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 897° 
Deadwood Jawn
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H́ͨ̆ͪ̉­̴̛̫̥̳̪̘̫͙̟ͪ̈̓ͨ͟ͅE̶̊͒̔̀͛̌͡͏̛͉̦͚͚͔͝ ̵͑̔͗ͥ̉̐͋̈ͥ͒͑̋ͨ̍͂̚͏͕̼̲̫̥̫̮̙͖̤̮͖͓̲͍͍̀̕W̢̹͕̫͇̙̞͇̪̌̋̆̔̃͛͛ͩ͐̊̃ͨ̅ͮ̍͊̈́́̚­͉͕͍̞̱̠ͅͅA̛͆̋ͩ̓͋̓҉̶͙̣̹̥̩̘̪S̡̃ͤ͗̒̐̊͛̍̕͞͏̰͍͖̥̦͎̻̱̪̪̙̭̫͔͚̘̣͉ͅ ̵̉̈́̌̾̿ͪͤ̃̈́͏̡̗̪̦̹̪̟̞̪̗͇̯ͅN̸̢̨̺̱͉͙̝̖̣̻̺̳͔̮̱̜̪͚̠̤̜ͬͮ͐ͤ̋ͪͩ̇̂̀͊̉̏ͦ̏̌ͧ̑­O̵̡̹͓̣͙̘͈̩̳̫̼̖͙͌̂̃̚͘͠Ṭ̢͓̭̦̣̗̩̭̪͉͓ͤͬ̋̎̓̾̔͛͛̔͂̾ͬ̄͊ͦͥ̅͡ ̧ͩͤ̑̿̿̇̚͘͏̢̛̯̬͍̹̳̘͇̥̩̣̩̟̤̺͉A̶̴̬̗͍̥̞̞̩̝̩̣̰̳ͯ̎ͥ̏̃ͮͤ̆̋̏͜͜Lͨ̀̄̏̓̉̋͆̋̇­̸̧͔̼̰̪̱͕̞̺̬̼̘̟̭ͥ͐͒̅͗͠͝͠W̧̖͙̞̪͙͙ͮ̑ͥ͆͛̌̽ͭ͐̌ͩͦ̓́̚̚͘ͅA̰̺̝͙͖̻̹̘̣͌ͨ̾̓͢͜­̬̣̺Y̢͎̹̩̺̦̬͚͉̲͎͓͉̅̄̽̅̎̏̎̌͂̃ͫͭ͞͞S̴̵̨̠̞̖̠̳̖͇̓̇ͧͮͥ͗͑̅̃̾͗͂ͨ͊́̆ͨ͢͢ ͦ͌̌̃̋̒̽͜͏̴̧̪̯̻͙͇̙͈͉̠̠͇̜͈͇͍̣͕̞͢L̵ͪ̊̏̃ͭ̒͊҉҉̞̰̣̥̺͙̣̥̳̠̹̭̘̜̜̙Iͨ̂ͬ̑̿͋͐­̲̗̹͓̠̜͕̞̞̻͙̞͚̼̫̲̞̣̟̃͑̓̃̂͊͛̅̓ͥ̕͜K̅͊ͤ̃̊͂ͮ͊͒̒̎̿҉́͡҉͏̖̯̜̜͔̪̖̟̙̞̺͎̦̖̠E­̶̶̵̪̱̺͍̫͎̣̾̽̂̾̒ͣ̀ͬ̏̐̿ͭ̿͟͡ ̸̧̡̞̠̻̟́̅ͮ̋̕͢T̡̢̼͕̝̠̼̩̜̜͓̠̱̘̜̲̦́͆ͩͨ̈͊ͮ̆̈͑͐̚͜͢͝ͅH̡ͫͧ͛̐ͦ̋ͣ̔̓̾͆͐ͥͯ̚͢­͕͉̤̫̹̟͇̭́I̷̧̨̒ͬ̇ͬ̾̆ͬ̂̌͌͏͍͍͔̖̮̪̖͓̰͎̪Ş̴̰̭̜͓͚̖̯̦͇͓̞̹̼̺͖̐ͪ̐̅͒̚̕͘



