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Nobody Sep 2017
You rudely wander into my conversation,
but you’re not an expert and you can’t offend me.
You try to get your dense views to control me,
It’s funny, like your shallow opinions affect me.

You’re unskilled in seeing real objectives,
so you try and censor me while I speak.
You’re a fool waiting on the wrong block,
I’m far from delicate or weak.

My words will ruffle your feathers,
you’ll be shocked by the way I behave.
Then you’ll try to crush my passion,
or think you can badger it away.

You’ll soon learn I’m not an easy target,
my brazenness is here to stay.
My strong will won’t be corrupted,
I was born standing up and unafraid.
GulRukh Jun 6
Beautiful soul
I wanna bear it all

Pink lips, tan skin
Every second with you is sin

I want us naked
It's hard but we can make it

Our love can defy all the laws
I wanna see all of your flaws

I wanna touch the light coming out of it
Let's tangled our lights where it can fit
Slowly assassinating my soul
You are the best thing I've ever hold

Poison or cure
I'll sip it if you pour
Don't wanna run away ... not anymore
JK Casilda Dec 2018
Under the same satellite that I was afraid to crash right at me
I recite what you said was your favorite of all my poems
Wide open
But you were holding my hand, dancing
in the moonlight that I've never appreciated before
'cause I was too afraid
by it's hidden, yet bright eyes following me,
naked with all of my secrets
But you were holding my hand
And I was
With you
Unafraid to die
This is a response to a poem entitled Satellite by Alfonso Manalastas, a spoken word artist in the Philippines. It was a poem about anxiety, and the way it embraced me felt like this.
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2012
Searching to find my place once again
     lost in this foreign state of happiness.
Left with no one to guide me…

I strive to pave my own way now;
     along new paths, unafraid.
I risk nothing,
     as most is lost.

I have left the old behind,
     bruised and bloodied.
For my heart has been at war;
     sanity at last has prevailed.

Amidst the bodies left behind,
     the old shells of who I once was,
transformed as if emerging from a chrysalis.
     A new life on the wing.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Jordan Rowan Jan 2016
I'd like to meet the man who is never afraid
Listen to him tell the life he has made
How he became the man he proclaims
And how he has lied to stay that way

I have never known an unafraid man
Or one without scars on his hands
I have never known one to be true
For I am just as afraid as you
Lizzy May 2015
A fake floating feeling
Falls short
Of my fleeting fantasy.

This insidious infirmity
Isn't what I intended.
I've been inflicted
With internal indisposition.
In need of an ideal identity.

Who am I without
This ****** to make me whole?
How do I heave my heart
Away from this hole?
Have you seen how hard this is?

But it's been short of a year,
Of believing I can simply be.
And before I break
Bleed me of my bane.
And for me, bear no malice.

Tightly take me
Away from my terible tempest.
Time tells me it's time to stop.
Too long I've tortured my tenemet.
Tame the tantrum tearing through me.

Sober seems strong,
But it's systematic survival.
Stopping the surrender
To something stimulating.
Learning to stand sedated.

No I'm no longer numb.
No longer neglecting me need
For new novcane.
Knowing I'll never need
This vaccine again.

You are all my ambition.
Dispelling my ailments
And afflictions.
I am hard to adore, I know.
You are my new addiction.

You have me dreaming,
Praying we are real.
Made me feel.
Don't decieve my brittle belief.
Keep me, don't leave.

I'm not the kind to fly.
For you i'd try to dive.
Unafraid I might die.
I don't hide from the night.
This is what I've been trying to find.
ryn Feb 2015
He rubbed his weary eyes...
What trickery could this be?
Was it a signboard draped in disguise
Or the reflection of light off a tree?

Seconds ticked as he drew closer.
The lady materialised to rule out prior suspicions.
His fingers wrestled over the rusty brake lever,
Wheels squealed their futile objections.

The lady wore a face he could barely see...
She had long tresses that bore an alluring fragrance.
Her beauty tipped the scales allowing him bravery,
Unafraid he asked, "Miss, may I be of assistance?"

Her voice seemed to ride the subtle night breeze,
Coating his ears like sugar laden candy.
Soft and demure... Yet laced with a hint of tease,
She had said, "I'm stranded in the dark as you can see..."

"What luck!", he thought, seizing the opportunity
He removed his sack to make space for her.
His heart raced being in the damsel's good company,
The lady slid herself onto the rack before they both rode together.

As he pedalled hard, he felt a tap on his shoulder.
Her voice came again, a tender little whisper,
*"I live rather close... Not far off from here...
A little over the hill... Just over yonder..."
To be continued...

