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cry yourself to sleep
and tell yourself it will be better in the morning
Jesse stillwater
Healing leaves are now disrobed branches
on the edge of this wilderness.
Many tall Douglas Fir stand sentinel
over 100 foot tall amazing grace — the fleeting leaves
expose the beauty of the moss clad scaffolds
adorned with a lime-grey lichen lace
Nature is my refuge — solid ground to stand
in this harmony and peacefulness.

Jesse Stillwater — December 2018
Left as a comment yesterday, mused by "Healing Leaves" by Reena Sharma:
Seraphic voices
The wind baptizes your name
O' angel of mine
Whit Howland
worry hangs on me
like a mill stone

I was flooded
with guilt

which felt more
like an albatross

maybe tomorrow
I'll wear a barrel of Brandy
around my neck

trust me
I'd be okay
with rope burns

Whit Howland © 2020
Some whimsy. An original.
I see my mirror ahead
Black stainless pieces chipped floating away
I can see myself on the other side
My long hair twisted with rage
My burning gray eyes filled with my mistakes
The scarlet red tears that stream down my face
The black from my soul slowly eating me away
As one black stained arm slowly reaches toward me through my mirror
I see it
My future
I feel the scarlet warm on my cheeks
As my mirrored hand slowly wraps itself around my neck
The sweet metallic smell of steel fills my nose
I open my mouth to scream
As I beg my demon
For forgiveness
Moon Cherry
There’s a universe inside of you,
But I’m just a little star.
Once my light is out,
There'll be none of me.
You gaze, admired it, then you close your eyes to sleep. Only to wake for the Sun.
Except watch the TV,
muck around,
write a story
make some sound
Except sing a song,
dance a dance,
draw a picture,
go ship Klance

neglect and respect do not rhyme,
{will grant you one,
will give you none.

will demand one,
will send you some.

you poets,
always thinking
you can get away
with murdering
the English language.

***** of assonance,
you do not fool me,
I’ve killed a thousand
men’s “original”rhymes,
while you’ve been
fast sleeping,
they’ve been
fast seeping.

I’ll give you no quarter,
won’t spare a lousy dime,
my spare change,
is poet-unaffordable,
cheap suited hucksters.

work and ****
do rhyme.  
you can be one,
if you do not
put in some.

work by day,
slave by night.

awake to the sun’s
inquiry, what have
you done for me


all you have to show is this
scribbilus miscellaneous,
tear up your lice-ence,
poetic and DMV, you
ain’t going nowhere.

was branded by hot iron,
early on,
brandy channing.

your best nightmare,
guidance counselor,
great big fairie,
poseur, exposer,
m u r d e r e r
of awful poetry}

what do you stand for?
neglect and respect
you stand
If my fate is to love you
From a distance
Then I'll burn for you
Like a star in your night sky
Bright, steady, reliable
Until the end of time.
vadim z
yes God
I'm lost
cannot see yet through my skin
but I sure feel that I will soon become a ghost

and what if I
stay trapped in here
forever wandering the Earth
would you agree if I to say
that living often is a curse?

yes God
please brighten everything
and everyone
with your everlasting light
let us not fight
when darkness takes it's toll
and you are out of sight

who's gonna save us then?
Blue Davies
You dug out my heart
and spilled my guts out.

Please bury me properly.
When you're done.
and they never knew
they were lost stars,
building their empires
after many lost wars.
Flower C
Heaven rained on me,
I breathed in the petrichor,
Bathed in the downpour.
I have sinned,
So destroy me,
With your rain.
i can't wait for the time
i can't wait for you to be mine
i can't wait for you to shout
i can't wait for you to call out
that you saw love in me
that you saw light in me
that you saw more in me
i can't
i wait

he is not worth it
you shine without all the distactions
read it again.

written on June 30, 2020
Jack P
Have you ever liked someone so much you regret meeting them?
you inhale tragedies
and exhale poetry
From where do you get your perseverance?
The silence is loud
Reverberation lingers
I long to hear you!
your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you
if only i could chase you with pizza but shots don't work like that
No one wants to hear about the aftermath of survivors of domestic abuse.
But Everyone loves to hear a good story. The story of how she had the courage to leave. Everyone wants to hear about all the horrors you had endured. The violations, the violence, the control. They want to hear everything in detail. They want to hear as so they can feel it themselves.

