The Mysteries Of My Writing’s. 

Coinavore a altered ego I once claimed for fame and to depart often from my name . A writing concept to step up my game and to not hitch on to the train of being the same . Therefore there was a name and a topic and or a theme to apply logic . My Falt was a means to express the energy that rest or stress on me . To impress the muse that wasn’t amused by me . So I often ran loose with many of my thoughts and writing’s . Uniting the persona rather than dividing . First And Last Thought was what I wrote while inspiring and admiring a weakness that I often fought . A stroke of wonderful genius that was captioned and caught . With a contraption of  hope of touching her heart . I went for subtle poetry and figurative art . After awhile I had a library of notes and sensitive thoughts . I was using my brain to create the most expensive type of art . A bit close to insane if you knew how smart . Adding days and weeks with words that wanted to be complete . I sought after more than something sweet . I went for something bold and deep . A month to month poetry week . A branding beyond love that I had to seek . A understanding at being  creative and different as well unique . I carried on after my interest in love saw it’s defeat . I moved forward instead of retreat . I paid more close attention to the company I would keep . 

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I can add words .. The other words .

I can add words to your expressions . Poetry is my obsession but not my only exception to meet my or your expectations . I can add words that is for romance in many sections . love is not the question just the understanding of the content and our own aggressions . Mirroring and admiring the reflection of our influence and of our subtle suggestions . I respect that you are one with nature . I suspect you are a soulmate of mines that was due to come later . And now we owe our energy a favor . For unleashing something greater . Hoping to apply and supply something to saver . I can add words to your wit and behavior . A tasteful thought , twist with flavor . My work is a ongoing case of life , love , art , and labor . With you no longer seeing me as your neighbor , but as a long lasting favor .

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Coinavore .

With the same old facts I then told you my name . With the same old stats I’ve then rewrote the game . A poet that didn’t come for fame but I did come to explain and to reign . A campaign of random madness was often perfectly sustained . For a purpose to express myself  and to relieve overwhelming pain . I then took on another purpose by learning from the talent I had gained . A higher spiritual balance that came with writing that I had to maintain . A acquired lyrical vibrant to carefully frame . A method to a message to contain . The blood running in my veins , the letters of information rolling in lanes . All going towards the preparation of responding and building up my brain . Corresponding with a train of thought . Drilling the sound beating from my heart . Repeating what was always around from the start . Me being poetry in motion as living art .

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To the poet left behind .

The mind is a terrible thing to waste and so is a romantic rhyme without a place . The story is often told better to read one’s face . To  believe in another faith while running and wearing in a race . Find me a poet with fine taste and  I will support them with a beat and a pace . Here’s to the poet left behind . Something different than mankind . A persuasive  spirit perfectly designed . A competitive repetitive vivid look into the divine .  To the poet we often leave behind do to this society we are wrongly defined and lonely so we make ourselves hard to find . Everyday we portray everything is fine but we unwind by untangling wise rhymes . The urgent care of time is filled by a spiritual climb . Turning away from many visual signs . And only answering to what feels right because we are all blind . To the poet left behind never be afraid to make your volume heard and words shine .

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I can add words.. I’ll smile .

The nightmare I wake up from leads me to my dreams and to many dares I will do . If I only knew the total view . I would stare at the picture too . So I take a few minutes to leave my and to lead with my head . I wonder what other people life would be like if I was dead . Who would fashionably say things that I’ve said with passion of being scared . I hope you will share the best of me and test themselves to the rest of me that I left . There is another way I will beat death . With every breath of me I’ll smile from the depths of me while I conquer destiny . I’ll smile in agony with what I meet because it’s there to be beat . I’ll smile to keep me on my feet , dancing , and running to compete . For a life that should not be complete . This day is better bitter sweet . These days are bigger and unique . So I’ll smile in and out my sleep and through my most doubtful weeks . To strengthen what once was weak . I’ll smile as I seek my faith .

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Between my arms .

What more is there to learn . What more things and feelings can I earn . I took a chance at love , at lust , and with trust . And I lost a turn the past was no longer a concern . It became something to keep me focused and firm . I took a chance with faith and I got burned . Another concern was the mental harm . Will I be able to fit what I wanted and needed between my arms . Between my arms is a empty space that I’ll keep just to embrace in case you fall back into my grace . Shame will cover my face as I struggle to love my faith . For my mind has crumble under this pace and I have lost the reason to give chase . Between my arms there was a base for believing that all love was safe. Now I know it’s just bait for a future agreeable mistake . Between my arms there was something warm that was great . Now something has torn and my arms literally shake from remembering what I had to take . It’s best to have two broken arms than a heavy heart break .

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My first and last thought .

To you I leave what you didn’t believe in me . Truly I saw the best of me through you . Didn’t we grew or grow the only way we knew . A few if and or no to each of our views . For we opposed the new parts that we added to our hearts as we became addicts . Obviously our love is problematic . But eventually we became diplomatic . Knowing which way we will go at it . The havoc came and we still stayed the same , for we were children of the pain . You are from tears of many fears and I’m blood that been soaked in the mud . Never have I came close to love until your intellect tossed me into a flood of loaded words . And there I noted what was love . I saw this effect and studied because . I felt the buzz from life unplugged and took to you as my favorite drug . And that’s the story of out love . Quick bits of lust and fixed with trust .

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