Hazey
2018-08-14 03:50 am
The thing that hurts the most. You calmed my storms. You helped make sense of the chaos. You plucked me from brokenness. Helped me find strength. I don't know what it was. But just looking in your eyes. Filled my soul with peace. I miss it. I miss the quiet. The calm. I miss us. I'm starting to feel broken again. Empty inside. Trying my best. Not to let anyone see. But there are days. Where control escapes me. Do you think of me? As often as I think of you? Do you remember my name? What it once meant to you? I look back on that day. March 10th. Where I lost you. Where every image I had of you. Just shattered. You were no longer a refuge. You became a source of pain. You still are to this day. I blame myself for it. For my losing you. It's been three months. Realizing it's true. I don't cry as much. Though my heart still does ache. Try as I might; I can't bring myself to hate; You. The situation. Us. I want to throw it under the proverbial bus. I can't. Because the sky still reminds me of you. It was our destiny. Our sky. The world was going to be ours. Accept it. It's over now. These dreams just won't come true. I need to accept that what we are. Is through.
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C Alfaro
2018-07-26 08:53 am
Strangers Friends Lovers Then strangers again vicious cycle never ends You know I love you let's not pretend, But where we are headed I've already been Rather jump ship then go through this again...
Gord
2018-04-24 03:17 pm
Poster of an omen, toking, Dreaming by a plastic ocean, Most fast forward, hopeful; King of post, tasks chosen, Still lives Midas, hands golden. Lapland where they dig holes, Smoke weed and dance poles, Kings of the foal, antsy, cold. The older they grow, though, He loses his power, cowers, Curses feeling, eats pantry. Banishes his people of necessity, Carelessly manages feeble himself, Paddles the plastic ocean, relieved; Departs common and flowers nothing.
Gord
2018-04-04 05:14 pm
Poster of an omen, toking, Dreaming by a plastic ocean, That most fast forward, hopeful; King of post, tasks chosen, Still lives Midas, hands golden. Lapland where they dig holes, Smoke weed and dance poles, Kings of the foal, antsy, cold. The older they grow, though, He loses his power, cowers, Curses feeling and eats. Banishes his people of necessity, Carelessly manages feeble himself, Paddles the plastic ocean, relieved; Departs common and flowers nothing.
Gord
2018-03-02 07:30 am
Quiet relationship, then gating, College failed in relation. Poems tight, metaphorical like, Similarly quiet, gait penned. Scholarship not pellet feed, Lettuce where the fences meet, Where the parents meet, And fight over simple weeds, Lifestyle and personality like.
Tina Marie
2018-02-20 03:12 pm
As I looked into my mirror one day, I could see, that a sad little girl was looking at me. I said to this child where is your smile? Through tears she replied, "Can we talk for a while? Your mommy is dead. They took your daddy away. I don't know how you face your mirror everyday?" Besides the lump in my throat, I also felt, a tear trickled down as my heart begin to melt. Sweet Child you see, it is hard to explain, how people can hurt you and cause you such pain. but if you believe that God sent us Jesus his son, you can face everyday and you won't have to run. So smile little girl there is a whole new world of love and happiness and a brand new start, the moment you ask Jesus to come into your heart. Looking deeper yet, into my mirror I could see, that this sad little girl looked exactly like me.
Gord
2018-01-31 06:56 am
Letters written of nonsense, Inner conflicts, profits, Constantine of outfits, Proud of their holes. Opposite, of continents, Sinkholes, swallowing, Mere weathering problems, All they do is disclose. Imagine a world insolvent, Overpopulated and cold, Where fistfuls of dollars, Are better off. Plastic like the ocean, Poetic hopeful, Scotland. Politically motivated, Heart emplaced. However honest, lies of fate, One defends an idea flagrant, Upon a hill of nothing sacred, Fairness being the continent. Unless one wishes a life content, In a country of many ferrets.
The Sophist
2017-10-18 08:40 pm
Art Sometimes I understand it Blowing hard Leaves are scattered While gathering up Inspiration From the rays of the sun Turn around See what you created Back where it begun Darn There goes another one |---------| |-0-1-2-1-| |-1-1-2-2-| |-2-0-2-2-| |-2-3-0-0-| |---------|
Gord
2017-09-15 08:35 am
Piles until the top, Flies at the skirt, Pillars of salt, of the Earth, Turtles until bottom, Fire wherever we are, Hide whenever lightning strikes, Deserts eventully finds someone, Living flame among life is hard. There is no benchmark for him, Spent onward is his life quiet, A ball aptly palmed by oneself, Never failures, tailored farewells, Jokes of the eyelids, Mind less apt for aperture, So he mocks and chides, Fixated on the comical.