­--------------------------------------------------------
He wasn't. Thanks for understanding, Lydia.. Lydia is angry.. Someone's hurt him..
This is Lydia speaking.
 430° 
PhoenixMoon
Tiny whisper on a tether
Carried by electric wind
Warm and erratic
Comfort in static
Reality sold as Fantasy
Needs replacing with Authenticity
Death will never hold
The difference between
Fear and Cowardice while
Enemies march under the same banner
Many moons share the sky with stars
Distance and Heat
To determine their Suns
The Moon needs few
and shines on Everyone
 202° 
Andrew
Many wars we’ve fought, many times we’ve cried, many times we stayed up into the night talking about life, and the battles we fight inside, I will be by your side till The day that I die. And i will protect you even in the afterlife.
<3
 158° 
kiran goswami
'Of all the stories you have ever written,
       how many have you forgotten?'

They asked.

And suddenly I remembered you.
 148° 
wordvango
haphazardly
  Careless a world of daring falling
     Like embers from a fire in the
cold wind

stares longingly
   Back at the viewer
calling
      Like small Wolf cubs left by their mother

evidenced by
     Gashes in tree bark
white streaks in a sky
      chasing yellow glances of sunlight

eroding
        The rushes of semis
Busily hurdling by
         pursuing commerce
Eliciting

porched rocking
       Chaired old men
To ponder on meanings
     And roars in
A head unsure of even

Himself, anymore
 117° 
nivea
he was my breath of fresh air
and lately i’ve found myself struggling to breathe.
 89° 
Zero
maybe the love i feel for you now will slowly rot away into bottomless pain.
but i rather risk it all for you, my wildflower.
The music was never sad
But now it is
And I can’t quite put my finger on the reason
The wind has quieted down
And the birds are sleeping in the nest
There is a sinking in my stomach
A bug crawls across the screen
Maybe it’s just the night, the wind says
But I don’t think that’s why
No, that’s not the reason why
 82° 
Jeremy Stacy
The colors here wipe my mind clear
a purple atmosphere that makes a premier
in a time of year that I hold very dear  

My kayak I steered into a violet sphere
of hues vibrantly smeared
Instagram jst490_poetry
 77° 
charles bateman
It is God's anger that fuels the fires of hell and all those poor souls that rejected God's only son realize that they are going to be in hell for eternity . The smoke of they're torment will rise for ever and ever .

There are some that believe hell is what some of us go through here on earth if that were true then where are all the flames . Some say Jesus isn't for them and believe that all religions give the same out come , ask Mohamad and Buda who are at this moment fanning the flames of hell . Deep down , I mean way down all of us know the truth or are born with the knowledge of the one true messiah . that still humble , Lord of lords is tugging on your heart , let him in !!!
 74° 
E
The face in the mirror
the look in the eye's
that reflection ain't me it's just a disguise
the fading of hair
the wrinkles that bend
it's just a life story that's told on my skin
this man in the mirror he ain't really me
their's a child inside that want's to be free
that woman of mine you could say she's the same
sometimes in the covers we laugh and play games
but as I get old and my life bears thin
I think of the fun
and think of the friends
so you could say i'm kind of bold
it's just a part of getting old
A poem my dad wrote on his 45th birthday
we all thought it was funny but truth is
I think it was the greatest one he ever wrote
 63° 
Astral
When I was a child,
I was taught poetry wasn't mild,
It was deep as the sea,
And it seemed truly unachievable for me.
I was taught poetry had to rhyme,
Every single line, every single time.
So poetry seemed out of my reach,
Like chasing a seagull down a beach,
Jumping ever so slightly away,
Or soaring into the sunny day.

So I never thrived for what I thought would,
No, Could
Never be.

