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 2251° 
JL Vega
We met
We talked
We pretended
We laughed
We considered
We agreed
We exchanged
We left
It was like a kiss from a rose
 2048° 
preston

She stands at the Well.
But she is not alone.

A voice speaks—
"You have no husband, do you?
Not just one—not two—but many.
And still, you are thirsty."


She freezes.
Because the voice is true.
Because she is seen.

But she resists.

"It’s not just the men
"
Her hands tighten.
"There is another ‘her’ inside me.

She fights. She *****.
She wants destruction and hunger and chaos.
She doesn’t listen. She doesn’t stop.
She is the one who makes me want to throw myself from a cliff
just so I don’t have to deal with her anymore."

"She’s gonna do something crazy,"
she whispers.
"And I’ll be gone. Like I was never even here."

The voice does not flinch.
"Then let Me meet her."

Silence.

A storm brews behind her ribs.

The "her" within her stirs—
The dark one. The wounded one.
She crouches behind the rocks, clutching her shame.

The other "her"—the one who still believes—
She wades into the water, hands lifted, reaching for salvation.

One moves toward the Light.
One remains in the shadows.

"You see, Lord? She does not belong to me.
She belongs to the dark."


A pause.

"No," The Spirit says.
"She belongs to Me."

The rocks begin to shake.
The water ripples.

Behind the trees, the dark "her" presses her back against the bark,
watching the water, watching the other "her" wade in.
She wants to believe.
She wants to step forward.

But she remembers.

The love of man is dishonest.
The world swallows and devours.
Every time she has trusted, she has been burned.

"The water will steal me," she whispers.
"The light will dissolve me. I will disappear."

But the Spirit does not demand.
It does not chase.
It does not force.

It only knows.

"You are afraid that surrender will erase you," the Spirit says.
"But you have already been erased."

The words cut deep.
Because they are true.

"You live divided.
One ‘her’ in the shadows.
One ‘her’ in the light.
Neither whole.
Neither free."


The dark "her" clenches her fists.
"You don’t understand her," she spits.
"She needs me."

"No," the Spirit says.
"She needs  Me."

The trees begin to shake.
The wind rises.

"Come, little one.
I have been waiting for you."


She takes a step forward.
The trees do not stop her.
The rocks do not hold her.

The dark "her" and the one who waits—the one who believes—
They are not enemies.
They are not strangers.

They are two halves of the same soul.

And Love—
Love has come to bring them both home.



The Art of Salvation

River running..
That rushing sound in these parts
spell out the words, crystal-clear..
Tree-lined banks, giving way
to the Dark Hills,  upslope

Giving way,  to
granite-rocked outcroppings
giving way to  elk-hidden quakeys
Surrendering their holy-huddle's
pristine stances
to tall  prairie-grass, waving
wild raspberries  and tall pines

    And I,  myself..
    am surrendering also
She is watching the water, believing
That as it flows,
she will not lose herself in it
That it will not steal,  but heal

That I will not  rage again
within my fear

I am watching her,
watch the water
I am watching the water--  believing
That as I give  of myself
further  into the flow

that I will not become  diffused
by humanity
By the love  of man
and all  of its dishonesty

and all  of its  diabolical treachery

Of its  lack of concern,
or understanding
Or ability to break through
its own,  self-centeredness

Or its need  to swallow me up
    into the mundane.
Her hands are in the air now,
praising..

Worshipping
the true nature  of the flow,
Believing..
that I will let all of this, go
And as she  wades in
I ease, back--

Retreating
up the Dark Hills, *****
Clutching tightly..
To granite-rocked outcroppings,
  weeping.

Hiding in the quakeys,
among the majestic elk
Begging for the tallgrass, cover
among the wild raspberries.
   Now, fully concealed
   in  tall pines.

