thought

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Tall cliffs and whale bones, Our secret place that’s all our own. Hands held, hearts cradled. Eyes shut, fear of loss and pain. It all came to head that day. Back to the beginning,
You were my longest love. My truest, maybe. I think you really cared for me. I know I did for you. We finished each others puzzles the pieces that were missing. You needed to be needed.
Inner folded prematurely molded  time is tempted  to be bolded small strokes of gentle wires to the face  The frame evokes a forecful fire  at waters pace
My eyes were opened by the lessons she revealed My tongue was moved by her instructions We were in a dance at every class It never stopped Until one day she spun me one last time
Girl you're so amazing, you're so perfect Taking risks for your love is worth it Your smile is radiant, it transforms me A connection to you makes life so easy I think I want it, I think I need it
Life can compare to that of a window sill It’s part of a bigger picture and comes in Various shapes, sizes, and colors. Some are useful others just mere eye candy. Many used to display plants and décor.
Will you be my umbrella when it rains? My warm embrace when I'm afraid Will you be there for my smallest victories and biggest catastrophes? When I'm unhappy will you be my circus clown?
Turmoil in the brain  An audacious attempt to convey The imagined, left unrealized.   But to interpret the abstract,  To navigate the storm Involves a common talent.   One we all possess,
i awake, ready to enter again into this poem called life. to filter the moments,  the quivering of water’s meniscus in a plastic bottle, how each person holds his pen differently,
Free your mind, free your mind What does it mean, really, to "free your mind? Is it to have a brain with no thought? Like weight with no size?
The mind is a battlefield A realm of chaos Thoughts fighting for dominance To be discovered and elaborated upon Fragments
a thought cannot be cultivated. if, it is not planted first in the mind - which, unsedated, remains awake with conscious thirst. a thought cannot grow or sprout if, the mind does not quench it
I reluctantly set my day in motion; A pest dawdles within my psyche; Insignificant is the pain that alerts my being- It's one I've known of for months; The significance, unbeknownst to me
He who has not sipped of the wine from a glass, half-empty....shall never know the taste, of true experience! By: Tonya Carroll
Dear 2017, I dont hate you, As much as I wish I could. Dear 2017, You have taught me many lessons, Including how to make love, hate, despise and let go. Dear 2017, You brought me many joys,
Pain makes you strong, it will be with you lifelong, when everyone will say you are wrong, you will stand headstrong...
Deep, Dark, Consuming, Out of reach to others. Thinking, searching, not finding, the answers that are needed. There is only one place, trustworthy, safe, and unknown. Your mind is yours,
Life is just… by Vir Singh   Life is just dull, Just lifeless If your thought isn’t in mind. Life is just meaningless, Just devoid of beauty
Life is just… by Vir Singh   Life is just dull, Just lifeless If your thought isn’t in mind. Life is just meaningless, Just devoid of beauty
A quiet morning resonates a soul like stones dropped in clear water.
she was looking at us with her eyes closed
I wouldn't know the world as I If I haven't made the first cry I wouldn't know of a elite parlance Unless for an exquisite silence I wouldn't know I was different Unless all around were indifferent
Chug-a, chug-a, chug-a, chug You fall behind, you're out of luck. Brute mechanisms all in place to stay on track & win the race, They work in time and go in sync so you'll go far, or so you think.
Listen, You're Beautiful So why do you hurt yourself when you're dying? You're so precious  And above this melancholy hourglass  That is your adolescence  Your mother tells you otherwise
What if all we are, Is the product of a dream? Some slumbering mind ranging far,  Projecting us from the stream, Of thought and delight As it passes through the night?  
The city roads are full of potholes. The railroads creek and squeak with the passing of heavy machinery. I sit in the garage at my borther's home. I am a homeless college graduate--in debt.
To be one to fear pain. To be one to feel pain. To fear the thought of fearing pain. Puts more fear in your heart. It's like stress on stress on frustration on pain. To have no release, nor escape, not only from pain but from life.
Once Laid Footsteps 
intrusive invasive unwanted these thoughts that won't let me be free   They say I'm hopeless They at I'm hated It seems like nothing can make them stop   They say I'm a failure
They say art is feeling,Stopping the thoughts in your headLetting your words flow without filtersOr borders or caution. If art is feeling not thinking or reasonHow can I create it?My thoughts never stopNever cease never end.  So art is feeling and
She As In Me? - A Poem from "Her Deepest Witihins" novel coming soon.     
