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the day they left me
they think that I was the one
who's getting away

then I got no friends to talk
to share
to walk around

I hate my life in that days
feel so alone and lonely
sometimes I can't even feel that I'm alive

but after times passes
I build my confidence
think I don't really need them

why don't I make the new one?
start from saying "hi let's be friend"
now I got all the loves that I need

these power of new friends
makes me feel alive
and now;

I forgot how it feels to be lonely

thank you for all of my friends who always be there for me<3
Thank you for raising me the way you did
For understanding me and my fears
For being there for me when I am angry at the world
For pushing me to be the best person I can
But most of all
Thank you for being you

Keith Faherty

The heavy weight of the dog at my feet
She is hot through the blanket
The night is crisp and dry
I shift my legs
Bending them at the knees as I turn sideways
She curls
And fills the space.
Rolling into a tight ball and pushing against  the me that has become
Burrow for her body

It is the first cold night.

And I have seen growth in time passing
E Lynch
It arrives,
Unnoticed, unannounced.

At first.

Seeping, dripping.

I put it down to a few stressful weeks.
I carry on.

It unpacks,
Worries, anxieties.

For now,

Whispers, creaks.

‘It will leave soon’ I think ‘It always does.’
I keep going.

It settles in,
Getting comfortable.

Getting louder,
And louder.

Banging thoughts,

‘Please don’t be happening again’.
I shuffle along my daily routine.

Claws in,


Shame, worthlessness,

‘Please go away’.
I’m barely coping.

Growing roots,
Into my brain and heart.

Blossoming pain,
With every beat.

Emptiness, loneliness,

Silence, Stillness,
‘I can’t move, I can’t cope.’
Shah Ahmed Farouq
A world where it does not matter
All you need is your pen and paper
Where words are crafted into beauty
Where you expose your own honesty
Writing out what you bottled up
Writing the contents of your heart
Hoping there's someone out there
That they are feeling the same way
To tell them that they are not alone
And let the poetry ease their pain
My thoughts on reading poetry
It’s like always
Every time
I feel I’m close
To enough
Then I feel
All over

My writing
Couldn’t compare
To the eloquence
That is others

It feels like
My Personality
Is  Almost
When Alongside
Any others

It’s like I’m just not enough
No matter what I do
No matter how many times
I love you
I love you more
Is said,
I just have that little doubt
That I’m not enough
Dave Williams
i know some things that you don't
and you have some things of mine
i don't know if you remember
where we had even drawn the line

to be fair
to be sure
where do you want to be
because i'm here
and i'm sure
you want to be with me

but your terms are bent
can't even pay the rent
so i'll let you
destroy me
to be sure
to be fair

so right now i'm drawing a line
from now to next september
i'll hang on to what is left of mine
and know there are things that i won't

let go of... oh forget about it, anyway
it seems like it was yesterday
that you saw what i could hide
so you took me for a ride
and i, like a surfer to a sand dune
said okay
Anurag Mukherjee
The sense of an undirected gaze,
sincerely removed from the air
by a willing, polished chassis,
stirs the battery soul of a governed look;

budge upon budge, dam upon dam,
wrath compounding over the wrath of starved formulae,
ribbon-sent, shocked to bonus pay.

Terrible the blemish,
terrible the potato-skinned impulse,
the labor, the pen, the dragon-light torch
meant to replace the tri-pronged street lamp,
and to light the robbery in progress near MG Road.
Nivine Nahli
I tell myself I would forgive people,
Those that have done me wrong.
Forgiveness, will allow me
To let go of my heavy heart.

In reality, the ones that I want to forgive
Are the same exact people who,
Wouldn’t even bother to forgive me.
And we wonder why we can’t let go.

