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 653° 
Nat Lipstadt
poems are cheap they say, the supply exceeds the demand,
all are product of criminal mischief, and Lord, I know,
I’m chiefly one of the most theiving mischievous ones

when no one was about, I scribbled many notes,
transplanted from my eyes, for a bottled voyage
to fallow beaches for sandy seeding

no matter IF these poems are from your womb ripped,
****** red concoctions of life’s cute cutting edge inscriptions,
no one cares re your titanic love’s labors, your children’s betrayal

no one cares from whence and wherefore they birthed,
all words, low class and progeny, not prodigy of demeaning circumstances, best tossed back without much foolish hesitation

writ with pen tip of broken green glass of a parking lot,
the point of which is I broke before my commencement,
inked from a wicked witch’s melted green spittle pooling along side

poets of no way, falsely prophesying falsehoods most singularly bad,
waste not-want not, time better spent than reading rhymes of stolen disrepute and cloudy ownership and ignoble authorship

unless you among a blessed few, who see a full blown poem in glassine clarity, birthed fully formed Elton songs in a mouth full of amniotic fund, you, put down thy laboring eleven instruments

if words you claim of new parentage, you the mother dear,
know there is nothing new under the sun, even these same words,
scripted by Israelite king whose tomb gone, he, too, poet forgotten

join me in a needle park of junkies who tried and failed, nickel bag
smoking budget dope words, in cigarettes of mostly discarded seeds and twigs, hallucinatory inhaling the same vision again & again

you refuse, of course, glamming in notional newness, an arrogance,
a yet plentiful commodity of wood be writers by the thousands
buried in wooden caskets, under wooden inscription-less crosses

and of the trillion readers possible, to coloring picture books and instant grams, all have gone to the labor-free glancing look-see
of a seconds short lengthy meme, 10 second videos, 140 limitations

of the greatest, of Shakespeare and Coleridge, reader’s fast-dying, sunburned neurons reply; “free ***** of his Love’s Labour’s Lost, and the Ancient Mariner, overdue, free him too!”

ancients mock you aware there be no verbal combination yet to foretell, what Lear said, that’s the the idea, “When we are born, we cry,that we are come to this great stage of fools.”^

fools we are, for there be no fore, the tale already told, once before & more, vaingloriously does this poet’s false vanity speak, so, so boisterously,
  
“why my tale, why my tail, is as new as the oldest fossil”
^ King Lear, Shakespeare
 369° 
n oa
you keep me awake,
i feel you in my veins.
 291° 
Mathew Kohnen
I am very afraid to face tomorrow.
I am very afraid I won't face tomorrow.
 249° 
Matt Shaw
The slightest touches give way to the deepest swells,
Flooding out the fractured hells
In so many minds
Across the world
Like rock and roll could save your life.

Incessant strife, take this knife
And cut yourself loose in the open air
And feel the thrill
Of winds of fate
A note I found by heaven's gate:

The moment's yours
So treat it well
Ring that old and broken bell
If here you're found
Then there you stand
Coursing blood inside your hands
 240° 
Salmabanu Hatim
His  fault,
Her fault,
Their fault,
Our fault,
It's fault,
You are interested in other's faults,
What about yours.
24/6/2019
 240° 
Samantha Cunha
Only witness of that night
is the empty void within
& the stars in the sky
They glitter & gleam
hopeful
I carry on
Even when
It all went wrong
 219° 
Ed Howard
There is fire in her eyes
It keeps burning me
 215° 
Joyce Joadiyce
Something of the moons
Travels the stars
Comes to out there
 186° 
Donna
Hmm I've only got a
few likes today hmm maybe
my writings not good

Why am I even
writing what's it's all about
What's the point , I only feel

anxious now , deep breaths
Now I feel silly why did
I write that , oh jeez

heart beating feel sick!!
Then my self doubt passes and
I'm back to lovely

place again! Self doubt
sure can grip me making me
feel really down! But you

see writing helps dig
through negativity , am
I a poet or not

Maybe , I'm not sure
But I'm much more too , I'm a
wife a mum a sister

a friend. I've wrote my
heart out for five years now non
stop to be honest

But now I'm in such
a lovely place of content
I'm living happy

Of course I still get
life stresses hit me and yeah
I get negative

But one thing I can
always rely on is my
passion for writing

It helps mentally
to keep me strong and focus
May it come from my

heart or mind or once
in awhile I like to write
stories , fun fun fun :)

I'm slowing down now
Gone and got myself married :)))
Tis so wonderful

Children are growing
up fast , there leading there own
life's more every day

So I'm finding new
hobbies to keep me active
Life changes happen

But to write , will be  
in me always , tis part of me
it's just there always

So to all who love to
write have fun dry those tears up
Find your happy place :))
Have a lovely week ahead :)) love to u all xxxx
 137° 
declan morrow
i'll feel autumn's cool rush
in the park
on a sunday,
with you by my side,
your arm curled 'round
the sleeve of my leather jacket.

