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#poetic

SO WHAT IS A POEM

Poems should he explained cuz good poems are vague and are open to many interpretations if a poem is not those then its just regular sentences in a paragraph much like this one ur reading


Of course the poet will say NO I WROTE THAT FOR U TO DRAW UR OWN MEANING but we all know thats bullshit


The poet says it vague to intrigue u and draw ur attention to him cuz why else would anyone write a poem but to say LOOK AT ME IM THESE THINGS I HINT AT IN MY WORK


So u say WHAT THINGS, ITS UNCLEAR, I SEE U HINT AT SOME THINGS, BUT WHAT EXACTLY? Cuz hes an introvert BUT he doesnt want to be alone, he wants a separate world separate himself from everyone but he leaves the gate wide open for u to wander in


Its open to many interpretations BUT OF COURSE WHAT THE POEM MEANS TO THE AUTHOR IS THE ONLY MEANING. hes just a tease he says LOOK AT ME in a roundabout way he says LOOK AT ME by saying NO I DONT WANNA BE LOOKED AT


“He’s a bird demonstrating his feathers, our superimpositions are nothing but craft”


“Escape routes”



No he doesnt demonstrate his feathers hes a deep person introvert he doesnt wanna be seen he drops his little droppings on ur desk and ur dumb window sill then twits weakly outside ur window just enuff for u to hear and say HMMMM im intrigued what a deep person bird and an introvert to boot i like introverts theyre so independent. Im gonna go to him now



“I get it poetry is like a secret language you can pass notes to each other and no one else knows the cipher, like dragon runes”



No its not that too

NO

WRONG


Its a MUDDLED UP VAGUE language nothing more


“Oh, so worse”


Yes. The pits


ITS BULLSHIT SOLD TO EASILY DUPED PEOPLE

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Watch out and hide

There was a time

when I was afraid

I was a child

and they had a blade


There was a time

I wanted them gone

I tried to escape

but they were not done


There was a time

they whispered so creepy

I tried not to listen

but their words cut deeply


There was a time

they all disappeared

I thought it was good

but it was actually weird


There was a time

I wanted them back

I missed their ideas

I missed all the black


There was a time

when I realized

they were my friends

in darkness disguised


There came a time

when we became one

Me and my demons

so watch out and hide…

Teodora Ivanova

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When you sincerely love, you love without labels, without requirements, without demands, you just feel the imperative need to pour every good gift and every beautiful feeling into the life of the one you love, it doesn’t matter what vessel they put it in. The source only cares about flowing, it does not think about those things, because love takes so many forms, a strong and sincere hug that comforts, and that brings peace and joy, an extended hand to help in whatever is needed, a fervent prayer for the welfare of the other, in a shared laugh, in a chaste kiss on the forehead, in holding their hand while the storm rages. For love is so divine that if you offer it unconditionally and with all your heart, it transmutes into what the other person really needs and that brings infinite joy to the one who gives it as much as to the one who receives it. 

e.v.e. (About love)

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as someone with bpd, i promise we love with all of us. our heart, our mind, and our body. we will love you so much that it hurts us sometimes. we notice every little detail.

for instance, the boy i’m in love with. his hair is shaggy, but not by choice, he just hasn’t gotten a haircut for awhile. his hands are small, smaller than mine. he loves his cats like they’re his kids.

i remember the first name he called me, ‘butterfly.’ i hold on to that every day of my life. my mind always goes back to him no matter what happens. although both of us aren’t ready, i truly feel like it will work out. codependency is a b*tch but i think it’s different this time.

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Esse teu corpo…

É como uma estrada ao infinito

Onde só vejo o horizonte e o perigo

Perigo este que vislumbro na entrada, em teu olhar…


Ouso passear pelo teu pescoço com meus lábios

Sentindo a doçura do teu sabor

Mas lá vem de novo o perigo, que horror!

Não posso tardar-me aqui, ainda há muito o que explorar…


Em um vale vejo à esquerda e à direita

Dois belos montes a me convidar

Mordo os lábios, mamilos, seios

A vontade é grande, mas ainda é passagem, vou-me a Adiantar…


Chego à planície, bela, nem sempre reta

Onde mais uma vez me atrevo a beijar

Sinto que a estrada se move nervosamente

Pedindo, quase implorando, pra eu logo chegar…


Me deparo com dois caminhos, suas coxas

Nos quais eu adorarei passear

Sentindo teu corpo reagir, um arrepio

O destino está adiante, vamos lá!


