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Just a ThoughtYou know the irony of life
is that you have these dreams and ideas
about where you want to be,
but once you get there
you start to dream about where you came from,
where you’ve been.
I suppose that’s part of the circle of our lives,
like the hands of a clock going round.
If only we could wind it back
and return to a time when the dream first began,
we might find
it really wasn’t all that important
to begin with.
Mindless HeartstringsCut my heartstrings
Toy with my mind,
Hide me from the world,
By turning me blind.
Chemical ReactionPoint a gun to my head or force me to bleed
Everyone has something to believe
The drunk and alone
If your passionate your also stoned
Either your alive or dead or just hanging by a thread
Life has the point all you need is the direction
Satisfaction is key to distraction
Shots ring out are you ready for death or a chemical reaction.
This legal demonstration and fixed frustration is only the beginning
Total annihilation in this severed mind.
What's left behind in my subconscious
Blind are my eyes that can't see the details
The scrips that portray the story
Books get you hooked on knowledge and the murder she wrote.
Noticing MeEvery night,
I cry myself to sleep.
And while I sleep,
I dream that I’ll be noticed,
Not shut off in a cage,
I dream that I’m full of joy,
Not full of rage.
But when I wake up,
In the morning, hoping,
That my dream was reality,
I find myself not coping.
So I close myself away,
And I listen to sad songs,
And I’m ignored by all,
All day long.
I call for my mum,
And she answers, but doesn’t reply,
So I bury myself away,
And inside, I cry.
When my friends call for me,
But ignore when I’m there,
I wonder if I should blank them,
But never would I dare.
Maybe I’m too soft,
Free SoulLiving pure,
That is how I want to be.
A wild bird in the trees,
Doing by all means
No matter what, I must not die.
I will take on
Everything and everyone.
I will take on myself,
Force the past off of the shelf.
I will free myself of my mind,
Which once again has left me behind.
And I will finally end this pain,
For once, I will let it rain.
The rain can clean the stains,
And wash away the pains
Of loneliness and suffering,
The product of never-ending falling.
I will let my heart become one
With my soul, now I will run my own show.
I will make bad choices,
I will not listen to the voices,
I can finally breath easy,
Knowing my path is not as windy.
Finally, I can live purely.
Without this past, I can live freely.
This is how I've always wanted to be,
I'm a wild bird in the trees,
Surviving by all means.
And no matter what, I will not die.
Because my soul will always be alive.
Poetry On The WallsNobody wants
To hang poetry on their walls
the heavier lines
and the word soaked walls
and be pained
like a poets pen does
When a poet's heart rains
The poet starts writing
finding insightful sightings
into the poets own mind
though the feeling
is a lonely one
and the reeling
and won't come undone
if the words of the poet
they will show it
And the world will know
It can't be slowed
To accommodate those
Left behind in a pile
Of wavering words
Either gentle or vile
Words of love
Or words of life
Become something of
A struggle to stifle
The muddled mouth's attempts
To bend a lies rival
Arms Like CanvasI don't know your name.
Only the hate lines on your wrist,
the story-lines you write there,
the hints everyone has missed.
I'm sorry we've all crushed you,
let your halo fall,
My head hangs here in shame,
as I speak for humanity, for us all.
It's a sick, sad world,
when 15 can be the last year.
When faggot, worthless, and fatass are thrown around like salutations,
as we drown in a sea of hushed prayers and fear.
the stage is set
the lights are lit
if no one comes
get over it
the sound is right
the pose is struck
no promise made
not to suck
watch your step
you may fall
into the brawl
take a seat
not too close
for bloody nose
but not here
put them all
up your rear
you think you know
just shut up
and enjoy the show.
Fairytales"No more glass slippers,
It's time to grow up.
Forget the fairy tales,
The ones you used to love.
No more lying puppets,
Or boys who never age,
It's time to think like an adult,
Where the economy is a cage.
