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#writterscreed
drmorbius12 · 10 months
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Blue Green Sea
I dreamt I saw Ravi Shankar He and George had their heads bowed Waiting for the sun to rise While I waded through the dark
If only these shades would go away I could taste your pain so deep Maybe I could bring you back Bring you back to me
And we're dancing once again Dancing madly you and me We promise we will never part Laughing in the sparkling sea
We wander o're the bottom Until the shimmering rays Reveal the fading path back home Back home to light and day
Say goodbye to George and Ravi They're happy where they are Making celestial music Amidst the twinkling stars
And we're dancing once again Dancing madly you and me We promise we will never part Laughing in the blue green sea
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I tend to trust metaphors
More than anything else
Speak to me of something
In terms of
Something else
The devils in the details
But the answer’s in the ambiguity
Tell me about a tree, burdened with dead leaves
That makes me feel
Despair
Tell me about the waves
Make me feel like I can’t breathe
I want to hear the pen scraping paper
Words that tattoo themselves on my soul
And I will listen
I promise, I believe in words
Tell me of something
In terms of
Something else
And I will trust that your metaphors
Are truth.
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The constellation of stars above depicts a woman made of bones. And I imagine she was ferried there by some dark horse death had a habit of riding. Death, with his swarthy bag chock-full of snow white bones. How radiant the sky must have been when her bones first spilled out upon a clear and moonless night. t. hall
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Give me a glass of tequila
Let's take a sip until the last drop
To make me sober from pain
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Such a beautiful lily flower I see blowing in the wind. She thinks she blends in with the mix but little does she know he thinks she stands out quite a bit.
Oh, she’s definitely the one he’ll pick.
Little lily flower, you may think you’ve been picked and discarded by the previous which leads you to feel as if you’re wilted and unwatered, but my beautiful lily you must be repotted because to me you’ll never be forgotten.
Oh, my sweet lily you will only forever blossom.
I will tend to my garden you’re in as if it is the garden of Eden. You’re sacred with such an intoxicating fragrance.
Wherever I go, I’m followed by the comforting silhouette of your remnants.
My lovely lily, you are life itself;
Fragile yet so beautiful.
You’ve taught me the importance of life, we may be poked by others thorns but that will never remove the vibrancy of our petals.
Little lily of mine, I pick you.
Whatever color you are or may become, I take you as you come.
So, Let me see you blossom.
Signed,
ThoseMeaningfulWords.
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artymys · 2 years
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Backwards peddling
I have things I want to say but fear you don't value me that way
I'm inching my way to meeting you in the middle but your stride has always been five times mine
So I sink back into the corner, to the safe spot in my mind
Where logic makes me all the more guilty, and the light in me burns out a little more quickly
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painted-poems · 1 year
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22 Diaries. Story eighteen
I don't know why I thought it was temporary.
I don't know why I thought I would go back there at some point. I guess, it still feels unrealistic. I guess, I've never accepted it.
All I wanted was to be there. All I wanted was to be next to you. Nothing more. Nothing less.
And not seeing your face for so long, it feels like something is stealing pieces of my soul, until there's nothing left.
You know, you still travel with me everywhere I go. And like a lunatic I've been talking to myself with your voice, hoping one day you're going to say the exact same words.
I opened my mouth and wanted to say words I would never say to anyone.
I opened my arms and wanted to give the warmth I would never give to anyone.
I wanted to talk to you about so many things, yet my lips went sealed once I saw the clasped hands on your lap. In that moment I felt like you didn't treat me like your friend.
In that moment I realized that you weren't my friend.
I realized that I didn't have friends.
I was alone.
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katefulleir · 1 year
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i force the tears out of my eyes, something brought me back the memory of you ~ like finally acknowledging the ghost that tries to hide in the corner of a house
i once let someone start a fire in me, i was all flames and gasoline, i was burning for you
it’s a trick, I don’t miss you
but the few tears i freed tasted like the sea we swam in
it always comes back to you, to the memories of you and the girl i used to be.
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alexdelormepoetry · 1 year
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I wake up
Every day
when I just
could sleep forever
-
Alex Delorme
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celtic-poetry · 2 years
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The light flickers
flickers, flickers
a code maybe
from another dimension
to another time
maybe it’s a ghost
haunting the first floor apartment
The light it flickers
flickers, flickers
one beat, two beat , three
it’s a weird rhythm
maybe it’s Morse
a SOS for help
static static static
it flickers, flickers
flickers, on & off
on/off/on/off/on/off
I just wanna reach out
flick it off
making it stop
I just wanna reach out
and just,
poff
let it out of its misery
-
It flickers,
flickers, flickers
and I
cannot
do
anything
anything at all
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pauldebievre · 2 years
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Tumblr media
@pauldebievre
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evergreenwords · 3 years
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11
My doll is a darling daydream.