E, sôfrego, chego ao destino

Onde hei de me deleitar

Com mais lábios suculentos

Para minha boca beijar

E beijarei, sim beijarei

Este chão sagrado, suave, sedento

Da carga que trouxe na viagem

Calma, não estou mais de passagem

Pelo menos algumas horas irei me demorar

De sabor eu sinto um único

De odor, o mais agradável contém

E, estremecido, o corpo entorpece

Após algum tempo, quando o gozo vem.

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When the War’s Over

Once the war’s over,

I’ll sitting by the sunset,

It’s been noon for too long,

It’s been burning for too long,

But now it’s cool

And the breeze is setting in.


I’ll be at all the places I’ve ever wanted to be,

I’ll be at a hill station, while my feet are strolling on a beach,

I’ll be past my fears, the hand I wanted to hold will be holding mine.

I’ll be at peace ‘cus the sun is finally setting,

But I’ll also be experiencing the thrill of a brand new morning.

I’m hopeless at love and hopeful of life,

I’m complete and still in the making,

At the same time.


Nightmares will still come by,

But they won’t then be the only things to stay,

I’ll be somewhere I belong,

And from here far away.


When this war with myself is over,

I’ll be building my own home,

Leaving behind my cage.

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Bored To Death


The clock ticks


But time does not move any faster.


I should be happy.


I don’t remember what it feels like to be happy.


I am not sad.


I might be angry.


But mostly I am bored out of my mind.


————


Somebody told me that there would be


A sword in a glittering amethyst stone, and that


If I was not the one to pull it out, and wield it,


I would at least be the horned queen of the dark


—gleaming green in the castle on the hill.


But I’m not even an ink stain.


————


If I ever was ink of any kind, I’m not anymore


Because I have torn out every page and thrown


The book into the fireplace to keep me warm…


I was too cold.


I was too cold.


I was freezing—


And now I am nothing.


————


I keep dreaming about the clock.


And it frightens me.


I keep dreaming questions


But waking up tired, with no answers.


I crave resolution like it’s a carnal desire…


But this story has bored me to death.

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Mother’s warmth

Brothel-stench of sores

July lemonade

Hitler in grade school

Dead dogs

& first valentines


Chocolate milk

& middle-school copulation

Classic sitcoms


JFK dead on T.V.

Marilyn Monroe

Dallas sniper

Retreat to a matinee


Wet dreams in dry places


Decaying playground

Dead county fairs

Diseased swine & cattle


Carnival offspring in the Midwest

working token games

Amphetamine nights

Cheap beer & petty vandalism

Cotton candy

Dead balloons


Accident on the HWY

Simple folk

w/ thousand-

yard stares


The memory floods,

leaving me past’s victim


Now recoiling in

amazed horror


We are the new breed

of America

Dust on fragile classics

Forget the future & laugh at the sun

Sultry women

in darkened bars


The psychology of comedy

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Your Window…

image

Outside your Window what can you see? A world ever in transition never meant to stand still. Witness the cycles of ever lasting life in motion; time has never stopped before and it won’t now. Despite our will to keep things the same, our limits of what we think we control is nothing. Not caring for change doesn’t keep change from happening. Every moment we too are in flux either physically, mentally or otherwise. Much like our world we change in appearance, tone and beat. Never the same from one second to the next no matter how much we claim, how much we fight to be.

Outside your Window what can you feel? Are your senses heightened as they should be to what’s happening around you? Numb is what more and more of us are becoming as we lose the sense of ourselves, of our purpose. We are lost thus the world we govern is lost as well. Trying to maintain a balance set forth so very long ago. We feel there is something wrong with ourselves thanks to the world letting us know. Gone are days of simple life. Inherited the existence set forth by continuing mistakes that we just don’t seem to learn from. This cycle of affect will continue now and forever.

What do you see outside your Window, a world built on cycles; these cycles will never end…



image: Window Sketch Royalty Free Vector Image

Let me know dear ones what you think and pass the thought along 🌊🔥💨🌱.

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