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the sun lost
wait tomorrow
the night comes with slowly steps
like a guard to torture
Life is an
Chelsea Rae
You make Tomorrow sound so beautiful baby.

The way that the false promises
Fall right off your tongue
So gracefully
Like silver waters.

I love the ways we're always waiting,

Waiting on Tomorrow.
Procrastination with a lil bit of doubt and fearuxed in and voila! You have a life unlived.
Anne M
Sixty years and I’ve never been here
on top of this hill.
Well, welcome.
Thank you. It’s beautiful.
It really is.

[To meet a modern flâneur is to be graced by the day and the path and chance, if you believe in that.]

I’ve been to the lake many times, but I’ve never made the journey up. Why bother?
San Francisco has some beautiful places, he says, and I’ve been to many of them—even out to the airport—because I like to walk.
But I’ve never been up here before.
And it’s wonderful.

[In appreciation, he pats his khaki knees, thumbs the straps of his well-used pack, and grins.]

I’ll let you get back to your day now.
even eve, wise and
pure as she was
saw the beauty in lies

then, would you have
also dared to explore
the great unknown,

to conquer the beauties
and untangle the secrets
that laid beyond eden?
been a while since i've written anything
Tessa Tyler
Laying here staring at the stars.
I wonder if  your staring at them too.
My heart was so full love.  
When you were near.
Lieing to myself.
You will come back.
Everything will be OK.
Our lives will turn back to normal.
Tears falling from my face.
Feeling so
broken  hearted.
Not understanding why you left.
Heart breaking once more
knowing that your gone.
Unanswered questions,
I know I will never get the answers to.
What did I do wrong
to deserve any of this?
Tastefully decrepit
Oozing canvas oil
Shows the very pain he’s in
The anguish and the toil
A dangerous disaster
The outside caving in
An unbearable demeanor
Contorting chest to chin
A devastated skeleton
Of a man who’s done his share
Undeniably deniable
And completely in despair
guy scutellaro
...the meadow and the puddle
you wouldn't come out of

wild and simple joy

invisable to eyes, now...

I wander the meadow grass

the fields where the flowers glow
in early morning

the fields you
only dream of
where your soul is always free...

and you come running

spectral through the mist

I walk lonely fields
Her eyes were fiery
While her lips peeled away
Her sun was setting
But her colors never fade
When she bites she is bitter
But when she smiles she is sweet
Like a nectarine emblem
She’s the fruit of life’s tree.
David Lessard
I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)
Lalaouna Amina
If He ever asks:
I would say:
It's just that you
while I only
I'm not meant to Explain.
instead of
He asked her what it's like living with anxiety.

She smiled sadly, "It's a never-ending pulse-race. Like knowing you don't want to jump off a cliff but not being able to talk yourself down from it.

Your fears take on a nebulous, unidentifiable form that tightens around your throat and incapacitates you.

There is no calm. No peace. Only the edge of a very strained thread."
Brain, brain go away
Don't want to listen one more day
Already lonely and afraid
Feel insecure and full of shame

Brain, brain don't act this way
You're always angry; Filled with hate
You know we're joined; Can't separate
Yourself your punching in the face

Brain, brain what can I say
To make it so you see things straight
Don't know how much more I can take
Of constant warring and debate

Brain, brain it's getting late
This journey's not some endless race
Life's flying by and at this pace
Forget a win; Not gonna place

Brain, brain let's medicate
I'll feed you drugs and we'll sedate
The only way to mitigate
Discrepancies we generate

Brain, brain we sadly waste
This outcome feels like it was fate
But never was there a sealed date
Fulfilling what we self-create

Brain, brain so much we faced
Success so close could almost taste
Instead our tail we always chased
We'll die alone sad and disgraced
Written: March 6, 2019