and sunlight
will soften
your face;

together we'll walk,
retracing our steps:
it's a dream i chase.
 132° 
Anne
keep your eyes closed love.

           e     t      
       m           i
    o                 m
s                        e  
                            s     all you have to
                                                                ­
                                                                ­ l                  is to what the sound
                                                           ­      i            n
                                                  ­                s           e
                                                               ­          t

                                                              ­                               v
                                                               ­                         a        e
                             ­                                          of the  w               s
                                                               ­                                       
                         ­                                                                 ­            tells  you
                                                                ­                                        to do.
"keep your eyes closed love. sometimes all you have to listen is to what the sound of the waves tells you to do"

When I was much younger, beaches were my second favorite places. I still love watching waves as they go by, crashing against each other and the whole process repeating all over again.
 132° 
Terry Collett
Klint was with me
in the boy's playground,
taking about tanks of WW2;
his father had been
in the tank regiment,
and told his son
all the tall tales.

I saw Lizbeth
over in the girl's playground,
a red-head with long hair,
and she was with
some other girl
chatting away.

He said the Germans
had a fantastic tank,
and went on to describe
its qualities.

I watched
as she walked along,
her hips swaying.

Then he talked
about the big tank battle
between the Russians
and Germans;
how many tanks involved.

Through the wire fence
I saw her pause
and look my way.

She waved,
and behind Klint's back,
I waved back at her.

He named generals
on both sides.

She walked away,
and caused in me
a minor inner stir.
Boys and girls in school 1961
 131° 
Jayn Doe
Sirens in the distance
like memories
traveling
near then far-

like you.

Distance keeps comfort-
letting the gap between us
grow and wane
like the tides being pulled by the moon.

We are the static
of a TV that's been on for too long.
Never finding signal;
never really connecting.

Just flashes on repeat of a movie that use to be us smiling and laughing,
but now we are just the white noise in between.

The sirens return…
Singing me to sleep like witches of the sea
luring me home;
using safety as a blanket,
but ultimately leaving me to drown.
 117° 
Madison
Don't love me if you don't
expect to be let down and for
the love of god, don't trust
me with your heart.
 109° 
Penguin Poems
If want was water,
I would be drowning, my head under completely
and my oxygen quickly depleting.
If confusion was cold,
My fingers would be numb and I wouldn't even
have a coat to ward off the freezing.
If youth was you,
It would be slipping away by the second,
And I can't get a hold to stop it.
Now,
my air is gone,
I'm shivering to the bone,
and can't keep a hold on.
But, this is only a poem:
I know I'm not suffocating, subzero, or slipping.
But I can't help but feel like the more I write,
the farther I get from reality
and the closer I get to metaphor mortality.
 102° 
Lovely
You know
You’re in trouble
When the silence
In a room
Is louder
Than the static
 96° 
Mira
Love
Either inspires the person
Or
Destroys the person completely
 92° 
Michael Matthews
If you didn't know
you are the warmth in my heart
If you didn't know
you are the breath in my lungs
If you didn't know
your the light in my eyes
If you didn't know
you give me a reason to live
If you didn't know
You are my heart, my soul, my everything

Written by
Michael Matthews
 85° 
sarah
late at night, i lie awake
thinking of things i should have said
all the mistakes i've made
and signs i should've read

then think about what i can't live without
you, front and center in my mind
sometimes it feels like halfway love
almost, but not quite

still, parts of you make me whole
who i am and who i need to be
i think of love letters that weren't torn up
feelings of blue and green

when i'm without you
blank page, artless innocence
i realize how dependent i've grown to you
and feel the need to create a distance

sometimes i look up at the purple sky
and wonder if you're looking too
i gaze at the colors and the beauty of it all
though its beauty would never compare to you
 77° 
Ceyhun Mahi
I want to fly into the skies,
like nightingales
and rest on roses
with my tender being.
Now my mind lies
on each leaf,
like shadows do in the summer.

If I could only tell
all my worries to myself,
because I am chained to tiredness,
and so cannot talk,
let alone sing about them.
All hell break lose
One thing in life
You never go after someone
Kids.
Because are kids
Once’s there gone
You cannot bring it back
You **** a living human being
From me.
That’s my babies
Game on
 63° 
putiira
There's a path of verses
that I designed for you
I shake the sky
When I write for you,

A kiss? I've kissed you
in each verse that
You inspire me,
in each smile when
we cross each other,
When you surround my soul
with Feeling
whisper my love in my ear
My soul shivers under
The sun of dawn
 61° 
Blckstr
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 too *******.
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.
 60° 
Xaela San
I'm not "smart" like them.

I'm not "bright" as them.

I'm not "confident" like them.

I'm not "beautiful" as them.

I'm not "someone" like them.

Can you just accept that?

