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 798° 
Egø P r O f E T a
I am
Casting down imaginations
To the pulling down of strong-holds
Gearing up for the long term
But from the outside looking in?
May seem bold
or quite
MAD
( Well )
Just referring to the thoughts
that I have
that are really not that far off
while dreaming of  REVELATION
No fabrication on my part
As I try to separate the Light
from the Dark
with high hopes and
Aspirations
Which is.. a sen-sational sensation of flying high.. being.. elevated
High on  Elevation
Or something like a planned
Evo-lu-tion so
True
Staying true to my elevation in 2020
leading into 2020 one
Now seeing  Double
Vision
Here to fix it?
Well, I beg to differ
Cause it takes.. Twice.. the listen
Care to listen?
Just to see things
Different
And at the same time?
Shuning the carnal mind's version
of seeing  Double
Vision
May call it.. Twinning
Which is the true definition
of being  Double
Minded
So to combat this?
I just never
Mind it ( meaning )
There's no rules or
bars of
Confinement
For no 20 or Eye is missing
from my
INTUITION
Raised suspicions?
Well., Just hoping that you will
tread.. carefully
And stay
Centered
As you enter my center of words
and.. penning
As I write the vision
I'll make it plain and simple
No Subliminals
Or either I'll keep it at minimal
While maintaining the
Visuals
As usual
As I keep on gaining in
WISDOM
Do not follow your heart follow God
 662° 
Luz
Broken heart, painful loss.
Remember that you don't lose
what wasn't yours
or wasn't meant for you.
In time you'll understand
that it was a lesson in disguise.

What's right for you
will never pass you by.
Remember that
rejection is God's protection
for you!
 497° 
Slightly Lovely
do you ever cry about me?
and if so,
do you think that sometimes,
we cry together?
 330° 
Äŧül
He was born in 1924.
The month was November.
And the date was 20.

He passed away in 1991.
The month was September.
And the date was 25.

I couldn't consciously listen to him.
I missed out on a grandpa.
I could've learnt so much.

He also taught Sänskřŧäm.
My HP Poem #1924
©Atul Kaushal
 250° 
Hank Helman
So
Isn't it odd
That a man named Jobs,
Created so many.
 224° 
Darren Whippe
I donned you like a warm coat on a winter’s day  and I got lost as I zipped myself within
The chill couldn’t penetrate the thick down of your sleeves and I felt safe, if only for a moment
Then the material began to wear and run at the seams
And I held fast, not because I was scared of losing you completely, but because I could never wear just pieces of you
Through the holes came the wind
And with the wind came the change of the seasons
Then, as the frost faded and the warmth came, I began to wonder why I  had even needed a coat at all
And I’d nearly forgotten the sting of the cold by the time it had returned
 184° 
Simpleton
I loved you more than I hated myself
 175° 
JB Claywell
The rat-terrier
that I’d loved for
over a decade
has been dead for
awhile now.


Sometimes I miss that dog.
Sometimes I miss cigarettes.

My America is now
the go-to destination
for the suicide-bomber
or
The Mass-Shooting Machine


All of this national abomination
has become all too normal.
&
why is any of this
at all attached,
in any way,
to our
Easter-Sunday-Church-Going
morals?

Tragedy,
a travesty,
trustworthy humans.
-untrue-
mistrustful,
unworthy misogynist,
malcontents
lacking empathy.

Unpaid checks,
no gravity -
a lacking of grateful
hearts.


Our ears destined,
designed, dedicated to hearing
only the hurtful,
instead of the healing.

On the take -
take or be taken
fake or be faking-
make or be made-
scapegoated,
goaded into submission
leaving
us wondering
just what,
exactly is so bad
about hate.

I mean everyone’s doing it these days;
and no one seems to be doing it wrong.

Maybe that’ll change
once we’re on our
deathbeds.

*
-JBClaywell
©P&ZPublications 2021
 173° 
Idris Muntaqim
A white man is running from his white teenage daughter and her brown boyfriend and I'll tell you why;
The white teenage girl and her brown boyfriend are trying to stab and ****** her father and that's no lie.

When the martial arts Muslim sees what's happening while hiking, he knows what he has to do;
He has to save the father, which is true.

The martial arts Muslim takes out his wooden darts and throws one of them into the teenage girl's arm, as you can see;
He throws his second dart into the arm of the teenage girl's boyfriend immediately.

When the teenage girl and her boyfriend drop their knives, the martial arts Muslim runs towards the creeps;
He kicks and knocks out the evil girl and her boyfriend, which is deep.

The father thanks the martial arts Muslim for saving him, which is polite;
The martial arts Muslim calls the police and what I'm saying is right.

