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I think of myself
as a part of the universe
distant and small
cold, yet alive

I think of yourself
as the center of my universe
with me and every living
rotating around you

It used to be warm
It used to be bright
warm and bright
as sunrays in a spring morning

All that left in this hole
where my heart used to dwell
is a lingering feel
an eternal, empty feeling

You are a star, way beyond my galaxy
this is all I have become, all I have
a soulless heart
for a heartless lover

Brent Kincaid

I am very seriously angry
My government has gone mad.
It seems to be out to get me
And take everything I ever had.
Once I was proud of my country
And got a swell in my throat
When I heard the national anthem.
That was before they stole my vote.

That was before I discovered
This country had been co-opted.
That was before the them of hatred
Had been officially adopted.
That was when animals were safe
And our national resources were too.
Now my government was to murder
The birthright owing to me and you.

That was before being rich
Was the only way to be fairly safe.
That was before the government
Chose to put their weapons on strafe.
That was before the wealthy
Could do whatever they might want
And before they felt it was their right
To go on television and flaunt.

They flaunt their hatred of women,
The poor and the weak and sick.
That was before I could not deny
Our country had become a dick;
A horrifyingly rich and powerful
Banana republic , we’re the worst.

Equality and protection are gone
Unless you are a millionaire.
And even then you must adhere
To the party line or else beware.
But we have the greediest bunch
Of liars and evil brand of crooks
That have ever been in control;
The leaders are cooking the books.

Trevor Dowe

Once upon a time
I fell in love with myself
I loved the way I saw the world, with an innocence now lost
I believed every lie and dreamed of rescuing dragons from princesses
I still remember the day my world shattered, and I started see the truth
An empty birthday party
A lonely slumber party
Whispers behind everyone's back
I didn't want to spread rumors, but to keep my friends, I did
And with my words, I burned bridges
How could I trust myself after telling those secrets that had been entrusted to me
Unclean and repentant, I sought forgiveness but there was none to be found
Not from myself
I tried to redeem myself by stepping away from the games, but though I hoard secrets, the dragons have all fled
There is no happily ever after here


If everyone were a clown,
I’d be the worst.
Clowns aren’t suppose to make you frown,
I just bring you down.

Painted on smile,
But it’s not really there.
See its an illusion,
Don’t chuckle and sneer

Washing off makeup
But only with tears
A day full of syrup
Full of despair

Take the gun and cock it
Please don’t mock this
Lifetime of sadness
Everything is madness.

Water squirts
It’s just a toy
It just hurts
I just wanted joy

One more time
It is time to die
Gun on head
I want to be dead.

Hovering over the trigger
His eyes getting bigger
Wet again
With blood

Its not water
On the ground, a thud
Today he slaughtered

It was a man,
It was, himself.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.
Matthew Rousseau

Floating on an endless ocean,
clear skies all around,
east, paradise awaits,
below, endless sin,

The apathetic soul does not fret,
closes it's eyes and awaits fate,
because the future is not set,
and it is never too late,

The apathetic soul knows,
but does not care it,
looks but chooses not to see,
the tentacles creeping from below,
slowly wrapping themselves around
the hands, digging teeth into flesh

Soul can feel a tug, sinking in disregard,
it can hear the echos of the eastern haven,
but the sounds of bubbling water feel warm,
against its eardrums,

when eyes open they realize
mistakes of the past cannot be changed,
when you're at the bottom of the ocean
waiting to breathe

keep on chuggin friends

for a decent,
good-hearted person,
is heartachingly,
painstakingly beautiful;
for, even in torment,
underlying beauty
is often found...

Such a brave heart,
to withstand
such emotional destruction -
whilst their internal tears
are left to bounce
off the floor
of this soul's
shaky, unstable ground.

