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EgoFeeder May 2013
How long could this insightful illusion possibly remain?
Is this nirvana even remotely feasible to ascertain?
Why am I so weary? Why do I even pretend to implore?
How many times can one man forget the anguish he adores?

No being can sincerely state such extraordinary transcendence;
our insight only goes as far as an allusion to dissonance
One that merely reveals the futile inception of affliction;
Constructing the demeaning fortitude of vile attrition

This vessel to enlightenment is the same as any other;
Conjuring a spirit will only leave your will to smother
Just as the knowing of any faith is mere hallucination;
A malicious state of mind that writhes in fixation

Suppressing all earthly emotion through it's malevolent wraith;
Shedding all inner doubtfulness to parallel the warmth of faith!
Like Singing a melody without the prejudice of protruding eyes!
Or conversing with an assembly of reflections with no disguise!

Oh how these phrases proclaim such Sancta simplicitas!
And if I am he who is - what does that leave me as?
A foundation of flesh that hosts a gullible fool;
Thriving in exception as opposed to the rule!

The brew had peaked it's height and was entering the comedown;
Transforming my gleaming smile into a nihilistic frown
Depressing my virtue into a topic for their impish debate;
Is it possible that the truth we've uncovered is something you hate?

Or in a similar term - a knowledge you can't understand.
And, If what we ask is true; We'll have no choice but to disband
We've no use for an embodiment of weak character and will;
So, answer proudly or explain your fortune of ill

As much as I would love to continue forth with this high;
It would be little more than an instinctive lie
I'm sorry for all the time I've wasted with you all;
The comprehension I held for a moment has ceased to a crawl

I don't mean to take any merit from your success or glory;
But if I'm to stay here tonight it will be little but history
And, no achievement could come out of the addition of my tale
From the deliverance of my conception I've been set to fail

Any moment that I've felt some affirmation of my intelligence;
It has become misconstrued into an entanglement of rememberance
A procrastinating delusionist that can't seem to forget the past;
Endlessly oppressing my outward impression into a sickly broadcast

For I can only profess my Elysium through a few simple thoughts!
Like a yearnful longing for belonging that escapism had wrought
The only contentment I've ever known has simply been indifference;
A veiled acceptance of happiness that is portrayed with vehemence

Can you now see that this gathering has been doomed from the start?
For poets and prophets know naught but a deceptive art!
Enticing others with their own personal mantra, and presence;
To conclude this rehearsal I must commence with my absence
Anthony Carrasco Feb 2016
I live in this fantasy world,
you see.
An imaginary time of lent,
in my total control.
One where instead of giving up sugar,
and sweets,
I am able to give up my emotions,
all of them.
I need to forget what it was like to
be happy.
I need to learn how to be angry with you,
not yearnful.
I need to psyche myself into believing...
this feelings ends.

If only for fourty days and fourty nights,
I'd give my love for you up in a heartbeat.

If only you were like my appendix,
then I could tear you out and somehow live.

But I'm left with you as a literal piece of my heart,
I bleed slowly everyday we aren't together.
Just a quick thought going through my mind as lent has officially begun.
jeffrey conyers Nov 2012
Astonishing
Beautiful
Caring
Dazzling
Exciting
Fabulous
Generous
­Heart-felt
Implicit
Joyous

At the moment, I have name ten qualities that makes up you.
And those that knows you would agree are true.

Keen
Lofty
Marvelous
Nice
Original
Perceptive

These are six more reasons that keep me loving every part of you.
They represent you.

Quietude
Reliant.
Sensual
Tenacious
Unrivalled
Valuable

Th­ese are six more things people can testify about you.
If they know you.
Or dont.
They will spot this within every part of you.

Worthy.
This quality alone any many could see.
And come away believing it.
It just shows.

X
In my life.
This you'll never be.
You simply means the world to me.

Yearnful.
This I admit is my weakness.
When it's you.
You has this control to create this feeling within me.

Zest.
Again, you shows it.
And anyone that has been in your company knows it.

Twenty six words of loving qualities.
And love wasn't used once except in my ending of this message about you.
Izlecan May 2018
The elegy is sighed in a yearnful of moan,
Tis' a discourse , 'tis a toll.
For the knell is foundered with
A mouthful of thorns,
'Tis a dispatch, 'tis a call.

Howl hither the malicious dawn;
Dawn it is, the two faceted flow:
A presence of those masquerade *****.
Until a haul, 'tis a faux.
"'Tis a fault, 'tis a fault."

In their deed, the cloisters are redeemed  yclept the hiss and yclept the haul,
'Tis a discourse, 'tis a fall
"'Tis a fault and 'tis a fault."

For I sin above all (too),
And in a remorse I heave,
Then, out an elegy I sighed;
There,I merely nod:
"Yes, indeed(!)"
'Tis a fault of mine now, 'tis a fault.
Amara Feb 2019
I have often wondered
Is it the same wind that touches my skin
that makes the birds fly
İs it the unfairness of fate
or just my fatal flaw
That binds my feet to the earth
Yet calls my soul to soar
under the open sky

Maybe
its because I have darkness within me
The darkness of the free
The darkness that soothes
the darkness of the lovers inside of me

forged by deadliest of fires
bathed in most heart-wrenching tears
dimmed the brightest of lights, their light
ruled the most sorrow filled  hearts

yet it still found a way
a way to look up at the midnight sky
and gave a yearnful cry
still oblivious
it didn't need wings to fly
trust me, i never want to
leave the poetic trance,
but tonight
i found out
everything about
the strain in looking straight,
we are nothing
but virgins for selfish desires.

look to your right,
who's with you?
who's that person
devotedly and passionately
holding you by the arms
and never letting go?

the hollowness in it
provides
no ledges or windowsills
to save you from the
survivable half-storey fall.

it's always shitfate,
always sullen aubergine
polaroid shots.
what shitluck to save you
from your yearnful desires?
head to the valleys,
the flood is tricky.
this poem is hiding something.
the heir can't be trusted.
the glimpse
is a catchy math rock jam
to keep you going
and going
and going
and going
and going
and going
and going. . . .

we both know all too well,
our pain never fails
to amuse me even at this point.
morallygray Jun 16
Caught you hiding in the little things
Like the written word
From that you cannot run
The crumbled letter once written so cold
now sits, smoldering at the depth of a trash can
and you lay there, smoke in nostrils and eyes watering
Until the brimstone and ash beckons
And you dig your hand into the refuse and waste
Pulling out the fire to ease the tears and cacophony
Only for it to wither in your hands
And you will lay there again
Eyes clear and white like lily of the valley
With vacant lungs and a yearnful demeanor
Wishing the burn would go away
It's hot today

— The End —