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Nylee Mar 2017
Many things in my life, unsorted
many thoughts in my life, uncategorized
many mysteries in my life,unsolved
many potentials in my life, untested
many emotion in my life,unlabeled
many problems in my life,remains unresolved
many days pass away, unnoticed
                          and still, my life continues...
Dada Olowo Eyo Jan 2015
But there is a place in the west of Africa,
Named after a river called the Niger,
The people wander in random confusion,
In perpetual experimental commotion.
astrid Jun 2018
He gave swerves to uncategorized happiness, with spins that ******* back into his despondencies. He was never given a chance to applaud himself for being a second-long happy or get back to the spotlight where he did belong to his whole **** life. He's properly beautiful when he dances, or when he's proud of his weakest points. Him singing, even the most heard songs will sound re-engaging as if he owns it. Our eyes pace head-on against our cars' contraries. Every scar I had given to my wrists soothe when we wrap our sinful hands in an ill-starred manner.

Love, for him, is altruistically pouring around like sudden downpours on a midsummer day; he had everything to offer yet nothing for himself. He invests a lot with what he wins back. He's the grandeur of a boring ensemble of actors yet still believes he's the subpar star when in reality, no such star existed like it. No one would ever dare to leave him with a river to bleed, or cherry wine bottles with teary send-offs.
Anyone who does that will rest assured have a slot in his own obscenities - oh, how I wish hell would be a lot better than that.

I wasn't briefed for safe keeping such recherchés, that I had to jilt. A handful will be curious, why my decision is a ****-up; or rather, why am I a **** up. But I would say people with better anything deserve his still-endearing dissonances. And all I have are lyrics while he gives song compositions. All he ever needs are happy mornings who hugs him back so right. Behind their curtains are joy-tinted windows with episodes of cuddles and husky 'Good morning's'. I am not that person, so I had left him in his most heightened situation yet - loving me. In a bed full of my inconsistencies, he was sleeping beside his hard-to-swallow Ecstasies.
j.s.
Dylan Barnes Sep 2015
Pushing through feelings of sadness
like giving up

it's a hard life out there
but no one tells you
when you're hidden away
in a system where learning is at value
but not learning about the real world
just learning how to memorize
just memorizing facts
so many facts
that your brain wants to explode

go to work
put on my mask
leave work take off my mask
or was there a mask at all?

can't remember what my first mask was
don't have time to categorize all of them

masks floating around
floating all around inside my head
until I can't choose just one
it's just an amalgamation of all of them
floating around inside my head
Isabel Feb 2019
"It's hard to pretend that you like someone when you don't, but it's harder to pretend that you don't like someone when you really do."


Staring at me like
it has those meanings,
Staring back at you
when it doesn't have meaning
at all.

Can't get you off out of my mind,
Insane feeling and let it bind,
Liar to myself,
Why can't I be true to myself,
Maybe I'm Insane to you.

You like someone else,
But I'm not inlove
with someone else,
I hate it when I don't recieve the same amount of love that I give to others.

I stared at you but I saw
you staring to someone else
and I saw the girl you like staring
at someone else too.

The truth tried to hurt both of us,
And it succeeded,
We develop feelings to someone
we know we can't have,
We're like living in a rusted chain.

Love me before I gave my
heart away,
My mind is already blown away,
I continued to chase you,
But you kept running away chasing
the girl you like.

Slowly trying to get you out of my
mind,
I know that you will never be mine,
I'm not a fool,
But it feels like I'm swimming in a
pool.

Someone drowned me,
I kept on sinking,
No one saved me,
Just like the feelings from me
that you didn't save.

I wan't someone else to
save me,
My mind kept on shouting
for someone to save me,
But my mouth kept on saying
I'm fine.

I think I need to stop,
I don't want to hurt myself anymore,
But my mind kepts on wanting you,
My mind can't stop thinking of you,
When my heart already wants to stop.

