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 392° 
paige cochran
what difference would it make
if we all stayed silent ?
the words we speak
the sorrows we weep
they have no voice.
we fill the air with empty sound
contaminating our ears
listening to the noise
spilling from lying lips.
 344° 
Poolza
Your face is so cute
I'd melt every time you smile
You're just so so cute
 277° 
maureen
you have become
an essential part of my body
the part that's flowing with endless
mishap and poetry
the kind that keeps me awake
keeps my nerves on every edge
and my heart beating
way out of time

the kind that i need a dose of
every single morning
enough so that
the bitterness in me
is tamed down
by your love and cups of milk.
it completes me,
it courses through my veins

and i'm afraid that i might need you
too much that it's unhealthy.
 250° 
be-no-one
You buried me in the sea.
I resurrected from the water
that runs through my veins.
Earth is 71%water ,your body is 76%water..
You are water...Be like water
 247° 
ryn
Mighty palette
in the sky.
Feast of pastel colours
of sundown.

Nestbound birds
sang up a cry.
Alone I sat,
grass-crested mound.

Inhale a breath,
exhale a sigh...
Pocket of bliss,
peace on earthly ground.
Run  away
Don't care   for *scarisim

I* won't be silent
I  shrug a blotted sigh.
In fact I will  make a noise when you are gone.
I won't be sorry
But  "relieved
 212° 
Unknown
I feel as though I'm floating through life.
That I have no purpose,
No sense of direction or belonging.
That I don't do anything with my life.
That I'm simply just floating through the wave of life,
and will be swept away into sea.
to those who feel lost in life.
 202° 
Teresa
Hadn’t been happy
But yet found happiness

Not happy
Who is anymore

Been there, done that
Did find happiness

Still not happy
Maybe it’s just me
 188° 
Madison
Not all depressed cut,
Not all sad shed tears,
Not all strong fight,
Not all monsters roar,
Not all young are innocent.
Some just work harder to maintain a mask.
We are here,
And you have reason to fear,
We are the best liars,
We can manipulate the greatest con artist without batting a single eyelash.
Watch out we are coming.
This is a dark and serious prom but that didn't change the fact that In was tempted to put "and we're *****" instead of " And you have reason to fear" ****
 163° 
Yolanda
I feel so lost...
I need to find myself
By myself, spinning
Spiraling out of control..

What is that sound I hear?
A voice...
A whisper I’m the dark..
It says my name, I hear it
Like a rushing wind I feel it

But.. but I don’t see anything
It laughs mockingly
Toying with my emotions slowly...

Lost.

I need to find myself...
 153° 
Meruem
I've been feeling old lately..
Some things are best left untold.
March 23, 2019 - 18:10
 149° 
Elaine Everdeen
Strands of worthlessness
Dangling beneath rods of hope
Falls to grieving floors
current mood.....sorry.
 135° 
Desmond Baker
Can you pick me up if I’m melted?

If not, throw some paints on me.

A change of skin may give me the strength to
get up again.
 93° 
Mohannie

You're more beautiful
And more outstanding and bright
Than you'll ever know.

You're worth more than you'll know. Just a reminder.
 89° 
putiira
It is the existence of people like poetry that make life beautiful...
 88° 
fearfulpoet
Why they call me the fearful poet! (The Razor Thin Difference)

”but who am I to complain
the  razor thin difference tween
blessings and curses so thin,
sometimes are they not, the same thing”

