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 611° 
C
I am haunted:
Not by poltergeist,
but by my unlived lives.
Parallel universes
won't ever speak,
they took an oath
to keep from me.
I have words and voices
humming in my head
that will never be met
outside of my bed.
I have to accept
I cannot have it all,
I have to accept
knowing nothing at all.
 594° 
Nat Lipstadt
the remains of the day, of lost chances, opportunities gone astray
and now irretrievably demised, a quiet day, of writing, thinking,
letting emotional waters fall over me, draining away the oils of mischance and in the few minutes before the morrow commences, the eyes tear, and the heart too, for there is so much pain and confusion that cannot be done away...and there are needs unmet...one feels lost by a wayside, at a remote railway station, awaiting a once-a-day train, that is always late...

Accused of being generous, and my guilt at this false accusation, makes me tremble, for what I wish for all of you, is the small and the greatest, both be satisfied, but not by taking, but by giving...my poor clarity pains me, but I compose not knowing the secret chords required to please...but my thoughts are of you, alone, solely, my concerns have fallen to a siding. We are all so far from each other in physical distancing, yet so oft, when you write in poem, in message, in shotgun short comments, you evoke my depths, provoke my raw, unprotected, unmasked emotions to rise up from gorge and abyss...hear your cries, the spoken and the ones between the lines, well hid in the spaces between the words, where the kernels and the residuals of the important things exist.

it is almost 11:59pm, July 8th. it is already tomorrow for many of  you who race ahead of time’s relentless measuring, and for some the evening young, you puzzled at this nearly midnight missive, will wonder what has.overcome me.

pure unadulterated emotional fluids, many flavored, washing away the veneers, the coverings, and wanting to fix things that my intelligence says you cannot, yet the urgency of my desire is so great, that I can barely swallow.

perilous close to revelatory disclosures, I will cease here, seize here, what cannot be spoken of, and to think upon the notion of a successful life, it’s constitution, composition and break off pieces of me, that I can give away to you freely to patch the holes, mend the readings, via the ether of skin comforting even if imaginary.

I am drifting into the tender part of the night, when deceit is pointless, and I argue with conviction with myself that in our lives that it will never be too late, but I know I contradict my prior musing...somewhere between the fact that time is a wasting commodity, precocious and precious, lives this idea within, that there is nothing that cannot be navigated, recompensed, even forgiven...the argument goes on, the tide of battle switching back and forth, and for now I must be satisfied with the meagerness of I can’t give up, be at ease by acknowledging defeat, not just yet, and the fast arrival of a clean slate is a chance, a draw, a ticket to ride, and, reaching is a wonderful idea, full of compromise, extra effort, and tomorrow I may yet reach one of us, by reaching inside of what churns within, and have the perfect words you require, desperate need, come forth easily...
 263° 
DAF
Here's the truth.
I lied.
When I said my car broke down
My vehicle was fine
However I very much was not.
I apologize
It was just easier
To say it couldn't drive
Rather than I had no drive.
Much more relatable
Everyones had to replace a part or two
I wish fixing me were so simple
 250° 
Ursula Wolf
Your soul smells like rose
And made the world around me
Taste like a botanical garden;
 230° 
100 Proof Poetry
I apologize for my being
Such a waste of love to you
 203° 
JDMaraccini
Deep asleep my heart stops beating
why am I here this is a mistake
Lost in darkness my skin is freezing
I fell asleep but did I wake

I do remember a porcelain plate
I held a cup I ate and drank
Hemlock soup with a Death Cap steak
Oleander tea with a Ricin cake
Poisonous dreams betrayal and scheming
Was it dinner that sealed my fate

Looking down I am not breathing
I feel no sorrow if it ends today
I see her face but she's not speaking
as I drift into the dark decay
© JDMaraccini 2020
 193° 
Anna
We fight and we argue,
we scream like cats, and we scratch ourselves just the same,
but when we lay down,
with our voices muffled,
and our eyes aligned,
theres nothing else to fight about,
we know sweet because we know sour.
we know love because we know pain.
 188° 
Anais Vionet
I’ve memories saved for future use
they’re gathering like a storm,
and they’re all mine - fruit on the vine,
I’m prone to dreams and poems.
*Inspired by Michael R. Burch's poem: At the Natchez Trace*
 115° 
Laura
You are predictable,
and reactive.
Calm and turning,
spinning virtues
humming truths.

I am stubborn,
and quiet.
Calm and turning,
twisting morals
chasing truths.

We are dancing,
taking stock of
tense moments
we would once sneer
to every resolution
in plain sight.

We are kissing,
taking stock of
beautiful orchids
we would once sneer
knowing endings
in plain sight.
 113° 
Orli
So this is what jealousy feels like?
Solid in my bones
Burning in my veins
Isn't this is what you wanted?
To feel new kinds of pain?

