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My body is like an everlasting mountain full of different mountains and figures
Seeing this wonderful sight, I don't realize it's beauty, no matter its size and figure.
Perhaps, i may need another view in order to appreciate its beauty, may be its own quirks and flaws
But, as I may be doing my best to keep this wonderland, I am grateful for it to be serving me and my wellbeing
why is it the people I always check in with,
never check in with me?

And even when they do,
it is never more than a simple,
"how are you?"
god im so alone
my besties are in a different state rn and im just here like ??
hope you are all doing well and feel free to rant in the comments, this is a safe space <3
Tom Dodd
In a white room
on a white wall
there hangs a still life of flowers
Although it seems
it's all but a dream
it's message of peace
has great power
Janna B
If my heart is an *****
that can be comparmentalised,
then the part for my children
is vibrant, lush, pulsing with life.

The part for adult love
was cracked, parched, a desert
that felt deserted,
and stumbled to its limit.

It feels like that part
is slowly rehydrating
but there’s such a lot to refill.
Stephen S
613 200 Hours
25 550 Days
13 Cars
11 Jobs
9 Dogs
6 Surgeries
5 Children
4 Grandchildren
3 Marriages
2 Siblings
1 Weary soul.
No regrets.
poetry has power powerful indeed
written by the people for all of us to read
many different kinds for each and everyone
there for all to see  there poetry goes on.

all around the world people  give there time
writing down there verses putting them in rhyme
put them down in print so we can plainly see
the power that it gives from there poetry
I don’t want to
Open my mouth
Because I’m still afraid
The truth might come out
And if it does
If it really breaks free
You’ll see what I am
You’ll see the true me
The one I hide
With jokes and lies
I’m a terrible person
All jokes aside
You don’t seem to know it
You don’t seem to see
Even a glimpse of that person
That I know to be me
I’m such a good actress
I hide it so well
Cover it with a laugh
And you’ll never tell
You see depth in my eyes
You see love and emotion
But what would you see
If I ever did open
I can’t bear to find out
I can’t bear to show
The me you don’t see
The me that I know
If I let it out
If I let it be
I know for a fact
That you would hate me.
Nathan Wilcox
and the army of undead
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)
Avery Nightshade
5:36 pm.
The sun's light is fading,
As the beetle pushes it west.
Rolling it across the sky,
As colours soar,
And quickly die.
The absence of light,
Is temporary.
The sun will rise again.
I soften with
the rain
To finish your own life by hand,
May seem like the right thing to do.
But to free yourself from this land,
Is to imprison those that love you.
i was born sick, but i love it
I've housed
demons before
Sometimes they're
better roommates than angels
at least with these demons, i dont have to worry about sugarcoated answers and the uncertainty of lies and honesty. demons are harsh, but honest. demons test you, giving you that chance to  look inward and grow...

at least...from what i've been experiencing.
i adore cold weather.
But not for the fires,
Or the warmth of another person.
I find something beautiful about it,
And maybe even a bit lonely.
It reminds me of bittersweet loss,
And finding the strength to move on.
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.
So many poems
and stories
have gone unwritten
due to fear of not being good enough
Betthia Mae
I saw you
Through the screen
On that second
Why did I think
It was meant to be

Now read from bottom to top.
the dirty poet
great new band name!
I'm ancient
my life
packed neat
in boxes
in the attic
by my wife
just waiting
for last breath
and my burial
in our plot.
Send the lot
to Goodwill
to be forgot.
Landon Keys
I will always love you
No matter the pain you cause
The strong have no business being cruel
That is the errand of the weak
Alice Hoffman interpolation
She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."
What's the difference?
David Adamson
I met a woman
brutal in her mercy.

Her embrace was a clinch
to prevent hard blows.
She pulled me close to push me away.
Seeing my nakedness
she leant me a dream
of chainmail and shield.
Taking love from me she gave a reprieve
to a mind resigned to the slow death of feeling.

Ignoring my words she heard
my faint silent heartbeat and
understood that it was music
too quiet for the world to hear
and turned it up louder
than I could stand.
I wept in my deafness
as she danced.
Dennis Willis
Blah Blah Blah

Blah Blah

Blah Blah Blah Blah


over the object

of your belief structure

blah blah blah

your coolness

is unheatable
She’s a ****** bro
no she’s not, she had a son
well so did Mary
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.
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

No matter who you are
You have my deepest respect!

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
tells me that I’m alive
Sunset reminds me
that I lived
You dreamed it once
The slow bend in the road
Past which the world delves
Into the realm of the unreal
Unrealised futures selves
That are as material as
Anything will ever be
In this stretch of land
Between here and infinity
Where a million bonded yous
Could be living in flawed
Synchrony, a dissonance of
Possible lives you will never see
Even now at the precipice
Of all that waits to come
The time it takes for a hum
To bloom into the vibration
Of a body growing wings
Is that step that lays down
The brick for the next
Two feet never together
On the same square inch of ground
There lies the sound of cracking shells
A chrysalis to which you are bound
By birth, where inside you lay the
Stones of the inverted pyramid
With each clean bone leading
Cleanly to the edge, the rising temple
Held up by the apex of the roof
Long before belief has penetrated
The invisible heart of the root
My Dear Poet
I will not be sleeping
till I write the words
that are keeping
me awake

I’ll make the most
of a late night evening
and by the morning
for you to wake

Who’d have thought
I’ll be weeping
while you’re dreaming
words too late

while gone
I keep writing
alone and grieving
words I wish I wrote
and now reaping
your fate
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
You are a piece of art
that doesn't belong to anyone

No museum can cage you
The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.
A little escape from the madness.
Or maybe, into.
saying goodbye is a strange gesture.
the lingering knowledge you'll see them again
eases the startling punch of the word.
but when you're fully resolved,
when you've finally dug yourself out of the depths,
saying goodbye to the single person you saw your entire life with,
twists your insides,
stretches them out
and when they snap back
you're left standing stationery with whiplash.

this exact moment,
all the fear and heart break,
bundled tightly into the lump in my throat,
should be making me feel more severely than it is.
but i almost feel nothing,
and you feel like a lifetime ago.

i feel deeply...
so you should be haunting me.

but you're not.

and i've finally let go.

i've finally let go.
The day I stop writing poetry about you
is the day I know that I've moved on.
between you and me,
i'm still rooting for us.

maybe not in this lifetime,
but in the end.
© d.a.dens
Shorts which curl, and justify just half way up her thigh
Him outlining her, like the moonbright edge of a starless night
They in perfect unison align
In a quiet breeze breathed out between
And know nothing less until their mutual sunlit dawn, arrives
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.
Alaska Young
if the choice to die
was mine to make
i'd probably dead by now
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