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Love In Layman's TermsHow do I sum it up?
Simplicity doesn't cover it.
I'm hopeless at best, let alone the worst
being matters of the heart;
where could I possibly start
to sum up what seems like an infinite?
Roses by the bunch,
maybe every other flower to be sure.
Perhaps flocks of exotic birds,
or a hundred million words
from the spectrum's start and end
that I'll never quite arrange,
because every combination seems so strange.
So to put it in layman's terms;
I couldn't hate anyone more,
yet couldn't hate anyone more
than I love you as well,
as far as I can tell.
Proverbial ButterfliesIt's strange how love affects me,
how simply I paralyse.
To the point that routine strikes;
decline my head, avoid your eyes.
But before I know, I'm helpless.
Hell; I never had a chance,
when such intricate emotions
can be triggered by a glance.
In turn, proverbial butterflies;
they flutter at the thought
of a slim chance of connection
in the time until they're caught.
Before Inevitability's net
performs its fated seize,
and I regain my flight until
the next time that I freeze.
MonsterWhen I was younger, my kid brother and I would play a game called 'Monster' every time my parents went to town for a few hours. I would hide somewhere in the house, and he would be the 'Monster'; stomping around the house and grunting loudly until he found me and 'ate' me.
One weekend, I heard the familiar stomping and grunting from my brother's bedroom, so I sprinted across the hallway to find somewhere to hide. Settling into a large closet, I pulled the door closed just as his bedroom door was flung open. The stomping and grunting sounds got louder and louder as they got closer, until he was standing right outside the closet. The noises continued for a few seconds at a feverish pace, before stopping suddenly.
After a few minutes of silence, I assumed he knew where I was and was waiting for me to leave. Poking my head out of the closet, I discovered he wasn't actually outside; the hallway was empty. I clambered out of my hiding place and went to his bedroom, but on inspection he wasn'
Linked Limerick One - DreamsI hate to be blunt as a theme,
but we're never at home in a dream.
So as much as we yearn
we will never return,
unfortunate as it may seem.
But that's where the beauty resides,
in the thoughts that our sleeping provides.
There's no bounds to what's real,
so we live what we feel
and all manner of wonder besides.
The Man Who Tried To Beat GodUnder the scrutinous eye of the Lord,
I fall to my knees and I call for more.
"Giving me life was your cruellest of tricks,
to teach me what prayer and faith was for".
"Tell me your thoughts on your grandest design
as the free will you granted fuels my hate.
That we're in your image was your mistake,
and using compassion has sealed your fate".
And as I stood up to face all that's divine,
my legs were shattered, and gave way beneath.
As I lay crying there dawned a conclusion,
powers-that-be have no need for belief.
A Blank SlateA blank slate.
Wiped clean of any and all familiar shapes,
reset to nothing. A world rocked,
then plunged into the dark.
Non-traversable landscapes expanding into the distance,
untouched by recent thought, uncluttered by memories
which so often strangle any freedom
under vine-like masses.
They'll never grow here. There's no nourishment,
nothing to feed the tangle, so it simply doesn't live,
then in turn it never gets the chance to die.
A single blink of an eye,
The human side of her cannot exist without machines.
The wires stretch across her,
every coil prolongs her breathing, every inch extends her life.
Every twist transmits an artificial means for her survival.
All it took was a fleeting collision, that she didn't even see,
and now she can never create.
Never think, never dream.
From now her only output is a stream of beeps,
that match the rhythm of her heart.
Diluted - UnfinishedWe show a side of us your God has never seen,
our good intentions were inventions
of a reasoning machine.
When we break there are no parts that fit
we build a wall across it all
and hope that no-one saw the lapse.
There's a cold storm in our souls.
To the depths Endeavour couldn't tread
before it drowned.
Our excuses fail to cover up the sound,
when every pain
just intensifies the rain,
our resolve swept out to sea and never found.
A Fix For What's Broken.The wind whispers to her.
Gives direction to the words that
otherwise lay dormant in her head.
Sensual tones that stir discarded thoughts,
She stirs in turn, a hand
beside her vanquishes her panic,
finding what she thought was lost,
to lose herself.
The words are rustled faster
in encouragement. Stories told before
are told again, but louder when repeated.
Too loud to ignore.
It affects her mind, the pleasure
rendered dull until the next time,
then the next.
Never an addiction, just a fix
to mend the damage done by casual abuse.
Mended until the whispering wind
tears her apart again.
a sliver of the galaxyto the star girl on the edge of my tongue:
your hair dye is fading; you are a patch work
quilt comprised of sleepless nights and
the world around you romanticizes
the sadness that fills you like a broken well,
but you know they’re wrong --
having a darkness that threatens
to overwhelm you every single moment
isn’t glamorous at all.
you’ve started to trace your skin
with a knife again, itching to press
a little harder, to draw on your body
the only way you know how.
but you won’t.
because that will mean
that you’re just as far gone
as they think you are.
and there’s still a sliver inside of you
that doesn’t want to let go.
