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 875° 
Carter Carter
“You know what’s wrong with this world?
We sell away our innocent girls,
We fight and bicker,
Ignoring the lonely man reaching for another bottle of liquor,
We tell our kids not to smoke,
As we reach for another to laugh and joke,
We point to our happiest guy on file,
Not seeing that he’s hiding behind a crooked smile,
We go to parties and raves,
Forgetting about our veterans who are slipping into the grave,
We argue that the rich man should pay,
While we kick our beggars out of the way,
We believe that race
Has an incriminating face,
Not realizing that under our skin,
We are all kin,
We ignore our newborns grin,
While we go out and sin,
We trample on the desperate,
While we fight over who’s going to be the head of the cesspit,
We say “only a few dollars more”,
Thinking about a raise instead of the poor,
We say “there’s no I in Team”
While our eyes gleam,
Blinded by our greedy dreams,
And we bully those who stick out,
As if they didn’t already have doubts,
Instead of caring about others,
We only look out for our brothers,
But what’s saddest of all,
Is that in the end, everyone will fall,
Regardless of wealth, power, age, or race,
We are all going to be gone without a trace,
Except for a few daisies marking our grave."
 454° 
Randolph Napoles
How can I stay away?
If everyday I am getting more addicted to you.
To how you say the things that warms my heart.
To how you try to understand me despite our different opinions.
To how you want to care when I am in pain.
To how you want to adjust to my messy life.
To how you try to fit your piece of puzzle in my heart.
To how you say the words that gets me thinking, what did i ever do to deserve this kind of love?
I am getting more addicted to you,
And I don’t want to fall ever again to the ground.
Coz I really am feeling high right now,
High from the feeling that only you can ever give.
If ever I need to get away from this addiction,
I HOPE that your LOVE will be my REHAB.
 443° 
Manonsi
Turning that new leaf
        over and over
    like wrinkled paper – so soft

Are those eggs in its underwing?
  Minuscule, little dreaming larvae
sunlight spears you
What do you do when it hits the bottom?
        face   up
  A platter for dirty beaks

They wake up and eat
   hiding and eating, growing

  until you miss that leaf so much
        your organs melt
   writhing goops of self
     you make your own

Later, you’ll turn
  briefly
     but so spectacularly
Your little dreams will find their deaths
    unnoticed little sleeps
while the leaves turn still
 385° 
Roses Are Bed
A capsule for your mind
To rediscover in time
When you come back down




Somewhere they can't find you
In case you ever forget
Here's something to always remind you



You are loved
You are precious
And in time you will learn to love
Your own body and mind

Take a walk
Go outside
If you are ever stuck in a loop
Don't be afraid to take chances, okay?
Promise me that

I trust you


Now go
You can do it!
 371° 
Kelsey Rhoads
If you are a suicide survivor
Inbox me your name
And I’ll add it to my tattoos of others

You guys mean the world to me
And I have my own name on my arm
Because I too, am a suicide survivor.
Inbox me your name. Make this go viral so I get names. Hopefully it inspires someone to fight a little harder. Anyone wanna join me?

If you understand I’m sorry. Stay strong friend.
 315° 
julianna
Music enters through my ears and floods my body.
It's too much to bear,
It's honest and raw.
The emotions penetrate my soul, leaving it cut and exposed.
Do I lay on the ground and let the current wash over me,
Leaving me cold, but fresh
Vulnerable but new?
Or do I close my eyes and refuse?
 275° 
LaNita
The coco color can be seen from
The light of the moon.
Her feathers are well nourished,
Her hunts go as planned.
Though tonight
I catch a glimpse of her wing span,
Four feet at least.
I barely feel wind
Yet there she travels it.
Coasting over a sleepy city.
My eye catches the mysterious
Night creatures free moving.
Not flying for hunger,
Gliding with the playful night sky.

In my mind you are there.
I imagine flying too.
Clearly, you are here,
Riding the birds tail, only
A moment behind me.
Seems like for infinity you're
Just right behind, holding me
In the winds embrace.
I rarely see your face,
Though your tone is known
In my soul.
It knows.

Like this beautiful bird,
All alone floating in the desert sky.
Her awareness was birthed when
All the people were sleeping.
She swoops down leaving some in despair.
Her talons relaxed as i see her
Disappear.
The stars engulf her whole and
I continue to sit there.
Watching the night sky.
And you listen.

