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"unfought" poems
Smoke and spirits to thaw my own Damp from days of cyclical heights Tripping over on sleep to singing whys Come in, she beckons, to a brand new night Of concern for battles unfought but lost Of a drifting tyrant who appears but is not What she seems, underneath, a scheming wreck Of quick made decisions, less quick to check That maybe, the vulnerable mind can harm Others, far more vulnerable than mine The time taken to choose may not always be The time span on effects those choices do leave I cry inside, giving you shallow hints Of truths that valleys could not contain Water rushes in fast, to fill the empty space I gasp for air, and wait for the Day But now all I wish for is spirits and smoke You’ve weakened all my rip-roaring fight To sink into laughter and throw away worry The death, the disaster of a brand new night.
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Jun 15, 2012
Jun 15, 2012 at 11:01 PM UTC
Smoke and spirits to thaw my own
I wish you believed these cracked bones, these arching tones, my so alones. I wish you saw my broken jaw, my tooth & claw, my obvious flaws. If you would listen to why I stay in bed, & to my cringe when the voices in my head sound, then I would tell you I am nothing, why I'm lost & not found. I would tell you that me, you'll never see, & I only live hypothetically. I am a ghost spirit, chained to this body, this ***** house all the girls frequent; they each claim the same identity & 'I' is a term they each invent. They speak in careful whispers & undo zippers & wonder why no one gives a **** They thrive in sequinned moonlights, unfought bar fights, & ponder where the day went. When things get rough I float outside my head, sit in the air, see the scene unfold; you think you speak to me, but you can't hurt me when I'm above you, friend to ceiling mould. The girls are masters of identity theft, & 'me'? Ha! There's nothing left. They love to push me into a dream; from there they rampage merrily. I thought I'd **** them, but it seems I'm live ill-vibe & bare-ily.
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Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 3:55 PM UTC
dissociate
I sink... I sink... I drown The soft glisten of the moon Reflecting off my drowning pool Speaks for us both; A reflection of a reflection So beautifully distraught In an identity crisis of the century-- The moon looks in the mirror And only sees the sun, She has lost all dignity That she kept so dear. The ripples of my love and I Slipping into the sea are no differnt. She looks into me and sees me drown And feels no differnt than I. Tears stream down the face of the moon And the rain trickles onto the sea. Our bubbles are the memories Slowly drifting from the mouth Slipping away to the surface. My love swims to the top to breath Yet I am here, sitting at the bottom Of the great blue sea, Breathless from her sight, Forged together by unfought tears And the pressure of its depth. I watch as you swim to the moon And bathe in her forlorne light Breathing, time and time again. For I will watch all night long And then go to sleep in the morn.
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Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 4:44 PM UTC
Drowning pool
A whisper in the woods Spins our heads in a vortex Of fear and wonder As our courage is vexed. A dream of a future Shapes our thoughts With expectations Of a life unfought. A shiver of discomfort Down our spine As we meet the one. It must be a sign. A whisper is wind in the leaves, A tumult of fear not to be believed. Dreams are just that, And our future needs work So pull up your sleeves. That shiver you felt Was the cold, not the deed, And if he was the one, Then what about me? Grow up from your dreams; They aren’t what they seem.
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Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 4:51 PM UTC
Supposing Dreams
Sound the trumpet; ring the bell. I must come out of this crystal shell. My thoughts revolve around myself. Save me; I’m nailed to my bookshelf. I’m immersed in the world I created: Ideal, just, and outdated. Disillusioned by bleak realities, I prefer to dwell in my own fantasies. You say I squander my time? That I will leave no legacy behind? Well I say it’s not worth it, Even if assured a golden casket. Why bother hollering at the deaf? Why bother waste by breath, When I’m an insignificant speck, Who happens to be a total wreck? My voice is hoarse, almost mute. Why insist to prolong my pursuit To speak for the voiceless, To be a martyr, a putrid carcass? But my spirit shouts and rattles To fight all the unfought battles. If no one speaks, who will? I’ll just be like those who **** Sound the trumpet; ring the bell. I must come out of this crystal shell.
