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Forums → Art, Music, and Writing → saphire's poetry and stuff
I saw Legend doing this, and I thought it was a good idea. I found that poetry is a good way to say stuff, so...
Also, feel free to comment, I don't mind what you think about it.
You say that you trust me
But how can I know.
you say you love me
But it never shows.
you know nothing at all
of how I feel
'cos I hide it in smiles
and all that false zeal
I'm fed up and sick
of my freedom destroyed
I cant trust you with how I feel
'cos you will just say
That it's nothing, and that it isn't a big deal
Why can't you see and take notice.
You don' even know I'm here.
I try hard to please you
and do as you say
But still don't tell you my fear.
We were a family once
with music and joy and fun.
But now they all left
there's a hole in my heart
and now nothing can be done.
So say to me that you're proud.
That no-one you know can do that
but see past the skill, to the mind within
and see all the damage you've done
- 106 Replies
Chase the sleep until the day
and chase the light in search of play
Until the night is sweet again
as beautiful as coffee grains
Work is weary, cuts the hours
Crafted judgement of our power
over hearts and over pain
Bittersweet as coffee grains
Quickened heart and quickened mind
Quickened end you might soon find
Newer fabric freshly stained
dark as blood and coffee grains
Weary walker stepping twice
through herbs and powder, sweets and rice
Marvelling at foreign rains
Travelled far, like coffee grains
Friend of sleepless, friend of dawn
drinking down that early yawn
burn the clouds that fog the brain
clear and fresh as coffee grains.
It's awesome guys! I wish I could write like this
Modern day animals
Screaming at the void
to avoid responsibility
devoid of attention
or mental stability
yearning to hold
intangible feeling of
freedom and healing
undo the mistake
but life wont delete
and we’re stuck in repeat
in a feedback loop of
as we stare in a stupor
absorbed by computers.
bring on the hormones
brain is a war zone
can’t take a pause though
thinking in portals
mortal frame caught
in a cognitive cyclone
through apps on an i-phone
our trains are derailed
set up to fail
with the impossible
pace of a world
off it’s face
on the buzz of subscribe
tribes in the wild
child of the future
what have you done to us.
I wish to write words that change the world
A domino to trip the switch of thought from a fraction to an idea.
I don't dare think I will ever find that golden ratio
Of vagaries and falsely balanced truths
That paste my wall from friendly interactions.
I don't believe I hold any worth in words that another hasn't deftly defined decades before it briefly crossed my mind.
Yet I hope my words may change a world in time.
With my muddling thoughts in anger of politics and prayers, of the pain I see day to day in minds and bodies of those I call close, I can perhaps rest at least my own uneasy black and white to a much more pleasing grey.
I want my words to take a pause, step back and watch their soothing shapes and sounds.
See the patterns they make
On the unsuspecting mind come back to watch my words perform.
I want to change that world of matter
An alien that lives it's own reality in a house of bone;
The meaning is reborn through a lens made by a different life.
If I can change the world just once, I'd ask that it all took a moment of peace. Count to 10 in each language it knows, take the time to see how it's primitive pets have grown, take pity and give some sage advice to the creatures barely born from chaos.
Perspective is what I would ask to change, as the last vestiges of our sanity slips away. Paper has only the value we grant it, perhaps we could tear ourselves away. One day. If I could change the world
We are the people you swore to protect;
a million strong souls you choose to neglect.
If you were a mother, you'd be behind bars,
filling your plate by stealing from ours,
as you pave your palace with ill-gotten gold,
as you earn in a day our lifetime ten-fold.
Yet you still strive to paint yourself a saint
by drinking in pubs and calling it "quaint"
Whilst starving your children, cheap bodies for war,
because murder brings money, watch the economy soar.
We are the people you cut down like wheat,
to bow to your mighty cloven-hooved feet.
We are the many you try to ignore
when we shout and we gather outside your front door.
You strip us and scorn us, but soon comes the hour
when this collection of people stop giving you power.
No trust, no love, all loyalty lost;
were those paper-thick promises worth this cold cost?
We are the people, bodies fuelled by rage,
and we are in the wings waiting to retake the stage.
Poetry dump for you all. Also, in the process of creating a youtube channel, will post a link for those interested when I've set it up properly.
I will never dig a grave for you
You invade my mind and tempt me with false freedom
The glimpse of comfort, relief, of losing all cares and all desires.
What a dream, what a longing you push me towards.
Bu I will never plant myself for you
You who desires the water from eyes that loved me
I am fighting your roots, with poisoned words of my own,
A will grown in me by another, a veteran of your sweet whispers.