By Lady R.F. (C)2017

Nicole Eden

your words toy with the strings of my heart
your smile dilates my eyes until they are no longer brown
your hugs give me a feeling of safety that cannot be matched
there is no brighter moment than when you walk into the room

i walk by and read the mind of the girl you also smile with
i am not the only girl mesmerized by your bright colored hair
your laughter and gaiety causes every eye to turn on you
and once they do, they cannot look away

instead, each girl stares at the other in fierce competition
to figure out the thoughts of desperate minds and fearful hearts
yet each one longs to be the other in that moment
to be laughing in the eyes of a boy with bright colored hair

my legs are crossed but my palms are open
as i sit between you two
you poke me and play with my hair
while you tease me and make fun of my glare
i lay eyes on each of you but you match my stare

and yet my eyes still linger on your brightly colored hair
your laugh that billows in the air
i cannot help but reach my hand out and touch you
for the 25th time
i know you may never feel the way i feel
or understand the way i understand you
but there is not a moment that goes by where i do not wish to be
the cup of coffee that you hold or
to wear that sweatshirt that protects you from the cold
or the wind that gently touches upon your lips

i go long periods of time without the sight of you and
my mind is able to forget
the way you mesmerize me with your brightly colored hair
but you always return and i am always overjoyed to face you once again
and every time i ask myself what is it about you that makes me so connected
why do i feel so drawn to you, so understood by you in our shared moments of few words
or the way your eyes light up when you hear your favorite song being played
how you tell me you wish you could sing better
and i whisper under the melody - do not let fear interfere with your passions
and i could listen to your raspy voice for hours as long as i could smell the captivating collision created by your cologne and clothing

Donna Jones

Droplets of ocean
Sprinkles back where it came from
From a dolphins tail

Since I was little I've always loved  dolphins :)
Amanda Shelton

The pain of love,
the pain of living,
is something to bare.

I am made of flesh and blood,
my bones bare witness
to my life.

I work hard to live hard,
I breathe, and think,
I collide with time as if
I am its catalyst.

I can move but not freely,
for I am held down by choices.

Love has broken my every heartbeat,
with each thud
it pump’s through me,
like tiny needles
running through my veins,
pocking my every move.

Thud! Thud! Thud!
Each breath I take
is another painful
memory of you.
Love… Painful You!

© 2017 By Amanda Shelton


If only she knew how she haunts my dreams/an apparition of beauty words could never speak/her voice calls as sweetly as her lips taste/or so I imagine/It's hard to fathom ever being deeper infatuated/I close my eyes to hold her visage even longer/but in the morning she'll be gone/carried away with the sun, her name, strangely now tastes bitter on my tongue/I wish I could find the right words to bring you to life/ channel the poets of former lives/read your mind to find the perfect way to make you stay/you consume my every thought/and yet, sometimes, I think you barely know my name...

Star BG

My heartland I travel to,
inside breath.
Inside wandering thoughts.
and moment
as I move closer and closer
to those cliffs overlooking sea.

Dolphins and mermaids gather,
gracefully dancing in surf.
Sun rises merging with emerald green sky,
and waves of clouds meet seas shore.

My heartland I go to regularly,
to fuel up with love,
aiding heart's song.
To expand regrouping with
energies of love in breeze.

Seagulls fly performing grand shows,
Shells swim with tide
longing to be savored by a hand.

The perfect place where time stops,
and worries cease.
A place I visit everyday
for serenity.

StarBG © 2017

Inspired by WendyStarry Eyes Thank You
Pagan Paul

Boiling clouds approach the dawn,
a profusion of sinister foreboding,
banking up to obscure the day,
a menacing storm just reloading.

A figure runs across the moor,
panic and purpose in hostile flight,
pursued relentless across the heather,
desperately chasing the receding night.

A treeline beckons promising safety,
a disguise from the hunters view,
open ground slips passed slowly,
the forests sanctuary calls anew.

I wake startled, heart hammering in my chest,
fight or flight images seek my mind to infest.
The pounding in my head, hooves on a forest floor,
provoke shivers, as rivulets upon a dampened moor.
My breathing slows and sweat dries upon my skin,
a sense of belonging starts to grow from within.
Dazed I slip sideways out of my comfort bed,
and stare into the mirror at the antlers on my head.
I return to the bed and casually slide back in,
wondering where my fantasy dreams had been,
but all I discovered was another fitful sleep
as the images form of a treasure I keep.

