Hope to live,
Live to die.
Love to stay,
And stay to cry.
Sigh your last,
But never pretend,
To hope that hope,
To live again.
I remember.I remember the last time I saw you.
You lay alone on the vast hotel bed with a tube snaked around your head pumping oxygen through your nose. The machine made a sound like the ocean: smooth and even. You looked like pile of bones with skin attached and a tumor in the middle. I stood between your sister, sleeping peacefully on the couch, and you in the grand bed which I had lain in beside you just five minutes before. I stared, so wanting to walk over and shake you awake to say goodbye. It's the last time I'll ever see you. But you were so weak, and you could barely sit upright the night before. I wanted to let you enjoy your dreams while you could. I wondered if you would wake later that day and think, She left without a word.
Because that's what I was thinking.
I felt my face twist into pain. Eyebrows curled upward, lips pouting. An expression soon to become familiar on my face. I wondered if your sister was awake. I didn't want to sound ridiculous, talking to a sleeping girl,
Words Never SpokenWe all stood up to say goodbye to Anna Lee. As we did, I finally saw my chance to break away and see you. I looked toward the front of the room. You lay there, your face above the lip of the white casket. Pale and thin, but just as I had last seen you. My throat was tight. I didn't want to talk anymore with your other friends who I had just met a few weeks ago. You were the one I came to see. So as they were all turned, I walked up behind the old couple in front of you. They moved away after a moment and I got a clear view of you.
You looked like you were only sleeping. Last year, you were so plump and full of life, but laying here, your face was thin, cheekbones sticking out, eyes sunken, and your hands... Your hands were at just the wrong angle. There were bruises on your fingers. Did you notice? Where did you get those? I wanted to touch you. I wanted to talk to you. You looked as if you were about to sit up and say, "Boo!" because that's exactly what you would do. I couldn't believ
A new friend? Amateur..."Alright then, I'm sticking to you like glue!" The idiot said.
Are you wondering what just happened? Let me explain.
I was lounging on a dark night in the local park, where there were few people. It was about 2:47 or so, and I was enjoying the breeze. But then I heard footsteps. I thought about going limp and pretending I was asleep, but, for some reason, I lifted up my head. I was actually hoping to see a beautiful young lady who might be running from a sex offender, and maybe I'd save her and have a snack.
What I saw was not running from a sex offender, it was not a lady, and it was definitely not beautiful. My neck settled into a normal position, and I found myself nose-to-nose with a stupid-looking blond haired boy. His hair was obviously bleached -- and badly done at that. His eyes were wide and quizzical, shining with wonder. The worst part was the moment he opened his mouth.
"Are you a vampire?" He asked hesitantly. There was a long silence between us. Why not just say it?
Peacemaker My name is Peacemaker. I have no gender, and I have no race. I do not take a democrat or republican side of politics, and I look at things from every angle I can. My history is lost, and my future is unpredicted.
Many people come to me every day and ask for help. They all have problems they need assistance to take on. I give them the advice they seek, and they are on their way. Many of these people called me wise. A few have told me I was "perfect" or "flawless".
That is not true.
If I have one flaw, it is that I cannot take my own advice. If a friend and I argue, the terrible, hard reality comes crashing into me like a raving river.
The question is: what happens when I, the Peacemaker, can no longer make peace?
InamimateI find more love in inanimate objects than in living people.
It's a strange feeling.
It's almost sad.
The pajama top that I took off wrapped it's arms around me, as if it were hugging me and keeping me warm.
The teddy bear I hug is leaning against my chest, as if it were saying to me, "I need you."
The radio at my side is softly playing me my favorite songs, as if it were singing a lullaby to me.
Sometimes it's not enough.
Because after a while, the pajama top is just a shirt.
Because after a while, the teddy bear is just a doll.
Because after a while, the radio is just a device to be controlled.
Because after a while, you need a real voice.
And somewhere in the world, someone will make it all better without doing a thing.
Even though, I find more love in inanimate objects than in real people.
Because I am not that familiar with the latter.
I'll be...I'll be green, I'll be blue,
I'll be anything just to get to talk to you.
I'll be high, I'll be low,
I just wanna know
How you feel, and everything else.
I'll be goth, I'll be prep
If I just take a step
to being closer to you.
All I want...
Most people can...Most people can sing the ABCs.
Few can sing an Opera.
Most people can dance the Hokey Pokey.
Few can dance the Nutcracker Ballet.
Most people can read off a few lines.
Few people can make you believe their actually Romeo or Juliet.
Most people can aim a camera.
Few can capture the emotion and feeling.
Most people can draw a stick figure.
Few people can actually draw a person.
Most people can draw a triangle.
Few people can really paint a mountain.
Most people can do this.
You can do more.
Rainbow SongListen to him singing the song to me.
Listen to him singing --
Listen to beauty and love as he sings,
Yes, listen to him...
Look at me listening to his love song.
Look at me breaking his frail heart.
Love is a sensitive thing from the start.
Yes, look at me.
This is so nice.
So majestic and I'm
His heart shatters
In my hands.
Soak my life again.
Listen to him singing the song to me.
Listen to him singing --
Listen to beauty and love as he sings,
Yes, listen to him...
?.:-LOVE-:.?Love is like a jacket.
When it catches your eye, you try it on, and look for the right size.
You take it home and wear it and show it off.
It covers you and keeps you warm.
For a while it really interests you, and you pay a lot of attention to it.