Her hands
are stretched out,  now..
as if hovering  over the waters,
participating

While I hide  from it all

While I hide,  from humanity;
From the fallen,  love of man

    She is wading in,
    Believing
.    
As I am leaving;
Believing

    As the cloud-hidden sky,
    starts raining--

playing the most incredible, of tunes..
https://youtu.be/PgRafRp-P-o?si=1A3rb7ajt_ZPlMW2

xox
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4407079/the-art-of-salvation/


"Little Spirits  were born
with their little  freedoms  intact--
In freedom.. they are only
drawn out  by Love"

youtu.be/i-kHleNYIDc

            â€ïžâ€ïž

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4736547/children-of-the-quakies/
xo
 1269° 
nvinn fonia
fcking back  stabbers /.,
 780° 
Victoria Hanson
I finally feel
like I'm me again
I haven't felt this good
Since I don't know when
My heart is not heavy
my mind is not spinning
My soul is uplifted
my life rebeginning
My future looks brighter
The path is made clear
My family is closer
My friends are more dear
I’ve learned many lessons
That got me to this place
But the greatest of all
Is to give myself grace
 722° 
guy scutellaro
you are the moonflower,
and the sweet fragrance
of night blooming jasmine.

the mysterious, magical beauty
of a single night.

It is the passionate night that holds you.

nothing lives forever,
not the stars scattered in the skies
nor the sadness reflected in your eyes.

hold my hand, blue flower.
hold my wistful heart
tangled and intimate
in our distant romance.

the oak trees rustling in the wind.
there is something cold in the air...
the fleeting bloom of the night's flower.

oh, flower of the night,
the night will never release you.

a solitary tear falls. I draw the shades.
 633° 
Kelsey
It's fascinating
That I keep coming back here.
When my heart breaks
And the darkness seeps in,
When there seems to be
No one to talk to
I come here
And I talk to myself.
I let strangers read the words
That no one can hear.
Even when they spill out of my mouth.
I come back to connect
With my true nature
And to those,
I dont even know their names.
So...I think I'll always be here.
So I can always be free.
My escape
 401° 
Marc Morais
We manage
as best
we can—
for us and others.

One day—
my hands
will stop reaching
to help others.

And I wonder—
which failing
will be at fault—
my body or
my heart.

If it is to be my heart
then let it be
both.
 380° 
Ruhani
It has been so long
Since I put my cloak on
To hide behind the closet
to look within and forget.
For the times when you want to shut down the world
 376° 
Clay Micallef
The sky is a stormy
kind of strange indigo
daffodils are reaching
out for attention
the mountains
crumble with a
matter of urgency
my dreams are a
puddle of mud and
sullen reflection
tears spill into an open
field of wild orchids
the gods are drunk
with the thunder  
of excitement
I drift in and out of
dark dreaming I am
just a passenger in this
strange and awful place
sometimes when the
lights are low I often
wonder why do colours
fade away when you
need them the most 

Clay.M
 328° 
Jamxsky
Smiling in my silent screaming pain,
It's like pushing the wall of hope in vain,
Then my heart aches to the bone,
Freezing me in the room to be alone.
Sometimes it's okay to be true to yourself, 'cause our emotions are valid and recognizing them is a matter for our growth and peace of mind.
 301° 
Zywa
Waking up, lightly

balancing between repose --


and my brand new day.
Composition "Fragile Balance" (2014, JĂŒrg Frey), for ensemble and piano, performed on four saxophones by the Amstel Quartet in the Organpark on March 8th, 2025

Collection "org anp ARK" #99
 246° 
Peter Gerstenmaier
The weeds in our garden
Grew as fast as the pile
Of your unreplied letters
Such a sad race to behold...
REPOST. Written in sep/24.
 233° 
Mary Huxley
In a world of whispers and dreams,
Where the moon dances in silver streams,
Hearts beat in rhythm, a gentle song,
In the twilight where we belong.

Underneath the starlit sky so vast,
Moments cherished, never surpassed,
In your eyes, a universe I see,
Together, forever wild and free.

Where love resides in the chambers of the heart,
Your name still beeps,
You're my happy place
 226° 
Michael
A red breasted bird
Perched on a wall
Absorbed in its world
Not worried at all.
Unconcerned by the height
And unaware of its weight
it nimbly takes flight
As I ponder life’s fate.
I envy the bird,
That can lift on a breeze,
Tied down by my mind
As a roof to its eaves.
Like the red breasted bird
I too perch on my wall
Absorbed in my world,
But worried I’ll fall.
I was left of left
                    &
            called up as typical

    widespread panic metered
            your forearm.

