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Poetic T Jan 2015
I trust no one without you
Stabilizing my thoughts,
But you have turned to ash
Now within the winds.

No longer with the living
Without you I wilt, I am
Less than I was. But I still
Miss your breath.

Could I motivate without
Your words to keep me in
The minds of reality, I am
Lost upon an ocean of thought
Without you I will capsize and
Loss my grip, without you I am lost
Poetic T Jan 2015
I need to cleanse it, free myself
Of this burden  tainted upon
My being. Cinders are drenched on
Flesh
Spirit
Expunge
That which writhes is not burnt away,
So I must eradicate its stench
It violates upon my being
I unburden the pressures so released,
Pyroclastic flows breath exfoliation on my
Soul,
Pealed,
Freed
Of that stench scorched into oblivion
I relish in the torment of those below
Freshly parched earth as lungs burn breath,
"Fallen misery descends in singed flesh"
I release the Feathers weighted down
Haemorrhaging as crimson flows to the
Stems,  expanding into the beauty
Of death, I am
Released,
Liberated,
Redeemed
Upon the fallen as I step upon ash
"Bones, death, rebirth"
As no longer afflicted,
I am once again blanched as purest darkness
Is Neither black or grey
"But lucid white"
"As purity is only clean"
"I am purity of darkness"
And the taints of humanity are flakes upon
Silent statues upon the ground, I am **malevolent incarnate..
Anonymous Dec 2014
Ash
And i look up and see fog in the sky and god isnt it beautiful
And I finally feel like i understand
And the fog blocks my sight just like these things that keep me up at night and i understand what it is im supposed to let go of
I understand how to move on
And i stare back into the endless fog
But ****
Its not fog
  It never was fog
Its ash
Spreading as far as it can reach
Swallowing everything in its path
Until you cant see two feet in any direction
The burning of everything i needed
Its all gone
Being destroyed and the ash surrounds me
Infiltrating my mind
Filling every inch until all i can breath is wasted life
And im drowning above water in the remnants of what iv done
And theres no point in trying to breath or swim or cry out for help
And the only thing bringing any sight is the light but the darkness is caving in god its coming from every corner
Its everywhere
I cant escape and im drowning faster and the ash surrounds me and takes my last breath and im gone
No one can see me
Im lost
Jordan Harris Dec 2014
To die of fire and born of ashes
how strange it must be
to be destroyed
by that which creates you

of course a woman is rendered as herself
by the ideas within her head
and decimated
by her own thoughts

and a man is rendered as himself
by the beating of his heart
and dismantled
by his heated blood

though neither man nor woman return from their destruction

I wonder if the death of the fire bird
is painful
does it know it will be reborn?
would this lessen the pain?

I would envy a man who was reborn again and again
but not a man who thought he died every time
Margaret Nov 2014
He wasn't always this way
A life  of smoke and ash.
He's A burned house
Only ash remains.


" He wasn't always this way"
I declare.
Not knowing his past.
But knowing no one starts like ashes.

No one starts like the ruins of his old home
Which was burned down
While his mother was still inside
No one starts like his mother ended.

He wasn't always this way.
Now he lives in ashes.
He lives for smolder. Lives for smoke.
Lives for ashes.

With every cigarette he has
Every drug he sells.
He lives in smoke.
Smoke and cinder.
His teenage lungs up in smoke.
His brain fiery addicted.

He said he didn't care.
A life in smoke.
A young life... tossed before the flames
Consumed

They lick up his soul
Relieved
He is.

Cindering, smoking
Smoldering.

Burned.


Cauterize the wound.
Obtain life again from the ashes
That were the death of you and your mother.
Like a Phoenix be reborn from the rubble
Smoldering and roaring
You are a beautiful flame.

Obtain beautiful flame.
Not searing flame
So I then I won't have to say
He wasn't always this way.
does he hold your face
better than i did
because all i seem to recall is
you leaning towards my touch
like i was sunlight and
you were hungry leaves--
now that's even funnier
because you did leave didn't you?

was he good at understanding
the little actions
the nuances of a head tilt
or that picking your nails
meant that you were
dying of boredom--
{or bored of me}?

and lastly,
did he find that you loved
words and stories with a brilliant fire?
did he ignite a burning passion
in that literary lovin' heart?
because if so, i hope he's a *******
library and you've burned him
to a crisp.
i'm not angry but maybe i'm passive aggressive sometimes
I used to tell you
things would be different now
They weren't
I used to tell myself
you would be there for me
Through the moments of certain demise
And when we sat up on our clouds of drifting smoke
You weren't
I held my breath
I waited for it to come down to this?
I stared into a fire that threatened
to burn down the whole world
or simply sputter ash till it put itself out
You once help me so close
That the comfort was everlasting
I made promises I wouldn't keep
My soul threatened to be captured
by the forced that surrounded me
But sometimes things need to happen
In order for us
to see a glimmer of light
in a night with no moon
Hannah Nov 2014
I would set fire
to all the flowers in sight
and watch their petals turn to ash
just to give myself a chance
for you to see me
as beautiful
-h.w.
Do you even think flowers are beautiful?
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