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 374° 
ju
4th
noise curves
small, sleep stirs
neon stars

sifted laugh, broken sigh
bed to silent floor

duvet nest familiar
slick peace, sticky dream

hope & fear
bicker sick between blue-lines

chaste moon - crimson fleck  

town’s painted red
painted warning

it’s fine
it’s fine


cramp & pink
it’s time

wall for balance

tide -

coats fingers, plasters thighs

cramp & heat
cramp & fire

cramp & cramp
& cries
 290° 
m a k a y l a
In this body, my soul screams
A cry so deeply embedded in my chest my  veins run dry
Do the words exists? To describe a soul so taunted
A sick, dry, maddening feeling
A life to live, yet here I am
A screaming soul
Torn
 286° 
essie
inside me there is
a red piece
and a blue piece

the red protects me like
a wildfire
but it burns and destroys the beauty around me

the blue grounds me like
a puddle of water
but it’s heavy when it pulls me under

i am water
i am fire
and i am constantly drowning and scorching

from inside out
my blues and reds
are labeled by others as crazy
kinda ****** and basic but i had an intense therapy sesh today and i feel kinda upset about it
 230° 
Isaac afunad
it's been plenty of years feeling like strangers  with the beautiful smile that you gave me the first day we met you gave me a chance to love how could l ever thank you.
 176° 
Jack
watched a star fade deep into the sky,
she got no sleep for 2 nights,
been living inside a glass pipe,
slowly muttering up the courage,
to put an end to her life.
 97° 
Anthony Esposito
I wish I could be like Superman.
Causing destruction everywhere I go, yet people cheer for me.

A symbol for peace, and all that's right, yet I occasionally take down a building.

I want people to chant my name, and call for me when they need me.
relish in my site, and think of me when I'm not around.

I want to be Superman for all of his short comings.
I want to wear the S
During half slept nights, fear seeps out from my dreams
It follows you, it follows me
But I invite that fear in to come rest while I hide
From everything wrong in the world but mostly everything wrong that's inside
We sit and wait reliving scenes after scene
Of everything that could happen and everything that has been
But im growing tired of fears company now so I try to turn the vacancy light off
But the light has become broken and fear said he will never stop
So I sit and I wait
And I wait and I sit
Until fear and I merge into a black and endless pit
We can try to escape this but it's harder that it may seem
Because it follows you
While it clings to me
my tales about my struggle with fear and anxiety
 84° 
Jaxey
my eyes were closed
but I could see your face
so clearly

my arms were still
but I could feel your hug
so deeply

it wasn't even real
but I could feel my heart
racing

up to the very moment
I awoke
She stands at the edge of a forest with arms outstretched,
And her shadow mingles with the long shadows of firs on the snow.
She bends at a fire.
Beyond the cottage, faint in the crystalline night,
A wolf howls and is answered by another.
She brushes back her hair, comes to lie beside him on the bed of feathers.
She runs on the summer beach on the lake, and he believes that she is laughing.
He tries to go to her, but is held back.
She is standing on the edge of the lake, calling to him,
Calling his name with one hand beckoning, but when he tries to move toward her,
She fades into the mist.
 80° 
Max
She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."
What's the difference?
 78° 
shianne rose
there are two types of sadness

there’s the kind of sadness
we ignore and
try to get rid of it
by finding new things to do
or we find someone to talk to
by blatantly avoiding any type of conversation
about feeling sad
about having any feelings at all
and then there’s that kind of sadness
that takes over
and it consumes any activity we do
we know it’s there
and there’s no possible way to avoid it
so we feed it exactly what it wants
it craves the sad music
it craves the isolation
it craves the anxiousness
and the sadness comes storming in
it has no manners
here we are calling sadness, an “it”
when all it is
is a feeling
that most people
call home
 75° 
Ken Pepiton
We are the result of all we can imagine came before us,
in this bubble
of being we find our selves staring back
into from
the abyss, where luck is not a factor.
{from the movie}
nay, from Nietzsche, the drinking game
- on
- each time one looks into the abyss
- the abyss looks back, so luck is not a factor

sure. that makes perfectible sense, there's a signal,
a fluctuation,
measure it, man, and tell us all you know it means.

Ferlinghetti died yesterday, I could have known him,
if I'd tried.
I did not care for his view of truth. But he was young,
last time I took him serious.
I notice,
I don't care for my view of truth at that age.
But did you see him in the Last Waltz,
he was unmused, I felt bad for him.

