Competition Ends 27th August 2018 1:19pm
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White Noise

poet
carpemax
Lost Thinker
United States
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Joined 6th Mar 2018
Forum Posts: 7

Mists of Past and Present

In their shattered shadows I live this day with only an illusion to breath.
And within this graveyard of time's graying mists, lives a past ever present, never in rest.
 
The heroes, long fallen to raptures of need, had tempted the wastelands of fate.
Never to amend the passing of debts to those they cast to depth's darkened gate.  
 
All words and passages owned by R. H. Maxwell. No text of this, or any subsequent additional text or passages without written permission by R. H. Maxwell, is permitted by International and United States of America copyright laws.
Written by carpemax
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poet
Grace
Idryad
Guardian of Shadows
105awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 25th Aug 2011
Forum Posts: 13388

carpemax, thank you for your entry.

poet
brokentitanium
Thought Provoker
Canada
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Joined 18th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 130

Conformist's Plea

 
Here, we value your creativity
Those splashes of insanity
Your brushstrokes of wild ideas
Give such colour to our community
Just keep it within the lines
 
We honour all your feelings
Even pain, if it brings you healing
Scribble black across our canvas
We’ll permit the unappealing
If it stays within the lines
 
It's adorable, your messy spirit,
(Though secretly we fear it)
Just smother a tiny bit at a time
So we don’t have to hear it
And keep it within the lines
 
Written by brokentitanium
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poet
Gahddess_Worship
Dangerous Mind
United States
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Joined 21st Aug 2013
Forum Posts: 371

Removed, incongruent content.

poet
Breakingbenjamin
Benjamin
Twisted Dreamer
Australia
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Joined 4th July 2018
Forum Posts: 6

Reflection

Tis a little known fact about the truth in our lies that we are our own creators in this manifestation of our hollow cries.
Clinically dead is the life of the love I spread, for I have aimed at nothing and I have never missed.
Tis a lonely reminder that I am forever gagged n bound in the hellish depths of this.
No exit nor out, there is no turning your back on this demon in creation. For it is with a heavy hand I must hold this burdain in my soul.
Now you can plead and scream but your heart will never again be whole, as at wait far beyond our fate is an evil of the darkness truly driven by hate.
A tormentation from your very own shadow, who in trust only the devil knows.
Please god lay down your protection. For I only wish to smile at my own reflection....
Written by Breakingbenjamin (Benjamin)
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poet
Breakingbenjamin
Benjamin
Twisted Dreamer
Australia
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Joined 4th July 2018
Forum Posts: 6

Internal destruction

A tornado of emptiness is tearing through my soul, ripping all that is left and dragging it into this abyss. My despise is a bottomless pit, tis once you fall in you seem to be falling for life.
Weightless, souless, heartless and completely fucking alone. Tormented for ever by the fuck who never left you alone.
Tormented by the same fuck who destroyed my dreams of ever having a family home.
Tormented forever because even when I'm by my self, I am never completely alone.
He whispers and he talks, it pushes he thrives, it is my negativity that drives this.
It manifests and it lingers.
He grows like a foul moss on a stagnant corps, it is a stench like no other, he will never let me go.
I bleed and I scream, looking straight through those unknowing eyes.
It is my self I despise.
Written by Breakingbenjamin (Benjamin)
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poet
takis1917
Thought Provoker
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Joined 6th Aug 2017
Forum Posts: 30

Presence

John Smith will be here
because he fears his absence
may not be noticed...
Written by takis1917
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poet
RByron418
R Byron Johnson
Twisted Dreamer
United States
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Joined 16th Jan 2018
Forum Posts: 39

faithless gospel

cocooned in an emotional blister
like a cyst
like an unhatched egg scarred with a dead embryo
logic in contortions, acrobatic reasoning bending but never breaking
each corner straining making the sense limp from common
building a sandcastle morality
conscience with a double-tongue, forked and tasting,
capturing forbidden scents from the world's rushing breath
encapsulating, embracing and crushing
retaining them upon a subliminal level;
subconscious spores,
consentual infections sowing what it reaps,
idealistic distortions rendering reality obsolete,
its fruit will never threaten you with promises or burden you with hope.

within i am a hypothermic fixture,
crystallized in a private game of longing, desperate,
cloaked in old fashions to usurp the life they previously held,
diffusing an identity,
leaving a residue mood deep and teaching me to impersonate your dead.

little fish eats Big Fish from the inside out
and both lose to the river's tide--
begging for hate's intervention,
the diplomacy of indifference, the amnesty of detachment
and a return to the stifling confines of an imploding catastrophe of responsible existence.

never through with premature alarm clock nightmare calls,
painful mechanical cries of the newborn morning still purple with the suffocation of dreams,
fresh from crying itself to sleep lying next to a profound vacancy.

here, a man-child ripe with the fever of hope,
dehydrating with a profuse expulsion of eager tenderness and fresh affection searching for a home
quarantined from an infectious smiling despair
with sacrificial martyrs bleeding poetry
union's armagedon and severed ties bleeding out,
leaving pale shells of thoughts called words
statues of post-immaculate forms frozen in a near embrace,
reaching out but never touching
swollen eyes burning with the evaporation of tears
a mind throbbing sore with the hammers of obsession

this faithless gospel has given me a cause to live against like a surrogate spine,
while the future, once a silholuetted blaze,
now lays a dead cinder
the disintegrating ash choking, an inhale of burning memory,
blocking, locking.  
asphyxiating  
a recirculating carbon dioxide scream
Written by RByron418 (R Byron Johnson)
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