Rompe el bullicio,

la tanda se complace,

contemplando el precipicio

para buscar desenlace.

La brújula confundida,

nos secuestra a lo equivocado.

Cavila y retrasa esta partida,

mala suerte es ser desdichado.

Ya la vida esta en tenunbres

por el sino cruel que comenta,

hasta volveré a mis costumbres

en el ojo de mi tormenta.

Porque jusgar al creador,

por los pecados del hijo.

Solo soy otro admirador,

de las cosas que me fijo.

Ya la suerte esta echada,

y el camino se acaba.

Con mi suerte amulatada

me despojo del que alberga.

Rolando Matias

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Writer's Suicide

Creations lost, playing hide & seek

with my mind, unable to get them out,

expressed through the metaphoric ink

which flows through me.

Poisonous when concealed inside me

& with each battle lost, no life

is brought to my pages of life.

Ideas retreating, running the cycle

through my veins, breaking down

y cells & crippling me to the point

of lost words.

Lying on cold concrete, growing more distant

with each passing moment.

The day of death blows in on this

the writers' block, inspiration comes

to aid with horrible timing, restoring

hope at this point brings no round of

applause to the end of this show.

Curtains close.

Case of writer's suicide.

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wearing off


i can still remember what it was like,

back when it was new.

it crawled along slowly at first,

like a baby.

and there were so many ways

that those words fit.

it was a new thing.

not a being per se,

but a new thing nonetheless.

it was newer to you than me.

to me it was a distant memory,

a very vague memory.

an old and familiar friend,

that i had never expected to come back for me.

but it did.

it had been a long time,

and i was a bit too wary to trust the reasons.

i didn't even know what my reasons were at that point.

but it was new, a new thing,

and back then new things weren't to be trusted.

they broke down easier,

and there was always something spent on it.

whether it was money or time, i wanted to keep it around,

but spend very little.

i ended up spending all i had,

and after a while,

it did break down.

like an old thing,

a truck from the sixties,

and it was done,

like a camera with only twenty four pictures.

i have taken my twenty four pictures.

i don't remember them all,

but of the ones i do remember,

i wonder if they were worth it.

Author's Notes/Comments: 


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Your Favorite Letdowns

You and I...

We've got something to say

And that something's got some nothing

And it's standing in its way

But we live to be irrelevant

We journey just to fade

Our habits stand to block us

Our apathy's in vain

We care for all around us

We break down day to day

We turn to stone and laugh it off

We learn to stay away

Someone's left abandoned

And we just crack a joke

Without a hint of disposition

We're sarcastic and alone

But what is there to stop us?

What's there left to do

As we drive away the joy

We dwell on what we lose

It's a funny little cycle

That never seems to slow

And it's all about our feelings

Which never seem to show

Today we feel like let downs

Like boredom in between

And as we just continue

That's all we'll ever be.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

We Are the Letdowns.

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The Past #9

In the Past


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2 face

As I look in the mirror I see a face

Neither a smile a grin nor a trace  

Of the perfect life we all portray

That we fake every single day

I know my insides are filled with doubt

And I’m sure that it all wants out

But not today for the show goes on

Of the perfect life we that has drawn

Drawn away from the truth filled with lies

As I look in the mirror I see a disguise

But it’s neither a mask, costume nor a cape

But simply someone else trying to escape

From deep inside my imagination

I can’t resist the simple temptation

To change my thoughts and what I do

For the old me will have to bid you adieu

And as I look at myself slowly change

I notice a feeling that is quite strange

Who am I? Is there a reason for this?

Has my soul fallen into the abyss?

My life in shambles

My body gambles

With the truth inside

But the truth will hide

Beneath the lies and stories

Stowed away in inventories

The twists and turns will never end

I’m sure there’s no way I can defend

The choices I’ve made will haunt me forever

When I look in the mirror I’m sure I will never

See my real face again for I’m dead inside

Becuase The true me has been cast aside

Author's Notes/Comments: 

if you have a better category idea let me know.

View wallis420's Full Portfolio

"Driven Through Bliss"

Fables and lore bought

To appease the present panic

A hunger which never fed

A hole never filled

Thirst broken down by rains read



Now sleep and dream themselves away

Dreaming about the world finding hope again

Even though hope is a heavy stone tied

Sinking the foolish

Into the sand

Set before the hour


Fading over time


And would you betray?

Like Judas did

For a few pieces of silver

Buy yourself

Peaces of joy

Tricking all the trains

Running through your mind?

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Emerging Emotions

I feel so lonely today;

It seems months,

Maybe years-

Since I shared something with myself;

That’s why maybe,

I am left all alone today.

The compassion, the mystery,

It’s all unfolding now-

Pouring out of my heart;

That didn’t exist till yesterday.

All coming out,

Like glaciers-

Emerging out of a vast ocean-

Shining and glistening in the dark night.


Intriguing the silent ocean

And the silent night around it …

Perplexed, full of awe,

And yet …

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A Rose by any other namme shall smell as sweet to mee as ewe.

Jesus paid the sacrifice the aritifice of life became the death of me to give me back the life eye gave away for him to follow him is to find it all again the words men speak if allowed to brew would make them dead to make them blow to just explode the air then turning into chamber pots of full. Love can be a sacrifice a very strang surprise a hurried meal a quick repast that lasts all day and then some into the night making merry just for heart. The dead weight of most people would cause the air ship the alien crafted vessel that eye ride in to tip over and the eye would fall out all over the place. Love can be a pillow cold on one side and warm to face. The avid reader can imagine this. Head stopped up with saving grace the pain inside stops sleep from come.

Then the pillow turned the face pressed up into the cold the wonderful stopping of the pain the added comfort of the pillow side out getting cold again then comes the time when the repeated effort is again applied oh the wonder of it oh the bliss of a cold pillow kiss. NEWS FLASHED before mye eye:

This is just in from NEO Pueblo when someone gets a message in a forum and the message sender sends it as a thank you and then adds a different picture than the one in his posted poem as way of illustration do ewe think they noticed it at all or is it just that it seems so strang to mee and would it be that they aer so obsessed with what they aer doing to jump up and dance on just one foot and yell and holler look what CHARLAX did he sent the wrong picture to the forum. Eye just deleted an accounting error it was a majoretted disappointed mess to me they always made fun of eye and mee and the way eye use my style to make a poem bleed the pain of being one so far ahead of time is priceless in the function of an android using lifetimes.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

this is disjointed thoughts at least three threads woven

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