And now he's dead and being reread. That's pretty cool.
For Christmas in 1964, I was given "The Secret Meaning of Things." I think it scarred me. I know it scared me... is this true... no, but I had to prove it myself... imagine dying after being a famous poet in the 20th century...
 67° 
Paul Verlaine
I


Mon Dieu m'a dit : Mon fils, il faut m'aimer. Tu vois

Mon flanc percé, mon cœur qui rayonne et qui saigne,

Et mes pieds offensés que Madeleine baigne

De larmes, et mes bras douloureux sous le poids


De tes péchés, et mes mains ! Et tu vois la croix,

Tu vois les clous, le fiel, l'éponge et tout t'enseigne

À n'aimer, en ce monde où la chair règne.

Que ma Chair et mon Sang, ma parole et ma voix.


Ne t'ai-je pas aimé jusqu'à la mort moi-même,

Mon frère en mon Père, ô mon fils en l'Esprit,

Et n'ai-je pas souffert, comme c'était écrit ?


N'ai-je pas sangloté ton angoisse suprême

Et n'ai-je pas sué la sueur de tes nuits,

Lamentable ami qui me cherches où je suis ? »


II


J'ai répondu : Seigneur, vous avez dit mon âme.

C'est vrai que je vous cherche et ne vous trouve pas.

Mais vous aimer ! Voyez comme je suis en bas,

Vous dont l'amour toujours monte comme la flamme.


Vous, la source de paix que toute soif réclame,

Hélas ! Voyez un peu mes tristes combats !

Oserai-je adorer la trace de vos pas,

Sur ces genoux saignants d'un rampement infâme ?


Et pourtant je vous cherche en longs tâtonnements,

Je voudrais que votre ombre au moins vêtît ma houle,

Mais vous n'avez pas d'ombre, ô vous dont l'amour monte,


Ô vous, fontaine calme, amère aux seuls amants

De leur damnation, ô vous toute lumière

Sauf aux yeux dont un lourd baiser tient la paupière !


III


- Il faut m'aimer ! Je suis l'universel Baiser,

Je suis cette paupière et je suis cette lèvre

Dont tu parles, ô cher malade, et cette fièvre

Qui t'agite, c'est moi toujours ! il faut oser


M'aimer ! Oui, mon amour monte sans biaiser

Jusqu'où ne grimpe pas ton pauvre amour de chèvre,

Et t'emportera, comme un aigle vole un lièvre,

Vers des serpolets qu'un ciel cher vient arroser.


Ô ma nuit claire ! Ô tes yeux dans mon clair de lune !

Ô ce lit de lumière et d'eau parmi la brune !

Toute celle innocence et tout ce reposoir !


Aime-moi ! Ces deux mots sont mes verbes suprêmes,

Car étant ton Dieu tout-puissant, Je peux vouloir,

Mais je ne veux d'abord que pouvoir que tu m'aimes.


IV


- Seigneur, c'est trop ? Vraiment je n'ose. Aimer qui ? Vous ?

Oh ! non ! Je tremble et n'ose. Oh ! vous aimer je n'ose,

Je ne veux pas ! Je suis indigne. Vous, la Rose

Immense des purs vents de l'Amour, ô Vous, tous


Les cœurs des saints, ô vous qui fûtes le Jaloux

D'Israël, Vous, la chaste abeille qui se pose

Sur la seule fleur d'une innocence mi-close.

Quoi, moi, moi, pouvoir Vous aimer. Êtes-vous fous


Père, Fils, Esprit ? Moi, ce pécheur-ci, ce lâche,

Ce superbe, qui fait le mal comme sa tâche

Et n'a dans tous ses sens, odorat, toucher, goût.


Vue, ouïe, et dans tout son être - hélas ! dans tout

Son espoir et dans tout son remords que l'extase

D'une caresse où le seul vieil Adam s'embrase ?


V


- Il faut m'aimer. Je suis ces Fous que tu nommais,

Je suis l'Adam nouveau qui mange le vieil homme,

Ta Rome, ton Paris, ta Sparte et ta Sodome,

Comme un pauvre rué parmi d'horribles mets.


Mon amour est le feu qui dévore à jamais

Toute chair insensée, et l'évaporé comme

Un parfum, - et c'est le déluge qui consomme

En son Ilot tout mauvais germe que je semais.


Afin qu'un jour la Croix où je meurs fût dressée

Et que par un miracle effrayant de bonté

Je t'eusse un jour à moi, frémissant et dompté.


Aime. Sors de ta nuit. Aime. C'est ma pensée

De toute éternité, pauvre âme délaissée,

Que tu dusses m'aimer, moi seul qui suis resté !


VI


- Seigneur, j'ai peur. Mon âme en moi tressaille toute.