So this is what connection feels like?
Deep in my heart
Messing up my brain
But this is what I wanted.
I'll forever need the pain.
 111° 
Mary Frances
I look at myself everyday
in the mirror and then realize
I've been given the most beautiful gift
I could ever ask for - my existence;
my chance of life;
my chance of love.
 88° 
Miss Misa
Wide awake
My eyes sting
My head hurts
My mind keeps running
Like its got no place to be
My body lays paralyzed
As i beg from my soul
Please stop thinking
Please, please go to sleep
 69° 
michael cera
a quiet fire split my stomach,

igniting weary weeds where,

you used to comfortably breathe.

made sure your soul was soot,

before you took your leave.
guilt. lots of guilt.
 65° 
Jessica
Footsteps on marble
Sweetly quaking
A quivering in the soul
A rattling song of freedom
The hand of time upon
Upon porcelain features
Fingers fingers
gingerly tracing
a refined jawline
With stuttering accuracy
When red lips meet his
She confidently embraces
This one steady moment
Joining together
It all seems possible
Believing easily
With some naivety
That it lasts
Longer than the touch
Of a nervous clock
And with the last walk
She indulges an earthquake
Across the grayest grayest rocks
love, time, walking, movement, imagery, sound devices, Onomatopoeia
 57° 
LJ
pen
thing is,
most of us here

write,
not to impress
but to express

that's why i love it here.
 56° 
Bek Blanchard
Now there were two of them
Separated between thousands
of read texts and timely
chats touched by sound
but not skin  
Awake in the others sleeping
Sleeping in the others awake  
Restless as they wait
Restless as they wait
 56° 
Jeremy Stacy
We commonly lay in curiosity and think consciously of biology and astronomy, how people get lost in the monotony,
how lives may change with more autonomy,
how to unravel human psychology and use the knowledge responsibly, how to create comradery and use this to increase the velocity
between two people caught in an apology to listen to the other audibly, sometimes the conversation ends in despondency but I’d rather live in truth with you than in dishonesty
She was stuck
in endless cycles
it seemed to her
more harm than good
to be a girl
in this world
 53° 
Deadwood Jawn
-------------------------------------------------------



H́ͨ̆ͪ̉­̴̛̫̥̳̪̘̫͙̟ͪ̈̓ͨ͟ͅE̶̊͒̔̀͛̌͡͏̛͉̦͚͚͔͝ ̵͑̔͗ͥ̉̐͋̈ͥ͒͑̋ͨ̍͂̚͏͕̼̲̫̥̫̮̙͖̤̮͖͓̲͍͍̀̕W̢̹͕̫͇̙̞͇̪̌̋̆̔̃͛͛ͩ͐̊̃ͨ̅ͮ̍͊̈́́̚­͉͕͍̞̱̠ͅͅA̛͆̋ͩ̓͋̓҉̶͙̣̹̥̩̘̪S̡̃ͤ͗̒̐̊͛̍̕͞͏̰͍͖̥̦͎̻̱̪̪̙̭̫͔͚̘̣͉ͅ ̵̉̈́̌̾̿ͪͤ̃̈́͏̡̗̪̦̹̪̟̞̪̗͇̯ͅN̸̢̨̺̱͉͙̝̖̣̻̺̳͔̮̱̜̪͚̠̤̜ͬͮ͐ͤ̋ͪͩ̇̂̀͊̉̏ͦ̏̌ͧ̑­O̵̡̹͓̣͙̘͈̩̳̫̼̖͙͌̂̃̚͘͠Ṭ̢͓̭̦̣̗̩̭̪͉͓ͤͬ̋̎̓̾̔͛͛̔͂̾ͬ̄͊ͦͥ̅͡ ̧ͩͤ̑̿̿̇̚͘͏̢̛̯̬͍̹̳̘͇̥̩̣̩̟̤̺͉A̶̴̬̗͍̥̞̞̩̝̩̣̰̳ͯ̎ͥ̏̃ͮͤ̆̋̏͜͜Lͨ̀̄̏̓̉̋͆̋̇­̸̧͔̼̰̪̱͕̞̺̬̼̘̟̭ͥ͐͒̅͗͠͝͠W̧̖͙̞̪͙͙ͮ̑ͥ͆͛̌̽ͭ͐̌ͩͦ̓́̚̚͘ͅA̰̺̝͙͖̻̹̘̣͌ͨ̾̓͢͜­̬̣̺Y̢͎̹̩̺̦̬͚͉̲͎͓͉̅̄̽̅̎̏̎̌͂̃ͫͭ͞͞S̴̵̨̠̞̖̠̳̖͇̓̇ͧͮͥ͗͑̅̃̾͗͂ͨ͊́̆ͨ͢͢ ͦ͌̌̃̋̒̽͜͏̴̧̪̯̻͙͇̙͈͉̠̠͇̜͈͇͍̣͕̞͢L̵ͪ̊̏̃ͭ̒͊҉҉̞̰̣̥̺͙̣̥̳̠̹̭̘̜̜̙Iͨ̂ͬ̑̿͋͐­̲̗̹͓̠̜͕̞̞̻͙̞͚̼̫̲̞̣̟̃͑̓̃̂͊͛̅̓ͥ̕͜K̅͊ͤ̃̊͂ͮ͊͒̒̎̿҉́͡҉͏̖̯̜̜͔̪̖̟̙̞̺͎̦̖̠E­̶̶̵̪̱̺͍̫͎̣̾̽̂̾̒ͣ̀ͬ̏̐̿ͭ̿͟͡ ̸̧̡̞̠̻̟́̅ͮ̋̕͢T̡̢̼͕̝̠̼̩̜̜͓̠̱̘̜̲̦́͆ͩͨ̈͊ͮ̆̈͑͐̚͜͢͝ͅH̡ͫͧ͛̐ͦ̋ͣ̔̓̾͆͐ͥͯ̚͢­͕͉̤̫̹̟͇̭́I̷̧̨̒ͬ̇ͬ̾̆ͬ̂̌͌͏͍͍͔̖̮̪̖͓̰͎̪Ş̴̰̭̜͓͚̖̯̦͇͓̞̹̼̺͖̐ͪ̐̅͒̚̕͘



