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Daisy Ashcroft Dec 2019
It's not a monster
That haunts me each and
Every night
It's the thing
That follows me
Everywhere
I go
It's just me
My conscience
And the
Demons inside
My heart
And mind
White Shadow Dec 2019
Everywhere I go
I am being followed
By your thoughts,
By my fears,
By my lonliness
That I try to get rid of.
I go to places to clear up my head
But every place have some memory related to you
That breaks me again.
It's not a demon that I am afraid of
Getting followed by
But it's the memories related to places I go.
Memories related to you
Memories of us
Memories of time when I was happy from inside
But those memories clash now with the reality
And haunt me like I'm it's prey.
Every place contains a unique memory...
brynnpowers Nov 2018
Every day the sun rises,
And it kisses the sky with beautiful colors.
I wake every morning to these beautiful colors,
the deep reds and oranges emblaze the sky as if the clouds were on fire.
As I look at this horizon I admire it.
The sky shows the world in a different light,
In this moment currently as I stare at the horizon. All I can feel, all I can think about is how peaceful and calm the world is at this moment.
I often think about how it would feel like to be a cloud, not having much struggle,
I smile glad to be me and not a cloud because without struggling then how could I grow?
Yes, the world is full of anguish and pain but, not in this moment.
This moment is the moment where I can just be me.
The clouds do not judge, they don’t criticize the way I look or the way I dress the stuff I do I am human nothing more nothing less in this moment I am human.
The sky is a wondrous and mystical sight I am always trying to alter those around me to try and make the world how I want it to be.
This moment is what I want to be.
This moment is what I want my future to be.
This moment is what I want to look forward to every day of my life.
But now I must arise and start my day.
So, I say good bye to this sweet moment of bliss.
Kellin Mar 2018
It's not you that I miss
It's the lost memories,
Forgotten time,
Pieces of my heart,
That followed you
When I was left behind
In March 2001, Melania granted green card
   asper elite EB-1 program
intended for renowned academic researchers,
   multinational business executives
   (linkedin with Uncle SAM)

or those in other fields, such as
   Olympic athletes and Oscar-winning actors,
   who demonstrated
   “sustained national and international acclaim”
   until...now, when (FAKE trophy wife)...
   besieged with WHAM!

The Don whips to defense of
   (legal residency status),
   sans his third wife
imbroglio finds the president flat footed
   regarding spouses' granted citizenry permission rife,
where details concerning former
   in vogue Slovak model now cushy life

challenging her right to live in The United States,
   the most Democratic nation
plus concomitant abrogation
   afforded robber Baroness admission

   dispensing hot button issue of CHAIN MIGRATION,
where sentiment underscored verbatim
   "Some people come in,
   and they bring their whole family with them,
   who can be truly evil. NOT ACCEPTABLE!”

The above on record as authentic Trumpian tweet,
hence quoted with poetic license,
   a prime example how two
   (or more faced) president didst react to un seat
fairness, which November twitter

   allowing parents with bearhug he did greet
   legal residency of her parents,
   Viktor and Amalija Knavs, as Elite
   who received figurative green light
   despite riding piggyback
   Nsync with military beat

ting back pesky atop flimsy green card,
   the freedom appetite got whet
scrutiny, and now a ironic Gordian Knot set
tilled and solved making mincemeat to pet

files, particularly equality
   for those skeined alive in the DACA net
ready to boot innocent offspring
   of supposed illegal aliens on the next departing jet!
Jack Winstone Jan 2018
The air is cold today,
but i'm safe in this jacket.
The steets are empty,
But I can still hear the racket.
The cars and the life,
The things I cant see.
I can hear the commuters,
but they can't hear me.

Like a ghost in public,
almost invisible.
The feeling it gives me
is so inexplicable.
I'm almost happy,
That I'm left in peace.
But it starts to  become eerie,
these empty streets.

I begin to wonder,
'Is anyone there?'.
I'm starting to feel,
that I'm in someones glare.
Should I look back?
or is it just me?
If anyone's there,
do I really want to see?

