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#poem

i have seen enough sunsets to know that pretty things get old too

what a privilege it is

to see a highway and just see a highway

to see a rope as just a rope

a bottle of pills as just a bottle of pills

not an exit sign

not an out

to not hear a shrill 5th grader screech of a pick me!pick me!pick me! in the back of your head,

repeating like a mantra, a mantra you know how to end

but won’t

and you make that decision everyday

what a privilege it is

to not have to choose

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I think I’ve accepted it now

the way things had to go


and though I still have moments

when it hurts even a little 

it doesn’t come anywhere close

to the happiness you brought


I’m sorry if I ever made you feel

like you weren’t enough

cause you were so much more

than anyone could imagine


I cherish all the good

and accept that sometimes 

things don’t work

but that’s okay


chapter closed

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Aku mulai menikmati menangis seperti lagu kesukaan

Mulai menunggu ia datang seperti waktu makan malam

Entah sudah berapa lama,

Bahkan aku sudah kehilangan hak untuk berbicara angka

Mereka datang bersamaan tanpa membawa apapun selain kekecewaan

Lagi lagi dan lagi sampai aku tenggelam

Ini rencana Tuhan, katanya

Maka tak ada apapun yang bisa kulawan

Harus bertahan, bukan pilihan

Tapi kewajiban

Selagi aku punya pijakan

Seratus tahun tidak berarti

Esok hari akan tetap kuhadapi

Hari ini aku turuti

Sampai nanti, sampai nanti

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I would live a life of Thursdays

If I could build you better weekends

I’d best a hundred bluffs

Sail sinking ships daily

Beat boards into my own fingertips

Stitch my hands into the patchwork nights

Use any makeshift hammer available

Pry nails up with my teeth

I’d give you my unfinished sentences

My whole process

All the ugly of it

Uncut gems and ironsand

Rough and bloody diamonds

Anything to compliment your eyes, dear

I’d sand down my edges

Until my body was a riverbed in your summer

Skipped upon

My stones as a path where life bursts wildly

My mouth as the poison taster of the ocean

Whose dark glitters for miles in both directions

More one way than the other

My own darkness would become a place for your nightlight

The cooling off of a day of passions

My palms as your pillows and combs

Seashells that mutter of foreign tides

My maundering a place to meander

My needs as your wants

I would be a planter box for rainbows

Your own hanging gardens

Pansies and tomatoes

Cucumbers and orchids

Lilies and cantaloupes

I would be the act of growing

A quiet adventure

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i’ve stayed up too late, too much, that i’ve started wanting to drink the moon. maybe offer a toast to the could-have-beens, to all the witches that were once sure of the spells. but are now sleeping, dreamless. later when the morning comes i hope to see magic. may we find something to quench the thirst. because even the wolves’ throats are so dry and lonely there hasn’t been any howlings in the night.

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when I told you I was here for it all
I meant I would still be here
when you decided that
my hand holding yours
was too much
and I was still here
when you realised
you could not go, be or liv
anywhere else without
my strength pushing you forward

I want us
inspite of all the fears
and the joy I feel
when your smell enters a room

I’ve been by the window
waiting for love to happen
for so long now and
I really hope
that you can love the way
I wake up in the middle of the night
screaming my ghost’s name,
searching for a peaceful
spot on your shoulder
to rest my head on

so if you’re gonna stay
could you please close the door
tightly
so when you get scared (again)
by the intensity of my ribcage
jumping against your mouth
you won’t feel the urge
to run alongside the breezy wind
and will
instead
choose to face the lightning
striking this bedroom
you made a home in.

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Louise Glück, Aboriginal Landscape

The cemetery was silent. Wind blew through the trees;
I could hear, very faintly, sounds of  weeping several rows away,
and beyond that, a dog wailing.

At length these sounds abated. It crossed my mind
I had no memory of   being driven here,
to what now seemed a cemetery, though it could have been
a cemetery in my mind only; perhaps it was a park, or if not a park,
a garden or bower, perfumed, I now realised, with the scent of roses —
douceur de vivre filling the air, the sweetness of  living,
as the saying goes.

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Why are you being so nice?

You are gonna kill me

with those blue eyes

And the sweet things you say,

That make me cry.

You don’t even know,

How much it affects me,

All the things you say,

Making me think you care.


Please stop,

It’s gonna hurt too much,

When you figure out I’m not so nice,

When the little monster comes out,

When the broken parts, and all the damage,

Won’t look so good in the daylight

You’ll leave.

And I’ll be more damaged and broken,

Crying for months.

Please stop.

