, happiness is truly the case
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36
When you're a girl The more beautiful you are The more problems you will face When you're a woman The more stubborn you are The more future you will create Over the years, many men might've tried To let you down and suppress your dreams But, you've never lost the hope Kept fighting & proved yourselves at times In fact, you moved us Motivating every single day By achieving your dreams You made this world a better place now Thanks for being so kind, sweet, loving & caring All that we(men) can give you is our pure-hearted love I love you Granny, for all the stories you told me I love you mom, for being there, every time I failed I love you sister, for all the fights & advices I love you, my dear friend, for trusting me I can't imagine a world without you all Happy Women's Day!!
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Mar 8, 2018
Mar 8, 2018 at 12:24 PM UTC
Happy Women's Day
We are the kids – beautiful blank canvasses ready to receive the joy of life. We are the kids – hope & love consuming our souls, grasping at the shiny & new. We are the kids who played in the fields and danced in the sun. We are the kids with innocence in our hearts and a cheekiness in our soul. We are the kids who believed in a benevolent God and the generous teachings of Jesus. We are the kids whose imagination was an infinite resource - bounteous, diverse and effervescent. We are the kids who reveled in the fancy, the nonsensical, the romantic and the wild. We are the kids that couldn’t wait to grow up, We are the kids who believed in our future. We are the kids who never saw it coming. We are the kids who lost our innocence as soon we walked through the big school gates for the 1st time. We are the kids who were told to “think of your future” and to suppress creativity. We are the kids who were forced to grow up very quickly. We are the kids who didn’t know we were “different” but there were plenty out there who did. We are the kids who had to pretend to be what “they” wanted us to be just to survive. We are the kids who came home with scars every day – both physical and emotional We are the kids who endured the obscene words of Neanderthal hate every single day. We are the kids who were screamed at by our parents to fight back even when we really didn’t have the capability to do so. We are the kids who were told crying was a sign of weakness. We are the kids whose so-called classmates stayed silent when they did their worst. We are the kids where the school gates were no barrier to their lynching. We are the kids who turned quickly from being wide-eyed & hopeful to being terrified & desolate. We are the kids who dreaded every single weekday from first term to last.   We are the kids who fruitlessly prayed to a God who had deserted them. We are the kids taught by teachers who were found wanting. We are the kids who suffocated in sheer hate. We are the kids who took our own lives or at least tried to. We are the kids who self-harmed. We are the kids who sometimes never came home. We are the kids who survived but never really left the school yard behind We are the kids. Your kids. June 11, 2018.
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Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 6:10 PM UTC
We Are The Kids
We are the kids – beautiful blank canvasses ready to receive the joy of life. We are the kids – hope & love consuming our souls, grasping at the shiny & new. We are the kids who played in the fields and danced in the sun. We are the kids with innocence in our hearts and a cheekiness in our soul. We are the kids who believed in a benevolent God and the generous teachings of Jesus. We are the kids whose imagination was an infinite resource - bounteous, diverse and effervescent. We are the kids who reveled in the fancy, the nonsensical, the romantic and the wild. We are the kids that couldn’t wait to grow up, We are the kids who believed in our future. We are the kids who never saw it coming. We are the kids who lost our innocence as soon we walked through the big school gates for the 1st time. We are the kids who were told to “think of your future” and to suppress creativity. We are the kids who were forced to grow up very quickly. We are the kids who didn’t know we were “different” but there were plenty out there who did. We are the kids who had to pretend to be what “they” wanted us to be just to survive. We are the kids who came home with scars every day – both physical and emotional We are the kids who endured the obscene words of Neanderthal hate every single day. We are the kids who were screamed at by our parents to fight back even when we really didn’t have the capability to do so. We are the kids who were told crying was a sign of weakness. We are the kids whose so-called classmates stayed silent when they did their worst. We are the kids where the school gates were no barrier to their lynching. We are the kids who turned quickly from being wide-eyed & hopeful to being terrified & desolate. We are the kids who dreaded every single weekday from first term to last.   We are the kids who fruitlessly prayed to a God who had deserted them. We are the kids taught by teachers who were found wanting. We are the kids who suffocated in sheer hate. We are the kids who took our own lives or at least tried to. We are the kids who self-harmed. We are the kids who sometimes never came home. We are the kids who survived but never really left the school yard behind We are the kids. Your kids. June 11, 2018.