Je vois, je sens qu'il faut vous aimer. Mais comment

Moi, ceci, me ferais-je, ô mon Dieu, votre amant,

Ô Justice que la vertu des bons redoute ?


Oui, comment ? Car voici que s'ébranle la voûte

Où mon cœur creusait son ensevelissement

Et que je sens fluer à moi le firmament,

Et je vous dis : de vous à moi quelle est la route ?


Tendez-moi votre main, que je puisse lever

Cette chair accroupie et cet esprit malade.

Mais recevoir jamais la céleste accolade.


Est-ce possible ? Un jour, pouvoir la retrouver

Dans votre sein, sur votre cœur qui fut le nôtre,

La place où reposa la tête de l'apôtre ?


VII


- Certes, si tu le veux mériter, mon fils, oui,

Et voici. Laisse aller l'ignorance indécise

De ton cœur vers les bras ouverts de mon Église,

Comme la guêpe vole au lis épanoui.


Approche-toi de mon oreille. Épanches-y

L'humiliation d'une brave franchise.

Dis-moi tout sans un mot d'orgueil ou de reprise

Et m'offre le bouquet d'un repentir choisi.


Puis franchement et simplement viens à ma table.

Et je t'y bénirai d'un repas délectable

Auquel l'ange n'aura lui-même qu'assisté,


Et tu boiras le Vin de la vigne immuable,

Dont la force, dont la douceur, dont la bonté

Feront germer ton sang à l'immortalité.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Puis, va ! Garde une foi modeste en ce mystère

D'amour par quoi je suis ta chair et ta raison,

Et surtout reviens très souvent dans ma maison,

Pour y participer au Vin qui désaltère.


Au Pain sans qui la vie est une trahison,

Pour y prier mon Père et supplier ma Mère

Qu'il te soit accordé, dans l'exil de la terre,

D'être l'agneau sans cris qui donne sa toison.


D'être l'enfant vêtu de lin et d'innocence,

D'oublier ton pauvre amour-propre et ton essence,

Enfin, de devenir un peu semblable à moi


Qui fus, durant les jours d'Hérode et de Pilate

Et de Judas et de Pierre, pareil à toi

Pour souffrir et mourir d'une mort scélérate !


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Et pour récompenser ton zèle en ces devoirs

Si doux qu'ils sont encore d'ineffables délices,

Je te ferai goûter sur terre mes prémices,

La paix du cœur, l'amour d'être pauvre, et mes soirs -


Mystiques, quand l'esprit s'ouvre aux calmes espoirs

Et croit boire, suivant ma promesse, au Calice

Éternel, et qu'au ciel pieux la lune glisse,

Et que sonnent les angélus roses et noirs,


En attendant l'assomption dans ma lumière,

L'éveil sans fin dans ma charité coutumière,

La musique de mes louanges à jamais,


Et l'extase perpétuelle et la science.

Et d'être en moi parmi l'aimable irradiance

De tes souffrances, enfin miennes, que j'aimais !


VIII


- Ah ! Seigneur, qu'ai-je ? Hélas ! me voici tout en larmes

D'une joie extraordinaire : votre voix

Me fait comme du bien et du mal à la fois,

Et le mal et le bien, tout a les mêmes charmes.


Je ris, je pleure, et c'est comme un appel aux armes

D'un clairon pour des champs de bataille où je vois

Des anges bleus et blancs portés sur des pavois,

Et ce clairon m'enlève en de fières alarmes.


J'ai l'extase et j'ai la terreur d'être choisi.

Je suis indigne, mais je sais votre clémence.

Ah ! quel effort, mais quelle ardeur ! Et me voici


Plein d'une humble prière, encore qu'un trouble immense

Brouille l'espoir que votre voix me révéla,

Et j'aspire en tremblant.


IX


- Pauvre âme, c'est cela !
 61° 
Daisy
I used to feel so easy to love but maybe
I’m just eager to please
because no one thinks
to love the girl
who looks best
down
on
her
knees.

They step on my knuckles and it’s a compliment
to stand and watch me bleed.
Wrap my hair around
their wrists and smile
fill my mouth
with
their
cursed
seed.

They tell me not to cry, or think, or speak, but I
have been crushed between teeth
and swallowed quickly
more times than not.
Scared to rot,
they
live
off
greed.
 60° 
Colm
Cold coffee settles me
And stirs the morning into dew
In a warm body
 53° 
Ileana Amara
i'm no angel;
sometimes i lick off love
in the edges of a knife.

i'm no angel;
when midnight strikes,
i've got demons awakened inside me.

i'm no angel;
i have vices and flaws and darkness,
a chaos only i, can romanticize.

i'm no angel;
because i realized the violence in love,
the predicament of my demons,
and the chaos in my soul, deeply carved.

