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"unease" poems
. A cloud falls from the sky, a lead balloon of precipitation, and cuddles the ground like a long lost lover. Dripping its cargo, shedding tears along the way, leaving a trail of damp memory and a calm balm for the Earth. *And a candle flickers on a lonely table, as a pen drifts across lines, filling meaningless words that never convey the depths of separation. The flame flares as a waft, a draft, creeps in a crack under the door, adding a poignant touch to the melancholy of atmosphere. Gripping the pen with delicate unease, the hubbub drowns inwards, doubt rises in ascendancy, the pen falls, like a discarded relationship, and the meaningless words stop.* © Pagan Paul (21/11/18)
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Nov 21, 2018
Nov 21, 2018 at 5:35 PM UTC
Candle Drift
every other month, i fly. when my mind fills with worries and unease, my lungs expand with fear not air, my heart speeds, and with a single backpack i take a bus to the airport. long ride listening to my comfort songs is just a beginning to my little getaway. (i already feel calm writing about this moment) quick 30 mins wait at the gate, then i fly. my reality you can wait for me at the airport right where i left you, because you deserve a break too. see you in 5 days. i'll meet you back at the airport.
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Sep 29, 2019
Sep 29, 2019 at 1:19 PM UTC
meet me at the airport
in the waves of your gaze     my ship   bursts into      dreams                                 as my mouth                            watering for yours                                 fills me with                                      unease                                                                         endlessly                                                                          longing                                                                       to permeate                                                                    on your reverie                                                                            steam                                     to dim                                  the lights                             of your sirenic                                    breeze                                                                      to undress                                                                  the complexity                                                                   of your mind                                                                        scheme                                         i solemnly live                                      to hear your name                                   that even the silences                                                scream
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Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 11:26 AM UTC
my thoughts when our eyes meet
in the waves of your gaze     my ship   bursts into      dreams                                 as my mouth                            watering for yours                                 fills me with                                      unease                                                                         endlessly                                                                          longing                                                                       to permeate                                                                    on your reverie                                                                            steam                                     to dim                                  the lights                             of your sirenic                                    breeze                                                                      to undress                                                                  the complexity                                                                   of your mind                                                                        scheme                                         i solemnly live                                      to hear your name                                   that even the silences                                                scream
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26
I am the blackbird sitting on the branch . . . watching you Peering into every aspect you do Kaw . . . Kaw and you . . , Late at night if I ever get out of here I swear I will turn into a thunderstorm And hurl my bolts of light at you And pound you with my thunder I am the blackbird . . . and I am still watching you Can you feel the unease of my stare Kaw . . . Kaw . . . now you are aware He held a grudge forever more Never could he release the hate and pain Nothing nice again , just rain He could never get out again The blackbird and me . . . . as the feathers flutter to the ground Went both of us . . . around and around Dagers drawn , guns blazing Like I said it is late of night Cursing and swearing my heart pounds Mark on my bolts , holding thunder I notch another line on the barrel of life Blackbird ! Blackbird ! Blackbird be ! I am the blackbird sitting in your tree Peering into the aspects that you might be Kaw . . . Kaw . . .
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Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 7:25 PM UTC
Blackbird Sitting
I dreamed I was at work And everyone was naked but me. A bunch of naked co-workers As far as my eyes could see. They were pointing at me laughing The moment I walked through the door. They behaved as they didn’t Know was clothing was for. Pointed at my chest area Right were my ******* would be And at my crotch as well And asked me “How do you *** All of that material there. It really must get in your way. So, what’s the big idea Why did you come to work that way?” I mumbled and I stumbled And bumbled my way to reply. I told them I really didn’t quite Understand all of why They were all naked here, and I was wearing a lot of clothes. I finally told them all that Sometimes this is how it goes. They started laughing again And one girl tried to make amends. She said the pants I had on Gave me a very cute rear end. My face turned red, I said thanks. And some said I was blushing. I headed back to my desk, trying Not to look like I was rushing. I woke up still kind of giggling And yet had a feeling of unease. I remembered the embarrassment Feeling being dressed was a disease. Usually it’s the reverse, of course. I am the one walking around bare. But something in this dream that night Helped me see some of the meaning there.