I hear the footsteps,
The feeling of fear.
Someone's really there
and there getting near.
Is it all in my mind?
Surely they're just walking.
Are the following me?
Or is it my brain talking?
Just the vibes of walking at night.
The Unknown Apr 2017
Why are you everywhere?
Everywhere like the sky
I watch the spark light
I watch the flame die
Why are you everywhere?
Like a spec of dust in my eyes
I tell myself I'll drown you out
With drops of my new life
But you're everywhere
What happened to the
Depression, introversion, fatigue
The Tired
That doesn't disappear
Neither do you
Everywhere
Like the land and sky
I never hit hard
I only ask Why
Are you ******* everywhere?
Relentless existence
A ***** of needle
Every. Time.
Why are you everywhere?
Behind the lids of my eyes
Mohammad Skati Feb 2015
Words without  deeds are not like                                                                 Words with deeds ...                                                                                                     We got tired with those words that imply                                                                No deeds at all ...                                                                                                          Words with deeds are like treasures and                                                                    That's the way with life .................
Martin Narrod Jun 2014
Most peculiarly of most things was that I thought all of this very fishy, daudry, drab, and boresome. This is where I turn on the second table lamp...

In a muster I arrived to the home of my aunt, where at once she drew me into the back of the house, down a flight of stairs made of tusk and bone into a catacomb where she kept a alive collection of wooly mammoths. She said the upkeep wasn't awfully horrendous as she had an invisible backdrop which led to a lion, a witch, and a wardrobe sort of thing. I stood in the gangway behind 10 foot high thigh bones waiting for one of the monstrous red beasts to come greet me, but what arrived was a very large elephant with longer tusks than usual. None of the red sillyness which I had dreamt of seeing in my previous years.

She could see I was not that impressed, and so I was led to another part of her home. Around the corner walked in my uncle in is superb and luxurious dress, reminiscent of 18th century British military fatigues. He said, "I bought the E.T. ride from Universal Studios, but as bringing the whole ride to my home I had them adapt a more suitable version to fit the property. A hangar opened and inside there were four chariots of orange and blue, diamond shaped school buses with their undersides aimed at withholding a V-shaped street. Then in two and two single file order all the classmates of my K-12 years arrived and took seat into the strappings of this 'ride' we were to take. Music played, John Williams even was produced by hologram, and after the ups and downs for several minutes we arrived to what I thought would inevitably be the forest, but rather was what I perceived was a Finnish town. The chariot I was in was stuck in the street, mud, rain, and soot entrenched us. I unbuckled the polyester straps and when I stood I realized that though the seats had built in urinals and toilets they were utterly noiseome to the senses. I followed a local girl to a food mart where I asked how I could find where I was but no one spoke a drop of English.

I corraled the group and told them to wait for me. I followed this girl who seemed quite younger than I to a small apartment in the uppermost floor of a very unsturdy chapel-like home several suburban blocks from our ride. She immediately removed her pants and I saw with my very own eyes that she was hairless and nubile. She insisted that we have a ****, and after I caressed her and complained too that she was far too young, she insisted that the age of consent in Germany was actually 13 yet she was 16. I remember it clearly. The most gigantuous feelings of pleasure as I mended a studio closet for my dining room furniture inside her ripening channel. Eventually after an hour we finished, she offered me a towel and some biscuits, which I consumed joyously.

Upon leaving her home I remembered that she had said we were in Germany, and so I produced a measure of Deutsch that I had been saving in my repetoir for the right moment. As Finnish is not my strongest language I was pleased of this and became instantly popular among the other candidates of our journey. This  E.T. ride is far different than  I remember it having been. Moments later I awoke quickly, a tuft of her black hair on my eiderdown comforter and a veil of tears from the merriment of glee shrouded over my face. After I rolled and balled into the soft feathers of my bedding, I twisted myself again into a knot, and allowed myself to rejoin the soporific treatice I was aiming for.

This is now where I turn off both lamps and go on watching films of a similar style.

Wishing You The Very Best,

Sir Martin Narrod

I keep my family of conscience
I shred my folly of heir
In case of torment or fondness
I never wear underwear.

— The End —