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One of the ancients,once said that poetry is "the mirror of the perfect soul." Instead of simply writing down travel notes or, not really thinking about the consequences, expressing your thoughts, memories or on paper, the poetic soul needs to seriously work hard to clothe the perfect content in an even more perfect poetic form.
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What is poetry?


Reading books RomanceThe unity of form and content is what distinguishes poetry from other areas of creativity. However, this is precisely what titanic work implies.
Not every citizen can become a poet. If almost every one of us, at different times, under the influence of certain reasons or trends, was engaged in writing his thoughts, then it is unlikely that the vast majority will be able to admit to themselves that they are a poet.
Genre of poetry touches such strings in the human soul, the existence of which a person either didn’t suspect, or lowered them to the very bottom, intending to give them delight.


There are poets whose work, without exaggeration, belongs to the treasures of human thought and rightly is a world heritage. In our electronic library you will find a wide variety of poetry.
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Read books online » Poetry » The Mind of "M" by M.J. Garrett (free e novels .txt) 📖

Book online «The Mind of "M" by M.J. Garrett (free e novels .txt) 📖». Author M.J. Garrett



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foot of the door. As she stepped out and saw the gesture of his love she looked down her long driveway to find him ducking behind the bushes. He loved to see her smile and she loved to catch him watching her.

What has happened to them? Twelve years have passed by and both of them feel their hearts separating from the other. She looks at him with shards of hate and disgust and he looks at her with disappointment and mistrust. Both of them know that it would be better for them to separate and go their own way, but both have come to the agreement that it would be better for the kids to stay and try to find that love that has been lost in the ever turning page of life.

She laid there in that lonely bed every morning, but today has brought something new…an unexpected change. Her phone beeped and vibrated on the nightstand. *1 new message* it read on the display screen. “One new message?” She asked herself. “Who would message me at this time?” She quickly puts in her lock code and reads a strange message from a strange number, “Question: What is your favorite color?” Curious about the text, she doesn’t even ask who the text is from. She just quickly replies “Green”.

“Green? Wow, that’s the color of geniuses!” The person quickly replied. “My favorite color is also green! What is your favorite book?”

“This may be dumb, but I love romantic novels…don’t laugh!” She replies.

“I’m not going to laugh…they are very good reading! Very graphic!”

She grins and sends another message, “I like reading about things that I don’t get at home! LOL!!”

“Things are not so good on the home front? Do you want to talk about it? I’m a good listener.”

“Not right now…maybe later!”

“Are you accustomed to talking to strangers?” The person asked.

“No…but for some reason, I’m willing to talk to you! But only through text! Do you know me?” She replied.

“No, I don’t know you…I just randomly dialed a number in hopes that I could find a friend that wouldn’t judge me. I have too many friends that do that way too much!! I need a break!!”

“I could be that friend! Tell me about yourself!” She sent with a nervous stomach.

Every message she received seemed to be a story out of the pages of her own diary! The emotions this person felt and the view they had on different subjects were almost identical those that she harbored. How could someone randomly send a message to another person and find that the person is so similar? They continued to send messages until she had to break it up so that she could go to work. The entire morning filled with an excitement that she hasn’t felt in a long time!! She didn’t feel alone and misunderstood! She felt that there was at least one other person that knew her and understood every emotion that she had. She found out that they were also in a dysfunctional marriage. They too have been married for 12 years and they too couldn’t wait for their spouse to leave the house in the mornings. This person also married their high school sweetheart and they also felt that staying together was better for the kids. How ironic for this person to message her at this moment? She couldn’t believe that she had opened up her life to a complete stranger. Telling truths about herself that not even her own husband knows. “How therapeutic!” she thought to herself. “Maybe tomorrow, I’ll find out who this person is…I hope it’s a guy!”


Russian Roulette



Welcome to the game that everyone seems to wanna play
The wages are steep and the reward is big but the price is too much to pay
Take a deep breath and close your eyes put one bullet in the gun
Spin it hard and point it at the head of the one you love
Sooner or later it’s you or them, you gotta be willing to pay the price
One chance now for you to live while you take your lover’s life

The only true pain is the feel the blood of the one that you love
Cover your hands as you try to stop it from painting the floor
It’s the chill of the thought you were strong enough to defy her petty scream
It’s blood on your face as from the suicide you helped to finally bring
Sooner or later it’s you or them, you gotta be willing to pay the price
One chance now for you to live while you take your lover’s life

She lays so still with her eyes still fixed on your smiling face
A peace in her eyes hypnotize as your heart begins to race
You take a step back and you realize that it’s easier than you thought
You go back to the end of the line willing to pay for another loss
Sooner or later it’s you or them, you gotta be willing to pay the price
One chance now for you to live while you take your lover’s life


What am I really saying??



