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 446° 
charles bateman
I will never judge you with hatred or disdain,
I will never cause you strife that you may in peace
remain.
God forbid anyone insult you or clip your angel wings ,
I will stand in awe of you and the wonder that you bring.
I will knock down all the walls and break the lock on the door
I will help you take the leap and watch your spirit soar
for you I wrote this insignificant poem to tell you of your worth
you will have your portion and your cup , you will be my friend
secure.
you have value and worth , don't let anyone say you dont
 149° 
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
The coming of Biden and Harris reminds me of one of the most beautiful and evocative songs ever sung, SAN FRANCISCO. It was written and composed by John Phillips and sung by Scott McKenzie. Implicit not only in its writing and composing, but also in its singing, SAN FRANCISCO emotes the most  powerful message that can ever be delivered to and absorbed by humankind:  LOVE.

I would have been in Haight Ashbury in June, July, and August of 1967, but I was a patient at the famous Menninger Foundation at that time, the best help of its kind in the world, and expensive (my father was a rich man). But it was my mother who finessed my way into Menninger’s, not my father. He wanted me to become an attorney on Wall Street and make millions (now billions). That is, after all, why he had gladly paid a fortune to send me to the best schools in the world:  Phillips Andover Academy (prep school) and Columbia College, Columbia University. I attended law school after college, but began to have problems sleeping that only grew worse during my first semester. The less sleep I got, the more difficult it was to study. Finally, I couldn’t sleep at all. I dropped out of law school right before first-semester finals, an act for which my father never forgave me.  

But my sleepless nights continued even after I dropped out, which ******* up my mind and my life terribly. I had no idea why this was happening to me. If my mother had not surreptitiously intervened and got me into Menninger’s, I no doubt would not be writing this to you. Psychotherapy not only saved my life, but also allowed me, for the first time in my life, to realize I had feelings--my own feelings--my hopes, my dreams, my wishes, my needs. And after months, something magical happened when I unconsciously married my intellect with my new-found feelings:  out of me popped a poem, and I have remained a poet to this very day.

What does what I’ve just shared with you have to do with Biden and Harris? The answer is that both brought, and now bring, great promise, great hope. Out of total darkness comes the bright light of a new beginning--a caring, a compassion, the lack thereof almost brought me to my death, and our nation, democratically speaking, to the same. Now there are, metaphorically speaking, flowers in our hair once more.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS
 139° 
Tiger Ayres
Was I too friendly?
Seemed more like a brother?
Was I just your male best friend?
Flirt but you didn't mean it
Just fun and games
A laugh back-and-forth

How was he different?
What did he do I didn't?
Was it his hair? His eyes? His smile?
His heart that you wanted?
I guess mine was too grey for you.
Grey
 137° 
Humble
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.
 117° 
Grey
It wasn’t “I love you”
but at least it was goodbye.
1/19/2021
 106° 
Tyler Matthew
Dallas, November 1963
Fifty-seven years since they shot Kennedy
Everyone saw then live on T.V.
what happens when you challenge
secret society

Some say the mob or the CIA
Either black or white, but the truth is gray
and long since buried 'neath Texas clay
right next to good ol' LBJ

I ask not what my country can do for me
Blood on her hands, Lady Liberty
Let sleeping dogs lie, leave history be
The truth died in Dallas, 1963
 95° 
Maria
The light softly flickers
As you pace and stall
Wait for me here
Listen for my call