Gord
2017-03-08 12:00 am
Only tragedy of the pen, Everything self penned, Self authored. Cherishing the gift of god, but with silent laughter. Floating dynasty upon the water, Field my dreams, take my island, Let me spend my days a wander, Looking for your prodigal child, With no time for spectacular novels, Cobblestone violence or love chided. Machiavellian influenced religion, Post irony, Post music, Long, long, into the future. Where no human exists, Only Nature.
Gord
2017-03-03 12:00 am
Partridges fly, Above the land they admire, Moon rocks to the scientist, Fertility given to a goddess, Pointless admiration. So begins desire, The bird flies higher, Further from the ground, Wherefore no dreams to mire. Society jobs to a miser. My job is too dry, Hands cracking, without water. Voice loud enough to deny it.
The Sophist
2016-12-28 12:00 am
Bird sings low Everywhere it goes Solo Volume decreased Old Crow can't hear Intricacies Flyin' from old notes Higher than most tho Song ain't loud Used to be Bird's quiet Crazy Speaks Feathers in beak Live Vibes to the beat Heat Released Birds flapping their wings Squawking their beaks Bending their knees Leaving their feet Lotus grows pink Cutting through deep Low melodies Low sounds of the songbird Played on repeat
The Sophist
2016-12-14 12:00 am
Whatever I did I did it myelf Fucked God and the Devil Miserable Accosting young rebels When I was a kid I sat on a shelf Hiding in darkness 'til I piss'd myself Not fearful of Argus A game where amid We sought and dispelled My mother found these Piss covered shelves No brother beside me She helped when I hid She'd hear if I yelled Instead she heard beveled Breakfast cereal Make music of rainfall Taking blame for the good Forsaking myself Fuck with God and the Devil I play songs as well Drawing crosses in trebles All over the grid I marvel at how When I look at these crosses They offer some help
The Sophist
2016-08-22 12:00 am
Heart Aches Mine too No matter what we say or do Outtakes Passing by me Passing through Outpost of the things I knew I'll post about it Just to view Last daze Or maybe two I'm sure that I will think of you Darker days There shines imbued With brighter light of deeper hue I sing Though out of tune Of hope this light will shine on you Show us where we lost it all Show me if your love is true
James Williamson
2016-06-09 12:00 am
The spirit of a stallion. By:James Williamson A wandering spirit lives in me, no board or brick may be my home. With the soul of a stallion, through this world I will forever roam. Consisting of a two stallion band, only me and my lack of trust. We run towards the unknown future, followed closely behind by regretful memories and clouds of dust. My shadow is my mistress, the world is my wife. She is where my heart lies, and when I am tired of running, she will take my life. Until then I will drink from the sea, and gaze into oceans of black. From the world my heart emerged, and when it beats for her no more, she will submerge it back. My spirit is a stallion, forever running until I ache. A thousand times in this life, my brittle heart will shatter. Yet solid remains my soul, that no one can ever break.
The Sophist
2016-04-27 12:00 am
Lamenting the loss of colour Youths clamor at discomfort Accosted, encumbered All my life A series of numbers Fumbling afterthoughts of others Dudes stammering and sunburnt Call lost in the dark wood Flames alight A series of numbers Defining the cost of squalor Tomes hammer where mallets weren't None fumbled, nothing learned Say it right A serious slumber Prevented from dreaming color
Justan Mitchell
2016-04-09 12:00 am
Home Sweet Home I want to go to a place where wrongs become rights, spontaneously systematic like tax hikes. A place where fights are the last resort when handling plights. I want to go! I want to go to natural zone of flight where mental spikes reach spiritual heights. A place where the featured attraction are children as they play, where play is an unexpected lesson to be perfected. I want to go! I want to go to a place where action and reaction have a common turn toward our collective burn. A place where death and dying don't exist, where notions of creation are an ocean of manifestations that embraces the vastness of what is. I want to go! I want to go to a place where joy swells over anger, where the smell of hell is a distant stranger. A place to look deeply into hard aches and grief, a meditative island designated for relief....... I want to go!
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