My mind told my heart to go on,
My heart told my mind to stop,
It kepts on beating,
And it hurts,

Suddenly my mouth
murmured that I want you,
That means I don't know
what to do,
And I know that doesn't have
value to you.
That moment when you kept on lying to yourself saying that you don't have any feelings for that person when you really have
Mitchell Mar 2014
IV.
We walk down Steiner street after we eat. The food was decent. Not worth the price, but good enough where we didn't have to talk about it afterward. Olivia was nice to look at. I liked the way her upper thighs rubbed together as she walked. That was something I noticed but said nothing of to him. Her silhouette in the window was shaped like a fresh picked pear. And that smile. I could sit there and drink water with lemon and order nothing all day and just look at that smile. I would have to go back. She was beautiful and I wish I'd never met her the way I did. Not that it wasn't a romantic kind of way, but to order from someone you admire is a kind of awkward thing. It puts one in an uncomfortable position. You want to take that person out of their place and put them into someplace better. Who am I to judge? Maybe she enjoys it there. He didn't seem to show any signs of care or wear.
We continued to walk down Steiner until we passed over Lombard street. The traffic was already thick with cars and their horns. A hummer, lazy and rolling, has a driver inside with thick black sunglasses and all the windows down. It's not even very hot yet. The music inside is loud and is a mix of rap and mariachis. After we cross the street, I notice a pizza place standing on the corner and a long line is coming out of it. It looked very busy for being so early in the morning. It is only 11:15. He looks at the line too, but says nothing. He's been very quiet and moves with very light footsteps. I hope nothing is wrong.
"Jesus," I say, "Look at that place." I point at the pizza joint.
He nods, "Who needs pizza at a time like this? It's so early."
"It is Saturday," I shrug, "All bets are off."
"They'll be in bed by 1, guaranteed."
We cross chestnut street, which is bustling with people already. A few joggers **** by us as we pass a pair of miniature pugs. Their tongues are both out, dangling like a worm on a hook. In front of us, two women walk in their skin tight yoga pants and I force myself to look away. Too tempting. I can see every curve. He sees them to and steals a few glances, pretending he's looking at a parking sign or the details of a lime green Prius parked next to a fire hydrant. There are many people out and I wonder where they all came from and why they are all up so early. I wonder the same of myself and shut up.
I stop. "You ever eaten there?" I ask, pointing to a hole in the wall taco stand. It's closed, but we can both see the chefs and front of house people moving around inside getting ready for the lunch rush. "Their best is the fish taco with freshly picked cilantro, some kind of spicy, thousand island, grilled red onions, and lime on the side. Very good."
"I'll have to go there the next time I'm in the city," he says.
"Definitely," I say, "The next time you're in, we'll go there."
I ask myself what I'm really doing here in my head. Not out loud. I don't hear an answer, so I try again. You want to talk to him about the phone call. Why? Because she called you and he knows that she called you and you two haven't once spoken about it since. Can't it just be one of those unspoken things where we both know what happened and never talk about it? Sure, it could be. You could leave it in the dirt and let it rot there like a dead rat, molding and boiling in the sun for another little rat to come along and eat it. That's graphic and grotesque. Well, it's what I see. You see a lot of things. Yes I do. Well, that is a very graphic thing to see that perhaps is not really even that big of a deal. It sounded like a big deal to her when she called you. I don't want to get involved. That's fine. They have their own problems just like I have my own problems. I can respect that, but it wouldn't hurt to say something. What will he do? Get offended or something that you picked up her phone call? You didn't have any choice after you picked up the phone. She started weeping and bawling hysterically. What would it look like if you just hung up on her?Yeah, you are right. That would've looked pretty bad. Very bad. Alright, I'll say something. Thanks. Thank me later. When then? Later.
At the ocean front, we sit on a bench and look out at the water. The waves rise, peak, froth, and fall reflecting the sunlight in their marble surface. A gull passes over us and squeals. It startles me, the little ******. I look up and catch a glance into its blank, black eyes. Their brains are the size of peas. Did you know that? He doesn't notice me jump. He is looking out at the water, silent. There's something powerful in not feeling the need to say anything and wading in true silence. It takes a certain amount of vulnerability, humility, and ***** to sit with another and admit that sometimes there just isn't a **** thing to say.