Up on the old bridge
I can feel your body fall
Watch the light flicker
'till there's no light at all
why didn't you wait for me?
 79° 
Emma
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
Anyway.
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.
 77° 
quinn
can i be on of the elite pretty too?
there are an apex species,
and they come in so many wonderful forms.
they don't have to crush their jaws together
or **** in their bellies or fix their hair
when a camera is staring them down.
they smile and a million people smile back,
but less brightly than them.
they have a ticket to the highest floor of the building
in the pockets of their jeans that just fit them nicely.
so easy to love and want and crave,
and all for a construction of our own.
from the 23rd of january 2020. i just want to be pretty, is all.
 72° 
Yousra Amatullah
Poetry runs through our veins. Meant for cold hearted people, whose hearts are covered up with stains.
Until pure love is the only thing on this planet that rains.
 67° 
Emily
Sea
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.
 50° 
Zach Thornton
I'd like to cut my heart open
to take you out
or maybe
to see you one more time
 50° 
Laila
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.  
-L.R
 45° 
sophie
2.
she woke up screaming
windows and china tea cups shattered
she blinked
another nightmare, she recalls

when was the last time she dreamed?
 43° 
Traveler
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
.



Hay
No matter who you are
You have my deepest respect!

Vanity
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
 43° 
Max
the soft ''i love you''
we whispered as you left,
will forever be burned
into my memory

tomorrow, darling,
you say to me ,
as you walk out the door,
and I drift back into sea
 42° 
Anna
I told myself it was just another phase,
Combining strong drinks, strong medicines
Writing 'em blue songs and leaving the doors open,
Forgetting to breath, nevermore automatically,
Better not to eat, getting a skinny top belly,
And weaken liver plus woobling knees.
Not totally inside 'em, but I guess trying to get the same boring but perfect body.
 42° 
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.
 37° 
Alyssa
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
 37° 
Midnight Rain
and it’s like that every time i close my eyes half way,
the world becomes softer,
lights blur out and cars look like lost stars
hurtling down the one way road; it’s not sleep nor awake, it’s in between some noise
and some far away traffic, it’s sailing slowly,  it’s dreaming on the way home with eyes half-open still remembering what you left behind

 34° 
Luna Maria
tears
are the ink
for the pen
a poet uses
to write
- L.M.
 31° 
Raven
Everyone hates me.
I feel like I hate me sometimes.
I’m such a *****.
I’m not a nice person and people think I’m rude.
I’m just shy, and awkward.
And sometimes I’m not in the mood for people.
And I feel judged, and misconstrued.
I want to feel accepted, and appreciated.
I want to feel loved.
People hate me, and I hate me too.
 31° 
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
apart.
 28° 
Benzene
They will laugh
But that won't stop you
They'll point out
Don't let that block you
Know your thing
And just keep going
Through the hard times
Slowly growing .

Stubborn
Strong
And restless be
See what others cannot see
Know what you want
Keep researching
No one knows for what you're searching
You define your own life-story
By your actions reach the glory
They will laugh But don't gain fear They'll point out Just fight, my dear
 27° 
Stephen E Yocum
Not unlike needed caresses or gentle kisses,
the morning sun did bathe my upturned
face in needed glow of restorative warmth.
An encouraging respite after weeks of clouds
and rain to lift my flagging spirts, supported
and enhanced by the celebratory songs of a
plethora of birds, all this perhaps the shining
moments of glory in my entire self isolated day.
These little moments in time
that feed and nourish our souls.
To raise
humble kid
is my priority.

I can
Make my CHILD learn
-
By preaching
By teaching
By giving
Knowledge of
Sharing
Caring
Loving

But...
She will not learn
by preaching!!
Rather
She will learn
By my ACTIONS..!!

If I don't
Share MY things
With My
Friends
Neighbours
Siblings
Cousins

She will learn NOTHING..!

I can make her
learn to share.
By making her give -
Clothes to needy
Toys in orphanage
Candies to the deprived.

But by GIVING
she will
just learn to be PROUD

Rather
If she learns by
seeing me
SHARING
She will become HUMBLE..!!


To raise a humble kid is my priority..!!