Burn. Wilt and wither as you starve on the hope I regained from you.
Return to your wretched nothingness, and take with you your spines
Those needles that pricked any pride I cultivated
That scratched through the lines of thought that lead away from you
I will take your tempting blooms of fragile peace and show the world
The rotted heart of you. You want to parasite yourself to me?
Then your true nature has been revealed by your touch upon others.
I see you now, and I will never dig my grave for you.
Caged State of Mind
It's trying to talk with your mouth held closed
Wanting to leave with the door locked tight
Pleading for help by pushing away
Stuck in your body for another day
It's never calling out to those that you love
Staying upstairs when you ache to belong
It's hiding away in the cage that you built
Tying your own hands when something goes wrong
Go far away and stay here forever
Hold me close and leave me alone
These contradictions break my mind in two;
They tear me apart, let me be whole.
One by one they go away
One by one, they find their futures
One by one they never stay
One by one I miss them dearly
A thread for siblings foreign bound
A thread for siblings wed in joy
A thread for siblings popping ‘round
A thread for longing, searching, reaching.
A face of teacher, staighting spines
A face of friend, my strong companion
A face so worn with wisdom lines
A face of partner, far from holding.
Then slip the ropes, the threads, the faces
As time takes them from my grasping hands
Let me sneek back to my childhood places
Or stop this loss that time demands.
Mary is Dead
You spoon fed us tales of dragon slayers, underdogs who fight insurmountable odds and win.
You fed us stories of David and Goliath, before calling us small and mocking the pebbles we sling.
You act surprised when the underdog bites, when children raised on heroes tales resent the world that denies them their rights.
When every paper, network, film and show is lauding creativity and the individual, why do you stand shocked as we call for reform to the outdated laws that demand we be sectioned off.
You dress up in your gowns of free speech, and when we question your rules, the lies you fabricate, the propaganda you propagate, you use strawmen and scream and have the nerve to call it debate.
You cry out injustice at your treatment, as you barricade yourself in the towers of gold you promised were built for us, then laugh in scorn as we scratch at the walls for a crumb to trickle down.
You say we betray you, that you stand for us, as you stand on us to keep your stilettos clean.
As you starve our libraries, schools, communities to crush the will that knowledge brings. Because smarter people cut down kings.
We see our heroes on the screens, the call to arms ringing in our heads.
We say I would stand by them! I would answer their call when it came, if I was only there fighting with them!
You are being asked now. All of you.
Those massive armies started in taverns and fields.
Started with words, a muttering in the people who called each other to a common purpose.
We have no power? Who truly believes that when history proves it false?
The leaders of the past are dead and gone, and we sit idly by for our own hero of the hour to make their stand.
But we cant wait for a Mary Sue, a chosen one with unreal powers, with magic and reality bending to their will.
The years no longer count in our favour, the luxury of materials cost us the luxury of time.
We can learn to shape our reality, but we have to be more than the scared souls that work in offices, fields, shops and restaurants, the cleaners and the couriers, the postman and policeman.
We have to be an army of Davids to face the Leviathon that refuses to admit itself a parasite.
This is your call to action, to brew in pubs and coffee shops, a healthy discourse that doesn't end in fits of mindless rage, let each party that is hurt by the cutting jibes of politicking find the true cause of the petty squabble, and remove that poisoned root through honest open judge-less discussion.
Knowledge is our superpower and with the world in your pocket, there is power in the people.
I was looking through old photographs
And I saw something that made me laugh;
6 children dancing in the sand
with mother, father hand in hand.
Their sparkling eyes outshone the sun,
twinkling teeth reveal their fun,
And in the centre clear as day,
A memory once thought old and grey;
Between the boys who grew to men
is a Stranger I hope to see again,
who mirrors the joy that I had too
A secret that my stranger knew.
Perhaps this treasure will grow in me,
The stranger that my child will be.
Gentle unknown unborn thing,
Not yet made, to you I sing;
Let your stranger stay,
As you grow and play,
And not be lost to life’s cruel sting.
Walk With me in Memory
A forest evergreen with sounds,
Each Ancient tree a testimony of time
Spent holding back tides of tyranny.
Take a trip in the dark,
Through forgotten corners
Of well loved spaces,
And learn the secrets kept by silence
In a room where ghosts reside.
Come walk with me through distant halls
to battles lost and battles found,
to search for peace or settled thought,
its meaning lost to peeling walls.
