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I watch you from your corner of the party
Everything is moving around you
(Drinks are spilling, people are dancing, laughter is swirling)
Yet you sit perfectly still

You let your blue gaze fall to the ground
Where your feet are tapping so softly
Against the yellow-stained dorm room tile

There you are,
Whispering song lyrics under your breath
Rolling off your tongue
Dripping from your lips
I can't help but become hypnotized
You think no one is watching but
I could watch your lips move all night long
You look so concentrated
Driving me wild every time you bite down
Ever so gently
Every time the letter "v" arises

Sing me a song, pretty boy
I want to get lost in your words
Let me slip into a trans
I want to fall so hard it hurts
I am a poet;
that is to say
I am an artist;
that is to say
I can create any color
with only black ink;
that is to say
I'm different in how I think;
that is to say
my heart is my mind;
that is to say
my logic controls me,
for better or worse;
that is to say
it's often a curse.
I take all my follies
and write them in verse.
I open the cage to my pain
and free it.
I choose words carefully
to make you feel it,
and see it.
That is to say
I sculpt it from raw;
that is to say
I am an artist;
that is to say
I am a poet.
Its not at all poem
i wanna know how to make texts
Of varying style fonts here
Thanks in advance
Block issue resolved.
So i made this sound like haiku
Don’t wanna cry anymore, don’t wanna die anymore
I look up in the sky & don’t wanna fly anymore
I’m tryna be everyone’s hero but I’m the one that needs saving
On the verge of falling apart, i can feel my heart breaking
Many see me as their savior but I’m far from it
They show me this angel in me & i struggle trying to become it
Using poetry as a key to bring light to the pain hidden in darkness
And the power to heal the wounds of the hearts used as targets

I don’t wanna die anymore, don’t wanna cry anymore
I look up in the sky & don’t wanna fly anymore
If i walk away now, who’s life would i jeopardize
Seeing an inspiration give it all up to watch his soul fly
Save me from the tears, save me from the scars
Save me from the misery that leaves me resting with the stars

I don’t wanna die anymore, don’t wanna cry anymore
I look up in the sky & don’t wanna fly anymore
This is my purpose so i can’t give up what’s kept me alive
Can’t pretend to be happy with the obvious pain i try to hide
I don’t wanna die anymore, don’t wanna cry anymore
I look up in the sky & don’t wanna fly anymore

- Poetic Venom
Jolan Lade
Im sorry.

Im sorry, that im not what you expected of me.
Im sorry, that you are stuck with me and me with you.
Im sorry, that Im not the bear to fight the fear, or there to wipe the tear.
Im sorry, Im the needle on the neck and the riddle in the head.
Im sorry, Im the beer to bring up the tear.
Im sorry, Im the frame to capture the shame.

But you are the light, that just shine too bright, that just might, make me pick another fight.
I desverve to bleed , but forgive me please.
what a strange sight to see,
sunlight streaming through windows;
the gentle touch of fiery radiance,
falling on silver pillars and plastic handles
draping over broken plastic seats
with the same ceremony and caress
inside a bus as it would in a chapel  

on this quiet journey homeward,
I have found peace
apologies for not being active lately, I started a full time job after school ended that's been really tiring. the inspiration for this poem came to me on the bus ride home, watching the world go by.
Diego Morales
A single life so worthless, that poor fly,
Sooner than its timely moment to die,
As commanded by my unnerving will,
Its incompetent life I chose to kill.

Put more simply, for disturbing my peace,
Its feeble and destitute life I ceased.
Yet my bloodstained hands always remained clean,
Once crimeful killing had become routine.

What almighty and sinful God am I
For unsparingly judging who must die
By my sword, without remorse or regret,
The slaughtered fly under my gavel, I forget.

An evil power from no source or spring
Springs power in me like a maddened King.
A poem portraying the inhuman and the inhumane,
Srijani Sarkar
I think
as artists
we owe a lot to pain.