Memory bubbles up and I am in a glade,
sun shining bright and sat in the shade.
Billhook and bow saw propped by a tree,
the life in the forest feeling good to me.
Peace and tranquility, I counted my luck,
when out of the trees sprang a young buck.
So fragile but already magnificent and proud,
stomping his hooves, snorting out loud.
Brave and insolent he looked at my eyes,
staring me down, holding caution so wise.
A look passed between us, a mute reflection,
an instant mind meld of atavistic connection.
I was He and He was me,
my spirit guide for eternity.
And the sun shone upon us in that glade,
the forest spirits celebrating that bond made.

With failing energy, tired from the chase,
a thought of doom and my senses race.
Taking rest in the heart of a clearing,
a quick twang and the pain is searing.
Surrounded in a trap the hunters prepared,
there is no way of escape, I am ensnared.
The loosed arrows point is sharply felt,
as a crimson flood stains my pelt.
Mind is swooning and my legs bend.
This is not how the Old Tales end ...

The scythe of Death merrily reaps,
lightening strikes, thunder rolls.
The frigid grave waits so silent
empty for he whom the bell tolls.

Boiling clouds obscure Dawns pale skies,
as the hunters horn in triumph it cries,
heart is still and I gently close my eyes.

© Pagan Paul (11/11/17)

Not all stories have a happy ending.
Clare Coffey

Can’t you see me please see me
I’m here right in front of you
Look up from what you’re doing
Look straight at me not just through

I’m the girl in the background
I’m the one that you forget
Standing here oh so silent
Why haven’t you noticed yet

Waiting in my special corner
Quieter than a small mouse
Afraid of making a move
To take my place in this house

Fearful of making you angry
I’m anxious to try and please
While your heart can’t love me
My heart can never find peace

Knowing I have no meaning
Buried in a sea of self doubt
I am drowning not waving
Why won’t you just pull me out

Then I slowly seek your eyes
A mirror with no reflection
You turned me into your ghost girl
A lost soul with no direction


a warm piece of apple cake
or maybe just the feeling
that a warm piece of apple cake will give me
The smell of cinnamon that says holiday
and reeks of family gabbing and squabbling,
the chunks of apple that conjure
a fall day spent choosing Janagolds and MacIntosh's

Liz Balise

Did I touch you as I left?
That night of beer and music
Almost tipsy,
laughing good-byes

Backing into blindly
I felt an arm... a moment
guide me
before I all but fall
against you
Knew that warmth
of mass was male

You exhale
I sense your being--
By accidental intimacy
I come unglued
By your flirtatious
catch of eyes
in lowered light
By faint fragrance
of whatever it is
you've drunk or used
to put yourself together

look away

Women always look, though
however briefly

Anyone ever been to this pub?  :D

in your honey golden eyes
the sweetness I must see
matches the beauty of a sunrise
over a vast and endless sea

you are as ever changing
as the moon's many phases
yet while we continue aging
I catch those same loving gazes

youthfulness at its finest
we grow a garden of hearts;
from low points to the highest
till death do us part


Wake wake wake wake wake
confront confront confront confront
talk talk talk
ask ask

Wake wake wake wake wake
beg beg beg beg
think think think
contemplate contemplate

Wake wake wake wake wake
decide decide decide decide
tie tie tie
write write


i fell in love with a liar
and her itchy
trigger fingers

showing me her world
the brilliance within
elevating to extremes  
then pulling the pin

i fell in love with a liar
and balanced there
for just a second

then one day she had a scratch
and i happened to be within range
she relieved my of my burdens
man i miss those chains


Grab a feather
                                            Open your soul.

Grab some paper
                                         Make it your own.