But what they don’t want to hear is the aftermath and healing. After you tell them your lifetime movie stories of the heroine that survived. They just want it to end there. Like you would ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after, a fairy tale.

After you get away you move on to the next stage. This stage is remembrance and grief. No one wants to hear this. There’s no excitement. This is the stage where survivors again, are supposed to shut up and heal in silence. because if you don’t, then you’re seeking attention.

But what if I don’t want to shut up. What if I want to shout all my anger from the roof tops until my lungs are empty and my throat is on fire?

If you do, then the world will look at you as if you’re too aggressive. Like you’re not a true survivor.

The world thinks no survivor should be angry anymore. That survivors should just be grateful that our war is over. Is that how I should see it , as if I’ve won.

Oh please Society, tell me; what did I win?? What exactly is my ******* grand prize??  

Congratulations Alex you’ve won memories that stop you dead in your tracks, dreams of revenge against your abuser putting him through all the suffering you had to endure, You’ve won the feeling of being completely alone and not even being able to trust yourself.

So that’s it? my ******* grand  prize is PTSD. That’s what I should be thankful for.
**** that ****.

I can’t even tell anyone what exactly I’m going through because people will think I’m feeling sorry for myself.

I’m not.

I don’t feel sorry for myself at all.
I’m angry because I was controlled. I’m angry because I don’t fit the stereotype of a domestic abuse survivor. I’m angry because i can’t talk about it to anyone except my therapist. I’m angry that I have to look and act like I’m happy all the time. When actually that’s exhausting for me.

I’m angry at the fact that I’m angry all the time.
I’m angry that I’m looking at what I just wrote down and thinking to myself that’s a lie. When it’s not. I’m angry that I can’t be honest with myself.

I’m angry that I have to learn how to not be angry. I’m angry that I have to do all this and my abuser gets to do nothing but be his selfish pigheaded self.

I’m just angry.

It’s not like I plan to be angry all the time. Being this angry gets to be exhausting too.

I am noticing that therapy is helping. I’m not as angry all the time and things make more sense now.

But I’m still angry.

I’m trying to write down exactly what I feel in this moment and write down what is exactly going on in my head.

All things that I don’t get to say.

So what do I have to say?

What do I want to say?

I’m mad at world for not caring about survivors as much as they say they do.
I hate those stupid motivational memes on facebook like “god helps you be strong” or “Jesus walks with you through hard times” my *** he does. And those memes don’t mean ****.

And all those people that share awareness but do nothing more then click a like button or share a post ******* too. You’re just as bad. You don’t care about survivors.
I don’t see you down in the trenches helping those in need.

I didn’t see you, when I was going through the hardest time in my life.

And ******* too professor storyteller. All that ******* of I help survivors and my heart bleeds for them because my own mother was a survivor.

I tried opening up to you and you completely dodged me.

I had faith in you and you let me down.

I needed help.

But my emotions was too much for you handle.

You like how people see you as a knight in shining armor when there is crowd.
But when it came down to put up or shut up you completely ran away.

So you get the biggest middle ******* finger I could ever ******* hold.
If I had a billboard I post it for the world to see.

I hope I stay in your mind for all your days as the truth of who you really are.

You and I both know that you’re a beacon of light for all liars with false hopes.

You and that high horse you rode in on can go ******* into the sunset.

You should be exposed for every time you step foot into a domestic violence meeting or awareness event as the coward who ran away.

You should be seen with a scarlet letter.

You’re worse than my abuser.

You offered hope when you had none to give.

You lied to me and you should be held accountable for those lies and the false hope you spread.

Like I said the world doesn’t want to hear a word of our grieving and healing stage.

