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 Mar 2015
oh-the-oddities
as he stared at her from afar
in a sweet, loving gaze,
with sweaty palms and a hesitating voice,
he never really realized
that someone else
loves him the same way he loves her.
- a. f
 Mar 2015
Kaylee
i believe that people
are like those sand paintings
that take years to finish
every shape
and
every color
is there for some reason
some accidental reason
or some intentional one
billions of tiny pieces to create one whole
over time the shapes and colors
may change
because they don't seem to fit,
and with all these grains
to deal with it is a slow process
to try
to make the picture right again
sometimes a wind
blows a section off
we then rebuild that section,
but it doesn't look the same
the whole is altered accordingly
we do this perpetually
until we inevitably
run
out
of the sand given to us
by some unseen hourglass
and then we die
and then the sand is swept through centuries into some giant sandbox as the picture slowly blurs
and dissappears,
until the table-top is cleared
and as the children play and dig
and the wind ripples and churns, eventually
we end up
being barely more than billions
of tiny pieces
in an endless
colorful
sandbox
 Mar 2015
Gaffer
He watched her walking through the night
Into the darkness of life
To the ever changing days
She glanced with the words trailing
You can’t see me
In the night all cats are grey
It’s always been that way
Did you see the sign
Walking towards
Like death walking towards that point
But going no further
Not when the gravestones scream
Injustice
For the mourned
They watch in the night
For that glimpse
As the rising mist
Touch her aura
In a strange way
We rejoice
Watching her walking through the night
Whispering
You can’t see me
In the night all cats are grey.
 Mar 2015
Ivy Rose
There's something odd about it.

How I know their names, their personalities, the jokes they tell.

How I know the plans you guys have made and the fun activities you'll all do as a team.

How I even know the costumes they'll wear and the conventions you will all go to.

And I know what I'd say in conversation with them,

How I'd get to know them better,

How I would put my best foot forward,

How I've longed to actually hear their voices so I can match them with their persona.

But that's not in the cards.
It's okay, I'm okay.

But sometimes I realize how disconnected I am from your world.

How far away and far removed I am.
And I remember that no one knows me.

None of them know my name, or my personality.

They don't know the plans we have made or activities we are planning.

They don't think about what they'd say to me in conversation, or how they'd "get to know me better".

They wouldn't need to put their best foot forward or hear my voice to match me to the rest of my persona....

Because to all of them I don't exist. I'm a distant acquaintance from a long time ago.

I am a passing name in very loose conversation every couple of months.

I am the one who knows but isn't known.

I am a ghost.

And no one in your life can see me,

Except for a very special person,

And that's you.

(i. r.)
One day is far away, but one day it'll come. And I'll come to light as most other things do...
 Mar 2015
Sirenes
Oh oh can you take me to the store
And can you put on Pantera
And blast it real loud
And then we could chat
And I'll tell you about my day
And you could sit there and listen
Oh oh can you put on a DVD
The one about the green oger
And the fairy tale creatures
We could watch it together
Doesn't that sound fun?

"Yes Dad that sounds great"'
 Mar 2015
freaky angel
I miss you
Like a thunder in the night
I miss you
those moments when you hugs me tight

I miss you
Like the desert missed the rain
I miss you
and its driving me insane

I miss you
like the bees miss the flower
i miss you
like a summer needs a rainshower

I miss you
like i never did before
i miss you
and it hurts even more

i miss you
and its like a needle in my heart
i miss you
and its tearin me apart..
aug'98 FreakyAngel
 Mar 2015
Kayden Fittini
A bond that is connected by an
understanding nobody can sever.
A lifetime can go by but our souls
would go on to meet, through time
while still loving each other.
A tremendous gift given as we gear up
for our Odyssey.
#love #timetravel #bond #connection #soulmates #poem #poetry
 Mar 2015
L
J
A year later, I'm still cradling your weeping sister in my unworthy arms...
Rest in peace, Juan.

**
Leigh
 Mar 2015
Kerli Tulva
Trust is fragile
Trust is made from the finest glass
Crocheted from the Ice Flowers
Pieced together with hundred hours.

Trust is tender
Trust has the wings of a butterfly
Blessed with the heart of a hummingbird
Invisibly, with delicacy, Trust is dispersed.

When Trust shatters
The sharp pieces stream together in your heart
As it will take hundred more hours
To find every fragment, yet hundred more days
To make up the Ice Flower with hardest ways.
 Mar 2015
Sally A Bayan
(Haiku X 4)

Something sharp's inside
Piercing deeply soft walls of
My throat, chest and heart

Can't swallow...can't move
In this too long a standstill
Punctured by fish bones

Deep inside my flesh
Cut by a stiletto knife
Life's balms can't heal...why?

Even when pulled out,
Mind never forgets the pain
Life's fish bones leave scars...


Sally

Copyright March 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 Mar 2015
Nope
Searching for a dream is a lie
If I could swim through the fall
Then summer would be mine
Last seen, in the corner of my eye
Just beyond the clarity that skips across the sky
Dancing on the edge of an eyelash
Normality’s the enemy, she’s foreign to my mind
Bodies grinding, the skin turns raw
Do you take your drunken promises
With ice and a straw
Ode to wicked sins, another hopeless romance
I guess you have to find yourself
To ever stand a chance
 Mar 2015
Victoria
Time separates me. By the neck and head.
It unscrews me, until I drop dead.
I don't want to write what you want to read
but then again I never want you to see me.

Don't do this, don't be foolish?
Let me tell you, don't
tell me I'm stupid.
Who are you
with your spiked shoes and hell hair
to tell me where to lay my bitterness.
Why - I'll drink myself to death.
Fig blood is sweeter than
the mud in my bedroom
and the drool on my textbooks
anyway
you'll never do a thing about it because
I don't think you've ever cared.
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