IA
02.26.21.| a little too suffocated today in the confines of virtues.
 52° 
Carlo C Gomez
Exiled to dusk,
Fractions of the sun
Begin to lift away,
In concealment
We shudder,
Casting our reels
Into a pond of uncertainty,
Clock hands bend
With advancing shadow,
And speak of time
Only in past tense,
I so want everything
I ever felt for you
Preserved for posterity,
Even should forever
Be far less than
We imagined.
 52° 
deyrah
...
All of a sudden.
I don't feel love for you anymore.
I don't like you anymore.

I don't dislike you.
I don't even feel hate towards you.

I don't feel anything at all.
You became nothing to me.
 51° 
iamgone
i am not a shell of a man
in fact
i'm looking for my shell
not having a body
means not feeling anything
and i find myself
missing the cold
 45° 
Day
The glass shattered on the floor
&
I stared at it

- i threw it on the ground but,
I couldn’t comprehend my purposeful
destruction -

I loved that cup

Why did I break it?

Sadness fills me up -but- like that cup
I can’t contain the content anymore
 43° 
usagi
they said fall in love
he said fall for me
but no one ever told me it came with a fee
 35° 
Kim Denise
It's 11:11
and for the first time
after a very long time
I'm wishing for myself
and not for you
 33° 
Jessica B
You are not the love of my life,
You are the life of my love ❤️
 33° 
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
.
P.s
Strange, the Hellopoetry computer demanded I put two stars on this poem to repost it to the front page... But it was worth it, it’s been on here for over a year now, I appreciate it Elliot.

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
 31° 
gc
i think that the most damaged people in the world
are the kindest
and the softest

because they know
that scabs can be picked
and you can bleed
 29° 
Cam
Splish Splash with Tired arms
Inhale Exhale with Tired breath
Yell and Argue with Tired coach
Whine and Complain with Tired swimmers
Loud Static from a Tired radio
Bubble and Pour from a Tired coffee ***

At the pool,
sound became music, and music
a Tired cane for them to rest their weary limbs
I’m trying to read more so that I can enjoy all of your poems as well:)
 28° 
Honeybee
I’m Not




Help





Me
 27° 
Đaviđ
which
is
stronger?

the
heart
or
the
mind?

we
are
better
served
if
we
love
with
both.
 25° 
Exosphere
if you can’t be with the one you love
take care of the one you’re with
 25° 
starlit ash
you think you're a monster
but you'll never see
your soul how it really is
it's like the sea
if you see this, midnight, yeah it's about you, you know I'm right (:
 23° 
littlebrush
In the deep corners of 3am,
I find her.
 23° 
earthchild
It's easier this way,
I get it.
The temptation is erased,
so have your space.
It's ok.
 23° 
Jeremy Stacy
I’ll just deal with the consequence later
right now I’ll allow my consciousness to waver
serving up a flavor,
that tentatively turns into a vapor
is a remedy I savor
along with the marrying of a melody that influences my behavior
as the intensity of the intended entropy gets greater
Instagram jstpoetry
 23° 
Paul Hobson
Cry
Id cry too,
Cry for me,
Cry for you,
Cry every time you see the color blue.
Cry alone in bed,
Cry each night after the prayers that are said.
Fill a bucket full of tears,
Those aren’t yours anymore,
Give them here.
 22° 
Dahlia
It’s rare to find
people who
genuinely
actually
truly

listen
 22° 
Paras Bajaj
The emptiness in my eyes,
The truth behind my lies,
The fall before my rise,
And the goodbyes;

It scares me.

The dark beneath my skin,
The light within my sins,
The voice that loudly sings,
And my broken wings;

It scares me.

The wounds I can't heal,
The pain I can't feel,
The loss I can't deal,
And when I am real;

It scares me.

The silence in my little talks,
The stillness in my moonlit walks,
The thought of separate ways,
And my numbered days;

It scares me.

The demons under my bed,
The words spinning in my head,
The blood in my sweat,
And my cold breath;

It scares me.

-Paras Bajaj #PoetrybyParas
Instagram : @mr.parasbajaj
 22° 
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
 21° 
Simona
🌑What a day, what a night
What a sun, what a moon
Everyday my heart goes boom

And my body and my mind
Always  try to pull me out
From this feeling, from this sin
Always try to pull me in☀️
 21° 
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.
 21° 
Zack Ripley
I don't know where I began.
I don't know where I'll end.
But I don't need to.
I know where I am right now.
I'm with friends. I'm with you.
And to me, that's a pretty
great place to be.
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