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Will you be my home?Will you be my home
My gentle security?
Will you lift me away
With the caress of your arms
Warm me wholly
With the slighest brush
Of your lips?
Will you be my shelter
Even from my own tears?
Will you let me take you for granted
Let me wrap you around me
And rock me to my dreams?
Will you hide me away
Be the place of my safety
Be my happiness
Sheilded from a world of sadness,
Will you be my home,
My gentle security
Silently filling my life with love?
Just For A SecondPlease can you imagine for me
just for a second...
Both of us...
That's all I dream about
I don't have the imagination
To think of the specifics
Like how it would happen
What we'd be like together
Why we'd be happy
But when I let myself dream
I imagine us...
And while I know
You don't dream about me
You don't know me
Or whether I can truly
Make you happy...
I want you to imagine that
Just for a second,
And tell me if I can try
To make it real.
Wilted LullabiesOh flower why hello...
I didn't see you there
In the world so far below
I could barely even hear
Your screams of pain
Such wilted lullabies
Oh flower so far below me
Why do you cry?
Oh flower below
Hush your little leaves
How hard it hurts me so
To hear your petals scream
Tell me what to do
That's all I need to know
Please flower let me take you
From the world below.
Oh flower in my world
Are you really there?
Your wilted lullabies
Have turned into despair
Your leaves are now holed
You fall with the winds blow
Flower where can I take you?
There's nowhere left for you to go.
Oh flower leaving my world
Where can you go?
The world has forgotten you
Left you so far below.
And while I couldn't save you
And while I know you must go
Flower I sing your wilted lullabies
So the entire world will know
The pain of a single flower
Left in the world below.
I'm Just A PoetI'm just a poet
Stringing together words
In a way that tries to force you to feel,
To understand what I feel.
I'm just a manipulator
Gaining recognition by
Warping what you understand
Trying to change your emotions
Till they fit my own.
I'm just an instigator
Using my words
To try and lead you along a path
That was created in anger
And fueling your passion to follow it
Until you can't even remember
Why you followed this way.
I'm just an interpreter
Translating your feelings into words
While ignoring the very fact
That in doing so
I'm ruining the very thing
That made these feelings so powerful
But I don't care
I'm just a recorder
Writing the pain of a person,
Of a entire nation
With a few measily words
While deluding myself
That this actually helps someone,
That writing the same pain
In a different way actually
Makes anything less painful.
Priding myself that my words
May one day move people
To change the world
When all they actually do
Is garner a few mo
Can We Just PretendHey...
Can we just pretend ?
Like we did when we were kids?
I can pretend to be strong
And use these twigs
To build a mansion for you
So large and beautiful
That you'll have everything you need.
I can pretend to be smart
And I'll teach you new things every day
Gently widening you eyes
To the world around you.
I can pretend to be a musician
Your own private concerto
Sing lullabies to you each night
With the few notes I know.
I can pretend to be funny
And have a witty criticism
For all the things you dislike
And sweetly teasing you
Till you gift me with your smile.
I can pretend be wise
Have an answer for all your problem
And advice that never fails.
I can pretend to be a cook
And delicately create
Mudpies for you to eat
As though they were gourmet meals.
I can pretend to be someone I'm not
Someone who's beautiful or amazing or kind
Someone who won't let you down
Someone who won't break your heart
Someone who can give you everything
You could ever want
I Locked You In My HeartI locked you in my heart
And threw away the key,
In there you roamed free
Grabbing at every delicate memory
Residing besides you
Placing a little bit of yourself
In every part of there
Till there was no part without
But as your place there grew larger
My heart grew smaller...
and smaller for you
Till it could hardly fit you.
And though you tried
To leave the same way you came
The door was locked
From the outside in
With the key in the trash.
And as my heart finally grew
My love, too suffocating
You left my heart in the only way
That you could...
Breaking it apart
Piece by piece
Till there was a hole
Large enough for you to leave
And for my heart
To crumple into almost nothing
But the remains of a locked heart
And a key still in the trash.
Why Love Is A Four Letter WordLet me tell you why "love" is
A four letter word
Its so people will overuse it
So they'll say "love"
Every other time they speak
(A secret plot to replace "that")
So it doesn't sound weird
Like an unpronounceable rumble
Of letters for every time
You feel the need to repeat
And repeat, those four letters.
("I love love love snickers"
Heard that sentence way too many times)
So we'll be confused by it
So easily replacing two letters
Changing "Like" to "Love"
With a flick of the tongue
So we'll adore the simplicity
Of the word that so easily spoken
Can define the thousands of emotions
We feel for each other
So it can be similar
To the words that are so
Easily birthed from it
Like "hope" and "need"
So we won't forget it
Like we sometimes forget
The smaller things about each other
Or even the larger things,
But those four letters
Will stay in our memories
And on our tongues.
"Love" is a four letter word
Because while nothing can define
They way that I feel for you
They way your ey
I'm Just SorryCan't tell why you're still here.
I only bring out your deep fear.
Constantly near panic attack.
Focusing on what you lack.
So afraid that I'll go away.
Why do you want me to stay?
You deserve more than me.
Really, what do you see?
Trying to be better for you.
I don't know what I can do.
I'll try whatever I can.
I'm just sorry for who I am.
Meant To BeTake back some of your love.
I'm not an angel for above.
Of all the flaws that you see,
Not a single one you find in me.
