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Gabriel burnS
In time I saw
That there are many Autumns
Yet one and only one
is Fall
And summer fell for you season-less
Thinking about getting a tattoo
But, I take pause...
Looking in the mirror
I see my body’s already covered
Marked in invisible ink
Every inch of my bare skin
Painted with the joy and pain of living
From my heart to my hips
Color faded here, but poppin’ over there
Memories designed by your hands
Others etched on my own
A collection that makes me smile
Among a few pieces I regret
So, about getting a tattoo...
I guess I’m not ready
Because I can’t think of a tattoo
Meaningful enough, yet
To write over any of the life I’ve lived
dreamt of watching
the whole world with

little did I know
in your head
i was      n
                    o         t
          h          i              n
                         ­    g
Harriet Cleve
Your words were bonfires

lightning red on Norwegian skies

In the heat of your furnace the embers sparked

like snowflakes on a Summers day

igniting my eyes and burning my mind

still I listened as a new dawn broke

watching a jealous Sun chase off your glow
JJ Inda
Life is the day to day,
in that time which leaves
no leftover.
And these affections are said to last
enough to brighten the night; until sunlight.

And to the light any-and-all wounds.
For love often hides
until night's arrival.
There tethered together
even though at times you feel
so far.
you've changed
like my dreams at night

they used to be sweet
now they're haunting me
I remember the evening
that we sat clinging
to paper cups
of coffee gone cold

over secrets spilled and memories told
two bodies cursed
with hearts grown old

behind your eyes
I found new worlds
A winding road stretched out for miles
to a small cafe at the end of the isle

Sweet pastries filled the mouths
of those who sat beside us
and stayed for a while.

How the hours went by,
people just passing through
The descending sun ending
a forever with you.
I know I can sulk,
as much as
I want to
as much as
I can.

So I do.

Nothing changes

It's the same pretty mistake I do,
Intentionally, foolishly.
I might wait a different outcome,
I might not think at all.
Over and over.

So I do.

Nothing changes

I know I can scream,
as helpless as
I want to
as helpless as
I can

as helpless as I am

So I don't.

Nothing changes.

It's always the same outcome
that life serves me with a grin.
Dozens of birds take flight
moments in front of your car passing by,
an unexpected yet pleasant answer
to a question you were not
She's a little tired, a little cold
She feels a little empty in her soul
The room spins in his roundabout ways
He keeps her on edge most of the day
She's a little tired, a little sick of the ride
He thinks it's due to him not being able to hide
But that's not the case, let her make herself clear
She didn't want you there, she wanted you here
Her lips felt heavy with words unsaid
She felt like crying as she left him on read
It's when he is happy that she feels sad
And that in itself was what made her feel bad
It wasn't not being told or not being in the band
It was simply her desire to hold his hand
Heart pounding
Hands shaking
All I can think of
Is your lips on mine
Lungs heaving
Mind reeling
And all I can think of
Is my lips on yours

Maybe once the shakes are gone
And the air has returned to my chest
I'll tell you all about how you broke me
With just that one little first kiss
Other girls get
Fistfuls of tulip and
But my love knows me
Painted across skin are
All my favourite colours
I always get the
Prettiest blooms.
Thought of this in the bathroom brushing my teeth, thinking about the goodness in bad things.
Sophia Li
It's a joke
For you
It's an upward arc
For me
It's a scar -
not deep enough
But just see the blood
BA Khan
Come come who wants to enter
The door is open just surrender,
Take a step into all yonder
And embrace the eternal wonder
The sip you take
Tastes like no other,
But takes you to the land
Where is no morn or eve ever after.

(BA Khan)
Just a cut
just a scratch
what’s that mark
it was just the cat
just an excuse
just another lie
what’s with the bracelets
just fashion why?
just a tear
just a scream
why were you crying
just a bad dream
But it’s not just a cut
or a tear
or a scream
it’s just one more
until it’s not
until you die
my ambition
combined with intuition;
you existing
thrives on my existence.
my drive and my persistence
derived from inhibition.
yet when i speak,
you never listen.
too independent,
too intelligent,
too much,
you run scared.
make you aware,
you see irrelevance in
what you once feared.
your ego is my step-child.
push me away,
you run and hide.
you run from truth.
you won’t confide,
detached your roots.
Deniz Eilmore
This cast includes
a sad reader portrayed by you
a sad writer portrayed by me.
What hurt you so bad
That you lost your compassion
What was it?
dear you,

i’m in love.
yes. you were
waiting, i
bet, for this.
this time, though,
it is not
what you would
think. it’s me
this time, not
you, although
it’s still you,
but not in
the way it
used to be
you. it’s my
fault this time,
my doing,
my painful,
it’s you in
the sense that
i cannot
control you.