What do we fear the creepy crawlies under our bedor is it the wondrus voice inside our headkilling my thoughts until braindead 
A Thought, indefinite and young, rolled among meadow grass and spring flowers, flashing with light.   A Thought, pooling and unwavering, grew in lazy night and cold passion,
He is empowered But you, powerless Have not they gave any trusted name
Living in constant fear, When nothing else is clear, But oh, "It's just a thought."   Living with anxiety flooding your thoughts, And stress entering your mind, But oh, "It's just a thought."  
  Make me busy. Engorge the lazy, shiftless minutes of my waking hours with thoughtless labor. Make me work, make me eat, make me work again, until the sun goes down.
It is my conscious will My want to always till A world that never stays still. It is my conscious awareness  My life I impress On a world ravaged with tests. It is my conscious emotion
      Darkness Is when all your senses Are barred behind a high stone-walled mentality   Darkness Is when your conscience Is unaware of reality   Darkness
5 fantasies fuel my fascination 4 familiar fears fixated on my faults 3 thoughts that thirst for thrills 2 talents taking time to transform into   1 soul that is mine to claim
He stood int he corner, observing everyone around. Unwavering he spoke, not caring whether the listener was alive and well or in another life, he needed them to hear.
(I would step outside before looking in)   In the end you will find  Only the witness as he stands   Open, bare to the world  Among it, of it, a part   And the whole of each and every
Silence. It’s the thing you can never escape. It’s the thing that will last forever. When the computers stop humming, When the clocks stop ticking, When the cars stop beeping,
A cloud in my mind, like that you would see on a gentle summer day. Twisting,turning,changing each moment a new thought more entrancing then the last Simple though like the memory's of a child .
I am… not someone to be understood, an anomaly amid this universal locus. Escape through a dark window, a reflection of the world I’m within is in and out of focus
How can one word define infinite possibility. How can one sentence define a future. If it were up to me I would write a book.  A feature length film.  A memoir on the lives of each of us. 
Its been awhile since I’ve written anything. You see, usually I begin with a metaphorical gesture, Or a fragment too dramatic to be anything but the start of a stanza.   But today I write from my heart.  
In times of struggle, I often sit and sigh. Holding back tears so I don't give myself the chance to cry.   It's so much easier to wear a smile that never fades,
The older generatio
  1 The clouds slide past  and rising, rustle against the blank sky. Their grandeur throws me off balance.  I wish I could throw off my clothes
What a nut What a crazy girl She’s lost her mind She is lost She has no guide Her pain suffers
“Within & Without”   I see you from afar, A distant blinking amidst the stars,
In the still of the night I cannot see,   Low as the moon appears to be sinking Over the tall pine trees and the mountains clear. Vacantly my poor mind avoids thinking,
Often I find myself in thought Silent on the outside, screaming on the inside Internally I fought
    my soul is well, yet my mind is lost in an Identity crisis.
Let me slip into subconscious, Let me disappear. Turn me into fairy dust So I can float on air. Let me hide behind you, Let me run away. My frantic beating heart and brain, Still left in disarray.
Death of the Body
  We are two different sides of the same soul This I say to you, my friend Lover’s Lane shall never end When we are finally together again   And I’ll let you know one thing is true
But I'm probably just rambling to air at this point.  No matter how prolific,
Who am I? That's a loaded question. We are all dense individuals, filled like an overflowing dam with ideas, experiences and contexts.
I'm just tired. Can't you see? This simply cannot be cured by sleep. It's not that kind of tired. It's a kind of tired that's quite at home in my bones. A tired that says I'm tired of everything.
The more you look at life The more you become hesitent Why so deep in thought? Are you scared to die? Or are you just afraid to live? Life has its own meaning
I'm tripping.    Below the sheath of crepescule, the caving walls of darkness fell; 3 dmensional pen in cube; the shaded face of pale 4 walls.    The Summit Queen, the watcher-girl,
You cannot know me, No matter how you try, For I am only known to me, There is more than meets the eye.   Inside the gilded cage, Inside the enigmic mind, No one knows my age,
There I sat staring As every color flew by Oceans of madness
Time. People. Dreams.   Times change
Mr. Clock, why are you so mean? Every time I'm havin fun time flees, Yet every time I am unhappy you won't leave. Mr. Clock, your hands are evil, They control me in every way.
They say that the pen is mightier than the sword; But the only blood that can be spilled is from the writer herself, The battles waged are those within, And the King served is one unknown. Shrouded and covered.
I have a name I smile as I write it down That means something
All i do is tryI try when i writeI write until i cryI write until there are mo tears left inside my eyeSo what is the real reason why people try?
Focus. Stop. Think. Escape. The World fades. I implode. A sensory overload, only within the mind The place where privacy is unconditional No cost; not a dime My sweet escape
Tick, tock, Trillions of thoughts race through in an instant.