Put on
a robe of thorns
and write

about the nice weather outside
and that delicious burger
you had today.

Write about happiness
when you're in pain-
A greeting with no words spoken.
My longed-for thunderstruck moment.
The question that doesn’t need asking,
Where to go, where to go?

A passion that sends me reeling.
Too scared to love, but too scared to leave.
The look that leaves me knowing,
Where to go, where to go.
Running from the
chipped paint and
peeling wallpaper.
The exposure.
The naked vulnerability.
Chasing dreams
that scare me
only to find grounding
in fear.

The dripping faucet
was acid on my skin
in streams down my face.
A feeling of warmth
that burned.
A sudden change.
Please, not again.

The ceiling caves in —

I can never show anything
but the reflection of a life
that is broken.
No matter how the claws
shred me
from underneath my
own skin…

Trapped in escape.
who knows what this pile of shit is -- it just happens sometimes
in this raw
and simple
i set forth
the notion
our children
need us
and upcoming
we will see
a parade
of some of our
smartest, most
and sweetest
youth marching
united, shoots of
grass roots
who know shots
from assault
i feel
called upon
to pause
at a moment
in time such as this,
challenge myself
to consider
simply the logistics
involved in safely
delivering home
to the nation's
Capitol our most
statistic: our babies
under 18
setting forth
across our aging
bridges and highways
and on airplanes
and charter
buses, away from
their studies, dates
and fun times.
i am ashamed
it has gotten
to this stage

in this raw
and simple
space, i wonder
why i write where
the majority
of us
wander off
from poems about
the most egregious
in our world.
i know politics
is a hot-button
issue and i fall prey
to self-absorption,
but not today.
not this time

this poem
is for the kids.
they're sick
of being shot at.
they're sick
of this shit.
within your soul,
can you feel
how frighteningly
creepy this

Saturday, March 24.
March For Our Lives,
a name picked
by our babies,
Be the change you want to see
Try not to judge, let others be
The rain will stop, the storm shall pass
Pleasure is pleasing and love can last

Set up for sorrow, it's hard to see
Open your eyes, switch off your tv
Put down the remote and venture outside
Get out in to nature where healing resides

Turn off your phone, log off the net
You'll be surprised with the solace you get
Write a poem, cook a nice meal
Declare your love, see how it feels

Put away the plastic, stop doing your hair
Go back to basics, even though it's rare
Laugh at your troubles, hug it out
Why are you frowning, what's that all about
A sign of the times, the information age
Escape from the trap, break out of your cage

Tell me now, how do you feel
Please keep it up, do we have a deal
Memories last but gadgets do not
Live your life fully, run from the rot
We're almost touching.
we were walking side by side,
you're talking about cabs in your hometown.
I can feel the gravity of your hand, calling my fingers
whispering "it's alright."

We're touching but not quite.
you held my shoulder to protect me from the passing cars.
and for the first time in a long while, I felt so fragile.
In this world where I find it hard even to breathe,
you believed me.

I almost said it.
All I need is one ounce of strength to tell you every single thing that I have ever felt about you.

I want to find home in your collarbones.
Would you be kind enough to let a stranger in?
I want to seep in your being because I'm cold.
The world is harsh and my cracks are aching.

Please don't ever become a stranger,
whose laugh I can recognize anywhere.
Mx Malady
As it becomes young Spring again, I cry
I'm addicted to the swell of storms
I'm addicted to the change of heart
I get when I feel the heat sweep in
She condemns my depression
She sentences the Winter to die

Spring inflates my lungs with her sacred breath
I'll owe her for her providence and her ecstasy
Autumn always comes to see the work undone
I'll suffer the fall for the audacity to fly
But for now,
I'm fine
i want to get high in foreign cities
travel to places i have yet to lay my eyes on
pack a bag and take off, my only motive to feel free
i want to kiss lovers on pavement my toes have never touched
beneath trees rooted with legends in their leaves
ensuring everlasting love
and i want to feel light, rather than weighed down
anchored to one small town
i want to drop everything and get away
to places where time is altered
and the stars are always present
whether it be in the night sky or people's eyes
i want to fall in love with strangers, cities, and scenes
i crave so deeply to feel free
to start anew

but at the same time
i want you to come too

Today  been born mine Universe...,
come  for be measured by me,
hence never existed and not will
for be measured to a large extent,

Good cake for ever my brother Friedrich,
blow the universe candles because today you are reborn...