"She called me two weeks ago," I say.
"I know," he says, like there's no more words that need to be said.
"I called you also, but you didn't pick and didn't return my call."
"I know," he says again.
A female jogger passes by us in those skin tight, jet black yoga pants and we both steal a glance. Her **** is so firm it barely bounces as she runs.
"I don't see you guys that often," I tell him, "I don't need to get involved."
"She called you," he sighs, looking at me, "So she got you involved and I really wished she hadn't."
"I see that," I nod, "I don't like people getting in my **** either."
He turns his head side to side, stretching his neck, trying to crack it. I can tell he's getting nervous. I can sense it. Something gets released into the air when someone starts feeling like that. Some people call it tension or anxiety or some fancy name, but there isn't one. It's a feeling and he was feeling it everywhere.
"We're fine," he says, "We're actually doing better than we were."
"I don't need to know what's going on with you guys. She called me and just didn't know where you were. Naturally, I got worried about where you were because you're my friend."
He turns his hands face up. They are resting on his thighs. He opens and closes them, staring into his own palms. His breathing is short, silent and his eyes very soft, yet focused. There has always been something array with him and he knows and I know, really everyone knows it, but what this it is is mysterious, unnamed, uncategorized. There are labels that people give other people and he never had one. Not really. None that stuck and stuck. He was always changing. He was too quick.
I get up and walk to the edge of the waterfront. I look down and see the clear, jade blue water lap against the concrete. It slaps lightly against the wall, breaking the reflection of the sun into a million diamonds when it hits. There's no fish I can see, just some driftwood and scattered trash. He comes up beside me, but says nothing. There's no need to say anything. Silence rests in between our shoulders like a birds nest. I don't want to move for fear of dropping the eggs inside. We stand like that for a while.
"You can do whatever the hell you want," I tell him, "I'm just your friend and I would hate to see something happen to you."
"I know," he nods, tightening and relaxing his jaw.
"You have friends in town, not just me. If you need anything though, same with her, I'm always there. I'm always around."
"I appreciate that," he says. He turns to look at me, "I really do."
"It's true. I've known you a long time."
"Same here," he smiles, "I've known you as long as you've known me."
"That's true. That is very true."
"Where to from here?" he asks. He turns away from the water and slides his sunglasses up onto his forehead.
"I don't know the area that well. Let's walk back up and see what we can get into."
He puts out his hand, stopping me, "Thanks Roger."
I take his hand, "You don't have to thank me, but you're welcome."
"It's hard to a find a friend you can truly rely on. Everybody's got their own agendas nowadays."
"Well," I say, "Its part of my agenda for my friends to not do anything ******* stupid. Don't know why, but that's just the way it is."
"That's good," he chuckles, letting go of my hand. We start to walk up the hill and he's still laughing a little to himself, "That's real good."
"Let's get a drink?" I ask.
"Let's get a drink," he says.
Dani Apr 2013
There is a revolution,
going on in my brain.
A battle
between the thoughts and the feelings
of misinterpreted events and actions
in reality, and state of mind.
Formed by the basic movements,
and uncategorized pattern of the uneven rhythms of your heart beat.
The fluctuating flaming bullets,
of these things that are called words,
coming from a loaded shotgun,
called your brain.
Thoughts gather,
to revolt against the army,
of ample lies
that have taken control of the whole battlefield.
While the truth is overpowered by the lies marching towards them wearing a suit of armor,
but have a very sharp sword
to stab them in the back.
If this was a real battle,
there would be bloodshed
and tears
and torn apart realizations of a reality,
that isn't even there.
Perceptions coming from those who don't exist,
and from those who don't want to.
The hills they march over with the smoking guns
and ammunition, are getting higher and rockier and bumpier,
and the truth can't get past to the other side to attack the lies
But they are already too late,
there are are,
the truth is blindsided,
lies hidden inside bodies and behind friendships
until you are deceived by the actions of the moment and all of a sudden
BAM
A bullet fires out of that shotgun