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Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 5:45 AM UTC
FLIP SIDE OF ******
A Strong sense of unease fills my mind and soul my body trembles is it fear or the cold night looking around at seemingly quiet streets what waits in this darkness that engulfs me once feeling safe and secure now I want to flee evil exists all about in the form of human beings cruel calculating driven by what often a mystery few cause so much misery and horror in society overpowering subtle in their persuasive false way most want to live peacefully keeping evil at bay do  you not feel it to that unseen lingering unease always there ready to attack like a viral disease! The Foureyed Poet.
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Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 3:29 PM UTC
Evil!
dysphoria can be defined as a general unease or dissatisfaction, a discontent but dysphoria feels more like a disconnect my heartbeat feels more like a defect when it throbs against my shrinking ribcage I can feel that it's making a dent dysphoria comes from a greek root meaning "hard to bear" it is hard to bear **** it's hard to breathe literally physically I cannot breathe I cannot be free dysphoria is when you have to close your eyes while you shower so you can't see each breath shakes as it comes out of me there is medical material clung so tightly to my body it has become an extension of me and nothing on me belongs to me I am trapped beneath waves of what I can't stand to be my body of water feels more like an anchor I am drowning and you can tug at my spine but you cannot feel me I cannot even feel me I would do anything to make these ends meet dysphoria grabs hastily a current does not care your worth, it just pulls you under dysphoria does not care if you deserve better dysphoria is a disconnect and I haven't found directions to the end
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Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 8:00 PM UTC
d y s p h o r i a
Loons in the vineyard –  sound the alarm ! Satan is milking his metaphors. Such silly music portends no harm; call home the cows and open your doors. Brian Hugh Warner, a paleface freak after finding his mom’s mascara darker enlightenment did seek and crowned himself with Baal’s tiara. Scary drag-queen, scandalous, vain Marilyn – the creepy thespian rolled that fish-eye and snorted ******* like Crowley…  how pedestrian. Flashing his glowing cataract, he gave the mommies quite a fright. Censorship launched; no badder act did sail (or assail) our sinking night. Gothic dim-wits purchased CD’s bought the goods, pierced parts, wore black. (Cause for certain parents’ unease: MTV’s Antichrist on the attack). Son of Man – or rather, Manson Milked to the max his demonic cow; playing Satan’s naughty grandson showing the flustered milk-maids how. Urban legend surrounds this fowl (those ribs removed – like Adam’s sin!) Is he a misunderstood night owl – or a has-been loon in a loony bin? Rock-stars age (well, most) like a cheap wine. or else in the way once-ripened grapes withering, sun-struck, off the vine transform, with age, into wizened shapes. No – I am wrong. They age like prunes; plums thus pass into their glory. Even Luciferian loons find lakes of fire at end of story.
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Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 9:23 PM UTC
Marilyn WHO ?
Squalid off-white cube fluorescent buzzing hue water stained tiles tribulation from digital files dilapidated symbiote invisible hungry parasite optimism capsized in the abyss tedium tongue french kiss five hours a month forest bathing in the sun a cure they say nature is a gateway shambling down trails languid gait sails fractal patterns surround tweets in background head starts to clear wondrous frontier five hours a month soaking in the sun not enough time to melt away grime five hours a week leaves a happier physique summer sea breeze rolling over unease basking in the heat leaving is so so bittersweet return to human farm pray for fire alarm nature is a gateway natures my getaway
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Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 8:52 AM UTC
The Nature Fix
You look better When you're smiling Doors of ivory hide unease Your smile looks better When your spiraling Down down chutes of self appease And I look better When you're defiling All the things that live to please.
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Sep 3, 2011
Sep 3, 2011 at 1:11 PM UTC
****
I do not wish to end my speech with a dot or a coma, I only wish for my speech to be heard loud and clear. I may not be able to wish for a second chance for my speech, And still, I will hold on until the bruises are gone, And tears are no more. He, who wished for his words to be heard, She, who came to his life like an angel in the sky, They became one like day and night as a whole. No Life, No Worries! No to Life, yet you are still fighting. No to Worries, yet you are unease. You are the hero in your own story, You are loved in every pain I will find the answer For my ineffable life, I will surpass the wall To see the beauty on the other side My speech is about to end, How I wish for it not to end. But that is life in every angle, You just have to see through it.