The Zimmer Tower lodge your Holderlin Tower,
that even i feel walking inside Me...
cloistered poet  http://www.friedrichhoelderlin.com/
No one can know your pain
Not nearly as well as yourself
But the rope won't take it away
It just gives it to someone else
Verlie Burroughs
There is no comfort
in love without
There is less comfort
in truth without
©2011 Verlie Burroughs
If I die today,
Would tears flow,
like a rushing river?
Or the clouds weep,
screaming in thunder?
Would the earth break,
shaking in anger?
Will the world care?
And for a moment,
forget laughter?

If I'm down
to my final heartbeat.
Will anyone be there,
sitting beside me?
When I draw,
the very last breath.
Will you hold my hand,
and feel upset?

If I go,
without saying goodbye.
I want you to know,
that I really tried.
To live and love,
to endure and smile.
To find the truth,
in this realm of lies.

If I'm fated
of leaving soon
to talk with God,
in his glowing room.
I'll be rejoicing,
when I face my doom.
Even I end like a flower,
that withered,
before it blooms.

If inside the casket I lay,
Would there any heaven for me to stay?
Or will my sins, demand me to pay?
Don't even know, how much this life has weighed.

If it's my time, to step on the scale.
Done of my part, in this play.
A lot of regrets,
but nothing more to say.
Wish me luck.
If I die today.
This is not a love poem
this is an I love you do you love me like
I love you poem
do you know me like
you think you do poem
this is a would you be disappointed
if you did poem
an I have been feeling the chilling of the air
and I cant tell if it is just the fault of the season
or if you, too, are cooling
whatever heat you had for me
browning and falling and
crumbling between my fingers
like the leaves of these oak trees
in november poem
a what would I need to do to keep us warm poem
and this is also
an I may be completely mistaken poem
an it was seventy degrees today poem
this is a show me I am completely mistaken poem
Tiana Marie
She was like music,
and I longed to dance.

Her heart was the beat,
and I begged for the chance.

Her words were the vocals,
and I was put in a trance.

Her smile was the melody,
and I fell in love at first glance.
I am a ghost.
For I exist but do not live.
We take these bodies as if some host,
That is not us; or even close.

I continue on moving through the waves of contempt, battering against my soul like waves against some ancient ship.

But this old vessel is coming close to a breach, and what it needs is to find a beach. The rough waters of life are tearing it apart, turning brilliant blue to as black as my heart.

Poisoning every drop that washes against the body of a man who cannot ever win. If he does nothing he will surely drown, but any effort will also bring those around down.

So this ghost haunts the vessel, and at least for a time, he watches the world slowly fade to black; as he exists in a life upon which he turned his back.
Samantha Nguyen
What makes a good leader? I was asked.
I answered—
“A good leader needs to have honesty and trust.
“They must always be prepared and their decisions are just.”

My friend told me that bravery and persistence built up my personality.
She said, Ellie, you always hear people out and are open to their ideas and you’re always ready to start.
Your emotions are stable and your words are so moving, they burn down the cities inside of our hearts.