I don't like crying myself anymore

-Said myself in the mirror.
Mirror, mirror on the wall
 55° 
Driah
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Sugar is sweet
And so are you

But the roses are wilted
The violets are dead
The sugar bowl is empty
And my wrists are stained red
AND BEHOLD!! A thing
 51° 
Phosphenes
Is smiling
there in the corner
At me-
For putting myself
in hell
without his help.
 51° 
elaine
my grip is slipping,
and falling scares me.
my world is fading away.
h      
          e
                     l
                             p
       m
                 e

h
          e
                    l
                          ­     p
          m
                     e

writing was an escape but even now words slip off the paper like tear drops.
why does it have to be like this?
 51° 
rose
...
I had coffee and a cigarette for breakfast
So yeah I'm doing fine
I've become good at taking weight off of other peoples shoulders
and
Searching for happiness in everything
:)
 46° 
Kate Copeland
Reading relevant literature
Watching film house films
AKA the accepted stuff
Not middle-of-road
Of course not
Giving you a certain mastery
Able to get ahead in life
Also because of her
following the actresses' moves
Gestures so delicate she almost believes
She is her
Leading the life
Even if that means forgetting
she is so
pretty her own legend
so smart
in her own universe
But fame and fortune might be more
interesting to display instead of
your own star your own histories
in that same universe

Even so

Putting on a lot of make up
Putting on a lot of layers
Going out does not always
brings out the best
Sitting top deck and heading into
town alone and
wondering if he would see her
and not just all she'd put on as a
gathering of all
she read memorised studied copied
considering her universe.
 45° 
Atoosa
Have you imagined in your turquoise dreams majestic mountains and seaside scenes? Then go West my friend and come to me in endless summer, savoring fruits of joy in sun warmed shimmer....
https://www.instagram.com/doctoratoosa/p/ByoOlyllTDZ/?igshid=121mo8uwa05ob
 44° 
Hg
wri
ting is
threading
your           life
thro             ugh
a ne           edle
and         if
you sew
secrets
you'll
get
po
ke
d
a
l
i
t
t
l
e
.
©Hg
 42° 
Ariana Bagley
I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.
 42° 
Tyler Atherton
My Teenage years;
Teenage years with people saying 'sit down and shut up'
Teenage years with no one caring
Teenage years with physical abuse
Teenage years with razor blades
Teenage years with no mother
Teenage years with bottles of pills
Teenage years with ****** assualt
Teenage years with suicide attempts
Teenage years with no reason to live
Teenage years spent pining for what was lost.



© Copyright Tyler Atherton
 41° 
Heavy Hearted
An outlet of articulates, is this solemn, surreal site.
Many minds, and many more, shall glow beneath its light.
Yet sadly for myself I've found, the holes within it all,
and now no longer does my heart, answer to its call.

Goodbye poetry, and thank you always; you deserve all you achieve-

Thank you for giving us a place
to share what we believe.

I will say hello to you, and glow with all again someday,
But for now I say goodbye- as I go on my own way.
brb
all my life
i've been preparing faces
to meet the faces that
i've met

friends
family
the man who delivers newspapers
at our doorstep each morning

i've laughed at their silly jokes
as they tossed their heads from side to side
in naive stupidity and their sheer ignorance
a pompous lot, the human race i tell you

i've acknowledged their staunch morals
and tried to make them my own
as they scorned at the girl in a skimpy dress
and chewed on mutton bones gluttonously

all my life, i've been trying hard
to blend in
with people who've shown me
that i don't belong with them

and tonight when i shed gallons of tears
i have only my bed and pillow to share
i've learnt that my sadness
is my very own
just a sad girl writing to survive
 34° 
Anonymous Freak
Something inside of me
Caught fire
And now I can’t breathe
 33° 
Katinka
You
the one with messy brown hair
brown eyes
with you birthmark over the left side of your face.
You who left me crying.
You who made me believe in love for the first time.
You who stole my first kiss
first time
first.

You
with your straight blonde hair
blue eyes
and that stupid smirk
You who left me broken
You who showed me a new way of living
You who left me being second choice
second best
second.

You
with your dark blonde hair
hazel eyes
you with your beautiful hands
You who left me angry
You who showed me a different way of love
You who went with me on my third concert
third love
third.

You
with your curly brown hair
hazel eyes
with your cute braces you never liked
You who left me questioning
You who showed how hard love can be
You who decided I wasn´t worth it
You never happend
We never did.

I
with wavy dark brown hair
hazel eyes
with freckels on my face

I who loved everyone of you
but still couldnt forget you,
number two

I who loved everyone of you
but you left me wanting more,
number four

I who loved everyone of you
was being loved.
but not anymore.
Usally I write my poems on paper first, and then I will reread them and think about them, may make some changes and then upload them here. But in this very second I am just so full of emotion that I want to write and I want it to be honest so no rereading or correcting. Just me.
 33° 
Kora Sani
i anchor
myself
to the back
of your mind
you wish
me away
but here
i still linger
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