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There's been a miscommunication
Between my heart and my mind
Electrical impulses at every synapse
Scream your name in adoration
In every neuron they will find
That there has been a collapse
It's caused by my love for you

All that I know to be true
Is that there has been a malformation
A terrible replication of some kind
The one that courses violently perhaps
It fills my mind with all this information
To all else I've gone blind
A neural take over that I can't surpass
Because my body knows that I love you
Written and shared on Hello Poetry on January 19, 2016. Copywrite under Bianca Reyes. All rights reserved
The madness, the darkness has come seeping in,
once again I am burdened with my sin,
The thoughts, they swirl in a crazed tempo,
beating against my skull with the desperate fury of a dying heart.

I am drowning under a tide of pensive dispair,
Struggling to even gasp for air,
Oh! I lament my own awareness,
my jealousy is reserved for the blind.

Surely, I must be mad!
How could I not be with such anguish I am clad,
One true question remains.
Will I fade, implode, or explode with such force as to devastate my own?

Run! My darkness is no longer a flame lazing,
but an inferno blazing,
We all have our afflictions, mine is thought.
Yes I remember
that night
in midwinter,
the one
that we burned
on the hill,
and the moon
and the stars
and the
somersault sparks
and wanting
it all
to stay still,
and yes I remember
the warmth
of the embers
and daring
the future
with hope
at the
very same time
your fingers
touched mine
as softly as if
they were smoke.
along with my useful lively self
i stroll the path of faceless crowds
they might not know me
I might not know them
but I'm glad as I watch
them do their story
and I on a steady phase
create the background
of my life,
the passerby...

a bit raw



i guess this will be the second part of my poem passerby.
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1023562/passerby/

thank you for reading me...
Goodnight my distant movie,
Playing some ****** horror flick on repeat,
With the smell of some bar and meat,
Hanging,
The morning was quiet
And I gave up the fight in it,
So time to put it away with a dusty painting,
And go to sleep.

Goodbye my far away rhythm,
Dancing entwined with separate together mythdom
But always too far to touch
It isn't much,
But my dreams are a place to visit
So time to go put the music on,
And go to sleep.

Goodbye my recent moon,
Sung under crossed stars,
with an unexplained tune,
Beautiful but with scars,
I'll smile from afar
So time to put the globe away,
Knowing it's ok
Not being the Earth.
My relation with her
inhabits a silent space,

you don't need to talk much
below the ocean's surface,

it's like a rest after your work is done
an earned breather after a long run.

Now it's holding hands and swimming together
having seen all the weather.
Why do I walk upon
the bones
of the ancient poems ?
Whose words I grind
into
the thirsty desert dust ,
underfoot
my mindless journey .
Come dust devils ,
swirl away the passions ,
leave bare
the rawed flesh withered hearts .
Drag the barge of love
behind you ,
as all your rivers have run dry .
There are more
spots to be outed ,
no stage of fright to fear .
Just a wall
of years ever taller
that protects and denies
at the same time .
Oh , come soon
hallowed Halloween moon ,
I feel you ,
cold kissed
upon my lips ,
suckling a life's soul
from my lungs .
Pray do ,
my time when due ,
I stand upon the dust
above my memory .
moon black hole Halloween
pull back the thin veneer
of pretense that obfuscates
this holiday season
profuse excuses of joy and peace
are hollow and brittle and leave
bitter proof of our lackluster compassion

expose the specter
of greed
dormant in capitalism
vestiges of a dying culture
the refuse of an apathetic
American people numb
to the trauma inflicted
by megalomaniacal leaders
consent given implicitly
in the complacency of obedient conformity

will we refuse to acknowledge
the stains on our hands this Christmas
red liquid misting our faces
bloodlust and endless war
there’s no
rhyme or reason
to these
sycophantic intonations
deafening these words of treason
in vain attempts to assuage guilt
with endless iterations
of false hopes and puny gods in
brainless trying to defy reality

we belie our true intentions
our self-serving obsessions
and inane consumption
hazes of the mundane  
in suburban graves

if the greatest gift is giving itself
we won’t find solace in the holy temples
of strip malls shopping centers
and corporate retail palaces
a Friday as black as our fractured hearts
witness the death of humanity
choking out all we were
grateful for the day before
I wrote this today while I stood in Barnes & Noble and watched people come and go, chasing deals, laden with shopping bags. Black Friday is a microcosmic example of everything wrong with American culture.
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