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 186° 
The Wild Rake
Beneath the sallow,
At break of the night
He waits,
The moonlight dusted upon his pale
Fickle
Skin
Periodically, of course
For no longer than a second
Does the mark of silvery light
Linger in one place,
Most of it pushed aside
By the gambolling tears of green
Wept by the weathered
Old
Sallow’s skeleton grown up into the sky.
For context, a sallow is a weeping willow. Considering the other meaning of the word, I thought that made it even more dreary of a tree. The poem has nothing to do with this, I was just bored.
 182° 
jade
i dont know why i even try.

i cant stop sliding the blade across my skin.
my blood is too pretty to keep it hidden.

so, why try?
i know the urge is going to beat me anyway.

im too far gone.

at this point, mental stability is like a star,
and im stretching out my arms to reach it,
knowing i never will.
im sorry for making this one so sad. i just wanted to let my feelings out. thank you for reading.
 181° 
Eshwara Prasad
In your writings, you extol the virtues of human friendship, while avoiding all types of human interactions in real life as a barrier to your literary success.
 153° 
Friend
i'm so sick of lying
of telling people things that aren't true

because what if they knew me?
huh?
what would i do then?

i'm so tired of pretending
that i know who i am
and that i have it all figured out
can't it just be okay to be a wreck?

i'm so tired of being too anxious to eat
and not knowing what the hell is wrong
of trying to pick out one of the reasons i feel sick today

was it the meds
or the truth rotting like a swallowed tooth in my stomach

i'm so tired of being stupid
and not knowing

i'm sick of everything
and i don't know why
 139° 
Johnny Dust
its 7:26am
and i’ve convinced myself
that you still talk to me
in the form of bukowski quotes
left in places you know i’ll see
i haven’t slept
but when i close my eyes
we still talk a lot
 139° 
klxsta
I DRANK THE POISON I WAS THIRSTY//
DANCING WITH THE DEVIL AND SHE MET ME WITH A CURTSY//
I WAS DRAWN BY THE WAY SHE FOUND TO NUMB ALL THE PAIN//
FROM THAT DAY I SWORE I’D LOVE YOU TILL IT HURTS ME//
BUT SINCE I’VE NEVER BEEN THE SAME//
I TAKE A SIP FOR WHEN I SEE THE RAIN BUT I DON’T STOP IT TAKES A MINUTE TILL MY DEMONS SLAIN//
 128° 
stillhuman
Thirty days and thirty nights
i spent in agony
panicking
suffocating
this pain isn't unfamiliar
with its sharpness
and nauseating consistency
i pray in fear to my higher self
to be stronger this time
but my hands are shaking
and i receive no answers
No one else gives you courage
gives you strength
like you can do
No one else can give you change
to make it easier for you
Only you
Only me
Take a step forward
May Morning

A strange morning, clouds look like they were trying
to put up wallpaper, but the work was too much, and they left the project.
Drips like glue fell into the sea and became flakes of sunlight.
An airplane crossed the sky. It looked old, and it wheels were not retracted
perhaps it was a private plane doing a bit of exercise keeping its owner alert.
A seagull flew past it was a big one hardly flapping its wing, how I envy its flight.
So, why are you not happy?
I have seen so many oceans they are all the same…wet.
The oceans have many colors, grey, blue and grey, and I never saw a red sea.
The building is waking up, lifts in motion, slamming of doors.
Yet, I miss the woodland, the small terns where fish and fairies play; I shall not be there
and ask if they miss me?
 91° 
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)
draw a jelly fish and what do you see?

with a question mark


write a little story and what do they read?