Marilyn Heavens
When your child’s feeling ill
His body hot, maybe a chill
Hold him in your arms real tight
Love him till you make it right

Our children are our own creation
made from love and procreation
teach them what is right and wrong
and how to sing that special song

When our child is feeling sad
When things all seem so very bad
We wrap our arms around real tight
Don’t be sad my little man,
and tell them all will be alright

When childhood is left behind
Our pride is something undenied
All the years we loved and cared
and all the lovely times we shared

There’s nothing more so precious
than love we cannot hide
There’s nothing more so precious
than that thing called Mothers Pride
Fraser Thomson
What if eyes never
What if lungs never
What if the sun never
What if you never

What if mother found
Your lifeless body

If sister cried
If father died

What if your wrists stayed
What if lungs stayed

What if you stopped
And breathed?
What happens if you never
Deep Sangani
To all the women I've  ever called pretty,
before strong or intelligent,
I am sorry.

I am sorry I made it sound as though
something as simple as what you're born with
is the only thing you could be proud of
when you have crushed the sky.

I will, from now, call you resilient, or extraordinary.
Not because you are not pretty,
but because you are so much more than that.

~Rupi Kaur
Heres to strong women.
May we know them.
May we be them.
May we raise them
JB Claywell
all of us,
stood out in the lot
of the greengrocer's.

We looked upon
the pending sunset as if
were birds ready
to take wing
into that auburn horizon.  

We looked at the clouds
as they became
majestic brushstrokes
placed strategically
by a great unseen artist
whose name we all knew,
but was different for each of us.  

There were brilliant purples,
and oranges
that our eyes
might have been seeing
for the first
or last time.

(None of us knew for sure.)  

The sun shone
through a great bank of cirrus
like the beginning of
some great onslaught
by a giant dragon
the first flash
of a nuclear holocaust.

None of us
would’ve minded
either scenario
for the beauty of it
our presence

© P&Z Publications 2018
Abednigo Mogale
Am a stranger to my thoughts
Drifting apart like a sailor's sheet
Pushed by the wind that howels
On my Vacant stare
Without care
I navigate aimlessly into
Unknown plots that hold firm
My ability to comprehend
My own reasons.
I am a stranger to myself
Growing away from the principals
That hold root my morality
Astray from the steps that filled
My feet
Abandoning my own
Seeking in poisonous thoughts
Meaning to my derailed ways
That feed vigorously at my
Untainted soul.
I am the enemy of my own
A grenade held
Together by a thread of slik
Weaved to the core of my heart
By a stranger that I once.
may 24, 2017
last suicide attempt
everyone blamed you
it was him
he hurt you
why do you even talk to him still?

you were never the reason
you broke up with me that night
and i snapped
the only thing that kept me happy
and i had
zero reason to

it was never your fault...
i wrote you
a letter every day
letters to tell you
just how i feel

written in neat, curved
writing i told you
just how sweet
i thought you were
how you made my heart

letters in which i wrote
with various colors of ink
pouring out my whole being
to you

i wrote you
a letter every day.

i wrote you letters in which
i told you how you made me

i found myself
pressing harder on
the paper
than i had before.

creating tears in them
similar in shape
and size
as the ones
inside of me.

i began to send
with creases
and bumps
and stains
splattered with tears

from my eyes

as i wrote
the anger
bubbling within me.

my last letter
addressed to you
no words

but was blank.
i had none that

could reach
as far

and deep

into the cracks
of my

to describe
what you

had left
of me.
a draft i decided to finish because it took a totally different turn than originally intended.
Neeloo Neelpari
You just asked
Do you know 'Pari'
the meaning Of
the most used
word by you?
My reply to you dear..
Wid my delicate
Manicured, shapely fingers
Entwined wid your bold
but the most caring ones
'The feeling of having
soeoone around all the time
It hardly matters whether
in reality or fantasy
in each other's arms or
in one's thoughts
the same person
Omnipresent for you
The care
The feeling
The closeness
The sensation
Of meeting at
the soul level
Is Love.......!!!!'

