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Christopher Mellon
She asked me to get drunk
and write poems.
I've been around the sun
Twenty nine times and can tell you
that love is like
reading Bukowski

I told her what it felt like to be held
and feel like you’re nothing and nowhere.
She told me what’s it’s like to be something and everywhere.

And Jesus
and all of us
wept while the sun
fled west to Copernicum
With roses in her wake.
Someone asked me to draw
Draw what heartbreak looks like
I finally got tired of drawing a broken heart
And I started drawing you
Your lips,
Our kiss,
Are the,
Sweetest thing,
I ever tasted.
Your heart,
Our love,
Are the,
best thing
We ever wasted.
w m
The truth is you don't know that the thing that hurt me is the same thing that could make me happy and that is you.. and you saying all the things that i never heard but i always deserved.
we might still be ignoring each other,
(is that what we call this silence?)
by the time it comes around.
i might still love you
and you might still not know,
but despite this heartbreak
and shaky hands of mine,
i will still wish you happy birthday.
Jeff Stirrat
Shadows Cast by moonlight...
A reminder of hours , day even..
Time wasted pondering life’s
But these night shadows differ,
These the keeper of dreams
and owner of nightmares.
These welcoming arms caress
Imagination, bring succour
Dark solace,
Offer a welcome relief from the daily grind.
Mikaela L
Sometimes I write to her,
To her crooked teeth,
To her hazel eyes,
To the freckles that populate her cheeks,
To the golden birth mark that adorned her midriff,
To the olive skin that she so much hated,
To her.
My heart shall wait, in the place where I carved out our love into the timber's of that old worn out bridge, my heart shall always be there waiting
Semi-literate Poet
Do you think a girl could love a boy who writes for her a million poems?  That's what I plan to do.
abode of the dead
I crawl into my head
you make the ugliest comments
there goes my self-esteem

you pull on my strings
left leg
twist my arms
you make me fall over and over again

are you better than me
I'm a puppet

tell me everything
I don't want to hear

I'll walk backwards

you're controlling

I'm fighting off
pulling on these strings

there goes my last bit of sanity
spiraling down into the darkness

you can pull my limbs apart
you can pick at my skin

doesn't change
your transparency

it's all your fault
Falling up and falling down
Whiplash hurts the same
You weren’t an option
Until you made yourself one

Whirlwind of emotions
New replacing the old
I carried you with me
I can’t carry you anymore

When I’m wide open to you
And you keep hiding from me
I can’t help your reflection
Because I don’t see the same

I’ll never understand your silence
Why suffer so much all alone
When I am screaming, begging
I’ll be whatever you need

I give up, you can go now
Find the one you can open up to
Because I wasn’t enough
But not for lack of trying
Four hands
Grab my throat
Can't breathe
Can't breathe
Out of air,
Float afloat

Angel, can you hear my cries?
Take them to god, thank god

Cast my light
To Jana
Today my friend told me
I was acting strange
I gave her the
of a sugar high
But really,
I was just being
Om Guragai
Like the value of the currency
Feeling low and down currently
Better you chase your dreams young man
Life doesn’t come with warranty.......
i laugh at the irony
that love broke my heart.
you seemed happier than ever in that moment
like you wanted me
but i guess i was wrong
i was blinded by your beauty
you're so perfect
and too good for me
Mica Light
She's shaking.
For the taking.
Swallowed in fog.
Connection is lost.
She's cut off
From herself.
She's cut off.
Can't get out.
There is no where but here.

"Disappear. Disappear."
She whispers.

"I am here. I am here."
She answers.

"Tell me." He says,
"Tell me all that you dread."

And her fears spoke louder
Than anything ever said.
Inspired from learning about polyvagal theory and the feeling of being "stuck" in the sympathetic state (fight/flight/freeze) or dorsal (collapse). Speaking about where youre at can help you bring back ventral state to the foreground, the beneficial state, the ability to have connectedness at ease.
where shall I send my poems?**

to my eyelashes,
for they beat irregularly
unconcealed and unconscious
like my poems

to my fingertips,
where they are released fluidly
they grasp, strained and staining, tapping breaths
like my poems

to my smile,
fleeting and happy weeping fortuitously
a lifetime of a whisper, glimpsed and gone
like my poems

to my brain,
where they are symmetrically born only to die ceremonially
a fireworks duration evaporating into a rich velvet
like my poems

like my poems,
none will survive me,
blemishes, pockmarks, beauty marks, residues,
in a flash bang born, in a flash bang consumed

