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Eighteen years old am I

I seem to you bold to lie

Before I had sold you a shy

Made easy to scold or to cry

 

What's my agenda you say?

Determine my gender and lay

down rules to amend what I may

and may not do again every day.

 

Claim to run was reckless,

Tame the bird was feckless,

Same-still same ruby necklace

Lame and too old to forget this.

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Waking up, rubbing eyes, you fall back to sleep,

Slightly late, the room sighs, until the clock strikes five.

Cheap lunch, a clever lie, you claim to watch your weight.

Work is sufficient, without a cry; you return home ambivalent.

 

Write a song, a page with words, none a style or rhythm.

Newspaper fractions, you know surds, without any application.

A rare smile, for the bees and birds, however annoying the bedsprings.

For a meal, a few bare curds, to spare unnecessary expense.

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Guest QueenOfNerds

Love both of those Lee :)

 

 

 

My friend we should leave this place

you're watching me watching him

and it's bad for the both of us.

We should be watching the real world

let's escape the bubble

redirect the focus

channel our energy

don't let this keep you.

Let's walk together

and go our separate ways.

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Guest QueenOfNerds

Love it ^^

 

 

I would be able to let go

if you weren't an angel

sweet gentleman

I would be able to go

if you weren't so sharp

so funny.

I would be able to go

if your weren't so beautiful

angel.

I should go

there is no open connection

the line has been cut

I should go

once again I am alone in this.

 

My heart sinks like the tide each time

I turn that corner and I know you will not be there

you can't be there.

Here is my tomb, here are the words

I will leave them written on it.

It has turned to stone, cold and loveless.

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  • 2 weeks later...

dont let go of all the peace and joy

your bliss may be hidden

from the world

but just let it all go

let them see the true meaning of you

dont be afraid

you have nothing to lose

they may think of you wrong

for doing whats right

but in the ending your the one

who'll come up on top

do what you love

and enjoy it

cause life is to short

to live remote

 

 

pathectic, i know :$

i have writers block

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new to this thread, going to try for a first attempt :)

 

if life is but a dream

then sleep must be

reality

more real than life

a helpless nightmare

____________

 

ok that was shite, lemme try again...

 

breathe in

watch the white wash walls

closing in

voices screaming

your choking logic

ruined my faith

and now i sit here

(bound)

listening to you and your kind

whittle it away?

my faith was lost long ago

but i needed to believe

that there could have been more

and with your "Enlightenment"

you suffocated it.

AND YOU ASK ME TO BELIEVE IN YOU.

 

listening to: my science teacher :/

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raging voices in my head

they won't let me get any peace

hear them lie awake in bed

won't you let me sleep?

 

neon signs, screaming lies

won't stop to let me stop

the sick sick melodies they plant

shake me, then let me drop.

 

leave me alone, don't tell me

what no one thinks is true

your diseases they won't stick

 

your words won't make me sick

 

though they're lying thick

 

i won't believe you.

 

LISTENING: whatever shite's on the tv :/ plus i have fucking george michael in my head.....

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the winds are still

deathly still

the air is stagnant

stifling

 

the sounds of life

of lies

echo through your head

pressing pressing

pulling at your mind

teasing

 

water boils

television blares

the lies, the ceaseless noise

grate your nerves

follow, conform

they shout in your ear

 

outside you

voices chatter

endlessly

meaninglessly

talking of nothing

 

you stare

the whitewash walls

seem to cave in

like a madman's cell

you need to escape

this domestic hell.

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  • 2 weeks later...

I, sir, am not fully grown; I am not fully ripe!

Just a little sweet to taste, but how my colour shines!

The envy of all the other fruits, yes we, so happy and gay!

But not in a homosexual way!

 

We share such pride in our seedier days!

Well, nothing so illicit.

So calm, so bright in the evening sun!

Of rummages in life's great world of trade,

We have to wait many a blissful horizon!

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I, sir, am not fully grown; I am not fully ripe!

Just a little sweet to taste, but how my colour shines!

The envy of all the other fruits, yes we, so happy and gay!

But not in a homosexual way!

 

We share such pride in our seedier days!

Well, nothing so illicit.

So calm, so bright in the evening sun!

Of rummages in life's great world of trade,

We have to wait many a blissful horizon!

 

Hello New Born Lee, I fucking love your poems.

