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Stop the true music
Crush the dream under black
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Remember the kindergarten days?
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Why? Why test me that way? 1
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Lying in the bed The two sisters wander in their dreams
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Just a random poem that I felt like doing!
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OR: The flow is stronger than you can handle, stick to the tide-pool, kid. [Poem]
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Here I sit and here I'll stay1
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If time would stop and wait1
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I take the knife, slice my arm, drip drip. I take the knife, slice my leg, drip drip. Bleeding from everywhere. Bleeding from nowhere, drip drip. All the pain washes away. I fade into the darkness, drip drip. I am gone
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Just a little poem I whipped up! Hope you enjoy
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Hiding beneath a mask
like a second skin
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Your presence lingers in my blood1
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The girl I was, I really miss.
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When from a city of glowing coals
an ember rolls loose
a celestial gift of freedom
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While I strolled around in a dejected view, in the middle of desolate, countryside wood;
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Life is a poem I wrote in a mins.
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There is a voice, it cries enclosed,
Amidst recesses of my soul.
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I had been there since the birth of dawn,
I had gone there just to think.
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His art is not a still life
But a story waiting to be told
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I love how he makes me feel1
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Whenever should I make true the past?
Even if I should open fast the truth of the Ages;
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This is all I hear.
This is all there is to hear.
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Dad, I'm not going to watch you die. I'm not going to let you.
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Please take me by the hand and guide the streak
of lightning rush that pulses veins when struck.
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My dream, it begins with a single leaf
that falls to my lap and turns like a page.
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I’m hiding in the sun with the moon across my face.1
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your bones are quietly shifting
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Angels are happy Joy is innocent
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A really hilarious poem about the truth of beauty.
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Feelings i have for the man i love and my promise to Him.
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I sit beside the mighty shore And think of happy days I spent
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Now, I know I can’t grasp anything there is to guess about; or even what tomorrow’s gonna bring, all I’ve to offer to th
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dont you dare leave a comment TheRanter
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He was a prolific and unpredictable poet whose impact arguably influenced art, music and literature more than any of his crticis in the last 100 years. From Hemmingway, Yeats, Frost, and T.S Eliot; Pound’s passion never ended
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Bordered to say, without restrictive bring they for upheaval swingalings dancing themselves the minute-high Hourly redemption crucified for simple appeasantry dishes-- for the floor is dirty & the mag-ropes are higher than th
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W h e n s h e, t h y R a i n b o w L o v e, s m i l e d t o C h i l d r e n 's h a p p i n e s s s o r e l y g r o w i n g a l o n g -g o
by I989
400 words, 1 comment,
on Oct 21 9:19 PM. In Adventure, Hmm, Other, Poem, Poetry, Society, Spiritual, Unedited, War, Weird
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I write for the joy of writing. I write to lose and save my sanity. I write, because Someone commands me to. I write, because I must.
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Sinful souls lie chained to the molten grounds of Hell.1
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