this time,

it’s your mind and your thoughts
the things that slip off of your tongue
the words you put, pencil to paper
the ideas that come out in your songs

it’s your eyes and your sight
the careful observation of beauty
the need to bask in warm, pure light
the stare you give me, rarely now

it’s your movements and your touch
the hugs where you grip my shoulders
the times where i’m drunk and playing with your fingers
the warmth you give off and your gorgeous smile

none of them
are mine to
have, to take
to keep, to
love, to break

i miss you
and to go
and detach
to break what
we have, that’s
the hard way
out. but i
am trying
to help me.

i feel the
same way i
did when you
said i was
wrong about
this. about
how i feel.

i try to
not panic
and quiet
sob in the
bathroom at
3:27 am
every night.

i’m hoping
myself of
you, means that
the dreams will
go away
too. but if
they stay,
i’ll give you
a quick call.
a text, to
be honest.

i love you,
with every
part of me.

keep in touch,


it is better to regret doing something instead of not doing it at all.
I will try to be back on tomorrow night or friday
Will you know?
Will you really know-
The pain-
The hurt-
The suffering?

The long nights-
The long days-

Giving up.

Have you known?
Have you really known-
The cuts-
The scars-
The injuries?


Do you know?
Do you really know-
Every little thing,
That we went through?
Penguin Poems
I guess I’m not as good as her.
I guess I don’t deserve a chance.
I guess I’ll be okay.
I guess.
My life is a mess,
full of ups and downs but,
she is the variable that
constantly keeps my equation of life;
maybe i overdid it.
i needled you and missed your heart
this isn’t going to make sense
cause it’s not supposed to
and if I’m being honest
this isn’t for you
it’s not even for me

I’m stuck
I’m trapped
I’m lost
I’m every other word that describes people who feel at a dead end

I’m typing on a ****** phone
That’s connected to a ****** connection
That could possibly be a metaphor for my life

I’m writing
Because I don’t know what else to do

I’m writing
Cause that’s what they told me to do

But they also told me that what I think isn’t always true
That I’m special and I just don’t see it

But that’s the thing
I don’t see it

And if I don’t see it then why should it matter if anyone else does

And if I’m thinking something why should it matter if it’s true

What matters is that it’s in my head
What matters is that it’s always there

But here I am
Stuck in the same place
Back to square one
No progress made
The same questions, whether true or not

Will I amount to anything?
Do I really help?
Am I really worthwhile?
Do you actually care?

I see these people
When I’m online
They smile and post
They edit and pose

I can’t help but wonder

Do you really smile, or do you just do it to look happy like me?
Do you really feel happy, or are you trying to lie like me?
Do you understand what I feel?

Or is it just me?

I’m not trying to be selfish
I don’t want a lot
I just want to be happy
And I want others to be happy with me
But neither is happening

So instead there’s a poem
That doesn’t even ryhme
That makes no sense
  I’ll try harder
Ally Ann
A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
I wanted to say,
lock yourself in a room,
scream until you have
a poem and no voice.
Open your veins and bleed
until you know that your bones
are pure words and sorrow.
Act as if you slit your own throat
and all you can bleed
are your own regrets
and all of the darkness
you boxed up for inspiration.
Write your mom a letter,
tell her you're leaving
and you won't be back for awhile
Because being a writer is traveling
through all seven layers of ****
and denying anything is wrong.
Forget loving yourself
when all you have is a pen and paper
fused to your wrist
and Jesus is tapping at your skull
saying turn back now.
Warn the neighbors that if they smell burning
It's just your soul
clawing at the front door trying to get in.
Learn how to be alone.
Learn how to lose everything you have
in order to feel release,
learn how to only feel deceased
from now on.
A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
All I said was
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.
Anna Lee
I saw you yesterday
I’m waiting
I leave tomorrow
I’m waiting