Those words boosted my poise and morale.
Great leaders need to know what they are doing,
but I’m Ellie Irianto—
I know what I know and I’m here to be your friend and not your foe.
-Samantha Nguyen
Published on hellopoetry.com
Printed in the USA.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form without the written permission of the publisher.
Ciel Noir
We are such            clever creatures to divide
Most everything             into its different sides
With chaos versus             order, dark and light
The stark duality of         wrong and right
We even split the very        world in two
With human versus human,       we and you
But still no matter how much      we divide
Each thing has infinitely many      sides
Your naked body
Pressed on mine
We kissed

I thought that
I should feel

Thrill, euphoria
Lust, love
Or bliss

But no
I felt
And I'm very sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me.  You are everything I have ever wanted, but for some reason touching you leaves me blank.  I feel nothing.  And I am sorry.
I met a lady in red with glasses on
She sits near the heavy stone
as i enter the room
she smiles and waved her hand
JJsbdksndkkdmxmjshJustletmediemmmkbhbxjdnxnbdjxbdnxnnxnxnImsotire­dofthisnsjs nkksbdndnbdthese tears wontstopjdjdnn znjsnndudndkdknfkdmssnfnjdndnndbdbdbdnWhythepainstilllivesin myheartjjxnxjxjdn mykdjdvjsndjcjndndncnxkxnkxndkdkjdnskxhjshdjddndeImsofuckingtired­msnndksnxonshxidnkxndjsjdbjdkslmsndjjdbdisbdjjdksndjdhbsndnndjdjd­ndnd

Youllneverunderstand me
Here lies the man
who lied all his life
without peace.

May he now
lie in peace
It took me seven years
to realise
the words in my mind
were too deep for
my mouth to dig up
I thought it was easier
to open my skin
and let the truth
pour down my arms

It took me seven years
to realise
nobody should be allowed
to touch parts
of your home
or hold pieces  
of your heart
that you don't yet understand

It took me seven years
to realise
I will wear these scars
I'll carry them
through every smile
every kiss
every concerned gaze
I'll carry them
to my grave

It took me seven years
to realise
the pain carved
into the walls
of my castle
etchings of
attempting to disappear
are not a story of weakness
but a tale of
how I survived
the moment a poet
falls in love with you

is the moment
you live

f o r e v e r
Why does this constantly happen to me?
History repeats over and over

I would think I would be used to this
by now,
but yet every time it happens
I feel the same shit feeling.

When will it stop?
When will I learn?

I cry for belonging.

I cry for love.
How I long for someone to come home to,
For a man to care for me
For a lover to comfort me in my distress
For a cover of sleep to encapsulate me
Yet I have none of these things,
I cry for love.

I cry to be held in the arms of my mother.
I am so far from home,
I can see myself sitting with her in my bed
She looks at me the way only a mother could
She makes my heart slow at the sound of her voice
Though I am not home, I am so far
I cry to be held in the arms of my mother.

I cry to feel something.
I go through my scheduled day
With tunnel vision, the world moves on around me
but all I see is a haze of people who say they hate me
I cry to feel something.

I call myself,
The Melancholy Child.
I kept chasing
you, as if
you were
a distant dream.
But dreams
are not always
Sometimes, we have
nightmares too.
When did those dreams turned into nightmares? When did I stop believing in the magic of dreams?
sitting underneath the stairs, i realized suddenly:
i could die here.

i could die here,
and would anyone know?
i could die here, under the dirty staircase,
and nothing would change.

a friend of mine came for me eventually;

someone i don't know too well,
but well enough.

and she squeezed my hand and told me,
"you're not alone."

as my breathing grew ragged and my chest constricted and my eyes ached, i belatedly realized that was the most terrifying prospect of all.
only thing worse than feeling alone is knowing that so many others feel alone... hope everyone out there is feeling loved.
BJ Donovan
We Poets

   We poets feel more deeply
   and we can't just let it go.
   Empathy's in our DNA and
   we're here to vent your pain.

   We live near Right Place
   and Right Time. It's empty.
   The corner of Broken Dreams
   and Broken Hearts is crowded.

