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Her love serves Down her heart’s nerves are nerves In sweet redemption and reflection Heaven makes their re-election Oh, sweet help.
Dear departed soul Everyone's heart you stole With all those loving traits Can't find your replicate Penning down your quality Trying to describe your personality Dear Departed soul
I was driving round yesterday just after four Drove past an old blind man feeding the poor I followed that blind man all around town
What is good? What is pleasant? What is kind? In the truest meaning of the words no Thing is good, pleasant, or kind that I find. On any one thing, I could ne'er bestow Such a word as good or pleasant or kind.
I love you. Not in a romantic way, but rather in a romanticized way.
Dip them in a sauce They'll be there when you are down Potato chips rule.
cherry flavored something dripping until sticky on my chin and my hands but i don’t mind rub them on my overalls making mad stupid jokes
What makes you happy? Is it waiting for innocent victims in a dark alley? To rob them off their security? Or is it waking up early, And make your hands dirty, As you toil for your family?
When we were children, we believed that growing up was the way to freedom. That maybe if we were just a little bit older, we could destroy our demons. But somehow we found out the truth.
I fall on my knees picking up my papers, not wanting to lose another in case it’s important. I am shoved back down this time hitting my head against the fountain. Pitying myself and wondering what offense I made
“loved ones, your feelings determine mine” this is what my voice proclaims but does my heart truly sympathize? i encourage you to confide in me but is just it to reciprocate my ego?
The darkness Surrounds me knawing at me and saying "come, come" The hands r e a c h for me but I stand firm. This will not happen My thoughts circle rapidly.
Oh the few that stand The test of time Oh the few content To be sublime Oh the few rich That care for the poor Oh these few that were But are no more Oh the few that hold
Look beyond the "concrete jungle" and witness the view. There is a scenery out there that lies before me as well as you.
Hush. Don't. Quiet, Little One. No One wants to know. I am shushed, I am pushed into the corner because of my smile, and my smiling words.
The more you live to love and give, the better off you'll beInstead of living more to take and "What's in it for me."Though looking out for number one may guarantee survival
Liquid bodiesfluid mindswhy not heartsthat freely pour?They congeallike Jell-O on ice—for a timethen calcifyin reticent mineralitycompounding the granite wall
I LookedI looked for lifeon a dusty trailkicking a rock for milesand I saw a shooting star.I looked for lifeup in the skywatched the birds soarand saw shapes in the clouds.
In a subway, in a bike, walking or in a car we go to work to pay for our habits and love we go to work, every single day awake and without sense we go to work, without a choice
I lived in StarlandWith all the fellow saviors and saintschoosing patiently to divide the grate and canisterbarren fellows without knowledge or understandingI was flying intrinsically away from the cauldron of desire
If I could change one thing What would it be? I’d have to change everything I knew that was the key
Poetry is a lense To allow you to view Life with more clarity, To either filter out all that is bad And be left with beauty Or to confront Head held high All that is impure in the world
Clouds of ghost nothings evaporating across the dark Sun: stubborn. Stars, free, warm, dancing. Crying. Skirts. Women
A healthy soul, a healthy mind To a healthy body bind A twist of fate ever entwined In the arms of those who find: A feather pure as gold.