The police arrive and arrest the evil girl and her boyfriend, which is swell;
The martial arts Muslim hikes away and that's all that I'll tell.
 149° 
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)
 145° 
helloitsyellow
i still
do not know
the poem i've been trying to write
and maybe
that's because
i haven't been
writing one at all
or maybe it's because
the poem i've been trying to write
is not ready for paper
and maybe
i'm the paper
that's not ready for it
 138° 
John Prophet
Packaging.
What’s
outside.
Wrapping,
covering,
hiding.
Packaging.­
Different
sizes,
shapes,
colors.
Some shiny
Some dull.
Some simple.
Some complex.
No two
alike.
Packaging
irrelevant
covering.
Shielding
what’s
inside.
Core.
Kernel.
Soul.
Packaging
superficiality.
Irr­elevant.
Hiding
what’s
at stake.
What’s inside.
Consciousness,
connection
to the
unified.
Past.
Present.
Future.
All one.
Universal,
milieu.
Journeys
the
same.
Experience,
growth,
de­velopment.
Packaging
immaterial.
Burning of rage,
Desperately trying to mask
The embers of passion
I can't help but feel.
 101° 
Viktor Vincent
It hurts to think where, everyone was taught to fly.
It hurts when, we felt the wind of desire.
Only to find a child grieving about falling.

It hurts to feel hunger.
Reaching for your stars, with only having dreams as a meal.
It hurts to cry a handful.
When tears are just sands waiting to be a desert.

It hurts to pretend,
as if Blue will turn Red the moment we give our hearts.
It hurts to be sane,
when sanity is held by the memories of the past.

It hurts that,  
everyone chases the unfaltering pain we purposely seek.
 80° 
taylor styles
you told me i was pretty,
but you said i looked prettier on my knees.
 71° 
Nylee
I think
my time is near
this time
the end,
I do not fear
the whispers
that i hear,
I am calm,
my breathing,
it is breaking.

hey,
I still care
If you'd care
I exist no more
I am that vain
even in pain,
I'd seek more
as my mind
connects back to you.

The rain has stopped
my heart will too,
it is all part of nature,
the destiny,
we met,
but so unclear
we'd go
as destined to.

So here it is,
my last
thought,
it will be
a fragment of you.
And here it is,
it is the final goodbye,
fare well, you
.
There’s no liquor
There’s no drugs
There’s no medicine
There’s no one
There’s nothing
That will make you feel
Better than I made you feel...
 62° 
Tanya


Yesterday I cried to the moon
as she wiped my tears away
made my worries disappear
so I could sleep again.



Today I smile at the sun
and it shines back on me,
what a wonderful world
to be alive;
to be me.
 58° 
Grayce Hobart
when i told you
i would really like to be friends

why did you ask what made me reach out

don't leave me waiting to hear
if you miss my friendship or not
 51° 
stillhuman
Powerless

I finally get up, i leave you behind
Now i'm free

Senseless

I cry of joy as mom holds me in her arms
Now i feel

Empty

I paint 'til i can't feel my hands anymore and my cheeks hurt
a sweet ache caused by my smile
Now i create

Ugly

I look in the mirror
I don't see a stranger
Now i am

But not really
I'm not
Not now
Practice makes progress, i guess
 47° 
Jameson Blackmay
Look around
do you see the beauty?
or do you live in a bad place?
 46° 
Erika
i spend my days
pouring myself into the cups of others

only to find that
when it’s time for myself
to take a sip

all that’s left
in my cup
is the remainder of a girl
who gave too much
self care is extremely important. most days I fight my depression by putting smiles onto others faces, but forgetting about my once bright smile.
 46° 
Satvik gupta
You are hated now ,

                                Because ,

                                            You were loved once.
 45° 
Dennis Willis
I'd like a basket
I am thru the brake
I'd like a basket
It looks exactly like you
I am woven accrost

simple ru les simple ounds
an' lookin' like you could
kiss me

to find wha tinside
singing your h ands
around my kybd

capitalization lifts
its top
oof is much said

long for another doncha
when they say thas all
 42° 
Grace E
I traced the texture of your words
Like my heart was blind
And your voice was braille
 41° 
Max
She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."
What's the difference?
 37° 
Hope
Even if the closest I can get to you right now
Is just the subtle scent of you on my sheets
I’ll fall asleep with this piece of you wrapped around me
It calms me faster than counting sheep
 36° 
Mimmi
Key
I just let the words leave my head.
But they are so dark and heavy,
that they weigh me down even more than when they left me.

When I write, the weight is suppose to leave me
Not reappear when I read it
Where all the gates are now closed surrounding all that is me
And my heart is locked and the key is nowhere to be found


Swedish

Jag lät orden bara lämna mitt huvud
Men de är så mörka och tunga att de väger ner mig mer än när de lämnade mig.

