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Would it not be wonderful if all human beings on Earth came to understand that each is as divine as the other--indeed, that all, all creations in the infinite Cosmos are imbued by their maker with the same indelibible divineness of their same maker?

There are an estimated 4,300 "different" religions on Earth, each praying to the same God, but calling their same God different names.

Yet, there can be only one maker of the infinite Cosmos.

Why, therefore, do we contine this false notion, this illusion, through millennia, fighting wars over these illusory differences, killing millions and millions and millions of other human beings because we are unwilling to see truth, let alone embrace it?

These fake differences at best keep all of us on Earth separate, divided, and thus cause us tragically to see those of us with different skin colors, different physical features, using different languages and dialects, having different customs, at best appearing different from ourselves, and at worst, instigating untold killings of "others."

If ever you saw a beautiful painting, no doubt you would see in it many differences:  colors, forms, shapes, contours, all of which collectively you might find at the least interesting, at most beautiful.

But what if you saw only a white canvass with nothing on it?

Would you find that beautiful, engrossing, mesmerizing, even to any extent satisfying?

But this is the canvass racists, neo-Nazis, white supremacists, white nationalists, the KKK, the Proud Boys, and so many others like them, want hanging in their houses.

Hate, unconsciously of themselves because the were never loved, is their religion. And just like their religious forebearers of the Middle Ages, they are now fighting their Crusades against others who appear different from themselves, but ironically and tragically are not.

Hank Helman
It can't be

That I will spend an entire life,
Begging for love,
Confused by anger,
Afraid of frowns,
Eager to blame,
Bored with myself,
Waking up dead,

Can it?
I tried to sneak up on myself. Tip toed. Didn't work.
Words' Worth
No more tears for the virulent girls
No more fears for the deplorable men
Only farewells for the women
And goodbyes is meant for the boys

Destiny has taken a turn tonight
Our paths will cross sometime
My parents told me to look for love
All I do is learn through tropes

The sky is as blue as your eyes
Your ruby red lips are found in the recess of the skies
Your soul is golden as the fleece of the sun
Your cheeks clench in stony silence now

I'm glad you are with me
How long will this last
Heaven knows, but hell awaits
So I am told
A man's character is his fate.
Carly L Washor
What time are you thinking?
A time? Is that where it all starts? I’ll go with; midday. Does that work for you?

Just as pliant as his physical form; bending in all directions; jumping from stair to star; his studies, relationship with time; offered the same natural ease.

He wanted to study equanimity in a way that hadn’t been brought into the scientific world; just yet. The physical structures were worked through BY his hands and mind. Why would this be any different?
Consolidating abstractions into bite sized bits. We took the ocean together in our palms.
I texted you last night
Turns out I’m still blocked
I just wanted to tell you
My worlds been rocked

I had a dream we were together
Went on a perfect date
But I woke up alone
Cause your feelings were fake

I can’t text you if I need help
Cant kiss you when I’m lonely
I just wish I’d given you the chance
To really, truly know me
I am not the harnesser of energy,
  I'm more like a train station where
good things and
bad things
come and go with
time, that carry me,
and are gone with a
whistle blow
Jordan LC Murphy
⚠️ Warning..
These frozen veins do course within
Do proceed with caution
Living vivid intrepid dreamz of Constellation contortion
Galactic galaxies gorgeously conforming
To unknown principles
Forming way before the former
Extremely tired and tortured
Still blossoms bloom on orchids
Routinely on the forefront
Expired beyond the forfeit
Unfortunate enough to understand
The true principles of orbit
Head spinning like a whirly top
Heart colder than a orphans
That vacant dead feeling you get
As you feel your soul just rotting
Watching them silent violet clouds
Violently lightly erupting  
Dark matter around everything
Existing but never exposed
Chemistry and poetry
Together forever enclosed
Daisy Ashcroft
is this
what it feels like
to be a fossil
in the making?
to have pebbles,
sand and grit
swept slowly
on top of me.
not to mention
the crushing
and deafening
of miles of water
pressing it all down
to bury me.

but sometimes
sometimes there's
relief and light
when someone
digs through the
weight to reveal
the shadow of the
creature that once
lay there.
but then that husk
is reduced to
cinders in a mountain
of others.
and i guess you could say
that 'power station'
is adulthood.
or life.
Reach the light
Look at stars,
They are so far
I catch a shooting star
to burn fire
in my heart.