The lies will eventually overpower the truth,
leaving it to bleed out on the battlefield called life,
which will soon become the final resting place.
The revolution, has been lost.
Not quite finished yet, I will repost when finished
Em Ray Har Sep 2017
Nature itself is hypocritical.
Were alive yet dying.
Dont be so ******* yourself.
Never be selfish with your experience. Dont think for a second that you are the only one who is looking at themselves thru the window of a train. Someone across the globe is listening to the same song as you for a different reason.
We all cry and we all laugh.
How else do you expect nature to survive?
brooke Aug 2014
unruly, swarthy, dark and
full of Spaniard descent, I
never looked good on your
side, not that I was a mexican
trinket, but all your new girlfriends
are made of cotton with bluets in their
hair, slender fingers that slip through
your ribs where mine always got jam
                                                                        med
I
am

falling
into the uncategorized, the
ethnic             gap
unraveled at the end of the
stairs
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
14
DEC
2010

by John Smallshaw in Uncategorized

      

Would I feel free if I were a tree?

To feel the wind?

To feel the rain upon my naked skin?

To write the leaves upon my many arms?

To hear the beetles crawl?

To watch the caterpillars fall into butterflies?

To watch the forest as it dies?

And when the axe bit

Would I scream?

Would I feel free

When I fell?


Read by the presenter on Talk Sport radio at about 5.11am..14/12/10.My first ever poem to be read by the

magical media……. Revised and elongated 26/06/11.
Lora Lee Dec 2015
One night
as I pondered the stars
and let my heart reach
up and out
A wish made
into the night
unto the Universe
for Life
and inner peace
to truly come
For the zest of living
and all its workings
to take place
I received a special signal
an inter-galactic message
and answer, if you will
without expecting
without
even being
fully aware,
my head turned
to the constellations,
to the planets above
and my heart became
one with the stars
spiraling into
previously unknown
orbits
and taking my soul with
for a ride
A trip that is still
spinning me
on my axis..
as I try to hold on,
I am tripping on the light
as it pours into
this sacred vessel
A molecular re-working
that is building up
lost tissue, found
Bloodflow restored
and roaring like a river
And I am
opening up
like
a rare species
of flower
a breed of vegetation
uncategorized
unrecorded
by humans

I never expected
this to happen
Perhaps my spirit guides
do watch over me
Angels who know
darkness
while shining light
who know
pain
yet beat out
healing
from their
wings

Oct. 11 2015
Hadrian Veska Aug 2016
I heard the wind in the trees
As I walked along that old wall
Weathered by time and storm

I ran my hand along it
And soon came to a groove
Between two damaged stones
Curious I put my eye to it

I peered through the crack
In that ancient crumbled stone
And what I saw
I could scarce comprehend

Uncategorized geometric shapes
Rotated in place
Encompassing a single point
Of pure darkness

The point gave off
An almost visible aura
That filled my head
With an unknown emotion
Which I could only label
As a type of fear

It pulsated
Gently at first then grew
Until it rocked the very air
With its movement

As its stength waxed
The shapes began to twist
Contorting, falling apart
And then reforming themselves

It came to the point
Where I had to cover my ears
But it did no good
As the very fluid in them
Vibrated with the strange energy

Yet in an instant it was over
The darkness aswell as the shapes
Folded in on themselves
And took a new form

The form of a man
Moulded in eternal darkness

The entity seemingly looked
Directly at me through the stone
With midnight eyes
As dark and irredeemable
As the void itself

As quickly as it arrived
The being disappeared
In a wisp of smoke

And I heard the wind in the trees
schuyler Feb 2018
eyelash that clings to a cheek?
or maybe the snow that falls silently at midnight.
perhaps i am the scuffling of feet on rainy pavement.
unplaceable, uncategorized—i feel like this a lot.
that one song that you can't seem to place in any playlists.
not quite sunrise, i guess.
Lala Jul 2020
It's all on replay.
The leddar is broken.
Can't undo what has been done
The anger we feel it again
The pain we experience again
The joy it fades away
The line between reality,
and fantasy is now blurred
Memories uncategorized
Is it real or fake?
Bruce Levine Apr 2019
Time standing still
Suspended
Waiting
Held in the hand of fate

Looking for an outlet
Paradoxical
Ordinary
Searching over the promontory

Reflex actions
Uncalculated
Unchallenged
Illusionary

Momentary illusions
Categorized
Uncategorized
Passing through infinity

Wakefulness balanced by daylight
Playful
Joyous
Reacting to surroundings

Catalytic motions
Profound
Unexpected
Holding onto forever

4/28/19

— The End —