In the winter, she sleeps and dreams of the world, without care in the spring, she walks the plains of this world, unknown to any responsibilities In the summer, she plays with her children, in the trees a monster looms
Anything could spark a thought Anything could change a perspective Anything could alter an opinion Anything is my catalyst of thought.    
Dreams and Clock Work By Devinn LoVette Consciously defying my sub-cognitive count down to catatonic, back-breaking autonomy Sweat silently streaking to the hardwood floor
One scar
Why
Why do I try?
A drop of melatonin
To change the world in the blink of an eye In a way such that no more needlessly die To let Nature run its course To eliminate those who rule by force A species capable of worldwide peace
  After we done she clap for me bravo,
  You think for the best but live for the worst,
Thoughts are as common as the world And at the same time they shape it Sticking to our detailed minds making them twirl
What would I change? Some things bigger than the Earth, some things as small as a Moment, Some things you may never have Thought of. The smallest Moments can change the most.   What would I change?
There's a key, that could open a lock, that could open a door We wouldn't live feeling hate anymore No time for ignorance Everyone could be free All diversity in peace and harmony
A writer’s sword is a pen Green, blue, red, black, yellow ink Inside a long plastic contraption It spews words exempt for bigotry And hatred. A writer’s pen stops magic from happening during a
DAD
Dad, a three letter word for father. You know, it takes a man, a an to be a father. You say you ere just a kid, but so was she.So was mom.
Years after years, Knowledge slowly seeps, Into your mind. Experience after experience,
With a Godly breathe he inhales the heavy, yet hollow whispers of the night siphoning the miniscule remnants of assurance loosely woven, each with its own cynical thread
How much certainty can I? Remembering intelligence that is another. How much pride can I? Remaining humility that rests inside.   Am I so right that they're so wrong?
In my mind, there's an empty room Void of light, of sound, Of any outside connection, I only have the faintest memory Of what it used to be An echo of despair, and loneliness,
People seldom give much thought to thought For it seems an utter waste of time So should that make me different For being no stranger to my mind's mind?   Our brains are naught but viruses
You can see them, Sittng there staring at the same at the sun, Growing old together, as if the days won't run They enjoy each others presence. One knows what the other is thinking.  
Folds of purple satin cloth, Swallow me. The lancet from out of darkness, Taunts me. Creaking stairs choke on themselves, begging for attention, I cannot give.  
Quiet and Serene, At ease and peace, Nothing Else exists Theres a breeze blowing through the trees Music flowing through my ears And sound from my mouth   I am alone but calm Thinking flows deep
Sick of distraction and all of its tricks concentration loses the fight again To hone in is to believe in fairy tales the nascar of thoughts  A marathon of thinking
How are you? God, what a dense question.
I'm like a child who cries itself to sleep, but instead of crying, what I do is think. I think myself insane, analyzing every bit, until my heart rate quickens and I work up a panicking fit.
Breathing hitch-hiking its way up BPM increasing like its leading to a solo But no words follow How do  you sing for sweet release When fear coils like a snake in your gut Fangs biting into your organs
Why don't we love one another?Aren't we all created equally?Why do we spit words of hate,and ask for respect in return?Why do we think we're self-righteous,but ignore our mistakes?Why do we live our lives for ourselves,but feed off of others? When
They say to write a list of what you're grateful for.They say it will make you happy. I say there's more to it than that.I say writing isn't the answer--learning is.
Incumbent Ideas the shapes the sounds Twisting in the folds of my cerebrum clenching digging poking wriggling grey matter white matter irritation Swelling with the shapes the sounds
It’s music note coming at you Throwing these facts down so you’ll understand where I’m coming from I mean the point of me stating these facts
Sand is sifting, The grains of time, tumbling Through, down to the dune of The underworld of times past. Moments descending upon us, We take no notice. Moments falling, behind and below existence,
There will come a time when I have to let youReally let you goBy that I mean you will be goneYou will no longer be in my thoughtsI have let you go beforeFor a year we didn’t talkI did not think of you
Here you’ll find an infinite script of unpragmatic thought, impulsive feeling…and unfortunately quite a bit of a discrepancy between spiritual liveliness and spiritual listlessness.
As the spring coils down It eventually has to spring back up From sunrise to sundown  We always hope for another sun up.   Life isnt revolved around us But for some reason we're stuck on the bus
Why write poetry? Why bother at all? Now, it might seem like it's going to rhyme like I just stepped out of a story book, but it's not going to tinkle; it's not going to be pretty
Why do people hope for a better tomorrow? Why do we pray that times will get better? Well the answer to those questions lies within the individual. You see, it's all about perception.