A stitch, a seam.
The moon, a beam.
In hearts refused an awful fate.
A dream of love, of one’s escape.
So tethered to that which unjust.
All the lives so run amok.
And then within a princely charm.
A hand to hold, pressed to an arm.
Within this binging there is raging.
This below a gorgeous staging.
It houses my own pure production.
The lives influenced by seduction.
And hats off to the fickle few.
The ones without, the ones imbued.
With ignorance almost divine.
So quick to cry and then resign.
And so this now they are repugnant.
The stench so foul, so awfully pungent.
For that’s the smell of decay and rot.
A price they pay, a price they sought.
So anger now to which you resign.
But here I am. I here aligned.
Without these factors you are foolish.
This inflicted by the ghoulish.
And so this is my own respite.
A world to hold with ones own might.
For I am quite the worthy ruler.
Like a crystal to a jeweler.
And so they mold and I mold back.
The value vested in what they lack.
✧ And so reflected through the prism ✦
✦ I wish to end all “mans” derision ✧
Or perhaps to live with balanced friction.
Maybe magic in my diction.
To seek, to shape, select reflection.
- s.z (Chosen Path)
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creatingnikki · 2 years
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confession:
still miss the person who never treated me half as well as I treated them. I don’t know. is it because they were funny and made me laugh? and all I want to do now in life is find things to laugh about but not in a wow this is so fucked up there is nothing else to do but laugh. but in a way where wow this is so genius and so random and I can’t believe you just said that. 
confession:
the realization of just how hard I am on myself brought me to tears last wednesday as I was making spaghetti for dinner. is it my capricorn placement? I don’t know. I expect so much, so so much, of myself and I get so disappointed and disgusted when I don’t meet my own standards. but that’s with the present me. when I look back, however, all I have is compassion for my younger selves, for the past versions of me. I want to go back and tell them to let go of all this heaviness and that what they will feel is not emptiness but lightness and that those are two vastly different things.
confession:
forcing myself to look at my naked body in the mirror increasingly now because I have felt so sexualized since the age of five that I felt ashamed of looking at my own body. I could not see it without thinking of it as something solely sexual or see it the way I saw men saw it or wanted me to see it. 
confession:
the only real meal I can make is spaghetti.
confession:
somedays I think I will never actually write and publish a book though my whole life feels like it has been leading up to that very moment. why do I write? I often find myself asking that question. I do not know why I started and I do not know if I will ever stop, published author or not. it’s not that I want to severely attach myself to this identity of a writer but writing is just something I do so organically that it feels less of an identity and more of my natural way of existence? 
confession:
I lie a lot. I don’t see it as something wrong. my lies are not to fool or misinform those in my life. but they are important for me because I can’t live this life going on explaining things to people about why I do what I do or why I think what I think. it’s irrelevant to them 90% of the times and I have no intention of stopping this. lies are not lies in this context. they are narratives. different people have different narratives of me and it’s intentional and I will let that stay. 
confession:
for the first time in my twenties I do not feel old. I feel grown. thinking of myself at 21 and what the last four years have been - the depth of the time of the last four years - everything I did and learned and understood and accepted - I am glad to be here now. feels like I am through with the growing pains of this part of life. I know there will be new kinds of growing pains - those never stop. but as long as there is growth. as long as there’s that. 
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I haven't gotten out in days. My words trapped and sunless. Too little air for a mind or heart.
How I miss the spring. How I loved the warmth His hand left on my door.
His hand now frozen In the act of unlocking. As if somehow he knew
He could always get in. t. hall
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A Beautiful Meeting with a Stranger
some maybe small and trivial
or maybe insignificant
some are short and casual
simple but unusual conversation
are the one worth remembering
a stare,and beautiful tiny smile
I can't resist to give it back
a simple but sweet hello
a start of unexpected topics
limited time,limited space,limited place
before the day ends
can i call you friend?
we're nothing but strangers
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I believe I am going to start a new tumblr page I’ll share some old stuff again for nostalgia but I want to start over. New approach I hope the real ones keeps up supporting! @everyone
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