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33
Slipping into my apron, Hungry in body and soul Humming as a song played... I grab my knife and chop-board Unsure of what to cook Strange inspirations possess me Filling me with ***** My kitchen becomes a stage In my hands- a plectrum and fretboard Silver utensils- my live audience!* As I play divine recipes Strumming master acoustic chords Chopping fresh, colorful vegetables. I dash to the remote, Punch "Repeat" and dash back on stage Landing on E♭ minor, Scaling impossible notes, I slice with razor-sharp plectrum, On onions and other root chords My fret arrayed with colors, Of spinach, lettuce, tomatoes Carrots, potatoes, olives Pepper, cabbage and cucumbers. I hear a thunder of applause As I ignite the cooker Butter sizzling in the hot pan A staccato of sharp notes, *Ready to modulate innocent vegetables Through spicy aromatic crescendos!* I fight hard to suppress a sneeze, No sneezing on-stage! Unprofessional! Multitudes of seconds rush by and… Voila!!! I stand for a moment Salivating, awed at my bravura! Wishing I could hang it on my wall Tis beautiful like art But I can’t eat this cake and have it! So I dig in… Heaven and earth kiss for a moment L U S C I O U S!!! Luckily, it didn’t taste nauseating Like my last attempt. No time for ceremonies I munch from pan to mouth Pausing for what may pass for a prayer, I relish every bite! Not that I’m a foodie or something, But nothing beats this combo- Of good food and soul music. And yes, *Music is indeed food to the soul!* I devour, in view- the next meal... © Raphael Uzor
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Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 2:42 PM UTC
Guitar Sauce
Slipping into my apron, Hungry in body and soul Humming as a song played... I grab my knife and chop-board Unsure of what to cook Strange inspirations possess me Filling me with ***** My kitchen becomes a stage In my hands- a plectrum and fretboard Silver utensils- my live audience!* As I play divine recipes Strumming master acoustic chords Chopping fresh, colorful vegetables. I dash to the remote, Punch "Repeat" and dash back on stage Landing on E♭ minor, Scaling impossible notes, I slice with razor-sharp plectrum, On onions and other root chords My fret arrayed with colors, Of spinach, lettuce, tomatoes Carrots, potatoes, olives Pepper, cabbage and cucumbers. I hear a thunder of applause As I ignite the cooker Butter sizzling in the hot pan A staccato of sharp notes, *Ready to modulate innocent vegetables Through spicy aromatic crescendos!* I fight hard to suppress a sneeze, No sneezing on-stage! Unprofessional! Multitudes of seconds rush by and… Voila!!! I stand for a moment Salivating, awed at my bravura! Wishing I could hang it on my wall Tis beautiful like art But I can’t eat this cake and have it! So I dig in… Heaven and earth kiss for a moment L U S C I O U S!!! Luckily, it didn’t taste nauseating Like my last attempt. No time for ceremonies I munch from pan to mouth Pausing for what may pass for a prayer, I relish every bite! Not that I’m a foodie or something, But nothing beats this combo- Of good food and soul music. And yes, *Music is indeed food to the soul!* I devour, in view- the next meal... © Raphael Uzor
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54
Power is indeed a corruptive force, Through all of mankind’s history This has always been true. Emperors, Kings, Potentates, Popes, Presidents and Despots too. Gathering near the Throne are the Eager Courtier leeches reaching to touch the anointed one’s robe. Declaring their undying loyalty, In the process selling their souls. Their rewards, a speck of personal power, Castles and new riches of gold. Like their Master, the entitled ones will lie and cheat, while ignoring The principals of right and good. Believing “Decency” is but a poor man’s word, Never uttered within the hearing of the Ruler. Never a considered artifact of absolute power. The slaves, serfs, the common people Matter not, but to serve the Ruler. The power elite will start needless wars, or offer up sacrificial lambs, all to distract the unrest of the common man. They will suppress human rights, free speech and defame, banish or imprison their detractors. All merely smoke and mirrors to conceal, Controlling agendas of personal greed. From ancient times down to today This cycle repeats. Now we are living our own Textbooks history of tomorrow. Kingdoms and Nations have perished From this kind of poisonous corruption, Needless to say, it will happen again. Perhaps it already is.