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I am a work of art

 

I am a painting

Torn from the wall

Used as wallpaper

 

I am a symphony

Left on in the background

I am noise

 

I am a sculpture

A memory of happier times

Gone. Not forgotten

 

I am an orchestra

With no conducter

The pieces there, the product chaotic

 

I am many things

Brittle and broken

Shattered and frail

 

You can't always fix what's broken

But just because it's broken

Doesn't make it useless

 

I will brighten up a home

 

I will fill awkward silences

 

I will watch over someone

 

I will play someone's soundtrack

 

Useless? Maybe. But all art is.

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you bring the light

laughing and dancing

under the sparkling

beeds and shards

 

you take my breath

with every smile

by stirring my insides

i try to hold you

 

irrestistible and soft

i may never have you,

stand beside you

yet, it is still my longing

 

to kiss that face

to hug your shape

to talk under the shade

forgetting everything

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When the world is all upset

And the toils of war have taken their toll

it is time for warfare true and glorious

To fountain all it's youth

To boothen all it's truth

And Blast all those who'd disagree

Angels of Harlem youths are warring

Warring over the badgers warren

Help Help Help me!

Help me from deceit and punishment!

Good god, my merciful lord

Help the poor sinner help him!!

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Guest QueenOfNerds

^^ I love it Lee :happy:

 

 

 

OK

 

I saw you reel it in fast and taut

then caught a blush at an impure thought.

Tell me what have I done to become one

who is occupied with the idea of us loving like beasts between sheets.

 

Back with more bad poetry, did ya miss me?

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^^ I love it Lee :happy:

 

OK

 

I saw you reel it in fast and taut

then caught a blush at an impure thought.

Tell me what have I done to become one

who is occupied with the idea of us loving like beasts between sheets.

 

Back with more bad poetry, did ya miss me?

 

Thank you for the compliments, but I was very drunk when I wrote that poem. :LOL:

 

Hello again you!! I was missing my daily dose of lyrical cacophony. :(

 

Nah, I kid, I love reading your little bursts of poeticness, they can be very pretty. I do like the last line here, it has an interesting sound to it.

 

What I'd really like to see from you though is more complete poems and not just the experiments, something you've spent a bit of time on to perfect. :happy: Keep at it, it's very good to see you posting again.

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Guest QueenOfNerds
Thank you for the compliments, but I was very drunk when I wrote that poem. :LOL:

 

Hello again you!! I was missing my daily dose of lyrical cacophony. :(

 

Nah, I kid, I love reading your little bursts of poeticness, they can be very pretty. I do like the last line here, it has an interesting sound to it.

 

What I'd really like to see from you though is more complete poems and not just the experiments, something you've spent a bit of time on to perfect. :happy: Keep at it, it's very good to see you posting again.

 

Thank you! I shall try my best I swear ;)

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Fatigue

The pickaxe penetrates the mass of hair and finds the concrete.

The rain sneaks up on today's ground of ears and neck, hot and sticky.

The weightlifter struggles under the tonnage of the lashes and lids.

The tendons on the guitars unwind, unwilling to write or proceed.

The conductor of the grey has a one note song, the others are minimalist.

The accordion throats a slow lament, it's throat easing regularly and deeply.

The baby gurgles, deep in the stomach cave, and the echo breathes a low sound.

The worker smiles at all his things, his ignorable dissonance, and falls asleep.

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Guest QueenOfNerds

We are afforded no grace

no time or grieving space to deal with these feelings

we just make do.

Their patience will move on faster

than your tears can dry.

This cut is tailored just for you

nothing can prepare or repair it

these silks just become tragic

like a long forgotten mistress

turbulent, soft ruffles of terror

strangling, tight woven

slipping easily through fingers.

There is nothing fair about it

and it won't soften the blow

when you wake to know you were misguided

blindfolded by your very nature.

Just as you leave the woods

you are dressed, bewildered

pushed back into the civil world.

Because there is no time for you

and your unwanted nightmares.

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We are afforded no grace

no time or grieving space to deal with these feelings

we just make do.

Their patience will move on faster

than your tears can dry.

This cut is tailored just for you

nothing can prepare or repair it

these silks just become tragic

like a long forgotten mistress

turbulent, soft ruffles of terror

strangling, tight woven

slipping easily through fingers.

There is nothing fair about it

and it won't soften the blow

when you wake to know you were misguided

blindfolded by your very nature.

Just as you leave the woods

you are dressed, bewildered

pushed back into the civil world.

Because there is no time for you

and your unwanted nightmares.

 

I like this one. It makes me realize what's best about your stuff is that it sounds consistently personal, like little reflective confessions used to cope with life.

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