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Hollow Steve May 2018
If a wish was true,
And nothing else was  permanent.

I'd have some sort of relevance,
nothing really.
Just a point of others distances,
Its not like we're truly alone
Maybe not

How else do you help the others...
*** helllp themmmm everyonnnnnenenenenefuckkkkkk
Paylei Rose May 2018
Have you ever been so happy that you can’t stop smiling?
Well that’s how i feel when i'm with you
I know i'm bad at words and saying how i feel
But with you it's different
I say all these things that i don't even know i'm saying
I start rambling on about the little things
You are the cause of my happiness
You are the reason i'm sitting here writing love poems
Not knowing how to express emotion but knowing it's there
I know this all is just a ramble
There is no rhyme scheme or pattern
Truly you wouldn't consider it a poem
But with you my life turns into a rambled poem
So many thoughts that need to be said but none are spoken
Instead i try to express it with the thoughts and actions
Even though i still fail, you still love me
You have turned me into this love crazed mess
And i love it.
Umi Feb 2018
What might it be that doesn't let me compete to three verses ?
Perhaps it is that I tend to write longer poems, perhaps the lengh
shouldn't matter so much as the message is carried through.
From mind to heart, then to ones soul I try to reach out with no goal.
Yet am beaten, brought back down, by three verses which show up
with such malice, ominous, threatful aura, they have approached me.
I pretend not to mind, I pretend not to have seen it, yet the simple,
silly, broken stream in my thoughts has already engaged it.
So that it once again, cannot repress, envy on such a level.
My writing style might have been through changes, might have
come to a disliking to those who prefer a clear, structured, yet well
recorded, beautiful and magnificent rhyme pattern.
That should surely catch one's eye, perhaps fill them with glee and
bliss, happy thoughts that they would miss once they are gone.
But no, I cannot turn, this path was chosen, locked, destined to be
walked upon on an journey which has become endless, by time
which had stopped passing anymore.
So now it became unrecognised, forgotten, left in an abyss without
any light to expose it to the world outside my head.
Such is the fate, which I will gladly bear with, for this, has been
a  route, from which I learn and educate.
So go ahead, you can take my flame thrice, even if I might not be
able to burn this image into your eyes, this ember, about to go out
from the cold, windy, airless area, will only burn brighter.
As it rises from the ashes and yet again, goes ablaze

~ Umi
Stara Jan 2018
Used to your pattern
Yet I still drown in the pain
Re-finding my strength
The strength to love you, and to walk away.
Mark Wanless Dec 2017
"The Rhythm"


The rhythm patterned daily grows and is
The conscious now replete
With shades and hues of legion feathered touch
As universe existent ill or good
The end is not a valid thought to think
Beginning spirals back in timeless forms
Of cause vibrating co-dependent atoms
Bump and bump no space between
Called here or there
Wise and deep and calm the ocean lives
Among us is us to the bone degree
Of what we guess we are
Words are spoken and mistaken
To be valid firmities
So walk we do up in the air of self
And dream we tread a ground eternal
Day by day with closed eyes fearful
Of the image in the mirror
Yet there is a way that stills
The shaped confusion foaming
Vast and brilliant in the heavens
Of the mind we share and share alike
That cannot truly be in darkness for
Inherent is a constellation
Casting light in ten directions
Every corner that is but a name
Illumined
Fox Friend Dec 2017
There seems to be a purpose and pattern
for everything lovely that God has created.
The pain is never in vain
it always happens
for a reason.

So where is my purpose?
Where is that pattern?

I cannot see far beyond all these tears
but what I am seeing does not add up
so either I am broken
or I am not one of God's
lovely creations.
riwa Nov 2017
we’ll go days without speaking,
a blanket of awkward silences wrapped so tightly around us that we won’t have any room to move.

then you’ll text me.
i’ll reply.
tell you how greatly i’ve missed you, and that everything is okay now.

we’ll talk.

i’ll forbid myself from falling for you again, but when had i ever really listened to my own warnings?

once i’ll start getting pulled in again,

you’ll start to pull away.
then i start thinking too much.

(28.11.17)
Mark Wanless Nov 2017
"Volcano In Heat"


The moving feet fit the pattern
of decay and purpose to
the open green grass field from
a historical perspective the future
is already halfway here in the language
of your choice the young lady with
down syndrome speaks English and Spanish
on the air plane going home or away
to from we are all time travellers
just slowly the ticks breed humans
the air the dirt the noise breeds humans
do you meet the goals of existence
if your breathing you do nuff said
bout that cough have you seen a doctor
it takes them twelve years to learn
how to act like what they want to be
then everything changes and there ******
taking it out on the rest of us
not letting us die not letting us live
they choose randomly it seems but
seven and eleven can be roughly predicted
as the step step step of progress may
be roughly predicted like fog in
San Francisco like snow in Minnesota
i bet sometime today you eat something
pay me i'm a clairvoyant seer just
don't know it or you or you know me
do you do you think you know me just
look inward and you'll see your guts
kinda all gushy and warm and wet
like a volcano in heat just the world
getting its rocks off
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