They only want the juicy details like gossip.
So who’s really the aggressor?
Chad Tannous
last time we tried to change the world too fast to try to change the world too fast we tried to change the world too fast last time we tried to change the world too fast to change the world this time the change we try will last
to the ground
Rupert Pip
Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.
Get to know me like I do you; inside and out.
Samm Smith
We are a bubble
A bubble in a bathtub
A bubble blown from billions of bouncing beams
Bubble floats in bathtub, bubble approaches drain
Bubble clings to drain in a semi-sphere begging for life
We disappear
Yet reappear
As if the bubble’s rebirth did not happen in the physical dimension
We are a bubble
A bubble blown from billions of bouncing beams
A bubble in a vacuum, not a bathtub
Oh my love even the walls and the ghosts wheep for us
from the heart of the loveless
I haven't been kissed in the rain
No one will look after my garden
Sophia hasn't had her first day of school
I never finished that book
I have laundry to fold
I didn't tell my mom I love her today
Tomorrow might be better

Tomorrow will be better.
Flower C
Sing your song my wolf,
Let out your secrets you’ve kept,
Sate this lonely moon.

Be whole tonight moon,
Let this wolf call out to you,
When your glow reach me.
[heyy~ hope you enjoy this interactive haiku(s) i wrote]
my feet took to flight
weightless rise towards blue sky
light as a feather
Riley Cartwright
The m
The mu
The mus
The musi
The music
The music i
The music in
The music in m
The music in my
The music in my h
The music in my he
The music in my he
The music in my hea
The music in my head
The music in my hea
The music in my he
The music in my h
The music in my
The music in m
The music in
The music i
The music
The musi
The mus
The mu
The m
Has b
Has be
Has bee
Has been
Has been o
Has been on
Has been on r
Has been on re
Has been on rep
Has been on repe
Has been on repea
Has been on repeat
Has been on repea
Has been on repe
Has been on rep
Has been on re
Has been on r
Has been on
Has been o
Has been
Has bee
Has be
Has b
Turned a
Turned al
Turned all
Turned all t
Turned all th
Turned all the
Turned all the w
Turned all the wa
Turned all the way
Turned all the way u
Turned all the way up
Turned all the way u
Turned all the way
Turned all the wa
Turned all the w
Turned all the
Turned all th
Turned all t
Turned all
Turned al
Turned a
For q
For qu
For qui
For quit
For quite
For quite s
For quite so
For quite som
For quite some
For quite some t
For quite some ti
For quite some tim
For quite some time
For quite some tim
For quite some ti
For quite some t
For quite some
For quite som
For quite so
For quite s
For quite
For quit
For qui
For qu
For q
Sadly, I've forgotten the melody
David Lessard
I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)
K E Cummins
I don't want to be a knight in shining armour.
There's dignity in scars and old leather,
The badges of a long campaign.
We are wrinkled, yes, and sunburned,
Full of crows-feet and lines.
These are trophies, my friend.
Wear them with pride.
Our grey hairs emerged in our twenties.
Why? Because we fought!
We still fight the good fight.
Walk tall with your notches and your rust!
This grey is the grey of battle-steel,
The burnish of a well-used blade.
Your life is a tale worth telling, my friend.
Please, do not think you're not beautiful.
A friend's birthday is coming up, and as per usual, she's joking/stressing about getting old. All the other poems I've posted were written ages ago. I scribbled this one literally five minutes ago and posted it before I had time to change my mind. Enjoy the lack of editing!
Flower C
I feel it raining,
On a cloudless sunny day,
Flooding only me.
I looked around me,
They're all dry and clean,
As the coldness touch my skin.
Farida Salem
I feel nothing.

Sometimes I feel a small ache on the side of my chest, sometimes.
Small enough to know I’ll survive,
Painful enough to know you’re still here..

In my heart, where you always have been and where you’re always meant to be.
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.
Ashley Murphy
The walls –– they listen,
I know it must be true.
If not, then what’s the point
Of all this talking that I do?
I’m not going crazy here,
Trust me, I’m alright.
The walls, they hear my stories,
They understand my plight.
They listen, these walls,
When no one is around.
They keep me sane, these walls do,
They keep me safe and sound.
I don’t know what I’d do
If these walls ever would go tumbling,
Then who would ever listen
To my incessant mumbling?
The walls, they keep me company
They never leave me feeling blue,
So long as I have these four walls,
I know I don’t need you.
Ariana Bagley
I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.
In order to break the cycle
You have to be willing to be called crazy
To be told you are making a huge mistake
They tell you this
They make you feel it
You'll question yourself
But in the end
Your the cycle breaker not them
Don't expect them to understand your message
They don't know what you're after
And over time,
My pen stopped bleeding
But my heart didn't
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