Aug. 2018

~~~

this familiar line, well traversed, lives on the maps
sketched indented on your palms and brow,
at the edges of the crow’s nests, the eye’s keyboard witnesses,
recording every ******

we tap in seeings, forming letters,
letters into lines, lines into verse,
as we alliterate, we walk unawares,
of the razor thin difference tween blessings and curse,
indiscernible until concluded, perhaps, not even then,
the stanza’s probable outcome,
always unsure, unknowing destiny’s decision

so we walk, tread, plumb, shoutout
“vive la difference,”
hoping the blessing messengers hear us first,
consummating our pleas on their favorable sight & side,
ever fearful, we do not shout loud enough,
do the blind hear,
need me, possess my sacrificial offerings,
my trepidations, burnt on the Temple’s altar

who will breathe their smoke and understand
their fearful origins?

so we-write, cajole that our every moment’s fear,
find the difference, that we don’t bleed from life’s razoring,
the thinner thinnest
needle threaded,

and fear is the threat,
and fear is the thread,
that holds me together


until the unraveling
requires me to write again,
the fearful poet
3/21/19 4:15 am
 85° 
Lauren
By. Lauren

The sting of a bee is enough to make it **** itself.
The ring of an ear is enough to make one scream.
The yelling of the people around me is enough to make me tremble in pain.
The people around us influence one's inner self.
The words exchanged from one's mouth to another have an impact on one's conscience.
Because the world is constantly turning and spinning and making me think.
The world is much like our brain in the form it is constantly moving and we are constantly thinking.
And in the blink of an eye everything seems to fall apart.
 80° 
Hg
wri
ting is
threading
your           life
thro             ugh
a ne           edle
and         if
you sew
secrets
you'll
get
po
ke
d
a
l
i
t
t
l
e
.
©Hg
 78° 
Zumee
"Your shadow
How tall it stands today."
 76° 
Mike Hauser
If light is out shining
chances are that I'm dreaming
Isn't that what dreamers do
during the day
My body is here
but my mind is out wandering
Can't stay in one place
in its runaway

It could be the sun
in its daylight of dawning
Chewing on morsels
that keep my mind entertained
Caves and crevices
in its searching and finding
Where no two places it's been
have been the same

Anywhere that I sit
is not where I'm at
You can tell right away
with eyes set a glaze
Just me and my mind
off most the time
Spending that time
dreaming the day away
 70° 
thesa
what if
we had talked more
what if
we had tried harder
what if
we had loved purer

would i then
have been good enough?
a (the) woman’s body (pretty pleasing)

is my reciprocal

her waist is my happy place

her neck is my doorway

the rest is
best when she is mirror accessorizing,
preening, **** upon first rising,
tallying the gains and the losses

unaware of my watching,
never satisfied she, tho she is 98% unadmitting contented,
as she shifts her weight,
from knee to knee extended alternating
with slow delicacy

for the pleasure is trebled
for her imagine image reverberates
throughout the house

for ever mirror is pre-positioned
accidentally angled just so

she doesn’t know and asks why I’m grinning,
answer is
no confessionary, no telling I’m sinning,

eyes scheming-dreaming of her reciprocity

she smiles and says  
“good morning bad boy”

maybe she does know
but you won’t tell her,
we, you and me,
are pretty pleasing

she is 1/me
she is won over me
it’s a beautiful thing
this day and age
with bubbling permafrost
with drug-resistance
with obesity treatments
with technological advancements
with scientific discoveries
with silent wars
with blue lava
with bleeding glaciers
with divorce
with sensitivity
with my generation
of people believing
this new generation
is completely and
utterly clueless as a
common occurrence

but let’s think about
what these kids are
into nowadays.

let’s think about who
invented these inane
things for the kids.

my generation of people.

so the kids of today are
the ones who are ******
for liking the things
that we’ve created?

I’m sorry but we have to
be the ones who are obtuse