And a small feather
                                             Shall be a brush,

And a small paper
                                        Your poems' canvas.


he said/begged,
make love to me just like a woman!
kiss me toe to head, and linger on my neck,
trace my waist, begin at my lips, pause at my hips,
quibbles intersperse, quips and licks on eyelids
nibble me, near me, closer unto glorious victorious
near death experience...

whisper me sweet everythings
before during after and over again,
when u must pause to exhale, blow their warmth
upon thy fingers and bring their warmth inside

Columbus me with tongue and eyes,
take me slow then again,
even slower
than execute summary judgement
accept my every appeal to god
for heavenly mercy
then adjudge me guilty yet again
and to the tower take me
to drown in mine own lamentations
before thy execute me twice
for a very good and long measure

she said,
and so I shall,
do what you beseech,
most excellently seek

but you may recall,
somewhat earlier, I
called out
so you must start my dear,
by following
all the driving instructions you stated,
and bring your GPS,
I'm waiting...

too wit and sod this!
he gruffingly huffingly, hurrumphingly, replied,
all hell and damnation,
treat me like a woman just once please!"

can't can't can't - she bewitchingly cackled!

and sang to me the lyrical words
of a Nobel Prize winner!

You fake just like a woman
Yes you do, you make love like a woman
Yes you do, and then you ache just like a woman
But you break just like a little boy

Michelle M

the sound of your snoring,
makes me want to run you through,
with a knife.

That atonal rasping and gagging,
penetrates every board,
every beam,
until this old house vibrates with it.

My rage is palpable,
a living,
pulsating thing,
It thrums alongside your ragged breath,

Dueling frequencies of dischord,
Your tortured sleep,
and my tortured nerves,
inexorably linked,

You choke yourself awake long enough,
to look through me,
Emit a vaporous moan,
and turn over.

I like it better when you're working,
and I'm more perfectly alone.

Pablo Neruda

luminosa redoma,
pétalo a pétalo
se formó tu hermosura,
escamas de cristal te acrecentaron
y en el secreto de la tierra oscura
se redondeó tu vientre de rocío.
Bajo la tierra
fue el milagro
y cuando apareció
tu torpe tallo verde,
y nacieron
tus hojas como espadas en el huerto,
la tierra acumuló su poderío
mostrando tu desnuda transparencia,
y como en Afrodita el mar remoto
duplicó la magnolia
levantando sus senos,
la tierra
así te hizo,
clara como un planeta,
y destinada
a relucir,
constelación constante,
redonda rosa de agua,
la mesa
de las pobres gentes.

tu globo de frescura
en la consumación
ferviente de la olla,
y el jirón de cristal
al calor encendido del aceite
se transforma en rizada pluma de oro.

También recordaré cómo fecunda
tu influencia el amor de la ensalada
y parece que el cielo contribuye
dándote fina forma de granizo
a celebrar tu claridad picada
sobre los hemisferios de un tomate.
Pero al alcance
de las manos del pueblo,
regada con aceite,
con un poco de sal,
matas el hambre
del jornalero en el duro camino.
Estrella de los pobres,
hada madrina
en delicado
papel, sales del suelo,
eterna, intacta, pura
como semilla de astro,
y al cortarte
el cuchillo en la cocina
sube la única lágrima
sin pena.
Nos hiciste llorar sin afligirnos.

Yo cuanto existe celebré, cebolla,
pero para mí eres
más hermosa que un ave
de plumas cegadoras,
eres para mis ojos
globo celeste, copa de platino,
baile inmóvil
de anémona nevada

y vive la fragancia de la tierra
en tu naturaleza cristalina.

I have a poster of fame
Posted on every building and street corner in America
I am an outlaw on the lamb
as I am running from the "Law of The Land."
A "dangerous flame."

I am not of criminal nature.
I seem to have let down those who have arrested me
Investments that couldn't be made due to accidents and Ill Receptive Moments
I broke from a dark cell to seek a land which will accept
outlaws such as me.

Such events Transformed friends into Law Seekers
Running after a "rogue comrade"
To be liquidated from the inventory
the names of entities
Scratched off the List of people  
who are titled the  "Accepted Glory."

Friends lost the notions of "balance"
as certain rewards were notable to be  banked
to be received
as amounts of funds
As the situation grew dim with tragedy

To the court of "The Worms Wall"
He was sentenced to exile
Without a chance of debating the Liability
No Balance
Without his own counsel
This fugitive never stood his chance.

Wishing to have someone to become his friend
He was drawn into the darkness from understanding's light
As the empty chair in the court room
They were not there
I sat in the Witness Box
Shivering in the coldness of the Verdict's Plight

To where I am supposed to go while now on the run
I need a retrial
To prove my name of the  truth
As such titles should   be replaced on the list
Until such
My tour shall be advertised on Wanted Posters all over
Friendship city
Until I can prove my true blue loyalty
I have no dignity
I am now the lost one.