All rights reserved.
[Iambic Tetrameter format]
And with a sincere smile,
she looked to the stars
knowing the future was worthwhile,
even, with a thousand scars.
It hurt her so badly
Yet, it didn't stop her
from moving forward
I woke up from a nightmare
I could not stand to keep
to myself

you were stretched across the couch
coffee going cold on the table
a half finished cigarette
still burning

you wrapped me up
in kind words that
I could not bare
to hear

whispered into my ear
"one day we will go wandering
and this tiny house will overspill
with dreams'

you are not your memories, darling
you are not the bad things
that have been done to you
you are a fierce flame
that warms my heart

forget them, my love
they are nothing
and you, and you
are everything
Zoe Mae
Blonde in a red Corvette, free as a bird
Me, just a child, staring at her
Remember thinking that's where I'm gonna be
In a red Corvette, at 33
No kids, no baggage, not even a dog
Stomp on the gas, and simply take off
No limits, no signs, just a juicy sunset
The wind in my hair, not an ounce of regret
She never saw me, but I'll never forget
The phoenix who flew past me, in a red Corvette
I wonder if I really am kind hearted.
Most people think it’s true,
But maybe I’m just afraid of being mean-
Maybe I’m afraid of being you.
Anais Vionet
I use make-believe
overwriting memory
to bring me some peace

The fiction I’ve weaved
you’re at the store - you wouldn’t leave
is a fools relief

So I take mine neat
sweet ****** of self-deceit
my strange trick or treat
a play, in 3 Senryus
They said,
"The most beautiful art is
looking into someone's eyes
when they talk about the
things they love.
And I said,
"Or looking at someone you love.
Or maybe, just maybe,
by looking at the mirror
is the most beautiful art
anyone should appreciate."
Appreciation post for myself; for you and for everyone as well. You deserve more than the world has to offer.
Where ever the water lead I go … trickle trickle, trickle no longer ice
no longer thick and sturdy
and willing to carry anything
light and fluid I rest
to nourish what’s around wherever I go
no one loves me
but they claim they care
if they really did wouldn't they see

i am falling apart
fragile to the touch
yet they keep on pushing me

closer to the edge
and they think i can take more
so they push farther till i'm at the brink

it's like they know i can't swim
but they are going overboard
and they'll be suprised when i sink
She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."
What's the difference?
a natural painting is what i see
of flowers and fresh grass nearby
a cloudy blue sky so breathtaking
it always leaves me with a sigh

no artist can paint so well and true
like mother nature does it right here
trees even give way to her sculpture game
and let precious splendor come near

painted with love, so velvety soft
just like fragile life mostly can be
look and appreciate what nature offers you
as she whispers “please come closer to me“
This afternoon I put
of my worries to
and awoke feeling fully
Dr Peter Lim
I was there

here I am now

nothing has changed

no 'somehow'

but the heart's purity

to which I bow

love draws us closer

l'll never let you down
Carlo C Gomez
Money may not
grow on trees
But far too many people
are willing to go
out on a limb for it
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.
Make it to tomorrow
Hit the sheets
Make this the last paper
I speak
They yell
My mom says get too bed
But my head is lead
Onto belief on what’s fed
The loose leaf
I hit the sheets
Make this the last paper
I speak
They yell
My mom says use your head
But my gun is filled with lead
Into the streets with speed
The strong grip
Hit the safety
Make this trigger pulled
The last paper
I speak
They yell
Bedded in hell
Make it to tomorrow
I better be reel
A dry leaf fall..
The wind blew it away...
So far, it flies..
Carrying wounds that she holds...
Leaving the twig in silence...
May God always protect all human on earth
your eyes are full of galaxies and i just want to sit and stargaze until i discover every last one.
lights flicker
in the distance
far far below

I’m here
looking down on it all
wrapped in a blanket
a book lies next to me
pages flipping themselves
in the cool summer breeze
inside are the sounds of life
outside are the sounds
of the questioning
the air is filled
with random notes
fluttering around me
like guardian angels
I know why they’re here

sat down
next to me
to keep me company
we look at the flickering lights
in the distance
he tells me
you’d do fine down there
if you wanted to
be a light
surrounded by light
but then he shifts his gaze
the moonlight
dancing through his being
but you’d do great
up there
be a light
where no one has dared to be
and with that
he left
your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about

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
The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.
A little escape from the madness.
Or maybe, into.
we do not write poetry
we write mirrors
which are held up
to curious faces
who read
looking for their
own reflections
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

No matter who you are
You have my deepest respect!

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
Hansel Reyes
Can't stop thinking about the dead end in this fun roadtrip.
Francie Lynch
A once dear friend
And I met up;
Twenty years since we spoke,
And neither one could talk.
We left each other's company
On terms of disagreement.
The ice was thick;
The air was clouded;
We stood beneath the shade.
The mountain didn't fall;
The earth didn't swallow;
The roof stayed on.
Nothing cracked our uncertainty.
Then we misquoted some old
Misunderstood memories
Of why we went our ways.
We felt the same.
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