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Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 9:15 PM UTC
History Repeats
“You are not an artist. You are not an artist.”         What photos must I shoot         How many cigarettes must I smoke It is scary, but - I want to embody the things which destroy minds Summer vibes feel like radiation Use this alcohol to eradicate The proposition - that I will be ‘okay’ My phone is on airplane mode My ambition is floating - as a feather might - Down to the depths I cannot finish my own sentences Bury my expectation with my religion         And it’s funny         Because I have resolved my mind to avoid romantic         confrontation         But, alas - I do day-dream         Of a girl’s face & hair - for it has appeared in my dreams four         times         And I awake to Deja-Vu as her face appears in conscious         frames So… I can imagine & I can see, but - they have become one in the same Could not fantasize asking Your hand in mine Oh how I wish to cry To sob in any light so long as you are in sight Someone to reassure me, that - yes “There is an end to the night.” But I cannot. I suppress it in drives. In music videos. In writing. In self-speaking when I have only me to keep company. Kick me off the team. I do not know what I need. If I could lead, as I once did. But I have left concern in the refrigerator With empty bottles & cans Maybe I will return tomorrow to salvage the cents of my malleable integrity   Won’t you reliquinish me of it ? For I have sipped the poison of honesty Regretfully it tastes like honey Lustful - Fleeting - Sugary - Intoxicating
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Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 12:38 AM UTC
A Glimpse of My Motivation(s)
“You are not an artist. You are not an artist.”         What photos must I shoot         How many cigarettes must I smoke It is scary, but - I want to embody the things which destroy minds Summer vibes feel like radiation Use this alcohol to eradicate The proposition - that I will be ‘okay’ My phone is on airplane mode My ambition is floating - as a feather might - Down to the depths I cannot finish my own sentences Bury my expectation with my religion         And it’s funny         Because I have resolved my mind to avoid romantic         confrontation         But, alas - I do day-dream         Of a girl’s face & hair - for it has appeared in my dreams four         times         And I awake to Deja-Vu as her face appears in conscious         frames So… I can imagine & I can see, but - they have become one in the same Could not fantasize asking Your hand in mine Oh how I wish to cry To sob in any light so long as you are in sight Someone to reassure me, that - yes “There is an end to the night.” But I cannot. I suppress it in drives. In music videos. In writing. In self-speaking when I have only me to keep company. Kick me off the team. I do not know what I need. If I could lead, as I once did. But I have left concern in the refrigerator With empty bottles & cans Maybe I will return tomorrow to salvage the cents of my malleable integrity   Won’t you reliquinish me of it ? For I have sipped the poison of honesty Regretfully it tastes like honey Lustful - Fleeting - Sugary - Intoxicating
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40
Salto Angel dances an Aqua-Skirt Such Fashion pleased the Tourists below How else can the Latin earn your Fervour But surpass your Record of height and snow? Funny, how her Majesty can suppress Even more when viewing up from this Point Like a Crone who often tries to oppress A Revolt which a Priest failed to Anoint And lowering my Camera, I see The many Prizes I did Hit-and-Miss But she roared with showers raining gently And, enough! They saw Rainbows turn to bliss. So I sat on a Rock to watch and live Hoping my Partner would rise to forgive.
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Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 4:24 PM UTC
SONNET FEATURE NUMBER THREE
Sleeping to forget about everything for awhile. Every thought I've ever had runs through my head like tears down my face. I can't get away. My head is working high speed trying to suppress the memories. Why can't I sleep forever?
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Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 7:12 PM UTC
Sleep
I write to express, Thoughts I can't suppress, When something makes me depress, When things happen in excess Feels good to pen down, I Guess. When I am alone, I get in my own zone, When my heart groan, When I miss her skin and bone, I write words expect them to make perfect tone. When I am in a long Uber ride, For sleeping I stride, For you when my heart cried, Writing something I tried. Rhyming I applied. This is how I write.