© Neeloo 'NeelPari'
**Pari (Indian word)  means Angel
**Neelpari(Indian word)  means Blue Angel
to be determined
can they see it
written in my Eyes
Scrawled across my Forehead
In Bold Flashing Letters
Is my loneliness
So blatant on my
Sullen face that
Any passerby who
Happens to glance
At my sunken
Cheeks and bloodshot
Eyes they will see
My empty soul &
Brain brimming with raging
Words screaming to
Get Out
My closed mouth
Shrieking HELP
At anyone who will
Listen and a pleading
Heart that’s never loved
Nor felt its warmth
Hoping with each of its jagged
Fragments that someone
Will notice the
Storm raging behind coffee eyes that see
Parents & infant giggle
While devouring mint ice cream
During a record breaking heat wave
But no one does
So here I stand sit walk
Conjuring a practiced smile with
Every hello that does nothing to
Drown out the screaming
In my head
i wrote this awhile ago
digest with a grain of salt
Vincent Liberato
Ang gabi
Inilaan sa mga tahimik
Inilaan nang walang gumagambala,
Ngunit sa gabi ko, walang katahimikan
Sapagka't ikaw ay gumagambala
Sa mga sariwang alaala.
all i want is my water
let the salt stain my skin
let it fade my fear to grey
my tear tracks taken over
by the ocean expanse
taste the song of the sea
in brine, bitter, mara
the wind off the dunes
a prayer in the form of
knees printing themselves
into the sand, hair tangled
sea stars dried & kissed
my fingers twisted into
knots, i cry & thank the sky
for the rush of release
the sea brings me
like nothing else i love
notes fade out, i listen
a melody of breakwater
my soul cracks open
like a cave on the face
of the cliff, a chorus inside
a mockery of my pain
the gulls remember me
ask me have i changed
have i learned to sit still
to take the water into
the depth of my being
put aside myself & be
the receptacle, the lover
to mara, the listener.
have i learned? maybe so
and i miss my water
the salt tears drying slow
bare body dusting off
the fear like grains of sand
onto the earth under my feet.
15 october
2:57 am
te extraño, mi mar salvaje.
Nat Lipstadt
Why Men Cry in the Bathroom

For so many reasons.
I will tell you the why.
I think you know,
Or perhaps, you think you know.

Men are always O.K.,
Even when not.

We expect the worse,
Accept the worse,
We are forever unprepared.

Wearily, we cry,
In the bathroom, in private,
Lest sighs slip by,
We be unmasked,
Early warring, strife signs warning.

Copious, tho we weep
Before the mirror confessor,
It is relief untethered,
Unbinding of the feet,
An uncounting
Of beaded rosaries,
Of freshly fallen hail stones,
Of night times terrors
By dawn's early edition's light,
and welcomed.

But look for the mute tear,
The eye-cornered drop,
Tit tat, that never drops,
But never ceases formation and
Reforming, over and over again,
In a state of perpetuity of reconstitution,

The tippy tear of an iceberg revealing,
And I see you peeping, wondering,
What is beneath

Look for:
the torn worm-eaten edges of spirit,
thrift shop bought, extra worn,
grieving lines neath the eyes,
where the salt has evaporated,
discolored the skin.
worry lines,
under and above,
browed mapped, furrowed boundaries.
the laugh line saga,
where better days are stored,
recalled, as well as recanted,
publicly, privately.

Why just men?

I don't know,
it is all I know.

Jan 6, 2013
your effusive and lengthy comments are each a poem in their own right.  

