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Literature Text
My beating heart was all,
For you.
I picked up the phone to call,
And you made me smile the way you do.
I held my pillow close,
And choked it 'til it was blue.
But it was just a substitute,
For you.
I fluttered in the sky,
Last night.
I soared beyond the sun's reply,
And everything was very right.
You held me in your arms;
You kept my body through the night.
I was only yours,
Last night.
I'll always want to hold,
Your hand.
Then even when we're old,
You'll still be sure that I'm your man.
The only one I need,
The only one who'll understand,
Is painting hearts on boxers with,
Your hand.
My empty heart's been filled,
By you.
My butterflies are thrilled,
With all the feelings that you put them through.
I need you in my arms,
To show you what I mean is true.
I just want to be,
By you.
For you.
I picked up the phone to call,
And you made me smile the way you do.
I held my pillow close,
And choked it 'til it was blue.
But it was just a substitute,
For you.
I fluttered in the sky,
Last night.
I soared beyond the sun's reply,
And everything was very right.
You held me in your arms;
You kept my body through the night.
I was only yours,
Last night.
I'll always want to hold,
Your hand.
Then even when we're old,
You'll still be sure that I'm your man.
The only one I need,
The only one who'll understand,
Is painting hearts on boxers with,
Your hand.
My empty heart's been filled,
By you.
My butterflies are thrilled,
With all the feelings that you put them through.
I need you in my arms,
To show you what I mean is true.
I just want to be,
By you.
Literature
umbrellas
I.
A boy putters in the hotel
corridor, leashed
by a single thread of duty--
it is wound
twice around the doorknob,
pulls taut at his wrist.
Recede through the keyhole,
and his keepers are weary,
sprawled like dead
leaves on bedspreads,
and fading
into sleep.
II.
A small girl wails, maybe three,
her teethy pitch escalating
by years.
In the rented night,
her last cry strangles,
undone by hands
on wrists.
III.
A forty-foot red curtain separates us
from the amphibious stage.
At the cirque du soleil
(i squint to see the sun),
clowns chase leaks
with patchy umbrellas.
This is a present, a moment
like a birthday. But
Literature
Perfect Antidote
You're about as convincing as the safety
on a loaded gun.
And about as thrilling as
Russian Roulette.
You're begging for a trigger
to escape your troubled head.
Its like watching a car crash
From a window that I cant break.
You're falling down again
Tripping over tangled thoughts inside your head
That you cant pray away.
Well if you agree to be the patient,
I'll be the best damn doctor you've ever had.
I prescribe the perfect antidote..
Love.
Dont scream too hard lovely.
You're going to lose your voice.
For your throats sake,
Use a whisper and save
Some of your precious breath for words that
Deserve to be said.
You're
Literature
Your Poem
On the twentieth day of July 69,
For the first time in history,
The moon landed on a man.
The first time such move had been attempted by a celestial body,
A great feat of precision,
Didn't crush the man at all.
You see, we see things from our eyes,
And everyone knows our eyes see upside down.
Or is that the right way up?
I could tell you about walking through deserts,
The beauty of running water, of rain,
You'd be thinking of TV shows.
When was the last time you were challenged,
Walked away from a conversation stunned.
Who are you listening to, me or yourself?
If beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
Is meaning in the eye of t
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Comments53
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ooo.... i really like the flow of this one. i really like the butterfly part too