--the girl on the other side of your mirror
Borderlined Once Too OftenDear Doctor,
I am not a pile of bones,
worn grey and yellowed
with the stains of this disease--
is a better plan than
an uncertaintity of pills;
(I won't even begin
to berate you for judging-
you'll get yours one day
when perhaps you'll learn
a label is a tool
instead of a weapon);
was never meant to mean
Sincerely, your patient
to the girl teaching herself to flyShe is trapped by a moonlit mind,
come silent in the night.
Surrounded by clouds, she is blind
to barren worlds; their light.
Searching for a sign, she survives,
although she knows she cannot thrive.
Searching for a sign.
Searching for a sign.
Anything to remain alive.
Her voice calls out, though no one hears,
screaming for redemption.
A shadow comes to kindle fear,
adding to the tension.
Someone please help me, she shouts, cries,
though on her cheeks, her tears, they dry.
Someone please help me.
Someone please help me.
But her screams turn to desperate sighs.
Weeks pass, and she remains divine,
still searching for escape.
Vines corkscrew themselves on her spine,
leaves curling up her shape.
Borrowing wisdom from her brow,
she learns to
For Love of the StarsMoon Mother sighs, somber,
beneath a laughing Sun--
his world is ending,
hers has only begun.
A Freshwater Soulyou didn't dream he'd tear blank walls, whip
furled fists, let partly tattered tales slip
early echoes, and allow
the lonely ships to sink, baring bows.
sail sea. river, remove
yourself far forth. prepare to prove
that you can keep a gruelling grip.
She Is HumanBlood-bathed warrior,
priestess and healer,
she was the fury
the calm and pity.
Heartbeat to deafen thunder,
yet drown beneath whispers,
she swept across worlds
tripped upon the same rock
hurtled through lifetimes
never wanted to die,
scrambled for maturity
defied to grow up.
Saw all on her axis,
chose blindness to the past.
Threw shields before enemies,
opened her heart,
refused to begrudge
forgot not her pride.
A Well Meaning LieSomeday I will lie
To everyone alive,
And they will never see
That the liar was always me,
Because my words of sin
Will only bring a grin,
To their faces
Which were always so very grim.
I guess I'll be ready
When the wolf comes slow and steady,
But I will not cry out with fears so heavy,
Because this is what a liar gets in the end of the story.
So even if I made you smile,
Just for a little while,
Try to hold onto it when you find out the truth,
That there's no joy in youth,
When it's all you can look back upon
While you lie forgotten and long gone.
You'll always wish to change,
Maybe then things won't be the same,
But isn't it strange,
That you would think that way?
I guess the good memories did nothing for your soul,
Just cause you all this pain while you're growing old.
You pretend it never happened
While you're looking at it,
And you complain that you want that feeling once again,
You want to feel that grin,
But you forgot about the lie
Told by none but I.
So when you're screaming
The Tangled Webs We Weave...
"Oh what a tangled web we weave,
when first we practice to deceive..."
Bob never really liked his job,
a clerk, in a room full of clerks.
Many a time he'd call off sick,
his unwitting boss- a jerk!
The sun was up, the air was fresh,
those eighteen links were calling.
Bob called in sick (a fevered chill),
his bold-faced lie - appalling!
But as it was his boss had plans,
clients that needed wooing.
So they hit the links at eight-o-five,
"Is that Bob? Who's he fooling?!"
Sad to say, Bob lost his job (sigh),
still unemployed, though he tries.
If only he had told the truth...
he wouldn't have been ensnared by his web of lies!
2. The Affair
It seemed to Joe she worked too much,
overtime almost every night.
He missed their quiet times at home,
he wondered, did she see his plight?
His best friend Ed had tipped him off,
Every little bitNo one noticed the empty chair
They were all busy
Telling each other what had happened over the weekend
People didn’t really notice the chair anyways
Even when it was full
But today is different
The teacher walks in
With a strange look on her face
And she tells them
The girl that filled that chair, is dead
It happened Saturday night
She was driving home
She fell asleep at the wheel
The semi didn’t even get a chance
They pronounced her dead at the scene
The shock comes first
She was such a quiet girl
Always at the back, out of the way, you know?
But not today
The chair is staring at them, with unseen eyes
And that’s when people remember
How polite she was
The small smile she wore
The soft voice
The tired eyes
The boy in front of her,
She used to let him borrow her pencils
Because no one else would
He didn’t even say thank you
Or always give them back
She would help clean out the locker of the girl beside her
Without being asked
Even with the moldy lunches at the
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More