Tinkered with June 22, 2013
With a push from Bala,
A serial peeper, thank God!
Yellow and brown cobblestone lay soaking beneath my feet
Small rivers flowing quickly inside every crack
Water cascading through red and green leaves
Greeting the earth, singularly inaudible, but together in shouts
Pooling in the grooves of uneven dirt
The trees stretching outward in the dark
Dancing along the gusts, swiping fiercely about the air
Wooden and metal chimes singing in the distance
Leaving just small haunting notes echoing through my ears
Glimpses of vibrations carried through the storm
Moonlight traced patterns all around me
Playing with the shadows of the garden
Catching my eye every so often with subtle movements in the night
Twigs snap under invisible feet as I sit still, watching
Taking in all I can through the deafening winds, I close my eyes
Swallowing hard I drift away to the sounds
When they open, the winds are dying, the rain sliding slowly now
Filling my ears with soft music dripping from the tips of flower petals
Tapping rhythms all their own in the growing quiet
As the rain stops silence sweeps through the cold; filling the night with clarity
A strange sense of calm
The wind song dies and I am alone again; wandering like a ghost in the garden
Girl why are you disturbing my sleep ,why are you still calling my phone when you're the one who made it clear that you don't need me

Humiliated me in front of your friends and tell them I'm invisible to you ,now you're telling me you need my time ,honey with my Heartbreakers I don't dine ,I can't give you more time to ruin my life

I gave you all I had ,I'm lonely now in my bed ,even though with rumours I was fed ,I didn't believe them at all but you proved me wrong baby you're a selfish one

Now you're saying you need me in your life ,baby I was Never perfect for you I'll let this chance pass ,I don't want you to mess up my heart ,right now I got to recover from all those pains

Stop calling me at night ,for you I'm not the perfect guy ,you didn't respect me at all ,now you say you want my all ,girl you gotta stop that joke

Girl I won't lie for you I still fall but baby I'm better off alone ,in time I'll learn to move on

Girl don't give me that Innocent face ,you got beauty but no brains ,you're rich and I don't have a thing  so it's better if you stay in your lane
Moving on
Ilion gray
I never learned to make light,
and you left with the light that we created,
even through all our darkness
I'm here,
there's nothing here,

Since you left,

Carrying with you the fire that I helped to build...

how can  a heart heal while it’s still being  killed?

You weren't the only one who was alone,
under all this sky...

Looking at the immensity,

Wondering if it's open.. or empty,

I'm ashamed of how selfish, humanity can be.

Knowing how we theorize the death of our beloved sun,
simply out of  envy of its eternal luster... knowing that we grow dark and empty and eventually die...

How we leave the game early when our team is down... and there’s not enough time to go back and win... as if now.. In defeat, we would be wasting our lives to stay with them until the end.

I no longer want to love you,
because you left me there when the coldest winds came...

You left Me there....

Because even though I dried your tears....

I couldn't stop the years..

And I couldn't stop the rain.
eric calabrese
We as poets love harder
Remember longer
Hold on stronger

We as poets feel others pain
Willing to take the blame
Drive ourselves insane

We as poets give someone our all
Struggle with the withdrawal
Whether it’s right or wrong
We always give it our all
it's true--
i don't love you anymore.

but sometimes i catch your eye between waves in the surf,
that same ocean blue i've always known

like summers by the beach, you are long forgotten like my childhood,
days and nights spent drinking the stars

i will never forget what they taste like
i will never forget what you taste like.

it's true--
i don't love you anymore.

i am with another,
he is more than you ever could have been for me but

why do i still crave your inadequacy?
he is the whole galaxy, his beauty is unmatched and

oh how he makes me feel but
why am i still dreaming about you?

i don't love you anymore-- i promise,
we moved on so long ago i forget what goodbye sounds like

i'm lying.
i could never forget the way you said that,

like it took the strength of a million tsunamis to just
keep it together but oh i don't love you anymore!

it's what i've been trying to say i'm sorry but sometimes
the emotion in my own words gets so caught in my throat

i forget how to breathe because
i still see your eyes between the waves.
inspired by pablo neruda...
Justin Soberano
To write wasn’t a passion of mine,
When I learned of life?
My brain suddenly sparked a fire.

You see,
We’re always plunged right into the sea!
I can’t help but swim frantically.

I’m not a swimmer though,
So I kept on sinking.
Towards the abyss.

In a dark place,
I found something darker.
The ink of my pen.