Sparkle In Wisdom
11 Jan 2019
Inspired by a incidence I heard at friends place.. after the whole episode the first thought that struck was
What actions will the kids remember and grow on??
 26° 
Haylin
In the cold, dark
        of January,
         I remembered
              you
        the most.
  As the chill
      snapped bones
              like branches,
     as the afternoons
   bathed themselves
in gray,
     as the birds
and the backs
      shook,
so did my lips
   around your name.
I'm so happy
     January is almost
over now.
 26° 
daphne
then one somnolent night
she danced in the misty light
her face coated with delight
an escape from her petty plight
reassuring herself it was alright

i rolled my eyes and let out a sigh
a twitching smile i could not hide
as the feeling landed with a smite
it was uncomplicated if i just denied
falling in love with her at first sight
 26° 
Alec
i told you about it all
i told you all my secrets and the stories
the betrayals and the pain
i told you my biggest fears and my happiest highs
i told you it all.

you know more about me than i do myself.

please dont become a stranger with my deepest secrets.
 26° 
Anne
Eating my beyond burger with a fork and knife,
drag race in the background,
my Samantha doll by my side.
This isn't loneliness anymore.
This is just life now.

I'm not very good with words anymore,
maybe I never was.
So little has changed and yet everything has.
I still long for love.
I still want to be wanted.
That might never change.

Yet now this lonely world is one I've come to accept,
come to love.
I may be my only friend here,
but that's one more than last year.

Nothing I create is good,
but I'm learning to create anyway.
I'm learning to share my bad art,
at least it's art.
Right?

I dream of slitting the throat of the dog next door.
Someone outta shut him up.
I used to think that was an evil thought,
now I know there's no such thing.

I turn 21 in 2 days.
Math. Yuck.
I'm old,
getting older every second.
Whatever.
I will grow into this skin,
I'm sure of it.
Maybe.

I'm grateful.
More than anything I am grateful for it all.
The pain,
the pleasure,
the guilt,
the anger.

Pills,
family,
friends,
dolls.

No one reads these except me.
So this one is for her.
For you.
Anne,
my love,
my villain,
my biggest fear.

May this year be kind to you,
may you be kind to it.
May you listen to your spirit guides,
may you accept what you never could.

Growth is sticky and wet,
Knowledge is thick and grey.
May you be the light and the darkness,
the cut and the band aid.

More than anything,
be okay.
You're gross,
in a sort of beautiful way.
May you be okay with that.
Truly.




Bad art is still art.
Right?
I think so.
For now.
God
Smiled
At
Me
Today
😊
 25° 
illeador
Don't tell me "time heals all wounds"
Whatever can fix this, lies in you, and
There's no way that you're coming back
Your decision is made, your life's on track, and

I'll just stay here, in my head
Remembering everything that we'd said, and
Thinking of what could've been
A love so promising that fate stepped in

You got her back, you're good to go
But now the only thing I wanna know is
Was anything close to the truth?
While she's got you, I'm stuck here
Stuck here on you

I still hear
Your voice in my ear, saying all the words
I need to hear, and I still feel
Your hands on my skin
Though it's been so long
That that skin is breaking

Someday there'll be a part of me
That you'll have never touched,
And we'll go back to being
Figments of our memories,
A pit stop in your life,
An eternity to me.

Please, one more thing before you go
While I'm here writing, all alone
Just don't forget all that we were
Our time, it was brief but
You were still my world.
You took part of there with you
I'll never forget you,
No matter what I do...
C, G, Am, G, C
 24° 
Sofie
pretty girl,
beware,
the boys are out to get you
they'll take away your flower
they want what's only yours

pretty girl,
blossom slowly,
stay in your cocoon for now
for summer can only last so long
and soon it will be over
 24° 
Khoi
Though time has built
an
endless warp
of
suffering and pain
the
ancient dust of Africa
is
breaking down the chain
can you hear
the
winds of change
shifting
through the brain
the
ancient dust of Africa
makes
diamonds
in
the
falling
rain
a message of hope to all parents
Of
the
Third world child
You've given me tons of reasons to leave,
But I still stay
Because those reasons weren't enough
To keep me away
 23° 
misha
your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

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
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