You're in a circle of self hate.
Can't you see that I inflate?
What I'd do to make you smile;
I'll try it once in a while.
Kiss and hug is all you could ask.
So I make up a destructive task.
Cut you open, make you bleed.
I'm the poison on which you feed.
Somehow I'm amazing to you.
Does it even matter what I do?
Self esteem is way too low,
But punishment is all I know.
Trying to curb my sadistic ways
Or you won't survive many days.
Why can't love just be easy?
Are we really meant to be?
Trying to be BetterWhen you’re like me,
Insanity lurks in the room.
Empty pain bottles litter the floor.
Walls have holes.
The air smells of drink.
When you’re like me,
The voices don’t stop.
Reflective surfaces burn.
Dark corners are home.
Skin still heals.
When you’re like me,
You wonder why.
Why it’s so easy to give up.
Why perfection eludes reach.
Why you strive for it each day,
And are never satisfied.
If you’re like me,
Let me be your poem.Let me melt the cold pain from your skin, transform into the sun and heat your hurt––so it evaporates into white clouds of hope that inspires the trees to sway.
Let me touch you like the first story I've ever read in brail, after deciding to go deaf before letting another sound replace your voice.
Let me shatter every tiny ounce of doubt from your being, using the weight of my love for you–– to demolish it's once relevant place in your thoughts.
Let me carve holes in to the night sky, so you can see how my universe revolves solely around you, making the moon shine bright with jealousy.
Let me fly you to the nearest nebula, so we can finally be as high as this love makes me feel.
Let me drive you crazy like a mirage in a desolate desert, making you crave it so much you imagine it in front of you, dying for a taste.
Let me be the sun to warm you and you can be the rain to cool us down, and we can make the sky blush a million different colours.
Let me be the baseli
Trust MeWithin love, only the passing of time will allow me to see,
The truth behind a statement where confusion and pain is free,
Learning to ride a bike, I could always feel my fathers hand,
With a steady momentum, an hour glass of sand,
I would trip however never fall,
My fathers actions never came with a stall,
Each day started in the same way,
The same conversation, repetition is what he would say,
Mother is loving however never there,
Two voices beyond my the other side of the door is rare,
There are times mother and father would embrace,
Understandings of love creates a blank face,
When my body began to scare me, when it started to change,
My father helped me welcome it without feeling strange,
Pregancy, diseases, sexual expression; sex and masturbation,
My perception changed, fear became fascination,
Father hugs like a friend with mother in the house,
In my room they last longer, when there's no one else,
Within love, only the passing of time will allow me to see,
the criminal mentalit
Lost Within ViewBeneath labels and connected behaviours, I lay covered,
The death of my mother, now by the grim reaper I am mothered,
Life is time; I'm just beyond a measurement,
I am a bias enemy, indirect resentment,
I am the hidden item in the lost tomb,
I am the invisible sight, lost within my bedroom,
I want acknowledgment, but don't ask for,
For the voice I seek may attack my core,
The needle at the bottom of the haystack,
The outline of an image hidden within in the black,
The cause of disagreements, the eventual fight,
The outline of an image hidden within in the white,
Can you see the other side of the wall?
The distant face, a reason for a stall,
Can you hear the sound within silence?
The distant ear, provoking indirect silence,
Can you smell a sent beyond you?
The distant nose, searching for a que,
Beneath labels and connected behaviours, I lay covered,
The person within sight waiting to be discovered.
Poetry Basics: EmotionsEmotions in poetry
Writing, at its very base, is communication. We write to communicate — with someone else, with ourselves — when we write, we arrange words in a manner that is intended to be read. This is very important because, no matter what or how you write, this one basic fact never changes. If you get stuck at any point, you can come back to this sturdy foundation. I am writing to communicate; what do I want to communicate?
Often, the answer is emotions: how you feel, or how you want your reader to feel. As Gregory Corso wrote, "You must feel! It's beautiful to feel!"
We all feel, but how we express our feels is a matter of perspective. If we are too flippant with our choice of words, our readers will think we are shallow. If we are too brooding and deliberate, our readers may find us incomprehensible. Finding a balance takes work and dedication.
But that work and dedication is what distinguishes
Thoughts In Liguid FormI stare at my arm with anger for I know that it can't contain,
The reactions to my past, the assumptions hiding in the dancing rain,
Don't say that you care, don't you dare begin to stare,
My skin shakes, there's only so much it can bare,
Don't say for me you have hope,
Trying to hide, my tears can't cope,
Don't say that u feel, don't say that pain can heal,
My skin shakes, only one perception can be real,
Don't say that for me you have lust or love,
Trying to hide, the gun waiting to shoot the white dove,
Don't say that there isn't shame; don't say there isn't blame,
My skin shakes; I notice the forgotten cigarette butt and know we're the same,
Don't say the past doesn't matter; I'm the six foot son,
Trying to hide, the bullets are not in my gun,
Don't say that your right, don't say it will pass with the arrival of light,
My skin shakes, knowing what will happen alone at the end of the night,
Don't say my perception is strange,
Trying to hide, as a reflection and its creator exchange,
ProjectPorkchop Vol277ProjectPorkchop is all about bringing more exposure to the many talented yet under appreciated artists going unseen on deviantART daily. The artists chosen truly deserve more attention based on low counts of favorites, comments, and watchers, added to their incredible artistic talent.
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Suggested by ConnyDuck
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The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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