I know what I want
In me, someone
tryna be number 1 #
be the only one
great as the sun.
I know it's so hard
a pillar wish to fly,
the winds wants to find
where it belongs.
Nothing will be wrong
to follow what we love
And I'll be strong
to reach the light.
I haven't written a poem for long time
in life there're a lot of things to carry and I was kinda confused.
Sometimes I caught myself

Thinking about you

Thinking about us

What we used to be

It was great

Maybe not everything

But most of it


I'm grateful

Thank you
He used to
park his rusty red
near the riverside where you
tend to walk
chat talk
to the world
He used to serve the most
passionate Latte
One day you recognised
a delicate
bird on the foam
He used to park near the riverside
and still does
Art is patient and perseveres through times where there's seemingly no audience :)
Chani Goldstein
Although I have
Nothing to say
I still want
To sit quietly
By your side
And take in
Our love
Pakhi Singhal
what does an artist do of pain
she dwells in his pain
she lives her pain of love
she lets the pain eat her
and when she is completely engulfed by the pain
she dips her brush in the paint of pain
and paints the most expressive piece
but the mortals call it art
South City Lady
your words pervade
aromatically over
my defensive shell,
  gradually releasing,
relinquishing each imprint
of resistance
         as I unclench,
embracing you
in hopeful sips,
  for nourishment
         your morning rain
splashes upon fluted lips,
my tulip soul soaking in
translucent song

your fingers splayed
    through silks,
unadorned by fear
ornamented by
                 your grace
sunlight burns through
my facade where residue
of past anguish once held sway

    fingers lift my chin,
gingerly, to your face,
while you listen
  pressing your heart within
my gypsum, solidifying
these pliable impressions,
confessions shared openly
restoring faith toward trust
"I Can Only Imagine"
Mr Shankley
I kissed a girl with a broken smile;
nothing could come near.
She carved it with a pocket knife;
slit from ear to ear.
And she wears it like her favourite scarf;
it keeps her from the cold.
So I told her its only woven by
her enemies of old.
Himangshu Singh
is heaven the rainbow
and hell the rain
for when I love the heaven
i fall for hell.
i love the rainbow but rain manages to keep all my notice
Jon York
Inside you

is where I want to



within the folds

of your mind


the sweet softness

of your soul,


as I release my love

deep within you.
                                     Jon York   2019.
Eshwara Prasad
The 'Nero' in me fiddled while people's head burned !
Dear me,
Don't just sit
Rise, and pursue greatness.

Don't just watch
Go after what you want.

Don't just exist
Strive and start living.

Don't just dream
Work hard and aim for success.

Don't get tired
Keep hiking until you get to the peak.
Whether a comma, or colon:
Punctuation slows my rolling
I need no period. When I end
no Capitalization when I begin
Rulelessly I flow my art
  Not a single!
Exclamation mark
Are you not the one
Who'll know?
Where a question mark
No longer goes

Warp the structure
Bend the lines
Put in repeat
Let emotion unwind
Make yourself
Your poetry's the best
Be your own ruler
Pass your own test

Take your own road
Where ever it leads
Lover or hater
It's all poetry!
Traveler Tim
Strange, the Hellopoetry computer demanded I put two stars on this poem to repost it to the front page... But it was worth it, it’s been on here for over a year now, I appreciate it Elliot.

No matter who you are
You have my deepest respect!

All is vanity
The meanings of passion
The aesthetic expression
The lines we draw and stay within
Even love is beyond intent
Vanity transcends
Flowing from our pens
And so we breathe again
I’m sorry that I don’t come across
as being as lovable as you are.
My days consisted of hesitation,
building me a wall between
what I used to feel so heavily
and what I push away to the point
where it’s hurting me.
I see the breaths of silence dancing
on the screens that part us.
You might feel it blowing through,
I hope that it’s not hurting you
because it would make me wonder too.
Turn on the lamp
started January 13th, 2021

Turn on the lamp
for the end of the day
is near

Turn on the lamp
let the light
warm this page

Turn on the lamp
and let go
the worries of the day

Turn on the lamp
there is nothing to fear
from the coming night

Turn on the lamp
that is your heart
tonight you are enough.
Sometimes I write, just trying to imagine a different way of being in the world. This poem is for me, but I know others are also searching.
i don't want to die
i'm not afraid

i just don't want to

but we promised
to die

we promised a day
and a place

i don't want to die
but i said i would go that way

i can't watch all of us die
i can't make it past my mother's day

i don't want to die
but i have to, i'm afraid
i can't watch you die
I am the deep, the sky in reverse
I have what you seek, for better or worse