Based on a story I heard.
susan Sep 2018
a breath of fresh air
that's what you are

so new
pure of thought

unveiling love
with a tender touch
for me
brushing your cheek
across mine
making my heart melt
with your smile

i thought i knew love
then came you.
my granddaughter, my love, my son's child
i will protect and love you always
Johnny walker Jul 23
It was good to be young and unafraid of this life and the troubles this world presented me I just
waved them good
And I'd look In the mirror oh how vain could that
be but liked what I saw
then for It was youth
I was  
But over the year's I've grown older and more afraid of mirrors for I don't like what I see now and my only prospect Is
to growing even
Nat Lipstadt Sep 2013
The poem was inspired by a particular photo of the WT C, and after that by my first visit to the 9/11 Memorial.  On the day of 9/11, I was working about a diagonal mile away, and from our windows, we could see people jumping to their death.

Open sky annulled
to bordered lines of
uptown edges,
worldview momentarily
forcibly redefined by
memories of buildings and sadder days,
recollections of pillars of biblical smoke rising

A photograph
makes me look up,
and sit down historically,
need to catch a breath,
to rest mentally,
upon a storied small bridge's steps,
that I well recall,
a disappeared street stoop.
all were rubble then and once
upon that day.

Wear, tear, and older eyes distill perspective,
but the hardy heart is hardly stilled
by the recognizable gray upon
bon vivant gray reflective surfaces of
memories of buildings and sadder days

So today, on a reborn street,
I rest upon reconstituted speckled curbstone,
the city's lowered down ledges,
the city's lowered down-town boundaries,
constantly redrawn, but
nonetheless, always rebuilt from their own
regenerated stony compost,
and the NY passersby doesn't even notice
a man, head in hands,
silently weeping, thinking that:

We throw away so much we should have kept.
We keep so much we should have thrown away.

Lose keepsakes, but keep our mysterious sadnesses
locked away in compartments that open only to
benedictions uttered in ancient tongues.

Make your own list,
be your own curator,
catalogue visions of sophomoric triumphs,
museum mile pile
those early poetic drafts,
be unafraid of memories
raw and ungentrified,
overlaid, buried underneath
postmortem of dust-piles of senior critiques

Finally went downtown to see
where the blessed water falls
into catacomb pits that once
were the foundations
of buildings that ruled the cityscape,
downtown anchors
for a modern city that exists
only because it was built on
million year old granite bedrock

Stone monuments are stolid, discrete.
Memories are of grayed, frayed edge consistency.
Negatives resurrected that survive digitally,
all blend synthetically, layer upon layer,
essence distilled in a single,
black and white photograph
that serves to
disturb complacency,  
awaken stilled pain,
reflections suppressed,
are restored
Written August 2013
Tommy Randell Dec 2014
I have learned sleep undreaming of the past.
I feel my fear, in what I dare not know.
Dare I embrace my naked self at last ?

Nothing endures I cannot yet outlast.
Guilt fades by going where it will not show.
I have learned sleep undreaming of the past.

I wish a time the Mind remembered all,
A place in me to come to unafraid
And so embrace my naked self at last.

What is this shame at which I stand appalled
So dark in me, what bed of Truth unmade
I’ve learned to sleep undreaming of the past ?

I do not want this shadow over all.
I do not want eclipsing by this shade.
Let me dare all, embrace my naked self at last.

I live to learn, knowing the learning may be vast,
But I want a Truth, I want the knowing that I know.
I have learned sleep undreaming of the past :
Dare I embrace my naked self at last ?
I've read a lot of romances,

And before I fell asleep,

I would write my myself into the pages, and fall in love with Wesley and Darcy and Aragorn.

She would catch his eye, and he would approach, and they would talk for hours holding hands under the stars.

I would meet people, who I thought I could replace the heros in my stories,
when the part arrived,
where he got down on one knee,

I couldn't imagine it with anyone.

But now,

I see us meeting at the alter,
our house
and our kids.
I see my old hand on your wrinkled face.
Road trips and trips to the store.
and making up after arguing
what movie to watch on a Friday night.

"You know you're in love when reality is better than your dreams"

I think I might understand now.

Because while you're not perfect,
neither am I.

You exceeded all my expectations

Not only did you fulfill everything I'd hoped for,

but you made it better.
Because it's you. And I could never invent the way you surprise me with the way you make me feel.

               I'm excited and unafraid

Can someone tell me how you know you're in love?
nadine Jun 2017
Waking up in a dark room illuminated by the bright rays of sunshine - it's not the typical start of my day.
All the time, I've been swirling around the hurricane barefooted, thinking it was fine.
Sand is what beneath,
But blood was on my feet.
Only to discover that the sand was a sharp knife.

Cold breeze at night touched my skin and left me shivering in thrills,
Resembling your voice, my heart cried in extreme pain as if it was in drills.
The tiny drops of water from the blue sky flows down and cries,
Just like how happy memories got drowned in the ocean of lies.

Unafraid to touch a beautiful rose with deadly thorns,
For there's nothing much more blood to get spilled.
My heart was covered with steel as my shield,
Still you managed to broke and hurt me to the core.

Trapped inside a small dark chained room was me,
Screaming at you, pleading to set me free.
Knowing there's no escape in this unending misery,
You gave up, without knowing your heart is the chain's key.
this has been
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