   We often die at our own hand
   because the burden is too great.
   Read our prayers and weep softly
   for our hope stained souls.
Devil Atticman
So much love in you.

So much treasure locked away,
Unable to be shared.

Too much love in you.

Too many rivers to your spread delta,
Where you stand bravely to drown.

Immortal love in you.

The gift of a soul,
The truest something.

So much love that you'd give it to nothing.
The world is skin,
But you are within,
And passion is sin,
But who would've known?

Maybe past the aeons, we can try this again.
Black Leaf
I'm tired.
Tired of everything.
I just want to sleep,
And never wake up again.

No, I'm not lazy,
I'm not running away from life.
I'm just tired of the world and myself,
And too tired to change anything.
I stopped writing.
Not because I fell out of love with it...
My emotions just seemed to disappear.

I started a new medication.
The doctor said it would help my panic disorder, and it did.
I took that pill, like my mother talks to God (every morning).

When I went back to the doctor she said we had to up the dosage because apparently having 2 panic attacks a week still isn't okay.
I told her that when I woke up this morning I got out of bed without crying, but she didn't consider that as much of a victory as I did.

When I was put on a higher dosage, my emotions shut down.
After a few weeks I stopped crying, my OCD got better, my panic attacks were gone, and I could even go into the student union of my college campus without my heart trying to win a race against my thoughts.

I could breathe.

But, I also stopped having fun.
I felt like a stranger in my own body.
My emotions found the exit on the plane and jumped, never to be found again.

Since when did being able to breathe require me to feel like this?
God. How am I still not okay?

God. It's been so long.

God. I'm so tired of life right now.

God. What happened to me?

I was such a nice kid.
I was calm all the time.
Mature for my age,
Little but so lively.

I was so helpful.
So loyal.
I always supported my trust.
But I never really spoke my mind.

I was shy.
I was small.
I never stood up for my feelings
I never stood up for myself.

And now I'm older.
I realize I don't need support.
I need myself.
I need confidence.

Speaking your mind is not wrong.
Standing up for your feelings isn't rude.
Standing up for yourself isn't mean.
Saying what you feel doesn't make you imperfect.

No one's perfect. Not even them.
The ones you hate for being so amazing.
Maybe she has anxiety.
Maybe his mom is alcoholic.

No one has a perfect life.
There's not one perfect family in the world.
There is not a person in the world who's perfect.
There's not a person who doesn't have one bit of strife.

But just because you aren't perfect.
Doesn't make you less worth it.
You're amazing.
You're still charming, kind, and strong.

You're just more experienced.
You just understand some more things now.

And maybe, just maybe,
You just aren't as shy anymore.
I'm not perfect. But I'm not shy anymore either.
Grand Piano
Step 1: Get out of bed
Step 2: Look in the mirror
Step 3: Practice your smile
Step 4: Eyedrops to hide the red eyes
Step 5: Conceal the dark circles
Step 6: Breathe
The curtains are almost up
Step 7: Lock down the pain
Step 8: Ignore the weight on your chest
Step 9: Silence the screams inside of your mind
Step 10: Choke down the sobs in your throat
Step 11: Ignore the stinging in your eyes
Step 12: Swallow past the tightness in your throat
You’ve put on this show a million times
Step 13: Don’t let them see
Times up. Curtains up. Camera rolling
You know how when you’re not ok but you try so hard to pretend you’re ok that it becomes a ritual
I'm sorry I cut you
I'm sorry you dared
to love all my sharp edges.
I'm sorry you cared.

I'm sorry you're bleeding,
I'm sorry you're hurt.
But I warned you to go,
to stay on alert.

I'm sorry I yelled.
I'm sorry I screamed.
I'm sorry for each word.
Uselessly obscene.

I'm sorry you're crying.
I'm sorry you're sad.
I'm sorry you had
to see me when I'm mad.

I'm sorry I broke you,
that you still can't see.
The broken one?
It's always been me.
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