Others call, though your voice is all i hear.
 250° 
David Bojay
the tough times need to end//
when the madness overflows and i can't comprehend why we ever began this war getting in between our love//

for now, i'm thinking let's just be friends//
but resistance ascends and my thoughts cannot pretend that you are here for eternity inside of my head//

far from my reach//
my days become so bleak//
when it's awkward i cannot speak//

i barrier between language when havoc has reached the peak of itself//
in those moments i cannot dwell//

i'm still practicing....being in the now....
 250° 
Amanda
Everyone I am surrounded by believes
There is someone up above
I cannot and will not believe
In a god that has shown no love

Where was he when I needed a friend to hug?
I have spent countless hours in prayer
Not once have I heard or seen
A sign to signal he was there

I have wailed out to him in agony
Pain reflected in loud cry
Waited for an answer
Silence was my only reply

I have thanked him for the good things
Worshipped him singing songs
Asked to cleanse me of my sins
Forgive me for my wrongs

What have I got in return
Nothing that i have seen so far
So how come i am the only one
Who sees you, what you truly are?

False figment of imagination
You were invented by a book
Sold to humans who were too foolish
To bother with a second glance or look

They say God loves each one of his children
Its clear he only loves a portion
He despises all homosexuals
And every girl who has had an abortion

It seems every Christian I meet
Forces conservative agenda on me
Shove beliefs down my throat
I hate Christianity!

Answers I seek cannot be found there
Not in search of some holier light
Moral compass I stand behind is sound
Hesitation is what I am hoping to incite

The word of god is abused as a weapon
A tool to inflict suffering, pain
It is an excuse to use, torment and wound
When they do it for personal gain

Religion filled with hypocrites
Sinners playing the part of saints
This short list I have compiled
The start of many complaints

Bible's presence found in hotel rooms and court hearings
The "good" books appearance is why my arguement rages
Old testament, new testamant, it doesn't really matter
It's all simply words on ancient pages
Yes I am an athiest
 250° 
victoria
What do you feel as you circle my mind?
The new happiness within me?
Or the love I’ve finally found?

I know that you’re waiting for parts of me to drop
Down onto the street
My mind for you to pick
Parts of my soul for you to eat

I watch you day after day and your song annoys me at the start.
Now it soothes me
Ive fallen for you hungry gulls
And your ever hungry hearts
There is always something or someone waiting for it to fail... if it’s not you, it’s something or someone else...
 234° 
Anne Augustine
I'm a grenade,
Ticking...ticking...ticking.
I hunger for the love that people get on a daily basis,
But once I'm close,
I loose it all...
I don't want to hurt anyone else,
Please,
You have to understand.
I love you dearly,
But I'm afraid to hurt you.

If you love me,
I need you to understand,
You're seeing all my scars.
You have to understand how sad I am,
All
The
Time.
You have to understand,
I come with baggage.
Lots and lots,
of baggage.
You have to understand,
When I say,
"I love you",
I mean,
"Thanks for not  leaving me."
I mean,
"Thanks for being there."
And of course,
"I will always be there for you."
 184° 
Lily
Fluid and soft,
she will slip through your hands
like water;

meant not to fill you,
but to help you grow.

She is not your rock
in a hard place.

She is a tidal wave
that breaks you
at the receding.
 177° 
emnabee
The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.
A little escape from the madness.
Or maybe, into.
 122° 
Liv
when a poet falls in love with you
you can never die
they will notice the way
you rub your palms and look down
when someone is angry at you
and the way you smirk
as you pull away from a kiss

they will notice how you can't sleep
without your body touching someone else's
how you never crease any pages of books
and how you close your eyes when you dance in your kitchen
with your record player on

they will find all of the words
that they see you as
and turn them into something beautiful

people say you die twice
once when you stop breathing
and when someone says your name
for the last time

if you fall in love a poet
they will never stop
mentioning your name
you will be alive
for eternity
 122° 
She Writes
You asked me why I like you
But I didn’t want to tell
Some of my reasons are cheesy...
But here is why I fell

I love the way your lips curve
When I make you smile
It makes me want to pull you close
And kiss you for awhile

I love the way your eyes twinkle
When you talk about things you love
I truely believe
It is a gift from above

I love that you are compassionate
You have such a big heart
That was the first thing I noticed
Right from the start

I love the way it feels
When you hold me tight
I finally feel safe
Like I could sleep through the night

I love that you don’t judge me
For my less than perfect self
That is more attractive
Than any amount of wealth

There are so many more reasons
But I’ll start with just this few
Maybe someday
I’ll give this poem to you

:)
 113° 
Cné

Poetry comes back to me
where long there had been none.
Lyrical, the imagery, once shared
and then was done.

