Plethora III.

how does I can be me,

While me cannot be an I,

where does my Id begins

and the ego start.

๐Ÿ”œ๐Ÿ†•๐Ÿ†’

ยฉoam

ยฎartsydhude 97-18

โ„ขXENOphagz

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A ghost in my system

that moans deep,

asks for sleep.

That never dies,

as soon my i open my eye.

Is it me,

or is it inside me that can

and will me love an undying one,

that will never stop.

coz this one

gloats

floats,

until the clothes meddle

under the doobie that

scooby and shaggy,

they will not stop until, no more scooby snack.

Aah my sweet Chiron,

Let me be my own Herakles,

as you watch me grow,

upon and unto your eyes;

yet when the crucial time that is ripe I am free

of your training,

of your edifications,

of your love you gave. . .

In one swoop my Icarus wings are built,

fascination will be my own downfall,

and I would fall,

so shall it be then,

I will plummet but rise into mine own.

The joy of sorrow

it does not have to be,

it does not want to.

For if it was written,

one dirge comes first before the thirst: then it follows.

another deluge cometh; yet rainbows of promises are on the way.

So please don’t wallow, subscribe to your soul and follow

where its asking you to slowly smile,

look up then after you’d know there is no place you would rather be.

Ryhme & Metre : Tah – Uh

Then it was written at the part of my history,

Now thus the life I have to taste,

Of this abysmal ryhming of monotoned glory.

๐Ÿค˜๐Ÿ’ช๐Ÿค˜๐Ÿ’ช๐Ÿ™‰๐Ÿ™ˆ๐Ÿ™‰๐Ÿ™ˆ๐Ÿ˜ฅ๐Ÿ˜ฃ๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜Ž๐Ÿ˜Ž๐Ÿ˜Ž

@rtsydhude c17j6

๐Ÿ™„๐Ÿ˜ถ๐Ÿค๐Ÿ™„๐Ÿ˜ถ๐Ÿค๐Ÿ™„๐Ÿค˜๐Ÿ’ช๐Ÿค”๐Ÿ˜Ž๐Ÿ˜Ž๐Ÿ˜Ž๐Ÿ™‰๐Ÿ™ˆ

Ryhme & Metr3: Ha-e-lah

Ther3 is a cloud

among clear skies,

It is barking up

a storm.

Why of all things

does it cry?

Becaus3 in my eye,

a pressure so severe

it does do nothing but form.

๐Ÿ˜‰๐Ÿ˜‰๐Ÿ˜‰๐Ÿ˜Ž๐Ÿ˜ƒ๐Ÿ˜Ž๐Ÿ˜ƒ๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜€๐Ÿ˜ฃ๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜ฃ๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜‡๐Ÿ˜‡๐Ÿ˜‡

Pen and paper

pencil

May 2017 @rtsydhude

And then

the rock turned to the moss,

gave it a name,

coz it wanted to gain momentum,


It called it,

Beat

and 

Rythm.

While the water was flowing.

๐Ÿ˜Ž๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜˜๐Ÿ˜—๐Ÿ˜™๐Ÿ˜šโ˜บ๐Ÿ˜Ž๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜˜๐Ÿ˜—๐Ÿ˜Ž๐Ÿ˜„๐Ÿ˜„๐Ÿ˜„

@rtsydhude=:Cutiepie… c17m25

๐Ÿ˜Ž๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜˜๐Ÿ˜—๐Ÿ˜™๐Ÿ˜šโ˜บ๐Ÿ™‚๐Ÿค—๐Ÿ˜Ž๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜€๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜—๐Ÿ˜™

12 muses. 3rd qtr. Lachesis’ line

To you

For you

About you,

I know you can,

i see you can,

thing is Why of all things

That the line has to drawn,

That a line have to be torn down,

that this time a line had a limitation.

Once upon a birth,

when the twine is thick now it runs

with fumes upon years

of frown and frustration.

Dream a thick nor thin,

the line as the same since

until it was then but not now.

My dear cute and sweet Lachesis,

please tow the line

before mine own is never the same

and keep my line intact

for i know not of the fate you can deal,

only the last sister decides not you, not you.