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Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 10:30 AM UTC
Crystal Shell
Enter at your own risk. Into an unknown abyss. Seduction of the sun kiss. An ungranted wish. Fate with a twist. Darkness shadows, echos fades. You I want to follow. A choice I made. A occupy my time. Gather my thoughts. Be greatful for what's mine. Reflect on what I bought. Music draws me in to bind unfought through each chime. Coldness clings to the voice that sings. Fear & haunting is not what it brings. Intriguing & capitvating trapped in a hypnotic trance. Irresistable & unescapeable ****** in. In a personal bubble. I fall & tumble. A uncontrollable cycle. I trip & stumble. Without bearing or direction. I chose a path with further neglection. Without a guide. My heart openwide. My uncertainity subsides. Through the foggy light I glide. Parallal to default to seek what I sought. Senseless relent it was there I was sent. Calling me to it. Fragmented bit by bit. Reforming a whole to the other side. Teleported through a watery tide. Plasma fluid like sewage.
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Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 1:08 AM UTC
Portal (port hole)
this unfought war finally ends tonight. the madness, it has to stop here around these unscathed warriors. six feet under, i see them from where i am lying. full of happy faces in a world dominated by wasted chances, what might have been questions. along with queries that we never dared to answer, chances we thought would come again. i know this is the end of me, of us. flickering hope, regrets, a piece of me to you. i am ready to go, to let go. this unfought war finally ends tonight and i am free.
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Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 7:48 PM UTC
for lysa
Sitting in our heart of hearts a kindled pile awaits, hoping for that tiny spark that will awake its fate. Soon to be an ember, smoldering away, if we allow that light to catch and let it have its say. Flickering to life it comes once the fire has caught and nothing can deter its path with no battle left unfought. Be wary of this fragile fire lest it becomes a blaze and unleash a force so very great it consumes your ways. For inside each of us can burn a passion so pure, wild, untamed, beware for it’s your only chance to douse an eternal flame.
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Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 3:38 AM UTC
passion
Montauk What a shock Things unfought Stories not sought Maybe another plot? From what I got? Will I thought? A different shot? Will I be caught? Who cares, it’s not Their slot It’s not locked So I trot What if they bought Or if it’s snot And if they choose cots Anyways, I like the name Montauk
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Sep 18, 2019
Sep 18, 2019 at 9:41 AM UTC
Montauk
Stuck Fraught Distraught by thoughts: echoes of intentions unfought. Stalled by feelings unseen. Stoppable without skills or a team. Where's my tribe where my body can breathe? Where's my test where my body can heave all the weight of the world for a time and seize a moment alive to lift the seas and blind the sun with ecstasy.
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May 23, 2020
May 23, 2020 at 11:58 AM UTC
Stuck
Losing an unfought battle That seemed more like a dream With words to belittle And silent tears of scream Rising again to confront To that of anothers fate But rumors began its hunt And I was labelled as hate Closed eyes to erase the scenes That I know, doesn't exists Yet my mind gradually spins As I am walking through a mist Confused and tired of life to live I am who, people have kicked All in all, I stood up to give The fallen advices that I picked How unbelievable people get What they say, is only for a show They spin their words and set a trap Push you down, and hang you below I've been there, and laughed at Much humiliated by my own Until I walked away and met My true self, an unknown... ©sim
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Jun 28, 2017
Jun 28, 2017 at 2:20 AM UTC
Walked Away...
For the thousand lines leading to this next day, I offer thanks, for the balm made at Ein Gedi, ein Augenblick, nicht wahr? here we are, or I am, I kinda hiccup, like I ate too much of some too sweet, peaceability, just breathe, saying that each time, it works, we get a point, wait, just weights times, worths working wonders in reader thinking times, taken and used, to pay attention to times past abuses, at absorbent recycle the wars unfought worths, run the old ghosts across our prow, full steam, life is much more than a dream, live and learn, sticky peace, do bees are masters of the art.
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Jun 30, 2025
Jun 30, 2025 at 11:27 PM UTC
Do Bee Finger Paint Birthday Wishes Accepted