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Nelize Jun 2015
Melody expresses pain of the heart
that tongue cannot say when lips part

Secrets and lies can sting the tearduct
assumptions are termites that cling and destruct
their moods like waves in fluctuation
please free this heart of aching palpitation
release the torture of this bipolar oscillation
that the tune of this life creates
in the sound of my aching heart

The sensation of a heart tear
rebellious rips of guitars one cannot bear
when memories return that ones used to share
the rock of my soul, the roll of my head
the sway of the waltz now dead
Frustration strips like the sound of guitar
it roars emotions like a rock star
threatening to free hairs on your head
feelings that scream, leave ghosts in debt!

Drums of pounding passion, degradation
of harming words that echo atmospheric perforation
Drumsticks of cope try to pound through
yet the drumskin of hurt won't budge


Melody expresses pain of the heart
that tongue cannot say when lips part
just like the tune of my aching heart.
This is written due to certain losses that we all face. Whether it be loved ones, careers, possesions, or perhaps even yourself. My heart goes out to anyone with painful losses.
Upon paper wings,
He did mount his throne
Made of gold & jewels.

His treasure a product of the tearduct bleeding money from The State & Shepard.

The spiral of the drain.
The way she whispers the taste of *****.
The way skies spell the taste of mildew, mild sun, & the dawn of churning corn silk for the grove tender.

Ashes among & upon the frozen oranges still growing on branches;
Their heart still beating.

Still beating among & amidst the death rattle, death shroud.
Even upon the ****** tassels, hanging from the cloud shaped like a gun.

Icicles like a noose hang from the Beard of The King,
Which are the clouds;
The birds;
The ocean of the sin & spoiled milk.

In my throat.

Invocation of throat.

Upon paper wings they drifted like a swan,
Made of gentle hate & casual love.

As a goat were to smile with her & his heart, so are the wings infinate in their divinity.

"Where am I?"
She asked,
As she
Became the map.
Connor Jan 2017
I - In the active perspiring of
Manhattan dirt

& now I tell ya
The monkeys lost his surpreme gavel
& intimacy finds a false place
Within the youthful realm of transience
(the wide grove of
Grass slowly growing into golden cherries
To be picked apart and criticized by ones who'd gladly describe themselves as Angelic)

A ladder topples over a nightly bistro causing its windows
To ever /so //slight/ly crack
The owner & his two daughters take themselves

(along with his displeasement)
to the basement to conjure up a lawyer made of wax

Meanwhile Queens experiences rain as a cataclysmic shower occuring everywhere
Even the barred 1st floor apartments /

Nearby stabbings\

(74 people watching
  and the screams for help were audible nobody did a ******' thing. We call this the 'bystander effect')

I am long-awaited and less stressed in comparison to the last time I broke the barrier of clouds,
Which decieve America into thinking its
Worth only greyness
& worrying about bathroom Mirrors//srorriM//

(sorry!)

The cinema will show you otherwise!

Minnesota causeway glittering with
Luggage carriers
Alike we are and have been
Bundled together
To read poetics or the sad paper
About elephants in an empty zoo
or the flammatory lawns of Washington

WRAP YOUR TROUBLES
IN DREAMS
(audible from a brunette protected by last year's scarf, the cabin pressure decreasing
my ears feel full of eagerness)

Trunk of the elephant I read earlier
Lets us thru to Airport
The hollowed organics of this passage
Cause my spine to crawl
There are flies bespeckled like
The jewelry of decay

      But soon we are clean again
Yet still without a forest to
         Confess in
               Comforted by shrill wind echoing 'round the wood
              
(as one would say patience is a virtue)

II -   I have missed the first
Haze of every mornings gentle mouth

Strawberries press themselves harshly to lobes
Like oriental jazz
& a collective yawn
As the ground becomes
        nobody
        Wait! Look down there!
        It's my friend welcomed to wifehood!
              Ballads of a long time ago,
                   Humid run-ins with the twinkler
                   Performing a theatrical
                 Tearduct expression

Valleys of varying shades/
Orchards & the Apple of my eye
      Nectar and beggar
      Some Disney story Swiss town
      Operated by
      Language,
       I am tired which causes me to write
       I am writing which causes me to tire
       I am which writing causes to tire
       I which am writing tired causes to
       (the shoreline of a dream where
       Socialists wearing straw hats created a whole scene involving a loud child
       Unaware of what movement he was being indoctrinated into
       And a pocket full of change which was later tossed to the sea
       The image of which caused My Mother to
       Wake from her fainting)

Seance in voluptuous turmoil
Only confronted by
       A vision of the sky transitioned to earth
       & shadow dancing
       Accompanied with the sun,
        its last inkling of lemondrops
        Spread in buttery fashion to my personal
        Horizon
      __________

Fr­ee from(in the) the properties of
Textbooks and
Inflated intellectualism(vast pastoral landscapes)
One can
    Allow themselves to truly sleep in
    Peace
       (of the air)
jataud Jan 2018
All I could do is believe
That I could achieve and accomplish anything
It drained me with every step
I lost my way
My life changed
I couldn't do this anymore
I needed parafillia to survive
It became too hard too live
To easy to want to take my life
As the thought came
The smile walked away
But it changed the playing field
I had been alive but never lived
If I jumped off a bridge
Or ran into a speeding car
As the thought took over my mind
It made me see,
how the life of people would be better without me
as I cried everyday till my tearduct dried up ;
as I woke up each day
I wished I had died the night before ,
just you wait ,
as I thought that way I started feeling as a burden more and more and more
I reached into my innermost self
as I entered it was dark
then I saw a little light ,
I moved toward the light
,it was so dark that you could cut the darkness with a knife ,          
  I started searching for my soul as I reached
where it should be it was gone ,
I was a ship without a captain
I went ahead to find my heart ,
the closer I got I could hear the heartbeat
I smiled saying at least I have a heart
when I went into my heart all I could see was a stereo playing the heartbeat sound,
it was also empty,
it turns out I am an abomination ,
I was dead but thought I was alive
my soul and heart left without saying a word ;
how could they hate me so
as I fell to the ground and lost what little sanity I had left
all I could think of was oh the insanity
Oh the beautiful insanity

— The End —