    I was left with my ebbs
                     &
              in admiration

    of your gentle smile; kind as
               you **** me.
So little has passed in so much time.
 194° 
Shaun Yee
It’s so simple to live happily,
To enjoy life, avoid misery,
Just follow the simple ways of life,
With understanding and empathy.
It’s not really very difficult,
Just leave your egoism behind.
too simple??
 188° 
Archer
So you’ll yell at a tree
But simply complain about the forest?
 178° 
Thy
Han
men, usually
come off as cold,distant, & strong

yet the room radiated with the warmth of your existence
a space was not present between I and your adoration for closure
your vulnerability has been the strongest ability I've witnessed

for that, I've acknowledge
that you are for me
 177° 
witch
Feet are cut... by melancholia-infested memories.
Is this my savior? My never-ending heaven I'm supposed to be in?
No, God never answered me.
Here I am, death on earth. Earth I am, both of us blend... to eternity.

No curse, no bliss.
No death to undying crisis.
You will never get the key, not on last blink.
Die, girl with a poem. Die on her last poem.

Salvation whispers.
Cut
Cut
Cut
Cut

Cut Cut
Cut Cut
Cut Cut Cut
Bleed

Cut
Cut
Cut
BLEED

Cut Cut Cut Cut
BLEED
BLEED
BLEED

BLEED
It's been a while since I've done it
But I want to do it
Do it again

Cut my arms
Cut my arms
Cut them
Cut them until they

BLEED
BLEED
Cut cut cut till they
BLEED

BLEED
Cut cut cut
Cut cut cut cut
Cut

BLEED
BLEED
BLEED BLEED BLEED
BLEED BLEED BLEED

BLEED
BLEED
BLEEEEEEED
BLEEEEEEED

BLEE-E-E-E-E-E-E-EED
BL­EED
BLEED
BLEE-E-E-E-E-E-E-EED

BLEE
BLEE
BLEE
BLEE

BLEED
BLEED
­BLEED
BLEED

Cut cut
Cut cut
BLEEED
BLEEED
 166° 
Brwa S Rasheed
Your name seeps through the dusk,
a tremor coiled in the marrow of stars.
The wind unravels your touch—tender, but smoldering,
like an ember defying ash.

Distance etches its weight in sinew,
but even in this severance,
I taste the brine of your voice—a phantom tide,
summoning me home.
 164° 
PhantomDreamer
I should have known
 151° 
Kate
I can’t do everything in one lifetime.
I want to be a writer— a poet, and yet I’d like to explore the stars, discover planets.
I’d like to act in every big-name movie, but I’d also love to sing my heart out in meaningless songs that others can’t quite comprehend.
I’d like to move countries, change my name, forget my old self— but I also want to embrace who I truly am, at my core.
Time.
There never seems to be enough of it.
If only we were given several lifetimes to figure ourselves out, to breathe life at its purest form, and see our souls in the way we know is right.
If only we could glimpse the countless endings hidden in every small beginning.
 150° 
bulletcookie
scarab beetles fly
spirals: plop, drop, round dance, lay
dung-***** bear new life

-cec
 147° 
tender flame
the rise and fall of stars both reside in me, cosmic rifts searing through the skin. each one bleeds a tale to be told, only i can hold—to ache, to remember.

they form constellations to chart—a map of wander and wounds, a framework of a galaxy. but with your slightest, tender touch stellar lifetimes collapse again into light—bright, breathless—blooming into a supernova.
i don’t want to hide when i’m with you.
 144° 
Eme
Abuse

It’s not black or white
No one will understand
I went through something
I’m still processing
I am sad but I don’t understand why
I am loved and I am in pain
Why can’t they stop hurting me
I’m too young to protect myself
I need to protect them
I need it to stop
Why can’t they see I’m hurt
It’s all a blur
Memories are a blur
The feelings remain
I’m ashamed
I’m angry
I cry for my family
I cry for me
 140° 
Fleeting Ink
She
I know her
She has long black hair with soft waves
I know she loves her face now
it looks healthier.

She is smiling
More sincerely than yesterday
The weight has lifted
Because she finally let go of what she once held too tight.