So inconspicuous are the thoughts that enter this
Mind of M with the weight of syphilis
To the whores of all four corners of world
I need to empty my thoughts while closing the doors
Of my soul, or the windows to some,
Eyes to me, but daggers to those I love
It so hard to hide the confusion I carry
A job for ten years has become a burden worth forgetting
I’m ready and anxious for the next distraction to show
Ready to blow like a teen at his first topless show
I thrive on things not going as planned
I say I want peace, but it’s about the conflict man!
If it’s an argument you want, just name the topic
I’m the devil’s advocate and I’m so ready to drop it
A heretic in the mind of most
With nothing on the record is worth a moments boast
I find ways to draw from the source of my hate
Creative thoughts that make me stay up late
I’ve got all these stories running through my head
For some reason I always end up dead
Red from the blood that drips from the hole
In my head as my eyes begin to roll
I find peace in the thought that it ends so quick
Thirst for the end but the fight is where it’s at


Realistically speaking?



When is it okay to be completely real? To share your faults, scars, battles, emotions, and desires with people has become so sort of vial ridiculous mirror that almost everyone is ashamed to look in. I bleed red just like the rest of you. It seems that the people you bleed for, the people you risk your life for, the people you gave up your dreams for so that they can fulfill theirs have become callous to the thought of giving something in return. In my creative high, I have written story after story and song after song…strictly for the entertainment of the reader and my own personal theorpy. I’ve put my soul into every word and I’ve personally put my diary open so that you can read and understand…not that you would pity me or throw sympathetic jargon my way so that you feel like a better person. I put thought into every word, knowing that I’m not the only one in the middle of the ocean! I write so that you can find comfort in knowing that you are not alone. Your sick thoughts that your parents share (but deny in the face of public opinion) are being written so that you find comfort in knowing that you are not the only person to feel hate. You are not the only person who has dreamed of hurting someone. You are not the only one who has had thoughts about someone else who you can’t have. You are not the only one who is human!!! I don’t care if you are a minister, father, mother, sister, brother….the same thoughts (be it sick and demented or beautiful and creative) are shared among us all. Those of you who lie and say that you don’t feel the emotions by which my songs have or you don’t understand the words I write are absolutely worthless when it comes to integrity. I don’t want friends that isolate me and make me feel like I’m the outcast! 10 out of 10 people have the same thoughts as I do…call it taboo if you want, but if you can’t face your own reality then I feel sorry for you. Because you are not a real person…you are a liar.


Ruse



I take a deep breath and try to wrap my mind around all the things that just happened. I try hard to convince myself that it was my only option; there was no other way for things to go down. My eyes dart back and forth as I grip my hair with blood covered hands. My face is covered in blood as pink sweat slowly runs down my nose and drips off of the tip creating stains on the chest of my shirt. Still gripping my hair, my eyes begin to water as I back up against the wall. I slowly slide down the wall until my knees catch the floor.

“I had no choice…I had no choice…I had NO FUCKING CHOICE!! Look what you made me do!! Who isn’t man enough? I’m man enough…You BITCH!!” I start to look around the disgusting gas station restroom, looking for a way to clean myself up enough to not look guilty. I frantically drop the bloody pistol in the sink and begin to wash my hands and face. The brown water coming out of the facet mixes with the blood and sweat as the sink slowly begins to fill.

“Nice….why didn’t you just shoot them? Instead you repeatedly drive the butt of the pistol into their skull? I taught you better than that.”

“Shut up!!! Stop talking to me!!! Haven’t you done enough?” I look into the broken mirror to find that my reflection isn’t there. I quickly turn around to see myself peacefully sitting on the back of the toilet with my feet propped up on the seat. “Get away from me!!!” I yelled. “Haven’t you done enough?”

Lighting a cigarette, this version of me steps off the toilet and calmly walks toward me. His clothes, clean and sharp, resemble the man I want to be. With the smoke softly running up his face, he looks at me with his soulless eyes. The whites of his eyes are as black as the darkest night. Slowly stepping towards me, he gently says “All you had to do was control yourself. Harness your anger, control your breathing, and pull the fucking trigger. Why did I even think you could do such a simple task?” He slowly pulls on his cigarette while the amber ash softly lights his face.

“You weren’t supposed to be here!

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