I wish I could be a teddy bear Smiling no matter what Smile never leaves its face No matter how much they're drug in the mud 
My voice, the smallest in the crowd full of no one. My voice does it tell you who i am what i go through?  Or just tell you what i need to say at that time. My voice can you tell its me, is it really me.
A meek moth among a sea of social butterflies Content with silent contemplation, and Saturday nights alone Peaceful seclusion is the condition in which I thrive Finding stimulation not primarily in the world around me,
Write.Written as the philosopher devised ways to thinkbut the thought was only told through speech.Yet speech was only allowed for those that began to speak
These words I write Are Born from me, I’ve given them more Than just a sound, I’ve given them Life, An opportunity to Impress. It’s passion turns to heart and logic into mind.
There's beauty in the soul If you gaze real deep There's hope in the veins That keep the hearts beat   There imagination painting Blurred dreams behind the eyes
  Flowing words of love flow like music for you Your barbed phrases tearing my defenses Steal my light, my hope  Take it for yourself since I wouldn't mind it since it's you
  Flowing words of love flow like music for you Your barbed phrases tearing my defenses Steal my light, my hope  Take it for yourself since I wouldn't mind it since it's you
Nothing compares to a crystal fleck of truth a glimpse of the wandering soul a relic of the misunderstood a moiety of a single defined thought a dream dreamt by sorrow
Is Fear the feeling that you get when you can’t stand on your own two feet when challenges comes your way? Is Fear darkness that surround your world and make your eyes can’t see the light?
For New Year's two years ago, I asked for a fountain pen instead of an iPod because at that point, the words would flow out of me like blood from a fresh cut.   Many people say
  What is a train if not constant and steady Unlike my mind. One would assume a train of thought to pursue a constant and logical track Not fall back On itself Like an adolescent dog chasing its tail
love is not kind it is not everlasting, nor unconditional love will appear and vanish like a bolt of lightning in such a brief moment that if not for the pain, one would question its existence
Beyond imagining the possibly perfect,  Make anything your heart will dare desire, Let it go and run wild and watch the effect, Make no limits: just immensely imagine and don't let it tire.  
I was on my bed, Staring at the wall. I thought in my head, As I lay on my shawl. What is a thought? I asked myself. The question was caught In myself.
truth, forgiveness, honesty you forgot that it goes with loyalty why did you screw me over this way your promises meant nothing to me I left you happily, without anything to say we were never meant to be
The tick of the grandfather clock is absent. No clicking, no sirens alerting those nearby, nothing. Time has stopped, life ceases to continue.
A picture is worth a thousand words but a poem is priceless. Often mistaken, misconstrued, interpreted completely different from the intended, a poem is but its creator dispersing their innermost thoughts merely to descend.
My soul is river stone And fire fed Dragon eyed and embered Lurking in mountain’s jeweled gold Soaring on iron wings
Whisper, whisper in my ear. Tell me a story no one wants to hear. Invite my soul into yours. Let me walk with you upon the shores. And when I have drank the thought from your mind,
To whomever it may concern: I wonder why the sky is blue Or why the grass is green I wonder why the tabloids are so mean Or why they publish false information
Safely kept under pillow under head, withheld from the insistent and the malleable, deeply swallowed in depths of a diaphragm, A Breath, willing to die in silence, contemplates hatred and promise:
What do we have if not our minds? Any ownership we claim is fleeting Our possessions wither, wear, and decay Yet, we still cling to things in this world While our minds slip and fade.
Thought. It's as deep as an ocean. Blissful as the cool autumn breeze. Frightening as the monsters of our nightmares. Mysterious as the shadows of a cave. Without thought, we would be nothing.
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lyrics to dance words running skipping Letter to Letter inklike waterfalling curled paper edges hinting hiding sneaky secrets scribbled to question is it shame periods semicolons and Why i should do
The sun rolled round the silent earth- If every one speaks who is to be heard? The great white doors they tower and toll, But they are a sanctuary; The comfort of home. Behind the brass knob screwed on so tight
At certain times The human brain allows us to believe falsified things
I have a thought inside my head I part my lips But cannot speak It seems my thought must go unsaid I lift my pen But cannot write It seems my thought must go unread
Imagine pure thought Infinite and blissful A single idea stretches And fills your whole head A natural jump and off! Exploring possibilities and wonders Exploring beauties and mysteries
Grammar is boring I feel like snoring This and that That and this None of it matters Conjugate Fuck! Accents Fuck!
the edge of tide, the edge of reality. Water is a mirror of Ourselves, with no place to call home. Calm or Turbulent, we are still us.
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