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Scorpio Compatibility:

(Fixed, Feminine Energy, Water Element, Mars Rulership, Pluto Rulership, Uranus Exalt, Venus Detriment, Moon Fall)

1. Pisces (Fem Energy, Water Element, Venus Exalt)

2. Cancer (Fem Energy, Water Element, Moon Rulership, Mars Fall)

3. Capricorn (Fem Energy, Positive Mars, Moon Detriment)

4. Virgo (Fem Energy, Venus Fall)

5. Aries (Masc Energy, Mars Rulership, Venus Detriment)

6. Gemini (Masc Energy)

7. Scorpio (Rivaling Fixed)

8. Sagittarius (Neighboring Sign, Masc Energy)

9. Libra (Neighboring Sign, Masc Energy, Venus Rulership, Mars Detriment)

10. Aquarius (Rivaling Fixed, Masc Energy, Uranus Rulership)

11. Leo (Rivaling Fixed, Masc Energy, Uranus Detriment)

12. Taurus (Rivaling Fixed, Fem Energy, Venus Rulership, Moon Exalt, Mars Detriment, Pluto Detriment, Uranus Fall)


(Rulerships/Exalt = Functional)

(Detriments/Falls = Dysfunctional)

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Aromada

Disuelta armadas proscritas latitudes de sus ansias, que envuelve enramada partitura de mí alma.

Añorosos difuminados traciegos de tus versos olvidados… ¡Pero llega tu fragancia! tu olor olvidado, a los eslabones de mis sonetos enamorados.

Solo rezo versos, al amparo de tus brazos… en medio de tus senos, en la zotehuela de tus labios.

Sé que me he derribado… todas aromadas madrugadas que he despertado en tu nido convulsionado por la eclosión de nuestras almas.

J Green


image
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I write poetry in anger.

Amidst the fires of my fury,

Rage so hot it burns in blue and white,

I write poetry in the first invisible damp

Burst of space that blooms as gasoline meets

The bonfire’s red and orange light.

I write poetry as firebombs, my words

Each an instinctive Molotov cocktail

Hurled in pain, in wrath, in heat

To smash, to burn against the skin,

Against the ears, of the bombmakers

Who lit the spark in me.

I write poetry in anger.

 ******

I write poetry in grief.

Locked inside the hollow ocean shell,

Empty save the weight of years and tears.

I write poetry in that first choking swell

Of confusion and quiet hurt of the wave

Which washes away the paintings in the sand.

I write poetry as boxes of debris, each line

Packaged in the salt and silt and grit of loss

And buried in the shifting sands,

Until they can be unearthed by more forgiving hands,

Older hands, wiser ones, the ones unstained

By the severing of strings.

I write poetry in grief.

 ******

I write poetry in laughter.

On that bird swirl of air to the heavens,

Lightness and weight in one feathered bundle,

I write poetry in that first gold stomach-lurch

Of flight and falling of wings flickering in and out

Which twist and curl and rise on currents of our mirth.

I write poetry as gannets throwing and rising, each stanza

Bundled in that mania of fear and joy and discovery,

And caught by shadows of storms.

Storms which may or may not come to pass

Which cup and hurl yellow-threads

And throw us higher towards the sun.

I write poetry in laughter.

 ******

I write poetry instead of feeling,

Because how can I place these emotions

Into words which you understand?

Can you feel what I do? The gas

And the spray and the lightness

Of white and blue and gold and grey?

Can you feel the grit of the sand or

The call of the wind in your chest,

In your throat, or the bloom in your

Collarbone just over your heart?

I write poetry instead of feeling,

I write poetry in place of emotions,

I write you poetry instead of speech.

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Don’t Fall


Something like a slippery slope,

Not knowing much, but I’m still doing the most.

Could’ve been sitting East Coast, toasty,

Just getting to know you, mostly.

But slowly plans changed, we’d make plans on different days,

Sitting with you watching, sun gazing or talking.

Feeling my self free, like the last shit that we walked from.

If you trip I might catch you, if you fall, I might fall too.

But love has taught me some lessons.. sometimes things just fall through.

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bruises bruises bruises,
all so fresh like you just forced yourself on me yesterday.

bruises bruises bruises,
all the pain pouring through my skin, turning me blue.

bruises bruises bruises,
the memories will never fade of how men put their filthy hands on me and making my body theirs.

bruises bruises bruises,
they took my innocence and purity. they made me a filthy and demolished being.

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Zodiac Story

image

Points of twinkling light

Shooting through space beyond the reach of time

Connecting points among the heavens

Lines drawn within the veil of a night’s sky

What can you see, can you decifer the pictures found within

Can you picture, Orians Belt, can you find the handles of the dippers both big and small

Can you witness the movements of the sky bound zoo as they drift over head

Can you see the points that make up the Ram, the Bull, the Water Carrier moved by the wind

Think on the stories held within only one of billions of shinning light burning do close and so far from where we dream of them each night

Watch them as they streak across the night, never forget to make your wish

Points of twinkling light

Shooting through space beyond the reach of time


@starlitpoems


image: Zodiac Stories - Horoscope Horizons

Let me know what you think and pass the thought along.

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