I guess now I'm fixing the mistakes of past me.
 63° 
August
i still see that afternoon in my dreams-

your face was outlined by the sun
and the escaped strands were this gorgeous red-gold color.

you smiled at me.
at me.

you're staring again, darling.

and i blushed and looked away
and you touched my cheek and looked in my eyes and said softly
stare as long as you like, love. i'm not going anywhere.
 61° 
Beau Donner
.
Wow
said the flying fish

       ^
         ^
                ^
 59° 
Valentin Busuioc
the only tattoo I still have
and that I will never erase
it's my mother's face
left on my right arm

since then
every baby I take to my chest
calmes down and falls asleep immediately
cheek on cheek
forehead on forehead
all four eyes closed
dreamers
 57° 
Veritia Venandi
Once upon an asphalt road, under a starry sky and in the midst of a desert...

I was walking towards infinity...

And then as if from another dimension,
A stranger appeared on a familiar bicycle
With a face veiled like the darkness of the night...
And began to accompany my wandering soul...

We talked of all things that the heavens would permit,
And in a way that our sounds would forever leave behind their stains in the fabric of time...

He was neither a friend nor a foe, neither a kin nor a lover...

He was just  like what a page is for a poet, or a guitar for a musician...

A vessel for the unknown that I was to experience...

Once down the asphalt road under a starry sky...

On my journey towards the infinity...

I was glad atleast my heart was

That I had a stranger for company!
This poem is about a dream I saw...few months ago. And it was pretty weird. How our mind craves for somebody to understand us that sometimes even strangers seem to be enough!
Anyways, Thank you for reading this! :)❤
 56° 
dylan
living inside my head
is a constant struggle for
P
O
W
E
R
it's like laying on a bed of
W
E
E
D
S
trying to rip them out one by one
before they strangle you in your
S
L
E
E
P
 54° 
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!
 51° 
Jake Phillips
Sorry I haven't been
writing,
my mind will not
speak
words
 41° 
Summer
Crooked
shadows, lonely figures
yellowed pages, splotched ink
broken promises littering nostalgic
lanes down the river of green and grey.
Reduced to these pile of letters some drizzle later
dusty, wet, and so so bitter.
 38° 
tainted black
..
she
closed her
eyes and took
a very deep breath,
crossed her fingers then
w  h     i     s    p   e    r     e   d,
"I long to see the   o n l  y
man who made me
shine in his
darkness
..
 37° 
Maria Mitea
A child's smile
A cup of tea
A walk in the woods
A fleeting sense of serenity
An eruption of joy
Happiness
A magic moment
in the labyrinth
of our existence
 35° 
Em
what they won’t tell you is that healing
will feel an awful lot like being burnt alive
but setting fire to dead trees
is only clearing the way
for new seeds and i promise you
one day they will reach the sky
-you can rise from the ashes
~e.m
 33° 
mia
tonight is not the night that you get to break me
you call me yours when i want nothing to do with you
you say its just once more but i have heard that four times before
or do this or everyone will see what i have seen and that she would be yours
but you weren't like this at first...
I TRUSTED YOU
not tonight you dont get to have me
and this time i mean it
wrote this a month ago and I feel like its time that it gets posted
written 09/20/20
 32° 
JL Smith
It's been said,
If you love something
Let it go

So you did
And I'm free,

But I'll return
Knowing

You love me

© JL Smith
 31° 
Miss Daytona
We see, we hear, we watch,
we talk back. We write.
This is a strange time to be alive.

And if a reader finds this poem,
Buried or dropped or kept:

You see, you hear, you watch,
you talk back. You write.

And I bet you feel the same way.
What strange time it is, indeed,
To be alive.
 29° 
tranquil
answers would lie asleep
till the end of eternity
if it weren't for questions
guessing the depth of infinity
 29° 
Wanderer
Is it the words whispered
in secret corridors
i love you

are they proclaimed boldly
from roof tops
I LOVE YOU

Or maybe love
sounds like laughter
giggles shared only between two

what if love has no noise
its beauty is similar to a sunset
seen and felt
but never heard
 29° 
Viola
I want to gather the twigs
of your blown down shelter,
cradle your wasted heart
in the dim cedar light
this shared lonely flame,
between the two of us,
we can keep it breathing
and ourselves

I want to smooth your dark brow
press my warmth into you
if we huddle together
our storms may blow over us
sweet spectacular man,
even in sorrow you shine brighter than any
you’re worth sharing
this little light
I have left
 28° 
misha
your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