Seeing as my darkness doesn’t compare,
I saw my own darkness as light.
Now I write when it’s night.

I couldn’t make any rhymes,
Just incoherent thoughts.
I wasn’t creative enough.

I couldn’t draw any art,
I couldn’t compose any songs.
All I can do was speak.

I can just speak without a voice.
This pen of mine speaks.

I’m an open book,
Talk to me and I talk back.
My doubt riddle words.

In my darkest days,
Where my voice doesn’t echo back,
I have my pen.

Light isn’t a reflection of others.
It’s a spark within your headspace.
When everything else disappears.
I’m in a dark place, and whenver I’m down here, I write whatever I can. Raw thoughts, incoherent, abstract, random, gibberish, trash. I writ when I’m down, it’s an outlet to plunge myself deeper so I could die and respawn. My creativity doesn’t exist; only destruction on paper.
Some poets write with pen
And others with pain
Just a random thought...
Path Humble
left my phone unlocked
on the taxis back seat,
won't be the last time

called it a few times
finally, the driver picked up

he had a fare immediately after mine,
and was now headed way downtown,
and would call later
when fate returned him nearer my office

and so it came to pass,
very shortly thereafter,

we met on the street,
he rolled down  the window
and with the greatest smile of pleasure,
as if he had won the lottery
handed me my phone

I had two $20's to cover any expense he might have incurred,
neatly folded in my hand  
and offered it right up, right away;
but the driver repeatedly pushed my hand away
as I insisted,

"No sir, no no, not necessary!

Allah sent me a fare
that took me soon back close to you, so,
  no loss of time did I suffer,
so your offer is kindly unnecessary!"

to which I replied,

Allah sent you to me
so I could reward you!"

and with an equally, beaming smile continued,

"our ride and meeting today,
together was pre-ordained it was

Inshallah!" ^

something he could not dispute...

  we parted ways
   each believing,
   each receiving
a heavenly check plus,
each, credited with a mitzvah^^
on our
respective trip logs,
our humanly divine balance sheets,
kept by the
supreme taxi dispatcher
Arabic for ^"God/Allah willing" or "if God/Allah wills," frequently spoken by a Muslim

^^a meritorious or charitable act in the Jewish tradition

NYC taxi cab drivers are suffering economically by the explosion of ride hailing app cars, many unable to pay their bills, earn a living, have committed suicide over the past few months

true story, poetry is there for the taking
city of flips
he introduces himself
saying quiet, but slipping in, firm:

“something he knows for sure,
no is no”

I, (19, f)

replying, smiling
saying louder, firmer:

“something she knows for sure,
yes is yes”

and he says

“yes, ma’am,”

returning her smile, so shyly,
while blushing, so loudly,
thinking he said something dumb,
looking down at his shuffling feet,
covered in worn out cowboy boots

I like this guy
I like this man.
Today was hard,

Like every day,
But worse,

And it pushed me,
To the edge,

I couldn’t handle it,
So now,

I’m laying here,
Feeling this pain,

It will go away,

All because,
I gave up today,

Because life is a game,
And I wouldn’t play.
i wish i could get you
out of my head;
but how does one forget a love
so sweet it
left a touch of sugar
on the tongue

sometimes the simplest
most innocent things
become so beautiful.  

i left behind your ocean
hued eyes and found
myself in the arms of a new
kind of love.
i guess i didn’t want to feel
any more rooted than
i already was.