But after a while, it doesn't interest you as much, but it's a part of your daily life.
Soon, it wears out, and doesn't always keep you warm in strong winds.
It thins and grows holes.
Sometimes, the holes are convenient.
Sometimes, you patch it up.
Sometimes, it just gapes.
Eventually, you sell it, or throw it away.
Sooner or later, you get a new jacket.
You forget about that old jacket.
And that's the end of the jacket.
And that's the end of love.
progress reportthe astronauts never returned and neither did the news
in my hands i fold a megalithic pigeon
the take-home message is: the cosmos is a cold dead bitch
as you sleep under magazines, waiting for nothing.
in the shackles of a sterilized den, there's an actual
mastodon heart, pale and glassy pink, icy film
tightened like a fist; - and the scientists despair:
it's the morning of the opening,
then the few slashes of paralyzing waves.
like a sign we'd make when we were younger, a way to disarm
a bandit, or a preacher
or the oncoming horde of space invaders.
but the drawings you sent to venus never returned,
and now the crack,
and the scientists at a loss before the angered public.
they release a report that states that the floodgates opened
by themselves, that the valves erode
like the chalky sand that will swirl and hiss
And in this dark harvest of season
My life has completely lost reason,
For which or against to decide.
All lost in a savage and endless, bleak tide
In sadness and in kindness
In light and in darkness.
In a boat made of hope
I shall sail to tomorrow,
In a winding hurricane
Made of treachery and sorrow.
There's a spear, endless, and colossal spear...
Piercing, slashing though my head.
Starting somewhere in heaven,
Ending somewhere in hell.
Fighting, burning, crying, crashing.
Are the armies within.
In my head they are all thrashing.
On the heaven's and hell's whim.
To be light or to be darkness.
A perpetual array.
It's not merely my choice,
But the choice of the way.
It's an option of the voice,
It's a thin line of gray.
Is it a choice forced by fate,
Is it a pre-set time and date?
Or a choice to which I myself sway?
But here's our story anyway .
"Nothing that I do will matter.
As all things will merely shatter!"
All my hopes thus darkness scatter,
As it shoves me a decree.
As it si
the ones they call the foolsWe were a list of promises broken,
exhausted and frightened to be held
in the hands of dreamers and liars
have the tendency
to let slip the things
That’s why we’re fleeting.
Why poets call us clouds
with no real direction.
we’re both running away
4 Random Poems The One About KitKats
I need a piece of that kitkat
I need a break
It's a mistake
To do things for to-do-them's sake
And I'd live life-
Husband or wife
With obligations and strife
So turn away
While you may
If there's nothing to make you stay
Bring your phone,
The comforts you've known
And go find a new home
A safe place
An empty space
Vacant of life's bitter distastes
And I'll find what I lacked
Roll the cross of my back
Fuck, I want a kitkat.
lisuje is like- really pretty, guys. I promise
A pale, pretty face
Surrounded by sandy dunes
Real and wild like a typhoon
Watch her hair
Carelessly roll down her back
Watch her skin
Like marble that wouldn't crack
See the graphite
Rubbed on the side of her wrist
See the pencil
Held firmly in her closed fist
Watch her draw
And capture what's actually there
Watch her DA
and Tumblr, if you've time to spare
azuneechan is love. Azuneechan is life.
I'd seduce your pages
Make their kne
The Laws of AttractionHe likes to tell me how stars work.
He explains that Hydrogen ignites, collides, infuses -
and while he’s talking I am trying
to stifle the reverb in my heartbeat.
I try and stop my heart going supernova.
He tells me that the Hydrogen fuses into Helium
and eventually the star runs out of each -
I try not to be forcibly reminded
of every time I run out of Oxygen when he smiles at me -
I’m trying to listen.
He details how the stars elements burn out
one by one
creating heavier elements that burn less brightly.
I’m comparing stars to love
because to me, Hydrogen, Nitrogen or Iron -
a star’s still a star at all its stages
and I love the stars.
He whispers to me
about how these elements disperse
how they reform and relapse
and I recall how stars become everything
He’s got his hands in my hair and his grip round my heart
so when the silence falls I can’t help but rush;
‘There’s static energy in my
I'll Wait by the WaterThis is the place where our memories began.
A creek at the bottom of a canyon,
red cliffs on either side and a giant
pond dam to the north that wildflowers grow on.
Paths that we created through the woods
and up and down those copper canyon walls
while we pretended to be wild Injuns
or wanted outlaws being hunted by a posse.
You were on your knees,
in the middle of the creek,
when I found you.
A neighbor girl, trespassing.
I had a mind to chase you off
until I asked what you were doing.
You looked at me, smiled, and said,
"Catching crawdads. Come help!"
After that day, we spent Springs and Summers
building fort walls and chasing frogs,
skipping stones and arguing baseball,
sharing comic books and trading punches.
You could hit as hard as any boy I knew.
We had our own bridge to Terabithia,
our own kingdoms of knights and castles,
won the World Series with back to back homeruns,
settled the Wild West and discovered gold in the mountains.
My parents thought you were imaginary
until I bro
RazorMidnight's tawdry pulse
is feeble under my fingertips,
and her long black dress
feels like August
slipping through my fingers.
I like how her bones complain
that I misuse them,
tender to my touch,
and how her jaw arches back
and the moon arcs like a razor
across the room.
We flaunt the stars,
the stones under our skin
stretching the bed frame
till we crack.
And I fill you up,
your arms a battle
raging in the waning lies