After letting down others, in which you look up to and wish to befriend, does not work out to crazy disagreements... Despair makes you feel like the outlaw. Your other friends look down to you enough to be the law men and women.
     Judgments of being disloyal and dishonest..you fail to see how you can defend such a stance as the opposite of such findings.
      You feel unwelcome to return to friendship city until you prove your rights to be among the names of the favored and non-scandalous bright faces looked up too
You wish to prove yourself as what you truly are. An honorable knight defending Friendship's Castle. Never an outlaw with your face plastered upon posters of the "wanted."

The winter is slowly killing her
and me
but on the deck by her side
at the low tide
the river at three is a sparkling glass
feeding a belief
there would be no end of us.

With her on the river Bidyadhari, Nov 5, 2017, 3 pm.

she never
of becoming
an angel

just wanted
to fly
and somehow

touch the

         o      u
     l                d
c                         s

no, she
never dreamed
of going
nor entering
(she doesn't know if it even exists)

just wanted
to leave
the grounds
for a while
and see if
the fluctuations
are worth one's salt

-she's taking the biggest risk of her life


the beasts that claw and creep within
are often wearing human skin.

Dead Rose One


No, He said.

I want you

I want to taste the miracle of your desperation,
lick the sweet sweat of tense from the hairline well hid
on the back of your pleasuring neck.

I need your needing constant completion,
but not succeeding.

The airborne aroma of your desires are fiery, arousing,
stimulus sensating me by the unending beauty of dissatisfaction,
this virus desirous, infection, makes my perpetual wanting  
for a incomplete perfect woman,
perfectly complete.


11-15-17 11:51pm
mixed up emotions re this one; who is the striver, who is selfless   and/or selfish;  can be understood in many different ways

I'm the author of my life,
but, unfortunately,
I'm writing in ink and can't erase my mistakes.

Pearson Bolt

i want my poems to have teeth.  
i want my words to cut,
to maim, to bleed.
with verses, i will raze
empires. with stanzas,
i will turn thrones to dust.
with nothing but a bit
of silver on my tongue,
i will take the life of god.

i’ll ply that same organ
like honey, taste the sweet
nothings dripping
between knocking knees.
quake and quiver for me,
let me slip, furtive
as nightshade
to sate your curiosity.

feel the weight of veracity
in these fingers patiently
transcribing forgotten melodies,
compressing ivory keys
to sing of all that was lost
and what was gained
from the process.

An ode to words given form.
Lior Gavra

Words do not echo.
Words do not cry.
Words do not,

Scrambled and stirred,
Frozen and baked.
Pulled when needed,
Eaten to be fed.

Pieced together,
Black or white,
Laugh or fight,
Wrong or right.

A sound is bound by key,
A picture by color pigments,
Emotions chemically,
But words contain,
And absolutely,

The same word
Can be
Depending who, what, how
When it was read
or written.

What if every word,
Was positive in meaning?
Could not
destroy feelings.

Words have no senses.
Words have no bounds.
No touch, sight, taste, or smell.
Words have no sound.

Words have no sound.
Unless read aloud.

Rick Stachemore

poems are not all
sunshine and

just sometimes
we have to piss
in the bathroom
sink of beauty
to find out how
repulsive it can be

I find the soap scum
of the shower drain
to be more enriched
with adorning features
than the palm trees
of florida

and all forms of it
are inexhaustible,
you could never
take that away,
including this

Art needs its balance
Maggie Gonzalez

I write because I hate the sound of my voice
My mind sounds better
I can scream
I can yell
I can do the impossible
in my head
My words can be read louder than any spoken word
So just shut up and write
I write because I can't speak
My opinions are usually seen as
minuscule, unorthodox, and pointless
but when I write
I have meaning
I'm attempting to cultivate the perfect group of terms to move an audience I can't see
To show someone a thousand miles away from me that there not alone
I write to express myself
I write to allow my emotions to spew on to digitized pixels on a computer screen
I write to appease my need to let go
I write because I know no one is going to care
I write because it's my life and I do as I please

Sean Beckwith

Can't call 911 for this,
I can't save you this time.