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Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 12:37 AM UTC
Why I write!?
As I lay here in bed my only thought is you. Hoping, just hoping that you're thinking about me too I just want to text you and tell you how I feel. But rejection is a motherfcker , a feeling too real. So I suppress my feelings and a friend ill stay because I don't want to be the one to scare you away. Deep down wishing you felt the same ,but I know you don't , probably never will ...so am I to bla...me ? For putting myself in a situation when theres nothing to gain. Wishful thinking got me here. Being optimistic got me here. Being naive got me here. The words " I want you" I've been longing to hear. Your sweetest touch I've been dying to feel. When I'm not with you I want your near, I know we can never be so why am I still here ? Maybe I might just love you ,something I fear I know nothing can never come of it, so why am I still here ?
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Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 2:25 AM UTC
I wish you loved me !
I can't hold on, I can't let go... I keep on breathing But each breath is suffocating. My heart keeps pounding But in my own blood, I'm sinking. I wanna hold on, I wanna let go... Smiling if I'm sad. Frowning when I'm glad. The past feels like a dream, The future, a nightmare. I'm not holding on, I'm not letting go... Here's the feeling I can't express: There's a fret I can't suppress. Words, thoughts I've been screaming to you Come back as whispers Like I'm talking to my echo. Tired of holding on, Afraid of letting go... I don't wanna die But I keep on killing myself. I need a reason to live. I need the sun to wake me From my restless sleep. I can't hold on, I can't let go... Hands stuck in the solid air, Standing on waters, crystal clear. Hanging on to the nothingness, Begging for help from the emptiness. If I did hold on, If I do let go... If I fall deep into the sea, I only wanted to see: If I disappear, Would anyone care? Shed a single tear? Pull me up here? As the gravity drags me deeper... As the light vanishes from my sight... As the waters conceal my tears falling... As I keep on holding on, As I finally let go... As I talk to my echo... And drowning...
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Aug 12, 2017
Aug 12, 2017 at 4:59 AM UTC
Talking To My Echo
There’s no other choice but to wear them, The drawer offered nothing but these. An odd pair of socks might be quirky, Odd sizes don’t normally please. The one at my ankle was spotted, The other was striped to the knee The latter two sizes the smaller, The former quite large by degree. This mismatch I thought to keep secret And cover the dissonant pair. I chose from the wardrobe some trousers And shoes, with considerable care. My ruse would conceal the divergence From prescribed social standards of dress And none would be any the wiser My discomfort I’d have to suppress. Now, it’s harder to mask discomposure When physical pain has attacked. The small sock had cramped my toes tightly That blood didn’t flow, was a fact. My colleagues regarded me strangely For they could see nothing amiss But I could feel cold perspiration, Anxiety I couldn’t dismiss. It was then that I felt a strange itching, The striped sock began to descend And round my right ankle it wrinkled And bulged at the trouser leg end. Dismayed at my great consternation But clueless to what was awry My friends made comforting gestures Need of which I could only deny. The moral of this story’s transparent Socks are always best worn as a pair Their nature is in the relationship Which provides a well-balanced air. And take the trouble to remember Be congruent in all that you do For disparity will often bring discord And that path, you’ll certainly rue.
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Oct 11, 2009
Oct 11, 2009 at 6:43 AM UTC
Odd Socks
Suppress your thoughts Suppress your feelings Suppress anything that doesn’t fit Society society Hear their rules Abide by their dictatorship Long for more Yearn for pleasure Learn to live Society society Hear their rules Abide by their dictatorship No feelings are right Individuality is contrite Burn that heart It has no place Society. Society.
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Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 11:37 PM UTC
Society. Society.
How can you contain a storm Because I've tried all these years I've deprived myself of all things Just to keep my mind clear It seems like it's getting worse I can't help but be frozen with fear I just wanted to build a snowman But I have to miss it every year For once I want to let go Of these gloves, my mental chains If I suppress it, it only grows I don't want to hurt her again I'm afraid of keeping this coldness inside That it will stay and freeze my heart too Alone and afraid, trying to maintain this lie When was the last time I said anything true? I'm afraid of myself most of all How can I fit in this society? When I cannot be who I am Without remorse, rejection and anxiety I'm afraid the longer I'm away from her I'll lose my last bit of warmth That I will soon be cold-hearted Then I will never stop the storm
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Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 1:32 AM UTC
Cold Hearted
1745 The mob within the heart Police cannot suppress The riot given at the first Is authorized as peace Uncertified of scene Or signified of sound But growing like a hurricane In a congenial ground.