3:08am dec. 9 2019
Lynne Podrat
Full Circle

My mother died this morning,
Grandmother, great-grandmother
We knew, possible, but still unexpected.
Fortunately, my children were with me,
sharing, serenity in the mountains of Vail
Grandchildren make things better,
Hugging, laughing, being silly to bring smiles.
Then we head home, in darkness, flying Red Eye
Leaving the mountains for Florida
To land, splash of sunrise, a new day.
Each two adults seated with one child.
Even through sadness, I smile, looking
At three generations, grandparents, parents, grandchildren,
Remembering my daughter, six, son, fifteen.
Flying from Philadelphia to Florida on vacation,
With grandparents, her first flight to Disneyworld.
Two adults seated with one child,
Three generations, grandparents, parents, grandchildren.
A poet is no more than a person
A mother
A daughter
A lover  
Someone needing release
Or someone needing to recover

It’s the art they create when that ball of ink or stick of led dances on the canvas they so perfectly prepared.
And when the end result and their purpose become perfectly paired.
She was like a flower...
but they never noticed
until it was too late
My soul knows you’ll be leaving soon.
Off to the land of palm trees and a salty ocean.
It’s the only thing left to do.
The other half of my heart that made
it so wonderfully full.
I think that’s why there’s an eternal
sadness stuck inside me.
Masha Yurkevich

The world is our stage,
and we are not perfect.

sometimes, we fall.

Just remember to
rise up with confidence,
fix your invisible crown,
smile big,
and walk on.

Standing on the edge.
With ground beneath my feet behind me.
And yet nothing ahead.
Not sure what would become of me if I were to jump.
Letting go of the ground below, would I fly or fall.
For the future is never known .
I wear a mask and i wear a smile,
I stay awake and i find a place to hide,
My eyes are sore and my soul bleeds
Want to leave it all and get back to sleep,
Sleep where my brain stops
so that i could stay away from all chaos,
Complexities had mended my soul and now its full of dent and full of bruise,
My life had turned into an inevitable cage which is driving me crazy and inducing the rage,
I try to keep the balance in my life but
It feels like running from my darker side,
The demon inside me is embracing this fall
Cause he is getting control of my every cords,
I can't cope up with these negative thoughts and this is turning me into a sociopath.
I have written this poem after i saw Joaquin Phoenix's joker.. I was so impressed with the film the i thought to write some on it..
Noni Winters
I stumbled upon you
Like a child
that finds a pretty stone

Bewildered by your presence
I sat and admired
Counting your cracks
Caressing what makes you glitter

You stood infront of me
Bold and beautiful
Like nothing I'd ever seen

And as you gave me your attention
I think I misconstrued your intentions

I wanted to put you in my pocket
But you said no

So there you sit
Perfectly unpolished
A love

I can only visit
To escape is to see.
To sea is to drown.
To drown is to end.
To end this long abuse.
If you wanna know the meaning behind this one dm me. Enjoy.
Caroline Ward
I tied some string
Around our
Little fingers
In a bow
Because it's the
Only knot I ever
Bothered to learn
And wished
That it would be
To keep you by
My side
She takes the stand
With the voice of millions on her back
And speaks the fact that we all know,
far too well to be true -                  
                                           Me too.

She is heard but not believed,
She is heard with faith deceived .

When will it be enough -
Is one in six not enough ?
Is one sister, one friend
still - not enough?

one colleague, one mother, one wife, one lover -
one teacher, one doctor, one preacher, one author -
one husband, one son, one brother.
Which one will it take, to stop
the non-consensual clock
and make us realise that -

Time. Is. Up.
I'm jealous of the rain
It gets close to you
Closer than I ever will
It touches your skin
It combs your hair
It comes when you're sad
It stays when you're happy
I love you but you don't love me
So I say
I'm jealous of the rain
Sorry I haven't written anything as of late. I have been really busy with school. I really hope you enjoy.
Edit: thanks for the comments the original song is Jealous by Labirinth
Greg Piegari
The feeling of inspiration
To write for someone,

Your Someone,

Is a powerful thing.
Climactic Poet
Why come now?
When the show is over?
When the curtains are closed?

My love, it’s too late.
I don’t feel anything for you anymore
In fact
I don’t feel anymore
no one:

me: this is all i'm allowing myself to eat today

if my mind
was the universe
thoughts of you
would be the
stars that fill it
beyond measure

If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems too *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.
neon lights
illuminate the night’s
heavy clouds

while rain muffles
the constant urban humming

pierced by distant sirens
moving slowly
through concrete canyons.
Close your eyes
Count to ten
Take a breath
Find a pen
Write it out
Let it loose
Don't get lost
In these woods
For one day
You might get stuck
Way too far
In the muck
“You’re not good enough”
Is the one sentence you should
Never tell yourself.
Hi. I’ve been struggling with this my whole life. It’s like I’ll never be able to convince myself. I feel like my poetry is at a decline. I feel as if nothing I write is good. I couldn’t tell you the amount of “drafts” &  private poems I have on here just because I’m afraid.
Afraid of ridicule.
Afraid of hating myself more.
Afraid of everything.
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