I know her
The woman in my mirror
Has committed to living in peace
Happiness will be the bonus
And I love her more than yesterday
Even more so tomorrow than today.
It’s just an old heart I forgot was there anymore
A heart I stopped looking for
A heart I didn’t know i care about anymore
Old heart rediscovered
Once judged by its cover
An old me, an old heart, new again
—Timothy Charles Carter
 122° 
Selma
I am not hard to love.
I am not unreasonable.
And I don’t distribute headaches,
Like candy,
When I wish to express my emotions.
I simply express -
I am allowed to voice
My thoughts,
My opinions.
If it is a concept you cannot grasp,
Take the problem off my back
And dig deep within yourself.
 117° 
RMatheson
And
suddenly
the
music
stops.
 113° 
Titus E Gray
I was light for a moment
I was dark for longer
I was full sometimes
I was empty more often

I’ve been the sunrise
I am the sunset
I’ve been the sun
I am the moon

As much as I am
I’m also not
The ups seem more distant
When the downs getting deeper

But I’ll keep chasing the waves
Even when they pull back
Because the tide always rises
Even after it falls
 107° 
Adam S
I wanted to catch the air
and pet the stray on the street.
To cage a bird who wants
nothing but freedom.

What did I learn?

Air will leave the room you rush in,
cats don't trust hands,
and birds will only stay
as long as you feed them.
 99° 
Arthur Rimbaud
Dans la feuillée, écrin vert taché d'or,
Dans la feuillée incertaine et fleurie
De fleurs splendides oĂč le baiser dort,
Vif et crevant l'exquise broderie,

Un faune effaré montre ses deux yeux
Et mord les fleurs rouges de ses dents blanches.
Brunie et sanglante ainsi qu'un vin vieux,
Sa lĂšvre Ă©clate en rires sous les branches.

Et quand il a fui - tel qu'un Ă©cureuil -
Son rire tremble encore Ă  chaque feuille,
Et l'on voit épeuré par un bouvreuil
Le Baiser d'or du Bois, qui se recueille.
 99° 
kind hands
twist and turn
scream and burn
take a match to my mind
trapped
and still i yearn
 97° 
Shang
with every passing moment,
I find it more and more
difficult to determine
who is human &
what human is?
© Shang
 96° 
Bekah Halle
Wild & Desperate

Most of life is spent curled;
Caught in the wild and desperate places,
Straddling between two worlds;
Satisfied and striving, for more space,
The here-and-now and the not-yet-inspired.
Being enough and constantly unlaced.
Lent is the practice of sacrifice (going without) and remembrance. I am giving up chocolate this year and will try to write a poem in my new “Lent Collection” each day. Enjoy!
 90° 
Salvatore Ala
When I found my mother dead
I stepped outside to steady myself.
It was a summer at its zenith.
The night was now alive.
That’s when I saw a leopard slug
Climbing up the garage wall.
It was like I was suffering
A bad acid trip, all loss and no escape.
My eyes wide, taking in the world
Like it was some new form of reality.
I could see the slug’s
Slowly undulating body.
I could see it looking in the dark.
Nothing else seemed real,
Until cars of family and friends
Pulled into the driveway.
It was almost two in the morning.
We all went inside
To say goodbye to mom.
The next time I went out
I could see only the trail
But the slug was gone.
 83° 
Lost Indeed
What do I do when this feeling hits?
It's Sunday night, and we cannot kiss.
The night just seems so cruel to me,
Leading me to dreams that I cannot see.

I can smell her skin when I close my eyes,
Like a drug of love I cannot fight.
I need to love her, I need to hold her tight,
I need to feel her heat—I need her tonight.
T
 77° 
Caddyboy
Sitting idly on the bench
A plume of smoke was in the air
Everythin' was feeling near
Concealing my fear

â™Ș

I was cold enough to feel
Yeah my buzz was wearin off
Was our love ever real?
Course it was I'll go and scoff

â™Ș

Can we go and crack the sky?
Yeah these birds were always real
Feel your tail coiled round my thigh
I guess we share a common zeal

â™Ș

I'll hold you tight my only friend
I'll always love you till the end
I'll light your blunts forevermore
I'll always share im not a bore.
This is a song about my imaginary friend, Morgan Farrel. Pretty sad to think about honestly
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