Thoughts of such sincerity
in words that grace the page,
Race across the span of time
that bridge the gap of age.

Trusting in the ardor that
has cooled and healed with time,
I read again the tender lines
of kindred souls, in rhyme.

Oh spirit of another age,
reach out from time and space.
Fan the embers turned to ash
and torpid ruin replace.

 104° 
Hannah Sutter
Anything can
look like a poem
and sound philosophical
simply by moving
the words on
different lines.

Am I doing it right?
Is this
really
talent?
Art?
Effort?

I think I am trying.
Really, I am
I go back and change the order
and I break lines
where it sounds right
But it does not take me long.
Not at all.

I try to be
intentional
and call it natural rhythm.
Instinct and style taking over
I alternate between
agonizing every detail
like When to Capitalize
and publishing free form poems without looking over them twice.

How is writing supposed to feel?
Should I labor?
or should it flow?
Or do I get to decide?

I think the things I talk of
mean something
at least.

But am I just
pretentious?

fooling myself into thinking that
using common poetry formats
somehow makes my work worthwhile?
Problems only We True Artists face.
 94° 
heather mckenzie
i’d rather write about the freckles on your back than think about all of the ways in which you quite possibly don’t love me.

i feel sick at the very thought of you picking me apart the way you did; fingers grabbing and stroking in a catastrophic symphony of skin and vulnerability.

let’s read between each other’s lines; share my sentences and punctuate my paragraphs with your mouth; because i can breathe easier on the mornings where i wake up wrapped around you.

because my moods change like the goddamn seasons and the spinning in my head doesn’t want to stop.
                                         you tell me that i should probably get a therapist because no one that thinks about all the ways in which they could kill themselves has an ounce of mental stability.
                                          i tell you that i have been to four.
                                          names faded into a blur with hazy snippets of conversation remaining.
20mg.
                    30mg.
you tell me that trust issues and scars aren’t endearing and i tell you that neither is counting up the potential number of pills needed to dissolve your body into the living room carpet.

let me sink inside your skin and make a home in your flesh;
i tell you about the nights where i lay awake in the bath turning the water red.
                       tragic, isn’t it.

you tell me that this isn’t how my head should work and i tell you that i already know. everything you could possibly tell me i already know.
i know that 400 calories a day isn’t normal, and my hands shouldn’t shake all the time.
                                             i know.
please let me stitch myself into you, even just for a while; until i no longer feel dizzy and my world stops spinning.
i don’t need you to tell me that it will be okay, because honestly i don’t think it will be and, that in itself, is okay.
                                                                ­                 let me stitch myself into you, because my own skin can’t take it anymore.

let me call you back when my voice stops wobbling and my vision straightens out, but honestly, i’m terrified that it never will. what if this is it. headaches and tears and shaking and blood.
                                             and the debilitating, gut-wrenching feeling of pure and euphoric emptiness.

                                              tragic, isn’t it.
 94° 
patty m
Each day the garden dies a little more
and  I let it.
Whitewashed jasmine
smoking in the sun

A lifeless haze locks me in
concrete; a stone puzzle,
parodied and now mistook
where pieces lie,
how little one gleans beneath concrete.

Blurred lines
I cannot thread this maze
beneath hapless verse.
dwarfed by woe

Tall grass of the floodplain,
the flat meandering river,
a flight of cranes, startled,
rises from the opposite shore.
too silent this
white shadow
intervening time
Sorrow is a constant wind blowing,
today is the 3rd anniversary of my precious husband's death
 91° 
Aa Harvey
The Monster


With evil in hand they travel the land,
Forever searching for the lonely man.
His name unknown, but his story has to be told,
And now he lives in the darkness all alone.


Beneath the moon, his only light,
He disappears every night.
Never to be seen in winters gloom.
He is never seen out, for he is trapped in his doom.
Ten locks keep him in place, to keep the bad times at bay.
There hides a Prince beside his grave.


