Old 03-17-2016
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Citizen Fear

Like a tetanus shot
pulling your neck,
ghost machine
does phoebos wreck
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Old 08-22-2017
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Thank you all for posting your poetry. I love hearing beautiful words from beautiful people.
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Title: Lavender Brown Adjusting to Being a Werewolf
Summary: Lavender Brown is a character in the Harry Potter universe. She was attacked by a werewolf (Fenrir Greyback) and might have been transformed into a werewolf because of it. This is a poem about her adjusting to being in a werewolf's body.

Lavender, the dreams of her past impressed
upon her with certain things stressed.
Not much but some in her bowels smoldered
within her and chimed on her shoulder
with the diction of long ago it told her.

She was entranced and entrenched
while wallowing in her stench
in a solitude she couldn't wrench
and from a restlessness she couldn't bench.

And in the morning it wouldn't die.
From the depths of its envelop she couldn't cry,
but in the midst of the carnival she felt spry
as if every breadth beyond, she could fry.

Every movement sweltered under an internal sun
as every volition was won
with the step of a step of gamboling fun:
every tick of a switch in her was at a run.

She licked her lips with a sliver
of a gash that was delivered
on her tongue as it opened like a liver.
A descent of a swallow gleamed a shiver
to enliven her hands as quivers.

Lavender, the ebullient mistress, supple thing
has raked her mind back in order to sing
about her days at Hogwarts she's gleaned,
then to an horizon yet to be seen.
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Old 12-21-2017
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Jingle bells,
S.A.'s hell
Fattening sweets galore
The season for ice,
I'm too nice
Santa can skip my house
Yay!
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Graeme1988 (12-21-2017)
Old 12-21-2017
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I'm contemplating posting my crappy work in progress song lyrics, but...
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Originally Posted by Graeme1988 View Post
I'm contemplating posting my crappy work in progress song lyrics, but...
Do it if you're afraid someone will judge you for it. If they do then they're the ones with the problem.
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Old 12-21-2017
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Wrote this one after my grandmother's stroke:

Setting Sail

When they moved her upstairs
from the ICU, she was still frail
and unable to move,
as if a handful of birds
had flown from her limbs
to chase Spring in a younger place.

She was tired.

We wrestled for seats
in the waiting room,
unsure of what to expect.

Most of us were afraid.

She always smiled, ashamed
of the attention she was getting,
ashamed that the disease
she hadn't planned on
was closing little doors
for everyone around her.

Grandfather has since then
grown bitter, a frustrated man
who has always been the man
of the house, different times,
different values.

His twin brother died
shortly after birth;
didn't wait for his eyes
to bloom open,
never let the sun
rush through him
during Summer days
or fought in the back seat
of a car.

Grandmother says
he hits her,
calls her names.

He's afraid.

No one taught him how to mourn.

As she weeps,
now that we are separate continents
and cannot speak the same language
anymore, I wonder who inhabited
those stripped hospital beds
only to linger in the room,
who's gone home, who has passed
or who later died in the arms
of someone who will be haunted
by that very moment
for the rest of their lives.

If it wasn't for them...

Grandmother:
if it wasn't for them,
you would have closed your eyes
to dreams of my sister's arms,
a child too young
to know where we go
when it's time to go
or how the darkest room
takes us whole,
knitting the flesh
into something new
time and time again.
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And this one after my grandfather died:

Looking out the window

Sometimes he would speak
as if painting, holding us to the sun
so we could see it seep through the fence
like time does in the Fall.

We perched on his nose
and listened, eager to learn
of how the Earth stops spinning
when we dance by ourselves
or summon the guts
to tell someone we love them
for the very first time.

At night we were up for hours,
vigilant, chasing stars that had died
millions of years ago but waited for us
to see them splinter across the sky
like fireworks.

And it was only years later,
when the first Summer came
after he died,

that we would push our bare feet
into the sand and pray it was enough
to be remembered by,

a sudden gust of wings
in someone's recent memory
like he always wished he would be.
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Old 12-21-2017
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Hot_Tamale View Post
Do it if you're afraid someone will judge you for it. If they do then they're the ones with the problem.
Oh, I know. That's always been my mentality towards making music or anything I create. It's not so much the judgement I'm afraid, more the fact I've used the adage of "write what ya know" and used my depression and my turbulent relationship with my family, as inspiration.

That, and the fact I've just been writing these short verses on my Samsung tablet in a Word document in the middle of the night, the only time I get any peace n' quiet, without my rhyming dictionary at hand.
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Old 12-21-2017
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Quote:
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I'm contemplating posting my crappy work in progress song lyrics, but...

Post it anyway.
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Old 12-27-2017
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Hot_Tamale View Post
Do it if you're afraid someone will judge you for it. If they do then they're the ones with the problem.
Quote:
Originally Posted by AtTheGates View Post
Post it anyway.
Okay, here goes... Not really got titles for these, as I did have any in mind. And these were very much improvised, stream of consciousness style. So ah didn't put much thought into words and was more focused on how it flowed.

Thinking all the time
Always something on my mind
That perpetually sad look in my eye that has you say, “Why?”
Well, I ain’t gonna lie... I'm fine
Some of the time

But still, I'm just wasting time
Searching for something I can't find


____________________________

You won't find happiness in my eyes
Just doors to the thoughts I love to despise
A diary full of lies
Who? What? Why? Deny?

From prologue to final chapter
Life, what does it matter?

A question answered with questions
An endless subliminal mind-f*ck deception
Designed to challenge my perceived perception
Asking for forgiveness
Asking for redemption
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Old 01-04-2018
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To yearn for love
To yearn for hate
To endeavor to know what is my fate



I walk among liars, deceivers, those who call themselves true
yet I see through their smokescreen and see their true being
Those with righteousness, those who judge and control
those who preach but do not practice

Lies, pathetic, weakness


I am alive but walk amongst a wasteland
I walk among the living dead
Those who are nameless
Powerless
Pathetic

I seek
connection with kindred
I seek.. I am lost, I find emptiness


I see the workings of the universe
respect and acknowledge
we are nothing
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