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(for Daisy, a true companion to poet rr)

in the city,
we fight daily the toughest of hombres,
brown, grayed, mottled city pigeons,
who fear no human predator,
in the fight
for the crumbs and crusts of
inspiration
however, they may come our way

get a message, a post,
with the words
“a good create”

the words form a chord,
in my throat, taut, visible, tense
even knowing it’s likely a typo,
probably meant “creature,.”

but the phrase strikes me
as one too little spoke
in our diurnal drudgery
numbing~dumbing struggle,
but, I take them as (a) writ,
for the crumb of challenge
proffered

if we cannot justify our existence,
daily with a new create,
then incumbent upon us
to cherish, double and thrice,
the good and wonderful
creates,
the surround us

been decades since my body
was warmed by the shape of an animal’s
curves fitted into mine,
our sleep rhythm intertwined,
nay,
one
<>
so once again,
I mourn a living poem
who crossed my path
in photo, in words,
but never,
not in,
living color


but the sighs of loss,
real

so as is my wont,
inquire within,
where shelter?

in the love
we create
tween us and our

creatures.
Vaniexe Kafka Jan 2022
i want to love myself
but i don't know how
drifting in and out
     between the reality and my delusions
trying to search for that vigor
that will to be alive—
to be excited of the sunrise
and feel calm
     soaking under the afternoon sun
and love the changing hues
     of the skies at dusk
and wish the moon a good night
     never fearing the dreams to come
then adore the peeking light at dawn
     reflecting the days waiting to be lived

but then it's gone
all that's left was a monotonous black
accompanied by a crippling silence
followed by the surge of doubts
     storming down my confidence
     its lightning striking
as i look into the mirror
     staring at my silhouette
     with its pieces shattering one by one
just as how, piece by piece
     i slipped into the pit
freefalling
and finally losing
     the will i tried so hard to keep
leaving me with nothing
but a void
i wrote this when i felt really really down, somehow it helped me release all that negativity within. i think i am better now. will be dumping my poems because it's been a while since i've posted
hyun Oct 2023
you walk this earth
with nothing but pain
and yet you blossom
so beautifully—
a lotus in winter,
defying all odds
and all of nature.

you are more than
who you think you are.
a king without a throne,
a lion without a pride—
you can be either
without anything else
to your name.

i am not who birthed me,
and i will not apologize
for this space i consume.

i am not their mistake
and i will not mistake
kinship for love
any longer.

i will own myself
once and for all.
brandychanning Jul 2023
near three years, nearer to eclipses,
since last scribed here, been there
been loved, mistreated, done my share
of giving beatings, for the deserving,
never been any body’s biatch, no starting
now=ever.

men look at me, their eyes self-seducing,
a crook(ed) finger never summoned me
or any self respecting woman of valor,
with a full fist of words, a tongue sharper
than a deli slicer, if looks can ****, then
left my fair share of men on the Riviera,
the Hamptons, the Gold Coast, uptown
and way downtown where the cool kids
pretend play @ being prey hunting grownups.

ya, hear your thinking and it’s stinking,
my generated magno-electric vibes that’s
to blame, get this kids! never your fault
being whom you the actual F are, it’s their filters
that ***** their vision, their desires unbidden,
casual dispensed, thinking glory is theirs to share.

my road is not broken, there are signs even I spot,
when the man I crave is nearby, whose calm is not
couched cool, who doesn’t wear his possessions on
his sleeve, one who says adventure, yes, let’s go,
never saying when, for the only when is what both crave,
the loving of immediacy of “right now,” and add
to that pithy, my name, Brandy, acknowledging it’s
me, just me, he addresses and not some vision that
was crafted by others into an ideal,  and ‘because’ is
not sufficient but the perfect rationale, to trust what
your absent father called your “finely tuned instincts for
human finery, humans who eclipse ordinary stars

Lorraine Colon Oct 2021
My mind's like a seafaring vessel,
Ready to sink with an overload
Of volatile rhymes that scuffle and wrestle
And at any moment may explode

Heaven knows I've tried to stem the tide,
But every thought turns to poetry;
I fear, while interred on some peaceful hillside,
I'll be rhyming through eternity!
Zoe Mae Sep 2021
Thank you for calling today
This call will be recorded
so watch what you say
If you really are sick
choose option six
Not that it will matter
We don't care one bit!
Otherwise we're too busy
to answer your call
and the mailbox is full
until civilization falls
Zoe Mae Sep 2021
Yesterday I went to the county fair
I hadn't been in years
And I swear after half an hour
I was almost in tears
The pizza was soggy
Hot dogs just awful
And since when did fried dough taste like falafel?
The rides took the whole day to get on
But once you finally made it
they were 2 minutes long
It was hot and sweaty and I saw lots of puke
I guess that was a bonus
but certainly no fluke
The cows were still cows
waving their ***** in the air
So I played some games, ran out of money
And left without the giant bear
julius Sep 2021
threading my fingers through your pink hair
warm silence rises out of open mouths
rose skin and water lilies float above water
Ryan Aug 2021
monetize and institutionalize
is the way to gain the modern prize

marriage isn't affirmation of love
it's a 10-grand headache
as the IRS sits above

funerals aren't celebrations of one's life
they're ways for the fat cats
to profit off your strife

churches aren't for learning about god
some pastors make six figures
now isn't that odd?

you wonder why you're in so much pain
grasping at straws attempting to stay sane

unclench your palms from those useless umbrellas
go outside, and dance in the rain
the title has been, and will forever be—my username on this site. this one hits deep for me. am i content with the way i articulated it? maybe, maybe not. perhaps i'll go walk in the next rain shower and afterwards head back to the drawing board
Zoe Mae Aug 2021
The Earth is scarred
Branded
by our constant digging
The moon likens her blemishes to cheap tattoos, but he'd never tell her so
She's still spectacular, even swathed in gray
We may have robbed her of her innocence, but she's still the jewel of the Milky Way
Offensive and beautiful
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