Breath the fresh and pine and dirt
carried on autumn’s early sighs
that whips Summer’s final kiss away
to land on limbs spread wide in welcome.
History lies within these stones,
and history lies within these stories,
and kings lie beneath these stones,
to dream again of dying glories.
6 more weeks of hellish waiting
six weeks delay my celebrating
The end in sight, the battle won
Grey clouds burned out by blessed sun
One final hill, standing tall
defeat this one, defeat them all
This may just be a broken road
or a trail that leads to the health I'm owed.
walking and talking helped me, it's true
but that goal was always just out of view
and now I might come round the final bend
and see the backs of my braver friends
You sat ashamed, as if I were weak
to need this pill that I had to seek
I saw the shame at the heart of your eyes
what is it about this that you so despise?
I don't take it lightly, but I am still ill
I'll stand by my side, if you never will
You knew long before I, but uttered no word
to sneer at my choice seams surreal, absurd.
And now comes the waiting, one final test
that determines if my mind will lay at rest
reach out your hand, and abandon false notions
Support me in hope of good news from this potion.
If they wanted attention
why would they hide
the cuts they can cover
Each slash at their pride
If they wanted you knowing
why not leave showing
The number still growing
The hurt laid inside
If slit as a plea
Why not ask them and see
By knowing, ignoring
Blame falls at your feet
But that isn't why
They make cuts not to die
But to prove what is real
To prove they can feel
Control their small world
When emotions are hurled
To Tie back to earth
Their chips of self worth
Because pain is a fence that fights for home turf.
Heartbeat pounds from Brazil to our shore
Marking the step of this black and red horde
The callers direct us, smart waves of the hand
So stand the leaders, the heart of the band.
Surdu make pace, keep the whole band in time
Dobra the bravest, weave patterns in line
Repi sharp crack rebounds from each wall
Small snaring Caixa sounds under it all
And hours of work bring this moment to bear
The joy is tangible, brings light to dusk air
We pause on the main street, we hear the crown roar
Then drowned out by drumming, as we step off once more.
@Saphire24 Are you planning on adding any new posts to thsi in the future or is it pretty much over with it? I also left a profile comment.
Yes, I'm planning on continuing with it, posting every now and again as I have been doing. I upvoted it.
@Saphire24 Glad to hear you'll continue to update it. I've been taking up the hobby the last few years myself and find it pretty enjoyable. Glad to see the creative side of AG still exists, with one example being you. WOuld love to discuss it further with you on your profile if you don't mind.
I tend to lean on rhymes to make my case.
Let's drop that set of rules in favour of free forming speech
Let's take a step back, and admit; we done messed up.
Our lungs are burning, we are a smoker who refuses to admit that the cancer was caused by the three packs a day indulged in, depended upon.
we are cells in a body riddled with disease, each one fighting best they can,
when the white cells are sipping pina coladas on a blood red beach, saying that it is unnecessary to fight, because this disease isn't real, and their apathy has nothing to do with it anyway, and even if it was it isn't their problem, because another organ keeps bringing them the wrong colour grapes, which is clearly more important.
Meanwhile our brain and our heart are screaming at our hands to take action, but due to a resigned sense of dissociation, the nerves are refusing to send the message through, so the hands lie still. It seams we need to grow a spine for the system to work as designed, though the marrow has been drained so much that this task seams insurmountable at this time.
So we are left dying, suffocating, with the antibodies struggling to fight the infections that rage, with no brain to direct them, no blood to bring them more aid. They just fight on in their own ways, hoping desperately that their tiny efforts can somehow combine to abate each new tide of parasites that work to break this celestaial body we call home. And still we sit and think our efforts enough to stop the smoke dead in our lungs.
Here is to all the moments I missed
As I spent my precious seconds to catch a breath.
Here's to those opportunities that knocked on another stranger's door,
when baring mine sent them down the stream.
Here's to those people lost to me as time and nature take their course,
remembered in sorrow through a mirror held up to the past.
Here is to Lady Luck and her fickle fingers tracing fate
into the treats of boots passed down by each older child.
Here is to the arguments lost through lack of clear mind
and those heated talks lost but fought bravely through new heart.
Here is to those mistakes that tell the tale of growth;
to the regret of an attempt at life that falls short
but tries to make itself proud by its own enduring will.
A drink raised to no longer focusing on the failings that cause the cuts,
but on the scabs that prove wounds are on the mend.
Raise a cup to the errors that make me human
and as I drink each past curse as a blessing, I can now see
My life is not wasted, but soon I hope to be.
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