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Aug 10, 2020
Aug 10, 2020 at 2:10 AM UTC
No Life, No Worries
And sad she's been. and drinking in the new year has everything seemed like it would fit into place... but fit in it does not, a square hole fitting a sphere shaped piece... attempting the new does the old fit in better than anything, and happy nowhere does she fit in, and drink does she more... but the more she sips the poison, does the toxin fill her lungs and more often than not does the feeling of unease take over her body... and simply the many that call her amazing really mean terrible... but know little that they mean terrible, and the few that read terrible, know simply the  tears that fall are more simple and complete than anything felt before, and every feeling felt before is unknown and foreign to those who think they are aware, but are really oblivious. always does the rain fall on those who ask for it, don't be sad and wish it didn't happen, because the truth that lies is what really exists and the new year brings in nothing but good hopes and wishes. maybe he should sleep. and ask for that does she not, she wishes the truth would surface, because then would the sun break through and the light be seen by many, and make all the pieces fall into place, and everyone would read the story much more easily in the light than in the dark of her thoughts and maybe then will her soul not feel so heavy but light. and always will she feel better if everything the alcohol keeps inside would stay inside, and the years past would not exsist and everything would fade away and the rain would it wash away everything... and pretend all that occurred didn't, and innocent she would remain instead of everything stolen from her heart would she remain happy, instead of ruined and just another pawn in life's game of chess instead of a piece of a game that can ruin others... and always ruin will she because she deserves death but isn't strong enough to give, because if strong enough to give would everyone serve time and deal debt instead of tears filling cups, and woes filling life, and pain filling strife... maybe then would the debt be repaid but no... the heart still beats with unknown determinations... if the truth of it all showed would the heart truthfully give up and let the truth give in... whereas the life would be lost and no one would question it...
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Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 3:22 PM UTC
The Drunken New Year
And sad she's been. and drinking in the new year has everything seemed like it would fit into place... but fit in it does not, a square hole fitting a sphere shaped piece... attempting the new does the old fit in better than anything, and happy nowhere does she fit in, and drink does she more... but the more she sips the poison, does the toxin fill her lungs and more often than not does the feeling of unease take over her body... and simply the many that call her amazing really mean terrible... but know little that they mean terrible, and the few that read terrible, know simply the  tears that fall are more simple and complete than anything felt before, and every feeling felt before is unknown and foreign to those who think they are aware, but are really oblivious. always does the rain fall on those who ask for it, don't be sad and wish it didn't happen, because the truth that lies is what really exists and the new year brings in nothing but good hopes and wishes. maybe he should sleep. and ask for that does she not, she wishes the truth would surface, because then would the sun break through and the light be seen by many, and make all the pieces fall into place, and everyone would read the story much more easily in the light than in the dark of her thoughts and maybe then will her soul not feel so heavy but light. and always will she feel better if everything the alcohol keeps inside would stay inside, and the years past would not exsist and everything would fade away and the rain would it wash away everything... and pretend all that occurred didn't, and innocent she would remain instead of everything stolen from her heart would she remain happy, instead of ruined and just another pawn in life's game of chess instead of a piece of a game that can ruin others... and always ruin will she because she deserves death but isn't strong enough to give, because if strong enough to give would everyone serve time and deal debt instead of tears filling cups, and woes filling life, and pain filling strife... maybe then would the debt be repaid but no... the heart still beats with unknown determinations... if the truth of it all showed would the heart truthfully give up and let the truth give in... whereas the life would be lost and no one would question it...