for believing such things,
oblivious for not
realizing them and
showing the world
we have
little or no imagination
anymore.

the generation before us
has lied to us and
thought us to lie
to the generation
after.

whether it’s the gods
or holidays
or what not.

the youth of the today
are autonomous.
they can not take
responsibility for
their actions nor do
they understand and
just go along
with the trends,
much like,
all the generations
before them
but we need a scapegoat
to cover up our own
farce implementations.

the truth of the matter is..
we’re all a little vacuous
in our own way
especially the ones with
an answer for everything.
living in an imperfect world
where there’s always room
for improvement
nothing for us
or against us
wrapped up in our
congratulatory
self-contradictory
and illogical theories
and as useless as
exploding appendix.

the lost generation
the interbellum generation
the silent generation
the baby boomers
generation x
the millennials

a strong admixture
of imbecility and
self-assurance
filled with belief
and unawareness
to a senseless world

like hate
like blame
like gossip
like jealousy
like being offended
like being impressive
like the punk rock dream
like hospital waiting rooms
like fundraisers and charity events
like your co-worker to the right and
the left of you
and their families
and their families before
them

our greatest creation
our strongest aide

to deconstruct
 56° 
T
As time goes by I patiently wait......no one but me will seal my fate
The love of my life will come back to me.......all you doubters you will finally see
I know inside we were meant to be......the lord above he holds our key.
 54° 
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.
 53° 
gayatri
l̸̨̨̟̤̥̱͆̇͋́̀̀͘͜ȩ̸̧̮̳̣̣̾͊̀͝s̵͕̈́́ş̵̢̠͓̩̈́͜ ̴̛͙̙̤̿̉w̸̰͕̜͔̼͑̆̑͘ö̸̧̟̗͚̘̠́̾r̷̺̮͉͐̓̈́̓̋̿̆͛͝d̷͔̅̏̆̊̚̕s̶̠̺͒́͒̌͊̋̐̂ͅͅ­̨͔͔̟̯̤,̵̛̼̹̖̙̰̍̍͒ͅ ̴͚͕͔͎̤̜͋
̴͓͋́͑̅͒̊m̵̭̈́̋́͊̄͘o̸̮̫͇͉̍͛̇̅͂͒̑̕r̵̳̹͚̺͚̂̆͝ë̶͇̗̺̬͍̖́́ͅ ̵̘̙̣͉̏̇̂̏͐͑͑ͅs̵̲͔͛͋̈́̾̉̊̏͛̓͆k̴̯̳̞̪͕͂̆̌̈́͘͝͠ͅì̸̧̢͈͖̖̠͉̖̫̐͗̃̏̿͑ͅn̴̘͋­͍̤̳͓̙̲͍͕,̷̲͈͆̈̈́̂̑̓ ̸̭̩̭̲͐̆͊̓̑͌͜
̸̡͍̬̺̬̜̙́̈́̈́͝m̸̛̥̳͛̃͝o̶͓̔̏͗͋̄͌̓͝r̸̯͉̤̣̠̗͚̜̬͂͜e̶̛̓̐̄͊̌­͇̩̯͔͓͕̹̝̼̃̈́ ̷͕̾s̴̨̮̰̠̦̞̖̬̤̪̅̏̿̾į̶͚͓̈̎̋̄̀͂̓̇͝l̸̡̹̯͑̓̐͊̈́͆́͌̚͝e̵͖̰͑̎̿͒̒͠͝n̸̛̑̋̚­̨̫̹͍́͝c̵̛̳̤̻̞̠̲͎̖̯̓̎͌͝ē̶͇̟̦͖,̸̧̘̦͔͔͚̙̼̳̤̿͂͘͘ ̶̻̘̼̞͗́̍͋͠͝͠
̵̙̜̀m̸̝͒͒͐́̔̉̎́͌ͅo̸͕̙͕̭̮̟̱̠̒̆͌͗͗͆̕̕r̷̹͎̈ẻ̶͇̜̮̦͒͌̊̾ ̶̖͍̪̩̪̥̺̾̏̐̿̈s̷̡̼̲̈́ͅͅi̷̗̇̃̀͌̓̉̃͝n̶͕̐̓͆́̄.̶̧̖͈̮̲̲̺̜̦̈̄͐̎̔̆͠͝ͅ
take me out.
 50° 
Brooke
When I was little
I was scared
Scared of the monsters living under my bed
I used to hide, under my blanket
Under my blanket, I was safe
The monsters couldn’t reach me under my blanket

My parents used to say
The monsters would go away
I would grow up and that then they would leave

But I grew up
And the monsters didn’t leave
Turns out my monsters, grew with me
Now instead of under my bed
The monsters live inside my head

So I hide, under my blanket
Where I think I am safe
Wondering if after all this time
My blanket can still keep the monsters at bay
 49° 
Poetry
Lick my lips
Cradle my face
Gaze into my eyes
And tell me I'm safe
 48° 
Mykenzie
He likes me,
He likes me not...
He likes me
Dad
You taught me that a bird
must leave the nest and fly.

That in time,
I would leave
and soar towards the sky.

It was your love and guidance
that reinforced my wings.

You lifted me before,
I soared
towards life's most precious things.
5 years tomorrow, I lost my Dad
 44° 
b e mccomb
i dread the day you learn
for the first time that
you can't just love all
the darkness in me away

and no matter how much
you care i will still toss
and turn at night and scars
might still appear on my skin

i dread the day you realize
that you can't cure me
and sometimes all you can do
is stand next to me and
hold my hand through fog
pouring out of my ears so black
and thick we can't even see
each other's faces

i dread the days i can't
get out of bed
the days you want to
take me out and all
i can manage is a prettified
shell of myself

i dread the day you learn
that sometimes no matter
how hard i try i still can't
pull myself together

the day you learn that
there isn't an answer
you can give that will
save me from my fears

you aren't the first person
who has tried to love the
darkness inside away