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
 26° 
Kenneth Gray
A strand
Its all I've got
Some people have
Some people have not
A strand is all I've got

A strand
Its all I've got
Some people have little
Some people have lots
A strand is all I've got

A strand
Its all I've got
My strength is failing
Win? Nah, probably not
Because a strand is all I've got

A strand
That's all
That's all I've got
A strand is all I've got
This one is pretty self explanatory. I don't have much left to hold onto. I wanted to express that using as few words as possible. That way the poem structure relates to only having a strand as well. I love reading this one. Its exactly what I was after when I thought up the idea.
 25° 
Dresden
I'm not stable enough for love
I'm not kind enough for love
I'm not worthy enough for love
I'm not ready for love
Lord please save me
I don't feel human
I don't have strength
I don't belong
I don't want to live
I'm nothing but depressed
A lost case
A piece of work
A damaged ex
Will I ever turn my life around?
And see the world differently?
Like it's meant to be
Like I have a destiny
Like anyone wants me
To be here
 25° 
Luiz
some                   I
     say                     call
           it's                   It        
                poetry.          oxygen.


I write, therefore I am.
 24° 
REY
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems like *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.
I’ll fade to you,
In the Sierra Nevada blue

Your emerald eyes,
I will never recognize

Chasing the dawn,
Drawn the swan

Of our flourishing love,
Venus envies our dove

I want to drown in your heart,
I sincerely hope you’re smart

Interlock and chain,
Your pain in my geometric domain

I’ll solve it like my upcoming exam,
Acing it before you say “Aries and Uncle Sam”
Virgos love the best ;)
My poems are going mediocre again...sorry about the lack of inspiration.
P.S. Will look into this after med. school in 20 years...
*I took college geometry as an eighth grader; it was a breeze, honestly.
**My first (and probably last) horrible attempt to write a love poem to nobody in particular.
***I consider love to be honorable; no one deserves to have their heart broken by someone selfish.
The last note is especially dedicated to @sadnspicy0 and @Owen.
 24° 
dustin
I'm so tired of myself

hard to wake up
everyday in this skin suit

where do I go now
don't like counting down the days

november whispers to me
in a quiet dream

reality breaks my heart
recreating our last days in my head

I'm a little tired
hope some sleep will help me
 24° 
Marshal Gebbie
The demon fly hath landed now intent upon it's task
**** Demon in its valedictory explorations grasp.
Embedded deep in kidneys, to cause me some concern.
A painful path to endgame and a Hellish lesson learned.

I pause a moment, think it out, it's one way or the other
I lost a mate the other day and last month, lost another.
Seems it is the season for the cataclysmic time
I'd rather it be elsewhere but I fear this one... is mine.

I've run a rough and winding track these rugged years of yore
Pulled the Dragons tail in jest and sought, yet, for more.
Rafted mighty rivers and flew the heavens high
And lifted my perception winging vaulting, clear blue sky.

I've known the velvet touch of love, the softness of her lips
The crash of waves on sandy shore caressing fingertips.
The swelling joy of childbirth, the pledge of mothers milk
And rock like bonds of marriage binding all within its ilk.

With thoughts a million miles away I've trudged this country lane
Pondered why, with voids approach, it engenders me no pain?
Wondering why it matters that the children shed a tear
When saddened, glancing passing eyes, are never really near.

Regret I'll never get to see my grove of rhodos bloom
Or sip the soothing whisky as I tap my toe in tune.
Or launch into the crazy surf and splash out to the rock
Nor lie in sun on baking sand admiring talent flock.

Meat pies with sauce at football with a cold beer in the hand
And the repartee with kindred minds in poetry unplanned,
That flash of inspirations' alliteration sprung
Brings the joy to mind of comradeship in Shakespeare's realm, unsung.

.....And then there's all that's left undone, the words, now, left unsaid
The notes of tragic violin hang in the air...unbled
And you there with the swimming eyes, what do I say to you?
It's all been grand, I kiss your hand....Adieu , my friend.... Adieu!

M.
Foxglove, Taranaki
New Zealand
20 October 2020
 23° 
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.
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