Still they search the high places and low,
In every inn and in every home.
They had the judiciary hypnotized.
They could never be stopped and now he was in their sights.


What’s black and white and read all over?
The front page photo makes him look much older.
Life wore him down and now his eyes have sunken deep.
His council disbanded and worn out souls on his feet.
As his doom closed on in there came a knocking upon his door.
Still half asleep he casually opened the way to all the evil in the world.


With fearful steps and eyes of wonder,
He stepped into the light from the spell he was still under,
And there she was, the lady in white,
And all around her shone a luminous light.


She said “Come, hurry, we must leave this place!”
He did not understand but the look on her face,
Screamed out to him, “Love is in need!”
So with two winged-feet he dived right in.


She took his hand and they danced through the snowy trees,
Until he finally said “Wait!  Where are you taking me?”


Above the trees and beneath the clouds,
There came a wave of smoke and the local’s did shout.
The fire raged and burnt every page he had written.
He didn’t know why, but there was no other way for lovers bitten.


When people do not understand a new design,
They change and find rage and the lies darken their minds.
He always knew he was different, but he has a heart,
If only others could see it, maybe they could change who they are.
Evelyn could see the real being, not the horror movie monster.
Unfortunately she was the only one, which is why he ended up with her.


As the rain fell all around him, he raised his coat to protect.
He raised it over Evelyn’s head
And together they found what needed to be said.
As they stared deeply into each other’s eyes,
They spoke and they laughed and they smiled and cried, at long last.
This love was no longer a surprise.


They were to kiss and soon did they fall.
One day they would wed, but first the wall and the door.
As they approached the castle gates,
A pair of guards stood still and their captain did wait.
“Who are you and what do you want?”
“We must see the Queen, at once!  At once!”


“It’s far too late for your kind to be here.”
“But the Prince is in need!”
“What Prince?”
“This one here!”
“He ain’t no Prince, under that hood is a beast!
Franken What’s-his-name,
I thought he was deceased.”
“He is, he died a long time ago,
But he saved the Prince before he had to go,
And with this wax seal, which has never been broken,
We can pay your toll, so you must accept this token!”
The authenticity could not be denied,
The gates were flung open
And there stood the beautiful palace of lights.


A meeting occurred and voices were heard,
But only one person had the final word.
The Queen raised her being and her voice and all fell silent.
“The Prince has returned!”  She shouted to the backdrop of violins.


The music filled the room and the corridors.
A piano was played as loud as the sound of the endless calls.
Doors were opened, windows too for all to hear,
“The Prince is to be married after all these years!”


The heir to the throne stood next to his new wife.
Evelyn was crying tears of joy,
So The Prince wiped away the tears from her eyes,
And with a kiss the service was finished.
A Prince born anew; a Queendom not diminished,
But growing ever further with change each passing day.
The darkness disappeared slowly…
Evelyn was the only way.


(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
 81° 
Vicki
i could
return to you
this minute,
join my color
again to yours,
find depth
of distance
on streets
and sidewalks,
let your spirit
suck my very
life force, yet
alone i would be,
sweet city, as
you ply
and squeeze that
too which is all around
me .. blot the
clouds with your
buildings and clot
the natural metallic,
liquid smell of rain
in the air with your
lulling, hypnotic
mixture of car oil,
gasoline and food
from all
cuisines ..  i'd linger
forever but soon
know better
to leave you yet
again, to seek
the countryside,
to seek the cleansing
freedom in the wind,
to watch the rain
in full vertical slaught
atop grass
and trees, and you,
sweet city, you who
never sleeps, will
never miss me.
 80° 
Jack
“please be naked”

she stands in her doorway wearing just a gown,
I walk in the house, dumbstruck by beauty,
up in her room undoing the bow, the shield simply slides down
caressing her curves, stroking down to the floor,
intertwined bodies craving the touch of the other,
joined as one in the gentle acts of love and lust,
romanticised ideals of perfection and soft rhythm,
delicate groans as two become one,
the broken poet, for the moment, is gone,
my drug addiction of you, just wanting more,
As my heart bleeds, love begins to pour.