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11
Sometimes we run into the arms of a terrible person just trying to escape a broken heart because loneliness has been known to taste like warm whiskey, parliament lights and the kiss of a lack luster lover who spent more time trying to lie you between the covers than they did learning to say your name out loud, you know the type. I'd be lying too if I didn't say I've been that kind, that tall glass of water promising to dampen a dry tongue which ain't got the courage to say I'm sorry, not to nobody else but to themselves. So I want apologize for not seeing or perhaps ignoring how crushed you were when I rolled you up in my arms the way hikers do sleeping bags and I held you in my lap because the car was packed and I didn't know where else to put you. You must have felt safe there thinking you were the place for me to lay my head on this road trip we call life, but little did you know had the trunk not been full I would have been sitting alone face aglow from my cellular phone texting other women, probably with a smile. I am here to tell you, you deserve better and I don't want you ever settle for anything less than a lover's embrace because comfort plus time equals unease on your mind. Worrying whether this companion of yours has become a stone tied to your heart with a heavy rope and its tugging you down into the dark blue depths filling your lungs with ice cold seawater with every last breath. I want you to be with someone you can chase for the rest of your life and when you get tired of swimming they won't leave you treading, chumming shark infested waters with blood from a poorly stitched heart but they will follow and follow until you both find that deserted island, that paradise you promised one another.
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Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 10:55 AM UTC
Hikers & Swimmers
Sometimes we run into the arms of a terrible person just trying to escape a broken heart because loneliness has been known to taste like warm whiskey, parliament lights and the kiss of a lack luster lover who spent more time trying to lie you between the covers than they did learning to say your name out loud, you know the type. I'd be lying too if I didn't say I've been that kind, that tall glass of water promising to dampen a dry tongue which ain't got the courage to say I'm sorry, not to nobody else but to themselves. So I want apologize for not seeing or perhaps ignoring how crushed you were when I rolled you up in my arms the way hikers do sleeping bags and I held you in my lap because the car was packed and I didn't know where else to put you. You must have felt safe there thinking you were the place for me to lay my head on this road trip we call life, but little did you know had the trunk not been full I would have been sitting alone face aglow from my cellular phone texting other women, probably with a smile. I am here to tell you, you deserve better and I don't want you ever settle for anything less than a lover's embrace because comfort plus time equals unease on your mind. Worrying whether this companion of yours has become a stone tied to your heart with a heavy rope and its tugging you down into the dark blue depths filling your lungs with ice cold seawater with every last breath. I want you to be with someone you can chase for the rest of your life and when you get tired of swimming they won't leave you treading, chumming shark infested waters with blood from a poorly stitched heart but they will follow and follow until you both find that deserted island, that paradise you promised one another.
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51
Writing heads, stooping down, On desks made to conform While water plays outside Free, no form. A wandering mind, With Innocence is filled, A question of marriage, Drops running down the sill. In uniforms so close, People come and go, Forget the magic rumble Of the world in tow. The need to wake up, To sights like these, We forget and sink, In the streams with unease.
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Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 1:53 AM UTC
Rain Gone By
one drop of fruitless satisfaction two spoonful of unease three teaspoons of emptiness four quarts of loose tears a handful of frustration, pints of jealousy gallons of heaviness dozens of music, and a sea of thoughts but a drop is enough for me to drown My teeth hurts...
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Jun 7, 2021
Jun 7, 2021 at 1:56 AM UTC
cake
I fashioned myself a dress of black lace; Dark and elegant, epitome of grace; Soft on my skin, caress like a lover's, My comfort, my design, a haven of covers. They called it macabre - filled them with unease; Dangerous, they said, termed it a disease. And yes, I'm unwell, but darkness is my veil - A reprieve from hell, solace without fail. I am the tailor, the sculptor of shadows, The reaper of melancholy my art sows. And yes, it is odd, fragile, morose - The marble thorns of an obsidian rose. The judging whispers that follow in my wake, Can't comprehend I do this for my sake: The sharp edges they call jarring and cold - They are my palace, impenetrable stronghold. Where others see emptiness, I notice lace, The gossamer threads of a misty embrace; They are but blind to the kingdom of nothing, Only see moats, and wall canons jutting. My castle of ghosts, the court I control, Those remain hidden, deep in my soul. The siren song, my foggy lullaby, The velvety clouds on which my thoughts lie. It is morphium, made in my mind Embroidered dullness only I can find. The words bounce off my protective bubble, Your bombs shatter into a gray rubble. I blow it away, along with my fears, I got good at this, during the years. Give me some credit, I am no fool, Where others would drown, I can rule; I know not to freeze, when water's too cool, The fire you'd burn in, I use as fuel. Yes, it's a thin line, I know it best, But I'm a trapeze-artist, can pass the test; A veteran of trade, the air is my nest, I've learned to live without getting rest. And I know my limits, how far I can press, Worry you not, I've survived on much less. I'm not glass, disperse your concerns, If need be, the lace to razor wire turns.