perhaps we need auto correction

and cleaner minds


i collect soap you know of varying kinds

and ages

it dries and cracks if not stored with care


biscuit tins are useful as the mice can’t get in

we fumble with finger nails to open them


a cleaner find
 85° 
jay
Roses are red
Berries are blue
She's for me
NOT FOR YOU
if by chance
you take my place
i'll take my fist
and hit your face
:)
THIS IS RANDOM. DON'T HATE MEH PLS
I ran the race so I could win
But only lost before I won
I crossed the line to be the first
But came in last in every way
You don't have a clue as to know about what I have to say
Just remember that when you have done it all
There's nothing left  
except to pass away
 74° 
shana
They said,
"The most beautiful art is
looking into someone's eyes
when they talk about the
things they love.
"
And I said,
"Or looking at someone you love.
Or maybe, just maybe,
by looking at the mirror
is the most beautiful art
anyone should appreciate."
Appreciation post for myself; for you and for everyone as well. You deserve more than the world has to offer.
 51° 
FC Azaele
The sweetest tasteful journey,
running soft on the glands
still as sweet it may be
may lead back to distasteful lands
 49° 
David R
i climb the scaffolding
look down below
spirit faltering
will i die in the blow?

caffeine swirling,
dizziness whirling,
truth obscured
devil-lured

dry darkness,
unfeeling eyes,
dropping, heartless
out of the skies

failing, falling,
faster than water,
missed my calling,
embracing slaughter

but i'm still here,
didn't dare,
risk the fear
of devil's snare
This was a memory. At the moment I do not have any drastic suicidal wishes.
-
a tasteless empty word
like numbness of the fingers
like numbness of the tongue
a numbness of heart
and false plastic lungs
-
bland face
bland skin
bland stomach
and bland eyes
-
gleaming
with
wax satisfaction
in a false candle pose
bland
wax candle prose
written
by plain poet hands
-
I am a wax figurine poet
who writes
beautiful
but bland
verses.
 43° 
Redroses
Never want to lose you
It breaks my heart
Seeing you with someone else.


But I can't force you to stay
I'll let you go away
 42° 
Micah
And here we are
the end.

Five years running
and nothing to show

except the slowed
platonic love

and tired
texts

and an absence
of what once was

Except you don't know
do you

know that I'm
leaving us

know that I'm
panicked

into wondering
if I'm behind in
people

experiencing people

I feel I'm at a loss
with you

because we met each other
too soon

and now I'm just pointed bones

and you are the sun

and I'm greedy
for still wanting a piece of you

But I am burnt

The End.
I didn't think I'd write this kind of poem about you.
 41° 
Callamasttia
The universe loves a bad joke.
 38° 
guy scutellaro
For no apparent reason
A mirror hangs and covers
an American flag (red, white, and blue)
to catch the reflection
        of a handcuffed man
beaten by the police
in the name of law and order
for no apparent reason
 35° 
Ashlyn Rimsky
Brown creepy crawly
Wanders up the wall
In a dark and dusty corner
I pay no attention to -

Him. He is lurking.
Brown-backed beetle
Brooding behind shadows.
Waiting for his chance

To scurry. Now!
But you catch his glance.
He stops and stares,
As if in trance.

You feel your heart flutter
Like it would in romance.
But this is just a roach.

Splat!
 33° 
Max
She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."
What's the difference?
 29° 
Hitherwine
repeat after me:
you owe
no one
your forgiveness.

- except maybe yourself-
 28° 
Deidre Lockyer
In the morning of yesterday
There were strangers talking in my garden, heads close together
Intent on each other, in whispers
I heard them say your name
And the earth shifted a little...the season moved forward a little
And I heard myself sigh like a dreamer

Harvesting hearts and marigolds
The thief steals in when we least expect it, masqued and lithe
Wanting an exploration of Souls
Oblivious, if we’re generous
But still the knife cuts deeply...the blade turns without intention
And I’m bleeding out like a Madrigal