Snow White isn't dead.
Aurora is awake now
Get the thoughts out of your head."
But they all live in castles,
Or happily in another place,
They're kind and gold of heart,
and Beautiful of face.
Is it so bad to remember,
Those who taught us all?
They reminded me when all was bad,
there was always love to call.
They told me to be bold,
to follow only my heart,
And though it's not always wise,
Believe the best in the
A Pencil's Life A Pencil's Life
I sit on the shelf,
Day by day.
I wait for someone to pick me up,
But I don't see anyone coming.
new pencils arrive,
and I only get pushed to the back.
It's the 19th of August,
And almost time for school,
It's the time where most pencils get picked,
I just sit and wait
for another year to go by.
I'm the last one on the shelf,
And it's almost time for school,
Someone has picked me up.
They take me home,
And put me away,
So that I am ready for the first day!
I am excited!
I am restless!
I can't wait for tomorrow.
It is finally morning,
And I am ready,
to take on what comes at me.
I was sharp,
But now I'm dull.
I can't wait for the next day to come.
Once I'm sharpened,
I'm ready to go,
Ready to take on more challenges.
Only Then Do I Remember YouOnly the dreams, the stories…
They come in flashes, little spurts from time to time…
Only then do I remember.
When the songs of your favorite artists come to ear,
Those lyrics come to mind,
Those memories flash right back.
Only when your name comes up,
Or the pictures reappear.
Only when my mind wanders,
Most often seldom and random,
To times and places long forgotten,
Only then do I remember.
Only then do I remember you.
runrun and run and run
until the day is done
you cannot overcome
the setting of the sun
but when the world's away
and when the mice do play
then you and I will stay
away for ever and a day.
so run with me and run
until we see the sun
away from the ravage of time
until you are with me and mine
To pierce the veil of nightA weary worn traveler strung out from miles of life’s highway stream
I am an unwilling an endless sojourner racing blindly toward the veil of night, a chance to dream. Adrift in the surreal tunnel-visioned plane of nascent sleep, I lay down, a dog-tired sailor upon the lissome luxury of satin sheet.
Pestiferous feelings of loneliness fervidly plague weighing an already heavy mind, as dreams whisk me away on yet another journey of a different kind. Now lavishly adorned in the velvet cloak of night, I embark a swift winged spirit upon unconscious flight.
Paroxysms of longing grow ardent with each passing night, as my hearts appetenc
Acheyep yep the veil is us
yet yet they fail the trust
next step betrayal is dust
next says the cable is cut
PolarThere are days when I want to
scream with the might of the world and
until I can no longer feel my legs.
Days where I want to make
or go on a life-changing journey;
create memories that I will
someday tell my children about.
These are the days
when the world is infinite
and nothing is impossible.
However, there are some days
that I feel nothing,
and there is no greater urge in the day
than to lay down,
curl up in a ball,
PretenseYears later I would come and I would love you
complete with that broken Shamrock
still dangling around your neck.
And with it I would play
when I had nothing else to say
when there was everything that needed to be said.
And yet there was just silence. And March air,
upstate New York somewhere,
in a car with us. Just us.
And with the silence came a smile,
and awkwardness, but all the while
I didn't once think of home.
I thought of you,
and what kind of damage you would do
when eventually I got on a plane and went
to that place I wasn't thinking about.
Not actively. But it was there somewhere -
home is a distant drumlin,
CanvasThis screen is my canvas.
Is it sad to see
my little works of heart created under LED
light rather than candles?
There is no scrawling with a pen as there used to be
and even then
the method of production doesn't matter to me -
it's the result at the end.
There is logistic composition,
of all the greatest stories men have tried to write,
they mostly comprise of love at first sight,
And other such lies
We allow ourselves to fantasize
I need to make limitations,
because in each of the world's nations,
whether here or back in that place
I used to call my home,
I find someone to base my work upon.