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Sep 20, 2020
Sep 20, 2020 at 6:16 AM UTC
Black Lace
I fashioned myself a dress of black lace; Dark and elegant, epitome of grace; Soft on my skin, caress like a lover's, My comfort, my design, a haven of covers. They called it macabre - filled them with unease; Dangerous, they said, termed it a disease. And yes, I'm unwell, but darkness is my veil - A reprieve from hell, solace without fail. I am the tailor, the sculptor of shadows, The reaper of melancholy my art sows. And yes, it is odd, fragile, morose - The marble thorns of an obsidian rose. The judging whispers that follow in my wake, Can't comprehend I do this for my sake: The sharp edges they call jarring and cold - They are my palace, impenetrable stronghold. Where others see emptiness, I notice lace, The gossamer threads of a misty embrace; They are but blind to the kingdom of nothing, Only see moats, and wall canons jutting. My castle of ghosts, the court I control, Those remain hidden, deep in my soul. The siren song, my foggy lullaby, The velvety clouds on which my thoughts lie. It is morphium, made in my mind Embroidered dullness only I can find. The words bounce off my protective bubble, Your bombs shatter into a gray rubble. I blow it away, along with my fears, I got good at this, during the years. Give me some credit, I am no fool, Where others would drown, I can rule; I know not to freeze, when water's too cool, The fire you'd burn in, I use as fuel. Yes, it's a thin line, I know it best, But I'm a trapeze-artist, can pass the test; A veteran of trade, the air is my nest, I've learned to live without getting rest. And I know my limits, how far I can press, Worry you not, I've survived on much less. I'm not glass, disperse your concerns, If need be, the lace to razor wire turns.
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42
I still remember that day. The unsettling unease. The drive, I still remember the feeling of the cool air against my skin. The silence of my phone. The increased rate of my heartbeats. Something was wrong, I felt it as if the sky itself was telling me. The memories that follow I can never unsee, as if it was stained perfectly in my mind. That day my heart sank into the abyss. If only I was sooner. Can’t help but find it comedically painful.
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Aug 1, 2022
Aug 1, 2022 at 4:24 PM UTC
December 11, 2016
'A profound state of unease or dissatisfaction.' I can understand that. I ache. My body twitches with the unseen tremors      of muscles that were never there. And sometimes my fingers and skin fool me -      wrinkles fade into existence      as my body is at once      too large and too small for      the galaxies burning within.
