Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Lyn-Purcell Sep 2018


~
The sweetness of success and
the salt of regret,
I will let them ride and glide
on paper wings
~


Ink flowing...
Pagan Paul Aug 2018
.
Its 2 am and I am so wired.
Why can't I just be normally tired?
As others enjoy some restful sleep,
I am in a place far more deep.....

And the abyss calls so inviting,
          a leap into the unknown and beyond.
With clarity I jump out and fly,
          an excuse for reality to quietly abscond.

Psychedelic nausea as the dimensions twist,
forcing me to a place where I do not exist,
a land in which I may be killed or kissed,
but certain my presence would not be missed.

The feelers take a hold of me,
     whispering secrets of antiquity,
revealing images of aeons gone,
     in spoken word, rhyme and song.
I have the histories of many worlds
     all in my mind strung up like pearls.
A line of lanterns alight once more,
     open and willing for me to explore.
And my pale blue eyes no longer see
     the images created by any reality.

It is secret knowledge of ancient times,
I receive in the script of cryptic rhymes.


© Pagan Paul (09/08/18)
.
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018
The love of the living word cannot
fall into naught.
Not now, not ever.
Lyn ***
Khun Aug 2018
I've gotten myself a pair of golden shackles,
It is shiny.

My parents love it,
It brings them pride.
My friends is envious,
Because it shines.

But soon, I realize.
The shackles' painted gold.
What's worse,
With it, I can't traverse.

Golden shackles,
Is shackles after all.

Now I'm trapped,
shackled, bounded.
Doomed.
Only time can release me,
From this golden shackles.
Personal story. Probably some can relate to.
Khun Jul 2018
Really, this is just a tool.
Ease the pain and suffering
Lift the fog, but obscure it
It unites, but divides
Gain people power, for better or worse
It blinds, but it guides
Obstruct love, while promotes it
No really, it's just a tool.
Behold! My first poem. It's cryptic.
Dakota J Dawson Jan 2018
By the way
To all the cryptic beings
Find a place in my heart

Away from the public
Toward the evening dawn
Bordering the bright blue sea

There you will find grain
Possibly wet sand
Coconuts by the dozen

Enough pleasure
Just the right amount
For a hairy beast

Sadly, it is all lies
A hairy beast
Coconuts in the sea

This poem means nothing
Really that's the point
It really is cynical
Next page