I'm dependent on depen
QuestionsI used to treat the backstage curtains
like a velvet wall.
I'd lie down, tummy on the ground, screaming, begging and pleading,
to the man
I imagined was lurking just behind the woven fabric.
I knew although don't ask me quite how -
that he knew everything about me
I didn't have to explain my back-story, or where I came from,
why my voice sounded funny, or what the purpose of my trip was
He already knew because he sent me. This I was sure of.
What I wasn't so sure of
was everything else.
Absolutely everything else.
So while I'm talking to the man behind the curtain
- my apologies Feminists, he is a man, because t
PhantomYou can't be mine.
I didn't need you,
not now, and not at this time.
There is no symbol as destructive
as that little blue line.
You can't be mine.
But even as my world collapses
and my dreams turn to ashes
in my hand,
You are the very reason that I stand.
You can't be mine.
And I can't believe how lucky I am
To have a piece of me
in something more beautiful
than I could ever be.
You can't be mine
But if you were I'd work so hard
to do things the right way.
There'd be no crying
no running away.
You can't be mine
But you would prove them wrong -
things are not as they seem.
And your existence alone
WindYou're definitely blonde and yet
I'm looking at you,
as if I understand what you're going through.
Your smiles are melting the pupils of my eyes,
until they're like liquid coal that's just been mined.
(Rest assured, they'll harden after time).
Yours are bright,
and with a story hidden behind.
You speak, and smile, and gesture -
Like you have all the answers -
and I just keep repeating the same could-be lies,
a sullen mantra
that never satisfies.
I hear you say to me,
in some old Lakeside manor,
is like the wind.
You cannot show
You cannot teach
But when you feel, you know it's true.
RatioYou can flirt, smile,
Or even steal a glance,
But there's no such thing
As real romance,
When I know that all
you have in sight,
is a waist-hip ratio
that fits just right.
Don't try to argue
that you won't put in place
a symmetrical girl
with a symmetrical face.
A blemish-free home
and a perfect life
with super little kids
from your super little wife.
You can decorate it all
as much as you like,
but fathers are created
from drinks being spiked.
Take a step back and see
What we truly are;
just a bunch of lonely animals
drinking courage from the bar.
Just one primitive mating game
that never grows to be dull,
Just like the man...I used to have someone who cared for me
more than I could've imagined.
Now there are great gaping holes of empty
hurt and once felt emotions
sporadic throughout my soul.
And I used to be whole (I did);
feeling like the entire world would never meet
such a dreamer. With an attitude
that this city
is the best there can be in the land.
He was the only man,
who knew my truth.
Now I dream of velvet skies with flags waving
often red and white
but always Blue.
I sometimes have to pinch myself and remember
that other colours actually exist.
And they are vibrant and dull
all at the same time.
I am no longer his
Goodnight Enigmatic SongShe was the song you hear and, at first blush, don't like.
Well, you don't know how you feel about it so you keep listening in an attempt to discover how exactly you feel and then you reach the end of the song and you realize, you don't like it; you love it.
That was Grace.
She was my coworker and she was my friend.
We carpooled together, I drove and she slept most of the way.
"Don't get much sleep at night, do you?" I asked her, catching those drooping lids mid-descent.
She looked out the window streaked with rain; it spoke in percussive touches filling the car with quiet overcast conversation.
I felt the warmth of her smile in the corner of my eye. The blur of her hand reached at the window to feel the cold of the droplets.
"When I was a girl, I used to race these. I thought it was funny the fat ones always won," she giggled and I imagined her as a little girl in the passenger seat then, legs too short to reach so kicking, and hair messed in the bac
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`ChewedKandi has certainly gone out of her way to keep the vector community on the right path. Always making sure that her talents are infinitely scalable, Sharon has put her bezier curves to excellent use, and firmly anchored herself as an inspirational leader. We're absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for June 2013 to `ChewedKandi. Congratulations, Sharon! Read More