I am the blue of infinite depth
I've swallowed the crews and cleared the decks

You are afraid or maybe intrigued
Of the place where you played and also was freed

Kiss me now like you did before
Give me your vow and the ocean is yours.
euphoric jinx
they were your drug
and you overdosed
i read this somewhere and i really liked it
Thomas W Case
There's a little
boy that hides in
the dark corners of
my soul.
He doesn't want to
be hurt anymore.
I spent eight years
with Beth.
For the most part,
it was hell and
constant pain.
She made nightmares
look good.
I heard the
little boy cry
late into the
silky night,
while snails got
smashed on the streets
of Ventura.

When I drank, which was often,
the little boy seemed
at peace for awhile,
while swans were
murdered in Venice,
and I tasted the ashes
of Neruda.
Years flew by
like seagulls;
and darting.
The little boy
continued to
hide in the
dark corners of my soul.

He wanted to
come out and be loved.
He was thirsty for it,
but there wasn't
any around.
It was dry, like the
deserts in hell.
It's too late for
sorries, here comes
the plow.

He began to see
the pattern of life.
There are monsters
that walk in the light.
Vulnerability equals pain.
The little boy got mean.
And now he carries
a knife.
Izzy Luggs
There were times
when as plants sense sunlight
I felt it

Just beyond clarity
over the next rise
past a distant range
beyond glittering lines
of broad salty seas

Fanning flames of belief
in landscapes born of wistful dreams
tangled in bright webs woven
of Arthurian tales, sheltered within
the safe confines of a young boy's
sparkling mind
I know you.
Sometimes you say things, expecting that I won’t understand, and I think it’s strange because
I know you.
That’s what this is. I know you,
And I want you,
And I care about you
Don’t want no one else.
You might not know me,
The stanchions you use to prop yourself up eating all that I have fed you,
In the darkness,
In the night,
But I know you.
And I want you anyway.
It's funny how
You can be driving along,
Minding your own business,
When all of the sudden,
Thru the now absent front window,
Your face is introduced to the asphalt.
my son and I play this game where we each give the other 2 words and we have 5-10 minutes to create a poem with them. This one is my latest
They’d waited too long to say

“I love you”.

3 words. 3 syllables.

Yet they held millions of emotions unspoken.

and now that they’d done it, they wouldn’t,
couldn’t, stop

they told each other all the time. In the end of the argument and before the good news.

In the middle of the storm, even though it was hard to see, and after, when the raging winds had settled on a breeze

before the rising sun turned the sky pretty colors and after it flickered out and faded away into the dark

Underneath the stars that their love had been etched into

There was no love until death for them. Because it would never stop. Their love was beyond. It rose above any border that would dare to try and stop it. There was no finish line

because they were each other’s end game.  
Crystal Freda
Why is poetry dying
when we still have the gift?
If we still have water
then we still have a ship.
We can sail to the places
these words take us.
We are still shaken
by the words that make us.
Why should we let poetry die
when there is so much to explore?
If only people read it
and discovered more.
I poured myself
inside your cup
pretended to be tea
your lips pursed to the rim
burning kiss
bile churns
you forgot
I'm made of sins
I will walk out
I will walk out of anything
I will come out
I will come out stronger
This time around
I will bounce back harder
-Yes I will-
rig f laurel
when i died the first time
inhaling an ocean
they said
this was not the plan
turn back.

and when i did
i tried to fly with no lessons
nor wings
and they called me

but i came round
and sought a chainsaw
and then a mermaid
and then death herself
i think she was

and each time
they said the same thing
over and over and over and over:
wrong destiny. wrong destiny.
go again.

the instructions are in a language i do not possess.
Luna Maria
are the ink
for the pen
a poet uses
to write
- L.M.
there’s a world that sits
from me apart
but i’m still in your arms
i think so anyway

and there are oceans and tides
that obey their lover’s shine
for when the moon is full
all her heart she gives to you

and the rain comes in waves
and i will bathe in it for days
but theres rays that flood in soft
and warm and gentle

your light pours through
and its beautiful
and i’m full of it
on days full of you
"Looking at you seeing God's precious gift worth keeping."
Mitch Prax
To this day,
your name
still hurts my tongue
but I still say it anyway.
Sometimes I like to
hear my soul
gently tear itself
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