Tell me you are reading this
I’m waiting
Room 1405
I’m waiting

Come and see
I’m waiting

5 knocks so I know it’s you
I’m waiting
We’ll be together
I’m waiting

Come to me
I’m waiting
Just for tonight
I’m waiting

I’ve fallen for you
No more waiting
I wish I could find you
No more waiting

I love you now.
I’m addicted to the feel of cold metal sliding across bare flesh
Addicted to the instant
when nothing marks smooth skin
immediately before
red rivers rapidly rise
painting a once white canvas
with a flood of emotion,
tears on my cheeks,
sobs caught in my throat,
numbness replaced by pain & sadness.
Addicted to the imperfection
of red welts and dotted scabs that follow,
fingers drawn like magnets
to the texture of healing skin,
tracing over and over and over now fading ridges
Amazed that I am strong enough
to heal myself over and over and over.
Convincing myself that I am strong enough.
I find strength in my weakness.
6 months self harm free! Writing about it helps fight the urge
Our hearts were at the same pace that day but we didn't know how we felt for each other
Set the alarm
Lock the doors
Lock the windows
Lock the shutters
Find the cricket bat – “put it by your bed”
Say goodnight to mom and dad

Although young, not naïve
I knew every night had the possibility of being my last

A routine that is now muscle memory.

Fear –
You may think
But life –
Normal for me.

Wake up
Turn off the alarm
Unlock the doors
Open the windows
Open the shutters
Put the cricket bat in the cupboard

Never being able to be left alone at home. Unwillingly dragged from store to store.

But – that’s the thing –
People don’t know the real Her,
They know the exquisite scenery, the unforgettable wildlife
They don’t know… But I do.
Because She is my home
Because being in constant fear for my life –
is normal.

Confused –
What do I tell people about Mother when they ask?
The person who raised me, taught me how to be grateful, how to ride a bike,         how to love.
Do I tell them? Will I scare them?

Although hidden beneath the tyranny – I would say –
the bloodshed
the faces of malnourished children left for dead on the side of the road the poverty struck soil the corruption      the greed the hunger the death the separation of class and race

Although a place feared –

My Africa –
Whose sunshine you feel ignited in your soul
My Africa –
Whose smile is irresistibly contagious
My Africa –
Whose heart lies in the grassy terrain
The golden dunes of sand
The never-ending mountain tops
My Africa –
Who is the heart of various people
          All who call Her home.
She is –
Where my heart lies even if I am thousands of miles away
Where my mind wanders from day to day.

Her air, instantly calls you
Her smell, instantly smelt
Welcoming you ever so dearly –

Like all good mothers,
She is the one who can handle both the tranquil and turmoil,
the love and war.

She is my home. She is who I fear of disappointing.

My Africa –
is beautiful.
Home sick...
Mary Gay Kearns
The Lonliness of that road
Leading to a point
Ending in finality
Finishing quite frank.

It is green and far to be seen
Closed equilateral triangle
Destination, deciduous
Leaf, never to regrow.

Love Mary **
you are
totally right.
I'm as dry as
a desert, I'm a dead
empty land. I used to be
a  jungle  when  the  clouds
where by my side, and now that
they are gone, my trees, my dreams
they dried and died. Because of this,
nothing grows inside of me, there is
only silence and despair. I can't feel
what  I  write,  I  barely  feel alive
I want to feel human again
Oh ***, I really miss
the rain
Es frustrante tener  las palabras pero no el tiempo y luego tener el tiempo y no recordar las palabras
Ever since I was a kid,
The answear was deeply hid -

Am I unique?
Or am I just a part of something big?
Shah Fahad Sani
A blink of words
That can't be said
Or even be written
She is poem of thousand words

She is fierce and gentle
All at once
She's a song
An unending song

She is a sparkle
She is a shine
She is the only thing
That i want to call mine

She is my everyday
And an everynight
She is every morning
And an every twilight

She is all i know
She is all i see
She is a sweet melody
She is an  unmatching rhythm
Just a little poet
Who's always afraid to
Show it.

But then I met you.
Sometimes I was scared to show my poems, but then I met her and she said she was proud of me, and I felt way better:)
He was kind,
He had done some things,
He'd messed up,
But nonetheless,
He was him.

She wasn't special
Or worth his time,
She'd messed up.

He said he loved her,
But it wasn't true.

And before they could even make a move,
She knew he lied.

So they left it there,

She remembered,
But she wished to forget.

He'd moved on,
After all, lies don't last.

One day maybe,
She'll forget.

One day maybe,
He'll remember.
Jack P
Have you ever liked someone so much you regret meeting them?
I want you to
write poems
on my skin
with your hands
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