När jag skriver är det meningen att det tunga ska lämna mig. Inte läsa in mig och stänga alla grindar och spärra in mitt hjärta
A poem I started writing in Swedish but left it unfinished, so I translated the beginning and the rest just came.
 36° 
kmr
My entire life,
I have been waiting.
For years,
Almost two decades now
I have been waiting.
Waiting,
For the better parts.
Waiting,
For the “soon”.
Waiting,
For my life to begin.
Because,
I don’t feel like I have lived.
In the nearly twenty years
I have been alive
And breathing
I do not feel
In any of those years
That I have been alive.
I don’t feel like a single breath
That I have taken
Has been real.
I feel as if
All these years
I’ve been stuck
Behind a window
Watching as my life unfolds
Before me.
I feel that
I have had
Zero control.
That I am in the backseat
Letting someone else drive.
That someone else,
Is writing on the pages
Of MY life.
But no more.
I will break that window,
I will take that wheel,
And I will write
My own pages.
My life has begun,
And now -
I’m in control.
Yesterday, April 8th, was my birthday. I wrote this poem two years ago, when I was 19 almost 20, and on my 22nd birthday I find that the website selected it as a daily and I have all these wonderful people saying wonderful things about my poetry. Thank you Hello Poetry, and thank you everyone else. This was the best birthday present I could have even gotten. (04/09/2021)
 35° 
TomDoubty
They burst upwards

All around this evening

There and there and there

Trees, Trees, Trees

Smashing through soil

To a darkening sky

Limbs and fingers and hands

Trunk and twig

Coiling coronaries

Pressed to the sky’s last

Etchings

Monoliths

Earths loud art

Not solemn

Not peace filled

This evening

Trees , Trees, Trees

Explode from the earth

Like Kraken from the ocean

Belittling

Reminding us

Trees Trees Trees

Four hundred million years

Before you breathed

Trees Trees Trees
 34° 
Sophia
She was a thrifted sweater and denim and jersey knit sheets
Pizza breath and red wine and toothpaste
Alabaster skin and knotted hair and freckled shoulders
A tangible dream and my favorite good morning
She agreed to let me kiss her and I agreed to let her slip my shirt over my head before she became
Blood and tears
"I trusted you" and "I’m sorry"
Midnight poems and a drunk "I need you"
I’m afraid I loved you like the way I wrote
 32° 
Autumn
You can only distract yourself so many times
before it catches up with you
 30° 
Chris
I'm sinking farther into the sea
Air cut off, unable to breathe

But it's not all too bad
The water's warm
and the fish look nice

It's a shame I can only see this
By myself
at the end.
Enjoy
 30° 
Nat Lipstadt
Ah you hate to see another tired man / Lay down his hand / Like he was giving up the holy game of poker
Leonard Cohen
<>
Will I remain within God's house at night as shadows drift through dimming my light?
written by Weeping Willow, gifted to me, by Edmund Black
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I,
in­stant understanding, perhaps in my experiential possess,
some answerings perhaps...product of late night, many, many
theological arguments over poker games, with coarse men,
tough women, and ethically-challenged Gods, all faithful regular attendees

With a little bit o’ luck from an occasional guardian angel, even
I possess an occasional winning hand.

now we all commence with a passionate uttered blessing,
for the good beer and salty pretzels, giving thanks for having
reached this act-exact moment of being, here and now, in God’s house at night, plus a holy add-on variation, a swear-to-god (we all snicker) promise solemn, no cheating, no absolutely divine peeking/spying in soulful futures, no fun in that, sanctified & sealed with hearty amens and ****** noises offered for emphasis.

hear you scratching you head, wondering what all this to do
with a whispered prayer of soulful, on-shore drilling deep,
product of a drill bit cutting the black quietude of interstellar voids internal, where there is no censorship, lying an impossibility, and the only questions are super hard, so some never return with an answer truthful

so, I remain in God’s House, playing poker, with deities who
jealous guard their moments as human facsimiles...cherishing humans who guard with care, an ability to see that they and gods differ little, when making honest truth a shared primacy

in the intimacy
of an overnight stay
in God’s house at night,
all our coming-led light dims,
when my/their need is greatest
!

(written sometime this year, Jan. 2021, Manhattan)



~~~~
^ https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4157753/winter/

^^ Blessed are You, L-rd our G‑d, King of the
Universe, who has granted us life, sustained us and
enabled us to reach this occasion.
 29° 
Tahlia-rayne
I think I'm just a little bit scared right now
Everything feels so comfortable so fast with you
Do I have a right to feel this safe?
So happy?
Why does it worry me so?
 26° 
lost cause
if i wrote my future
all would be changed
from the way i was raised
to the thoughts in my brain
if i wrote my future
no love would be lost
so i’d stand right beside you
no matter the cost
if i wrote my future
i’d bring nothing but peace
and save you from sorrow
and the darkness that creeps
if i wrote my future
you’d still be here
but you wrote my future
and i did nothing
but stare
 26° 
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
 24° 
BTW
Login?
14 April 2021

I would love to climb Mt. Everest
Conquer storied  seas.
Login never gives peace or rest.
Seems I am never me!
Who in the world do they see?
Login never set me free.
 23° 
Diana
You.
Are.
A.
Walking.
Masterpiece.
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