lately i’ve been catching myself
reminiscing about little moments
without looking at the big picture.
i see the blue ocean tint in my
rear view mirror,
although leaving is bittersweet
it’s best we go our separate ways
explore, grow, learn
maybe we’ll meet again some day.
Don't tell me I'm pretty
Tell me that I'm passionate
That I have drive
Tell me that I make you laugh
That I know how to make your day better
Don't tell me I seem nice
Tell me that I'm kind and compassionate
Tell me that I'm not afraid to dream and to dream big
Don't tell me I'm perfect
Tell me the you love me despite my flaws
That you want to spend the rest of your life with me
Don't tell me I'm beautiful
Tell me that you'll be faithful and forever true
Like an old friend inviting you to come inside.
Familiar. Comforting.
It will grasp you in its arms and hold you close;
And when you're ready to leave, it wont let you go.
You will beg and plead to be happy,
and it will put up a fight.
It will make you think that the only way to escape it is to take your own life.
If you are lucky, you can break free;
and it will sit and watch you from afar.
Calling your name.
Welcoming you back into it's arms.
It will intrude your thoughts.
Make you think you are worthless.
That you're better off dead.
Just keep telling yourself that it's all in your head.
Keep moving. You will get far.
Depression is not who you are.
DISCLAIMER: This is only from my personal point of view and how my battle with depression has been. Even though I am trying to recover, the battle gets very difficult for me sometimes and I have to remind myself that I am not my mental illness. My mental illness does not define me.
David boyer
Left out your final days in moonlit alleys
  Paranoid cries to dark reflections
Children did not sing your songs of treasons
Savor you psalms of freedom
This world will never know love, loss and beauty
Look at your life through heaven's eyes
Hear odes of obscenities
Or elegy of empathy
Passed away as a madman lost to the void
Screaming at shadows
Crying hard rains
Drowning at the tail end of a bottle
Burning poems for warmth
Stars the only witnesses these last words
Poetry is a rotten business
Bipasha Dutt
Though the lotus shares a bond
With the muddy and murky pond,

Yet lotus is holy and precious,
As our birth never defines us.

What we make out of ourselves is vital,
Only that aspect is important and crucial.
Evan Palmer
I lost myself the other day and found myself
falling swiftly through the air of destruction
hitting the ground--crushed by the weight of my
burden resulting in a complete dispersion
of the fragments of my fragmented being
I looked down and saw the frail corpse
of my appearance laying at my exposed feet
leaving my body at the scene, I began the
search for the scattered pieces of my spirit

As I walked down the road you joined me
and I found a piece of my poise
in the fabric of your support, and you
sewed it together so I could wear it
When I walked past your sepulcher I found
my tears buried in the ashes of your
intelligence , and I left them there with you
As I travelled through your gallery I found
my creativity in the strokes of your brush
and I seized them as my own
When I passed through our discourse
I found my cognitive empathy, and in the
presence of our fracas', I let it grow durable
When I ran through your teachings I found
my intellect in the beauty of your mind
and I dedicated my fervor to you
As you join me in the search for myself
I am eager for what pieces I may
find in you, and I cherish this feeling
because it is the perception of love
A few years ago I reached a point in my life where I believed there was nothing more that life could offer me. I found myself sitting on a windowsill with my legs hanging in the air. While I never physically jumped, metaphorically I did. This event made me realize just how broken I was and once I recovered, I began the search that I describe in the poem. Each instance in this poem where I find a piece of myself is a specific moment in my life and each instance has a specific person attached, but they will remain nameless as I refer to all of them as "you".
Maria Etre
Don't impose
your editorial skills
on my story
unless you
want to add
to my
Erica C
never trust a poet's words
they sound sweet at first
but you'll notice the emotion in their words
it all sounds too...
"i love you like the sea loves the shore"
becomes too scripted
you hear the small tinge of love actually left in their voice
hoping it could mean something
but it doesn't
it never does
it's just the way they say it
one day, after they have left
you will find their poems, and they will be the exact words that they had said to you
once long ago
please understand this poem is in a way just me talking to myself, reminding me to not trust a man who i once loved, thank you
Cuts on my wrists
hands curled into fists
will i even be missed

Writing a note
i wrote
i love you and it wasn't your fault

That's a lie
i want to die and
its partly your fault

I can't tell you that so i
Sit and i cry

Why do i
Live like this

Will i even be missed
I am not in a good place anymore
I don't want to be here!
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