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6.6k
The mob within the heart
Betwixt an atmosphere of a holy nature By a classic serenade of Christian lullabies Unceremoniously my body sways to the beat For every moment that elapses More and more I become electrified As in the wake of your presence A song of budding amour is evoked Try I may to suppress this sensation, Though upon a lie I'd asphyxiate Please do not allow me to suffer To languish within a plethora of A sheer and utter coating of blindness Darling forgive me if I impose I avidly seek for signs of proof To know if this is real What would happen? © 2011 (All rights reserved)
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Dec 24, 2011
Dec 24, 2011 at 7:04 PM UTC
Ballerina
Just a piece of metal, That's stained with red and white. Leading me to sweet pain, And such a lovely high. Flawless drops of red escaping, While this addictive white dust is introduced to my brain. My mind feels so beautiful, And my whole body trembles. Thinking of the taste of your neck, While shivers run down my spine. The bitter taste in my throat, Masking the emotions I suppress. Feelings of you keep swelling up, So I do another line to tame them. Your charming smile vanishing, Replaced with lustful eyes. Calming down my heart, And filling up my mind.
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May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 7:46 AM UTC
Blood & *******
To be strong, You suppress emotions. I revel in them.
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Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 1:34 AM UTC
all roads lead to Strength 10w
I want to be with someone Whose heart stutters With my gentle caresses Whose breath stops Just with one glance at me Whose palms sweat Because nerves get the best of him Even though he's been with many before I want to be with someone Who struggles to suppress a shy smile Every time I smile widely In his direction With one that's reserved for him And him only
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Sep 7, 2018
Sep 7, 2018 at 5:38 PM UTC
Puppy Love
We are each our own moon. Charismatic souls reflecting sunlight, As if to illuminate a room, We glow against black, void; an endless night. Like a caterpillar to a butterfly, emerging from a tight knit cocoon, Spreading each wing, confidently slicing the evening air…taking flight. Or even a flower freshly bloomed on a midsummer’s afternoon. The moon: a flower, silently smiling despite the plight. Aside from what each day shuffles in; each night simmers out No matter how often we feel we have lost ourselves… Or leave way to fill our heads with doubt. With recurring assumptions of a worldwide redemption:omnipotent stealth. Needn't some take longer than others to sprout? Staring blankly into a mirror, or a moonless night sky: hungry for answers, yet facing an empty shelf. However, that doesn't infer we embark on a divergent route. Simply due to lack of clarity, lack of reasoning behind each card dealt. With that in mind, Just as the moon,true colors may dwindle…they may fade, yet in essence are always there. Even on a cloudy day, or when the sunshine is at its peak…and just as well for the blind. Full moon, half moon, new moon…waxing, waning: dynamic phases the night sky shares. Moon phases;moody faces…natures way of emphasizing personality defined. Notwithstanding the dark side, each moon may wear. Like a guilty pleasure manifesting in a secret shrine, We all suppress a certain side; to pompous to face reality genuinely bare. Fragments of our faces may always be hidden, But there’s one thing that will never absorb into the eclipse: emotion. Some figure each phase, each wave of vibes … simply fate already written. Devils advocate begs to differ… let your mind emit all distraction and harmonize with the ocean. Effervescent rays,warm barrels in which emotions, old and new, have ridden. Chaotically contradicting thoughts, pulling and pushing, creating the paradox of serene commotion. A world of words from each moon face: a beautiful encryption. We are each our own moon, written in the waves, compelled by life’s devotion.