­--------------------------------------------------------
He wasn't. Thanks for understanding, Lydia.. Lydia is angry.. Someone's hurt him..
This is Lydia speaking.
 51° 
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!
 47° 
Maria Mitea
Unread my buried poems
in worldly words of mouth
Unread the drops of water
from spilled ink on the ground

The breath of mouth
You unread when covered
with the dying roses
unread the doubts
unread the doubts
unread the doubts
of the mouth

Unread the walls of caves
from tongues of creepy lions
Unread the burning love
when falling on the clouds
In dusty foam unread
Unread the words of mouth
 45° 
Kellin
Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night
  I miss you like hell
 44° 
Pepper Dove
The taste of pennies
in her mouth
As she continues
to bite

Her lips
Her cheeks
and her
Tongue

Holding back
So others
can
Breathe

All the while
she
Bleeds
 42° 
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.
 37° 
River Scott
what if?
what if all this studying
crying
stressing
trying
is for nothing?

what if?
what if i cant do it
i crack in the real thing
i just fall apart
how will i know?

i doubt everything
every little move
every little decision
what if it is not enough?
college is rough and im struggling
 36° 
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
 36° 
toleomato
Perhaps I had lived,
Just as petals
Of a flower
In autumn.
 33° 
sergiodib
King Covid, your domain is so solid
A lot of people are so stupid
A ruthless minority are so avid
Sympathy, they say, is outmoded
Soon this world will be exploded

King Covid your time has eroded
Your instructions have been decoded
A vaccine will soon be deployed
You'll be traced and destroyed
But What is our place in this world?
Is a question WE can no longer avoid.
afterthepeak.eu
 32° 
August
hey.
so, there was this one day, a few years ago.
i think you know which one i'm talking about.

listens for a moment

right! and i tripped-
that hasn't changed, i'm still a klutz-
and you grabbed my hand and dipped me
just the way your mama taught you in second grade
and pretended to kiss me?

listens for a moment. laughs

yeah. that was the day i knew you'd always be around.
so, even though you're leaving now...

sighs

whether or not you want to...

turns around, paces for a moment

i know you're not really leaving.
because you're still...

listens, rolls eyes

yeah, i know it's corny, but it's true.
you're still right here.

taps chest, right over heart

you can't leave that.
 31° 
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
..
 27° 
Puck
A toast to life
Sad and confusing but beautiful at last
 27° 
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° 
v
frozen to death
its all i can see
smoke in the ear calls to my feens
Im here and Im there
making it hard to breathe
back and forth
falling up but always jumping back down

why or what can make this be seen.
a thousand apologies more will not
make spoken words unheard
 25° 
Beulin S S
Beautiful days...

When I believed the moon

is following me;

When I believed trees can move

Fast with the train...

When I believed swallowed seeds

will grow as plants in my stomach;

When I believed all super heroes

On the screen were real;

When my mom fed me

   with the beautiful stories...

My childhood colours sprinkles

  Smile on my face with my memories.
Normal life of a child yet beautiful.
 24° 
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
 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.
 23° 
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
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