“please be naked”.
this poem is influenced by The 1975 instrumental song "please be naked". i regularly think of this song as romanticising the act of sex and the trust required with it rather than what most songs make it today. despite having no lyrics the song speaks volumes to me and id definitely recommend it to anyone. stay safe and live well. JY x
 78° 
onlylovepoetry
Friday night immodesty

theater on East 4th street @ eight,
so the girlie stuff commences on schedule 90 minuets a-priori and the medley music (adele+amy+alicia+ pink for some zing)
a harbinger, a pioneer greek herald of Friday night immodesty

the clothes laid out upon the bed, the shoes,
pumps selected and already on worn, (always a puzzler to me,)
the subdued lower east side jewelry possibilities,
on the dresser drawer, indifferently hoping for selection, but
casually beaming quietly,
like those kids waiting for interviews in the waiting room
of the college admissions dean’s office,
all with serious smiles
and tiny tearing eyes

aside:
hellooo, I am in a poetry polo with my best jeans ready to go
2 hours before the curtain calls out, hellooooooo

she sits at the makeup desk,
clad in only her underneath  garments of varying utility,
when I sweep in imperially
and with one hand twist gentle her hair upwards,
betraying
her neck nape which is again
the sujet of a poem aborning

lips,
like a greek lyre strings, pluck, the tiny hid hairs never seen,
her instant moans at the never fully expected motion poem,
beg more mercy but no quarter given despite repeated cries
of you’ll mess my makeup,
the best defense known to a lady!

god gave men two thumbs to lift up, simultaneously stimulating, slide down each thin black brasserie strap invitations,
each a writ
upon her colored shoulders,
each code named,
“what was she thinking!”

my lips,
now polar explorers, those power (filled) poles side by side,
(east/west for the designer was a smart bipolar guy-person);
the lips play silent night progressive jazz,
tinkling with higher noted keys,
nape to shoulders moving down to the back’s prefrontal lobe,
the small of her back, the body’s quivering,
a con-federate flag of surrender

her last defense swept aside, we drink honey and milk,
celebrate the week’s mellifluous finish with immodest touching,
the lower east side will belong tonite
to only the hipsters, the millennials,
as our hips are otherwise pre-theater and post,
occupado

some hours later, watching TV and eating Chinese~delivered,
she laterally and literally arm punches my arm
intensely to mark her discontent,
still annoyed,
for I
1) messed up her makeup,
2)best blouse to the dry cleaner and
3) the tickets wasted, and worse,
hits me again!
when I laugh and giggle  upon proffering
most modestly, most assuredly,
seconds of
onlylovepoetry

9.21am Saturday
thank you all who liked this tale of
the poetry in the details
of our lives.
olp
Esta cabeza, cuando viva, tuvo
sobre la arquitectura destos huesos
carne y cabellos, por quien fueron presos
los ojos que mirándola detuvo.

Aquí la rosa de la boca estuvo,
marchita ya con tan helados besos,
aquí los ojos de esmeralda impresos,
color que tantas almas entretuvo.

Aquí la estimativa en que tenía
el principio de todo el movimiento,
aquí de las potencias la armonía.

¡Oh hermosura mortal, cometa al viento!,
¿dónde tan alta presunción vivía,
desprecian los gusanos aposento?
 68° 
Ken
i have so much to say to you,

but i'll never say it,

so instead,

i post it here.
for m
 68° 
Praggya Joshi
Remember that old uphill trail
We used to meander along
With matching footsteps
Under the sunlit canopy of leaves
Carving words for each other
On the bark of aged trees
Who may have known
what would become of us
But nevertheless smiled
acted as a blank canvas instead
And watched the moments
Filled with playful laughter
Peachy smiles
Lingering gaze
Warm caress
Unfold lazily between us
The winds of time
May have blown us miles apart
Our footprints may have long eroded
That sunlit canopy may have withered
And we may walk that trail
Only in our dreams
But those words are yet to fade
they were the voice of our soul
Etched into the lap of nature
And as I run my fingers along its rugged edges
I reminisce about you
And hope that wherever you are
You are thinking about me too
 68° 
Pradeep
If your heart were a guitar,
your arteries would be strings,
and I would play you,
control your blood flow,
make adrenaline trickle slow,
push more oxytocin though,
drive dopamine too,
block serotonin passing through.
Not all of it.

How else would you know
pain and stress,
hard work and no-free-meals,
happiness and achilles heels.

I would play you fair,
not play with your feelings
leaving you reeling
like a lost boat in stormy
waters keeling
over and under
torn asunder.