I loved you too much in the Mirrorfall
I found you in the violin’s shadow
Dust and star tears are my witnesses
I love you
My joy and my abyss
I am trying to believe in a love for me.
 25° 
nearlyapoet
I like things that keeps me guessing.
Things that are beyond my comprehension.
Things i cannot understand at first glance--
and things that would drag me down to a bottomless pit just to quench the thirst.
I like you because...
I found these things in you.
 25° 
32x
you are now a memory to me
and i dont know
if the thought of that

makes me or breaks me
 25° 
Lucas Ennis
It feels like my wrists are burning
Blood is dripping down my arms
My head keeps screaming
I shouldn't of self-harmed.
My mom is going to be mad.
She's going to hit me again.
Give me another bruise.
Now my scars have some friends.
Just wash off the blood.
Dry off with the towel.
Wrap up your arms.
Go back to your personal bubble.
Isolate yourself for another week little girl.
Take you medicine.
And jump off the hill.
Just a little vent cause I feel icky.
 25° 
Mykenzie
So many poems
and stories
have gone unwritten
due to fear of not being good enough
 23° 
rebecca
trapped and helpless,
hopeless and tied,
she looks in the mirror,
while covering her own eyes.
the eight of cups represents self-imposed restriction. it's time to open your eyes and realize that it's yourself holding you back. you have all you need to free yourself. belssed be!
 23° 
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
 23° 
migayle ocuaman
if all souls are beautiful and warm
why does mine feel a coldness
to which cracks and shards
rip my being in painful forms
 23° 
Teddy S
I want to be the light in someone’s eyes,
I want them to look at me like I hold galaxies, universes, and every beautiful star in the sky
I want them to look at me like I do no wrong,
Like every action I take is perfect even the smallest mistake
I want to the sun that shines in their life, the stars that brighten their nights,
I want to pull them like the moon pulls the tides
I want to be magnetic to them
I want them to think my middle name is an appropriate name for me,
Because I want to be as beautiful as a supernova to them
I want someone to treat me with as much kindness as I treat them
I want them to see me as I see them
 23° 
Phantom647
Your suffering does not make you special,
How you overcome it makes you that way.
 22° 
Eloisa
If there comes a time
that you might lose me
Find me in my poetry
 22° 
tenielle
maybe people are meant
to fall in love
but not meant
to be together.

i was coming to terms with this
only to find out
we werent in love.
i was.
you never loved me
you didnt feel anything for me
you tried to,
but loving someone isnt something
you can make happen.

we always said we were meant to be, right?
soulmates
perfect for each other
you said our love was pure
and real
and unbreakable.
look at it now,
its shattered.

falling in love with you
was the easiest thing
ive ever done.
falling out of love
will be the hardest.
i guess the [lovers] code has been cracked.
 22° 
debbie
The computer slid into the darkness of my electric neglect, crying for pain in the snow-ropes of random.

Easily aching, the wax of rendered delusions
scrapes the blue wall of defeat.

Will the rug weave the willful drops of the marmalade captain?
Will the night dog bite the wrapper?

Heavenly hues of salamanders pretend to **** the jacket of Ohio.

Warping, wrenching, churning;
for the fruits of the tomato-whale linger purposefully past the tree green ***** of time.

Parting, parting.

Candy cane wires of memories leave them
for the froth of integrity.

Never again shall I wade past the silver needle.
Past  its  wretched peace.

Passed the purple.

Passed the green.

Past the charcoal clouds, mourning the death of the sun garden.

When the will-bird colors its  eye
greener then the glass of tomorrow,
then the water will free the frog of peace.
 22° 
zumee
Dear Reader,
if you're reading this
it means
I'm dead
as a paper

free

to be etched
with the poem
I tried to write
so many times
when I was m-
like icarus
i was too close
and felt too much


                       high
             too
flew  


and burned
                            a   w        a              y




and now
                 there is nothing left
                                                       but
                                                                dust.
 21° 
Colm
The moment someone knows me
The moment someone sees
I exist
I am present
I am back to being me

And so I go where noone knows me
To where I'm openly not seen
To not exist for a few hours
Is such a blessing
Not to be
The January Lasts

It's not about non-existence. It's about getting away from the self without reset. It's about being... Refreshed. And we all do that differently.
 21° 
ThatGirl
Being weird is not bad
Weird is your letting out your innersole
Weird is normal
There is no such thing as normal
Everyone is different
Everyone is weird
You just can't help it
SO BE WEIRD!!!
#******#LIFE
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