my family and friends
have given it their all
but someday you too will learn
that if love could
cure mental illness
the world would be
a much better place
copyright 8/6/18 b. e. mccomb
 43° 
Diya
I wasn't born
With this hole in my heart
But it developed gradually
When pain drilled my chest to cling it's art.
Oh! I was smiling radiating the usual rainbow colours!
But just then, I was grayed and torn
Just like  withered flowers!
The pain! Yes the pain
Is unbearable
My tears all are in vain
They are just emotional fool , being unstoppable!
I am fed up of emotional breakdown
My soul became mournful, being lost in the ghost town!
I know, sorrows are part of life
But how can I frequently bear the pain that cut deeper than the knife!
I try my best to just forget and move on
But what shall I do when I am trapped in the useless emotion?
Just in a process of getting relieve from the feeling of being hurt! It's really difficult...
Sorry,my poem sounded somewhat boring but I really meant what I said .
 43° 
lX0st
Paint me a picture
Of your skin
Does it bronze beneath the sun?
Or sizzle and blush
Like your cheeks
When you’re in love?
Is it soft to the touch
Like when your palms graze
The smooth surface of water?
Or rough around the edges
Like your favorite book
And its lovingly worn corners?
Does it melt in the heat
Like sweet syrupy treats
Dripping through your fingers?
Or does it welcome the winter
With wide open arms
As if greeting a lover?
Paint me a picture
Of your skin
 41° 
Temporal Fugue
I know I won't get to all
but ******, I'm gonna try
thumb up to every comment
up until the day I die

I can't react to every line and word
but ****** I can try
thumbs up to ever poet/poetess
maybe no one has, to cry

I'm just a singularity
but ****** all too ****
we, as a community
stand up, and hear the yell

I'm not you, and you're not me
but when you see thumbs down
chime in with words and thumbs
chase the trolls, outta HP town
Thumbs down has no other purpose that to provide trolls with a mechanism to pester and put forth their hate. REMOVE it! You can't control how many accounts people have here (it's not realistic to assume you can) so remove their reason for creating them!
Nothing really left to say :(

Thank you my friends for the daily, I feel undeserving, but extremely, appreciative! :) (bow)
 40° 
Joliver
If there was one word
One word, isolated by itself
That I cannot stand above all others
It would have to be "Okay"
I despise "Okay"
"Okay"
Is how your millionth day at work went
"Okay"
Is off-brand raisin bran
"Okay"
Is how you say school is going
When you don't want to admit you spend
Every second of it
Wanting to die

"Okay"
Is packed to the brim with
Hidden implications
Like a treasure chest
Filled with bottles
With little subliminal hatreds
Written on tiny slips of paper
Passively aggressively pushed inside
To discover later
As I pull out a treasure map
And try to decipher
Where I went wrong

"Okay"
Is a one word dismissal
That feels like an essay a thousand pages long
"Okay"
Is a poison dripping with disinterest
When I dared to share with you
Something I thought might make you smile
"Okay"
Is like trying to talk to a wall
While watching the paint on it dry
"Okay"
Takes two seconds to write
Yet I waited days
For that dreaded word
To grace my notifications
"Okay"
Should be used sparingly
As if each time you send it
You **** the receiver just a little bit
"Okay"
Should not be said so often that
I know what you're about to say
Like I saw it in a crystal ball
"Okay"
Is not looking up from your phone
When I tell you about my day
"Okay"
Is not the proper response
To "I love you"

They say that the opposite of love isn't hatred
It's indifference
And I can't think of a response
More indifferent to pouring out
My heart into your hands
Than "Okay"
At least the last thing you said to me
Before we parted ways
Showed that you cared
At least a little bit
"I hate you"
Stung less
Than the thousands of times
Over our countless conversations
You responded
"Okay"
Okay?
 40° 
Stephen James
mirror-pond glimmers
in the peace of it's stillness
lies the milky way
a haiku
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