I would play you fair,
loan you my guitar
to see how it feels,
if you are
what you say you are,
that you are lesser than
what you truly are.

You say you're not a plaything
for others' fidgeting
with your vulnerable strings,
vulnerable better than
clogged with plaques
of indifference and loneliness.

If your heart were a guitar,
ours would be too,
forming a cobweb
of strings attached,
played by people many,
the world a giant stadium
hosting concerts,
blood flowing to one another's
notes and chords,
doting and discords.
 66° 
Caroline Jacobs
I'm so in love with you
I'm head over heels.
I've fallen so deep
And I never want to leave.
Thinkin a lot about someone :}
 64° 
clarks crux clux
She knows caring is not an advantage
But she thinks now she's at a disadvantage
Still thinking but lost for words
Seemingly on two distant worlds
Holy crap, what is this? What is this?
A bit of a bleak, a bit of a bliss
Like double shot of caffeinated happy
And laced with sparkles of unhappy
An emotional entanglement, she'd suppose
Is this something she should oppose?
Her figurative walls all rocking down
Conflicted thoughts making her drown
Her heart's been compromised
As what her head thinks as its demise
All of her head is in feud
All of her heart has been screwed.
 64° 
abby
We are the ones who are hard to understand
We'll be the last ones in the movie theatre
because the ending scene made us cry
We'll stop to smell the roses
because they deserve to be appreciated
We are the ones who will take the time
to get to know what keeps you up at night
We are the ones who will imagine
an entire future of adventures
with the people who show us love

We are the ones who will love you more
than we love ourselves sometimes
We will give you our strongest parts
in hopes that we can make things better
We desire to see you become the best you
to make sure that you always feel our love
We crave affection and appreciation
We give a piece of ourselves away every day
sometimes to people who don't deserve it
Our love is easy to take advantage of
and sometimes we don't get back
the love that we give away

When we hurt, we crumble and fall apart
We constantly have to put ourselves back together
We are more fragile than we like to give off
We carry our emotions on our sleeves
Our flaws have the ability to consume us
We aren't afraid to give you the world
but we are afraid to feel unloved
We want you to see what we see
We want you to understand where we're coming from

We are good people with good intentions
We are stronger than we look like
Not everyone can feel the way we feel
We feel too much, too often
We are not hard to love
We are something not everyone knows how to love
But you need to remember that
your worth does not change just because
no one is there to appreciate you, to remind you

You are not any less lovable
You are the most lovable person in the world
You are a light that the world needs
Your kindness is not your weakness
You do not need to change for anyone's acceptance
You do not need to stop giving love
just because you don't get any back
Your heart is the best thing about you

And one day when you least expect it
someone will notice you from across the room
and know exactly how to love you
They will think all of these things are beautiful
They will deserve the love you can give
They will fill the empty space in your heart
But for now, don't stop feeling
We are the ones who feel everything so deeply
We are the ones who can't give up because
We are the ones who will teach the world
how to love
We are exactly who we are supposed to be
 58° 
Another Bad Poem
it's official
it has been
a month

a whole,
wild month
but still a month

a month of
countless words
and
hundreds of views

though the question is
what is the point of this?
i've been here a month
and i'm still not sure

do i write here
just so
i have an outlet?
to get these feelings out?

am i here
to seek acceptance
to find people who feel like me
or who appreciate my thoughts?

am i just here
to feel wanted and understood
to hear praise and
watch my views climb?

is this a way for me
to say things to people
that i don't have the courage to say
in real life?

or am i here to help
diffuse my anger
and dull the pointed edges
of my soul
and try to put together
the shattered parts of me
by accepting them myself?
 57° 
Meera
My pen bleeds
As its ink seeps
My words cry
The seer weeps
I keep scrawling
Until my pain recedes
Walking on my way
Where my lament leads
Crumbling to bones
Changing to fit the needs
My frailty drives me
As nothingness breeds
In madness I did
Those fearful deeds
Now I'll have to pay
The price of my greed
Making me suffer
My demons succeed
In the garden of love
I feel like a weed
I am looking for my way
To the flowery meads
Where the chains will be shattered
And then I will be freed
Sometimes you just feel lost and there seems no way out
 54° 
Natasha
I could never tell you
exactly what's going on inside my head,
so I'll write instead.
Drown my thoughts in paper & lead.
Keep my hands alive,
and my expression dead.
 51° 
Black Leaf
I'm tired.
Tired of everything.
I just want to sleep,
And never wake up again.