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Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 11:51 AM UTC
dysphoria
oh what sustains this mind a mind that teeters on the edge of a spiral vertigo that sways and rocks in an unease of palpitations attempting to escape from the brutal insensitivity of the granite faces that occupy the streets a mind of hallucinated perceptions with a constant stream of imagery that finds a difficulty in the self negotiation, the articulation of its inner geography where a frightened availability of disturbance in the vocabulary of its chemical graffiti leaves speech vacated on the tongue where eyes are pushed to see a discord of sympathies for different dimensions that has one disassociated, cut off from the immediate living in an inner dialogue of rebellious and unconventional preoccupations a self alienation that heightens the poetic colouring of the imagination causes a ************ of the mind that makes me cripplingly aware of the abyss at the heart of my inner disquiet makes my toes hover on the jagged edge of the world yet I jump choosing discovery over societal dictum to do rather than be
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Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 9:00 PM UTC
to do rather than be
Most people grow gardens with flowers and peas. But I am not most people. My garden is rather unique. Come quickly outside if you dare take a peek. Follow me out the door but don't be too hasty I will return you here looking awfully pasty. Into the woods we go with a feeling of unease remind yourself you may turn 'round if you please. You wear an expression of bravery plastered to  your face I'll warn you that is entirely out of place. My garden lies far, far away The entrance: this long narrow path Upon return I suggest a nice lukewarm bath. We march on silently Straight to my clearing Where all that dwells is hardly endearing. We arrive at gates I push them wide open and glance at your face, the expression most potent. You stare out at my garden Your weary eyes cautious Searching for normality with obvious malice. There is nothing of that sort to be found here. So sorry to disappoint you, my dear. From the unicorn pasture to the golden archer near the tentacle bed and the swooping vulture Round the corner lives my large pet dino being lead by a petite albino by the pond grows my crop of egg head while nearby lies a heard of enormous sized rhino Your gaze falls on my pink sparkly pegasus being rode by a tiara topped princess on a field of grass that is blood-red bordering a lake worthy of the great greek god Isis. As I watch your face change with shock and a pinch of delight I see you won't put up a fight You'll help me grow and raise my unparalleled garden You might even defend it and be my trusty warden. All that matters is that my garden is safe. And to be honest, I couldn't be happier.
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Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 4:47 PM UTC
Mystery Garden
Most people grow gardens with flowers and peas. But I am not most people. My garden is rather unique. Come quickly outside if you dare take a peek. Follow me out the door but don't be too hasty I will return you here looking awfully pasty. Into the woods we go with a feeling of unease remind yourself you may turn 'round if you please. You wear an expression of bravery plastered to  your face I'll warn you that is entirely out of place. My garden lies far, far away The entrance: this long narrow path Upon return I suggest a nice lukewarm bath. We march on silently Straight to my clearing Where all that dwells is hardly endearing. We arrive at gates I push them wide open and glance at your face, the expression most potent. You stare out at my garden Your weary eyes cautious Searching for normality with obvious malice. There is nothing of that sort to be found here. So sorry to disappoint you, my dear. From the unicorn pasture to the golden archer near the tentacle bed and the swooping vulture Round the corner lives my large pet dino being lead by a petite albino by the pond grows my crop of egg head while nearby lies a heard of enormous sized rhino Your gaze falls on my pink sparkly pegasus being rode by a tiara topped princess on a field of grass that is blood-red bordering a lake worthy of the great greek god Isis. As I watch your face change with shock and a pinch of delight I see you won't put up a fight You'll help me grow and raise my unparalleled garden You might even defend it and be my trusty warden. All that matters is that my garden is safe. And to be honest, I couldn't be happier.
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45
Train rides and trains fare Hurling over hills and through fields And we sit together, collectively Calmly, reading, typing, talking A train community The train jumps with apology When your legs twitch or meet Muttering sorry, barely lifting a head To mark a general unease At the close space we all paid to use Seeming so personal to share a seat With another who finds a song to choose Over conversation with a stranger Shared time We share daydreaming
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Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 5:30 PM UTC
Legs on trains
In the heart of the guilt lies a poison worst than that of a cobra He stays speechless when accussed Like a robe tied round his neck The truth burns down his throat Like a burning flame down a hole Causing him an unease feeling To split out the truth Thou tries to stick to his lies But the burning flame burns him harder Till he let go the truth
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May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 5:39 AM UTC
GUILT
Half way across the globe evacuate Get moving before it’s too late It’s the mighty winds that blow Don’t let your escape be slow Winds are beyond a refreshing breeze Trees are being uprooted with the feeling of being unease Heavy rains are pounding the coastal towns There’s a silence of citizens in having no sound A time to pray Eyes up to Heaven being the relay Winds upon blow No it isn’t some reality show It’s the elements against man The strength of God bearing on the land The Typhoon being a reminder for the world to pray Have courage and wait out the storm Some parts of the world this is the norm Yet stand firm with Faith Typhoon’s come and go Where there is a Typhoon and rain, skies do part and sunshine is what remains.
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Jun 15, 2017
Jun 15, 2017 at 9:04 AM UTC
A TYPHOON COMETH