Open the curtains for the first time in ages.
The walls weep,
dripping yellow-brown nicotine,
crying brown tears for you.
Carpet stained spots of brown black blood,
a macabre Jackson Pollock.
Stained, sweat-soaked sheets smell,
the stench of withdrawal and agony.
Piss and mold growing on the toilet,
like tiny bonsai trees.

The sun catches your face,
lightly touching a cheek-bone,
saying goodbye in it's own way.
Hazel eyes wide open,
mouth frozen,
a sort of painful grimace.

I want to clean it all away.
I want to scrub every wall,
every moulding,
every inch.
Bleach it all white.
Pull the knob across a giant etch-a-sketch of the scene.
And when it's clean,
When all of it is finally clean...

I will cover every wall like a canvas, with every note you ever left me.
Top to bottom,
wall to wall,
I will paint your words.
When I was away too long and you missed me,
when you wanted to cheer me up,
Or when you just wanted to say,
"I love you".

My experience of losing the one I love

Before the dawn, when I wake up
You're sound asleep, got no makeup
I look at you, I always do
You've got it all, but you've got no clue

Your quietness and mystery
And your unspoken history
Your calm demeanor, golden voice
A level head above the noise

Always on point, there's no excess
The words you say, the way you dress
No awkward move, no big disgrace
You've got all that and a pretty face

Your worst is better than my best
And if I could make one request
Don't smile at me, 'cause when you do
It breaks my heart and makes me blue

Don't want to hate you, never will
You do no wrong, yet hurt me still
You're everything he wants, you see
And all I ever want to be.

She Writes

I miss you
And you aren’t even gone yet
From experience
I know how this will end

One day you will find someone new
Meet someone funnier; prettier
You’ll slowly slip away
All while denying anything is wrong

When you look into her eyes
You will see a future
When you look in my eyes
You see lust and desire

There is no future for us here
so why do I let myself fall in love anyway?

There's a thin line between obsession and love
Often hard to discern
Obsession sits in the bathroom while you poop
Love shoves a magazine under the door

You can't shut the door
Turn the lock
And expect
Your fear to be on the other side.

harlon rivers

in the quiet of stillness
I can hear a snowflake
gently land
upon my cheek
a flurry of gossamer
frozen lace lilts ~
the ennui
of chilling silence
into a wilderness symphony


thank you for stopping by to read

written by:  h.a. rivers ... 11/13/2017

it really hurts that you could do something;
something so cruel.
leaving me breathless and hopeless.

all i did was care.
all you did was lie.


they're all lies.
why did i believe you?
the idea that someone could care
so deeply for someone like me,
it's ridiculous.

i should have known
you were like all the others.
but i prayed.
i prayed you weren't.

then you let me down with your



There was once a man
Who looked at the moon and asked
"Is there anything I could ask,
that you can answer?"
There was no reply,
as expected.

The next morning, there was a dog.
The man crouched down
in front of the dog and asked
"What are you up to today?"
The dog walked past,
as expected.

In the afternoon, there was a girl.
She was sitting on a bench in the park.
The man sat beside her and asked
"Are you waiting for someone?"
She kept gazing at the sunset,
as expected.

Night falls in a pub in the city.
There's a drunken man, had many bottles.
The man approached him and asked
"Is something the matter?"
The man finally collapsed after too much drinks,
as expected.

Lastly, in a room there are antiques.
One is a mirror in an intricate frame.
The man looked at the mirror and asked
"How do you feel today?"
There was no reflection,
as expected.

Lure Pot

I didn't come to the world
just to see its beauties
I born to gain everything
I came here to do my duties

I did not come here to destroy
I born to make something special
I did not come here to cry
and not make anyone want to cry
I just born here to win everything

There is no leisure time in this world
I came here to do something
and to delight the outside
I did not born even to feel trapped
I arrived to reach the equanimity
I did not come to get torture
I born to utilize to everyone

I came to overcome the bind
I'm going to make a haven here
This world is a beautiful flower
I'm just a bee, and I'll take out its honey.

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