No, I'm not lazy,
I'm not running away from life.
I'm just tired of the world and myself,
And too tired to change anything.
 51° 
Liv
when i was 7 i cracked my head open with glass
and blood covered my head
i didn't go to the hospital
i didn't even tell anyone

i never saw the glass really coming
it happened in just a split second
i hardly even felt it
it stung
but i was too worried about the glass
and how i was going to clean it
before my parents came home
my mom always liked to keep her house clean
so i had to pick it up

when i was 13
my best friend had her first heartbreak
i was doing homework
because i was so behind
but she called me crying
and asked if she could come over
i held her for two hours
while she sobbed into my sweatshirt
and when she left
i didn't even get a thank you

i try so hard to make everyone feel content and happy
then sit in my room
and wonder why i'm so sad
but it's because
all i do is bleed for people
and they never even hand me a bandaid
Amognst the blaze,
Light shall stand,
The color of those,
Who see the void,
Are being dragged,
Towards it like a ragged,
Broken toy,
But you can fix,
Without either hurt,
Turn the gravity,
To the light,
Hope of peace,
If only our golden stars,
In that void,
Famous and infamous,
Could say the words,
Could breathe the words,
That MLK,
Could spill,
Into our hearts.
I got cussed out by a kid when I was walking by a kindergarten center.
Influence of our givers,
Givers of physical life,
Teaching us darkness,
When we should first experience light,
That is another importance,
What we first learn,
Is to cry,
But if it is someday relieved with true and bright happiness,
We no longer need the void.
Now do you see the power,
Of not a hurting fight,
But a fight to show light,
To an unforgiving world,
Though we do not deserve forgiveness,
We can still spark hope in the shattered pieces of its heart, Places where the sun can't reach,
But humanity's light can.
I have made many people happier and better by inspiring them to do better, not physically or mentally, but emotionally.  The void of verbal and physical abuse removed.  I wish someday someone removed me from the void.  I need forgiveness.
 50° 
Veronika
Sweet and salted
Like you wanted
We watch in silence
We aren’t holding hands
You shiver lightly
Move right beside me
I feel your body heat
My heart skipped a beat

Your hand feeds
me metal
Your hand like a petal
I say I’m not hungry
You say it’s for your own good honey
You plaited my hair
I cut it like I wanted
You say I’m ruined
I feel you’re intruding
You throw the china
I feel it still

Popping candy
Medicine moonlight
I’m wearing white lies
Doll faces with red smiles
 50° 
fs yousaf
You changed in a way
where we would no longer be close,
and i changed that your life
was not worth mine.
 49° 
Jorge Echevarria
they look but can't see
What's in front of you or in front of me
rantalized by a tiny screen
Dubbed the attention Sapper known as technology
A decline in communication and people skills
Conversations through texts and giggles
A virtual wall, phone in the middle
Socially awkward meet ups and and time to kill
It's crazy how we have all this time to chill
We refuse to acknowledge and say we're alone
When we are always connected by Internet and phones
Just remember those friends who reach out to try and keep you around
Maybe next time they offer a hand it won't be like litter tossed in the ground
Because a friend to all is a friend to none
Some of us don't have any friends or even just one
So if a stranger were to come out of the blue
Just remember how it started between Me and you  
New to each other's world with everything to hide
Nervous and full of stress
In today's world it could all change with a simple friend request
This world isn't anti social just foreign to the norm
 49° 
Seanathon
The universe puts her headphones on
And plays her favorite track
The raindrops in the meadow burst
And soak the earth
And with her feet up on the world
She smiles from ear to ear
And plays it back
Random I know. No words. BUT WOW! Poem of the day (for 05/18/18) is such a huge honor for me. Thank you so much! And to show my appreciation, you can now listen to me read this poem live on SoundCloud. Just follow the link and have an awesome day!!!

https://soundcloud.com/user-433755196/her-favorite-song-1
 46° 
Kit
When you kiss her
And realize passion does not
live inside her
You will roll over with a sigh and
rememeber me
You will trace your fingers over my favorite spots and
feel that my prints
Are engaved into you skin
Right there,
To remind you
No one
Can
Touch
Like
I
Can.
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