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Blueberries blossom-trees,
Clouds made of soap-bubbles,
Creamy grass and foamy bushes
Of roses blue, purple and grey,
Grapes of red and Orange,
Wines of crystal clear greens,
Red-irises to tell of feelings
Too hot or too sad
Burning hues in a phtograph back home,
Where I don't want to go;
Chariots dragged by stallions
And spaceahips to take us to explore
Other natures...
No poverty, no suffering...
No twisted games,
Just peace...
Guns not allowed here.
Caleb A Johnson Dec 2020
You awoke in the blackness
A ghost in the kitchen
A weight pinning you to your bed
And here's the interesting thing
About ghosts and spirits and such
Not because I dislike them
Not because I wish them ill
Not because with reason and wit,
Should I weild my pen
and ****
But because
The subtle things are often missed
Things that are better
Than all of this
Are hard to see
With the pressing of the moment
When right and wrong
Are both their most strong
When true and not
Make all else to be forgot
But in the cracks the scientist stoops
Finding missed information
Little treasures and reminders
Of what was lost
In the gap
The smallest of oversights
The alternate worlds
Of pancake batter cooked
with the children
On a Saturday since forgot
Or the trace of *****
on the couch
From the love made last Christmas
The dna of a lover
Hiding under your nails
In our presence
But also separate existence
The shortcut of a conversation
Where words were said
But those heard were not
How is it different from that spectre?
A trick of the stimuli
A preset of the brain
Or remembering that place
Where I last put my keys
But they aren't there.
I find them in a space
But I know I didn't put them there
It must be a ghost!
But if a ghost it be
Does it want me to see
It's misty form
Or hear it's clamber in the next room?
Or is it a subtlety
Come to visit me
And show the moments
Of my life
Lost in the crevice
Never even noticed
What if our minds are calling for our attention? What if the things we call consciousness are only one part of reality?
Lowkie Nov 2020
-
Why don't parallel lines ever meet?
Is it because they are too similar
And if they ever could meet
The one will fit the other
And they would be complete
-
Maybe life never intended for them to meet
I mean look at Adam and Eve
Two half's of which made one whole
Made one mistake
That would spiraled the world out of control
God probably saw it wasn't good and he said no more
-
But it leaves me to question
People who found their other halfs
What secret do they know that we don't
Or do they get to happy and we don't
If so then where did we go wrong
-
When I look at you
I see the mirror image of me
When I think of it
Together we can set each other free
But maybe life never intended for us to be
And just like parallel lines
Maybe we're not supposed to meet
-
Lowkie ®
Druzzayne Rika Nov 2020
Here goes the story,
a parallel sitting along
it is just identical
there we go,
witness it happen
but it is just so action
in different retrospection
with varying intention
all I think about is
this in recursion
If I could just
change the friction
what could it have been
there is no comparison.
Karijinbba Nov 2020
Well I was born a self existing
Yellow Star on April 16 AM
a portal to heaven a seed star,
more then half a century ago.
Under a brilliant star I was told
like Jesus Christ I too was born.
Only I am female though
this must be a parallel world
remembered in the negative light wrongly perceived isolated
while all I do is love, give life
save lives protect loved ones.

I'm barely known or viewed even here
persecuted like Jesus was
Just look what happened to Him!
strangely in a way, I've lived His life
I heal myself and others by telepathy
with my healing hands and touch.

The same things happened to me
around the time Mom's birthed me
where she nursed me newborn
one deceiving snake covertly hid.
Later on another bit my leg
immunizing me for what was to come of me that I survived poisoning torture rejections jealousies
envies and was trashed mocked
and sold yes just like Jesus was sold
but for more $ the Jesus was
by a Catholic lunatic nun at age twelve
Perhaps because I am also
God's daughter and my fathers name was also David.
Wasn't Jesus from the house of David,?
I was plotted to be banished
as a baby and later on survivied
while many times left for dead.
Yes death is my friend, it didn't stay
or it released me every time
back to breathing
and among the living
or is it with the dead walking,?

Well then, I hope the Angels lift me up
from this grave called apartment
I shall conquer
death's final sting.

How about you? Describe
your life to me in a story poem.
~~~~~~~
By: Karijinbba
11-2920.
True story poem
living a parallel reality wish to influence
the errors so I can change this outcome.
solEmn oaSis Oct 2020
when in the wilderness,* then the portal seems so long and wide
no matter how heavy the distance is, let go of your deepest sigh ...
at the signal of the time, the wounded mind will exhile in the heart and heal any sore!
because for every success is worth the celebration!
no matter how big or small
even when the lines are not rhyming anymore!

do not be afraid, do not be discouraged, do not let your words slip,
express how you feel by looking up or kneeling.
and when you hold your pen and its loose ink ...
kindly convey your thoughts to a lifetime place that can grow around different corners!
someday,
howsoever ...
selfishness can correct the colorless mixture of fire and water
covered by heaven and Earth
and made thru the collision of Love and hatred
until a massive light fades, and obscures the limit of fading *views
detour to }!{ my alter ego!
when my own familiar world lost inside my left brain
but boldly came out to face
what is parallel with
unknown right in my future reality!
tia Aug 2020
falling in love with you
is like a wolf
looking above the sky
silently watching the eagle
freely fly during the night,

despite knowing that us,
as a pair,
as "you and i",
will never be.

albeit unmatched
and paralleled,
it happens still.

we just fall in love accidentally.
daffodil Aug 2020
A crack in my mirror, right in the centre
splits my image into a thousand pieces
versions of myself never quite realised
all that I am and all that I could be
each fragment a glimpse into a path not chosen
fingers reaching out to touch the glass
dipping into the reflection, a pool of possibility
if only I could crawl through the looking glass
or break on through to the other side
would I miss this place
am I happier there
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