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Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 1:13 AM UTC
Moon Faces : Moody Faces
We are each our own moon. Charismatic souls reflecting sunlight, As if to illuminate a room, We glow against black, void; an endless night. Like a caterpillar to a butterfly, emerging from a tight knit cocoon, Spreading each wing, confidently slicing the evening air…taking flight. Or even a flower freshly bloomed on a midsummer’s afternoon. The moon: a flower, silently smiling despite the plight. Aside from what each day shuffles in; each night simmers out No matter how often we feel we have lost ourselves… Or leave way to fill our heads with doubt. With recurring assumptions of a worldwide redemption:omnipotent stealth. Needn't some take longer than others to sprout? Staring blankly into a mirror, or a moonless night sky: hungry for answers, yet facing an empty shelf. However, that doesn't infer we embark on a divergent route. Simply due to lack of clarity, lack of reasoning behind each card dealt. With that in mind, Just as the moon,true colors may dwindle…they may fade, yet in essence are always there. Even on a cloudy day, or when the sunshine is at its peak…and just as well for the blind. Full moon, half moon, new moon…waxing, waning: dynamic phases the night sky shares. Moon phases;moody faces…natures way of emphasizing personality defined. Notwithstanding the dark side, each moon may wear. Like a guilty pleasure manifesting in a secret shrine, We all suppress a certain side; to pompous to face reality genuinely bare. Fragments of our faces may always be hidden, But there’s one thing that will never absorb into the eclipse: emotion. Some figure each phase, each wave of vibes … simply fate already written. Devils advocate begs to differ… let your mind emit all distraction and harmonize with the ocean. Effervescent rays,warm barrels in which emotions, old and new, have ridden. Chaotically contradicting thoughts, pulling and pushing, creating the paradox of serene commotion. A world of words from each moon face: a beautiful encryption. We are each our own moon, written in the waves, compelled by life’s devotion.
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32
You tell me I'm one thing, But really you're just afraid that I'm something Undefinable. You believe everyone is one or the other, But whats the beauty in that? Maybe one day I'm 'They' The next I'm 'She' Then the day after I'm 'He' Don't suppress me for being Everything. Nothing. And Me.
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Feb 14, 2021
Feb 14, 2021 at 3:22 PM UTC
Undefinable
I clenched my fist and gritted my teeth as I gulped; My head tilted upwards and stared at the sky filled with the blue color that reminds me of your eyes filled with wonders, trying not to look directly into the windows of your soul; I did all these not to suppress my anger, but something even more difficult; But no matter what I do, everything is not under my control and will never be For these tears still streamed down my cheeks filled with deep sorrow and melancholy; Yes, it's hard; It's making me bleed so much that I feel like I'm dying yet still continuing to breathe; It's far more arduous than any predicament that I have encountered in my whole existence; Yet I still have to do it; For I cannot continue any longer to hurt you by offering you my heart, my dear; As you continue to heal and purify all my sins While all I ever do is corrupt your soul and drag you in the the deepest and darkest abyss that I call home; Darling, I am now setting you free and breaking the chains that restrict you from ascending into the limitless sky where you truly belong, so flap you wings and fly to your well-being; Goodbye.
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Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 1:40 PM UTC
Forbidden Love
She could die any day. Just tip-toe away. But what would they say? They still say she's okay. ...They don't say "please stay." They cry when good men die. They cry when they are scared. They cry all the time. They cry here. They cry there. So why? Why? Why for her, they don't cry? Here she will fly between fire and sky, in an ocean her only air being devotion. Life&Death; her only notion. Is it bad to wish for a potion? A spell to make this spell go? She may try so-, but I just don't know. Why? Why? Why can't they see? The lost, the falling, she's calling she gives them a sign, she loses grasp of her life's line. Why? Why? Why don't they cry? Cry for her. Care for her! See her here! Please.. one tear. Suppress her deepest fear. Her pain is not mere. She WILL fall, if there is no bridge, between the buildings in her mind. She WILL tumble, down, if no one holds her hand, and she get's left behind. Save her. Savor her. For like this she will not last. Deprived of what she needs, internally she bleeds. Cry for just one day. Prove to her, she will be okay. Teach her, how to no be alone. Love her, don't leave her on her own. Cry Don't lie to her. Don't act so refined. She knows those lies, she isn't blind. And for once, just for once, when her thoughts have intertwined, I beg of you, I plead of you, no one leave her behind.
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Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 10:09 PM UTC
Don't Leave Her