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 680° 
Anthony
Lonely one
Broken one
Tortured soul
Your song of despair is heard
Just take a look up
The stars shine for you
See them flickering?
On
Off
On
Off
As if to say look at us
Look how pretty we are
You are made of us

You are so loved
Not by people
By us
 511° 
ohellobeautiful
oh, but look at what grew

all because of the dirt
that they once threw
 304° 
Paras Bajaj
If you can be cold,
I can be colder.
If you can be strong,
I can be stronger.
-mr.parasbajaj
 274° 
shatteredpoet
i never intended
to take apart
all the pieces
you glued back
together
 255° 
Kellin
I just want gaze into the eyes of the unknown and hear it whisper  
you belong here
 230° 
Sieq
Eve
The may is warm
But in my room is always winter.
I gently touch snakeskin - she warns:
I’m soft but bite of mine is bitter.

My pretty little Eve,
You are my lover and  my friend
You are the only reason I don’t leave
And I’m gonna stay until the end.

Don’t know, end of you or me?
Who’s gonna catch another’s last breath?
I know that before you I must kneel.
I know that you are a masterpiece.
 230° 
Sam Hawkins
do you feel sense shift

corner turn
wind bring mary poppins
north from ancestral land

sky-blue signals
perfect blue

blue of whale
blue eyes of the newborn

blue of the revolution

this morning half moon
over the mountain south of the peak

three clouds
thinning to two

over sedona red rocks
one o so tiny cloud
has near disappeared

to blue signals
Was out walking, just have gotten back---feeling giant change this may 24th 2019 9:52 a.m. high desert az. Is this me changing?

"I can see clearly now, the rain is gone...all of the sad feelings have disappeared" I love you, Jonny Nash.
 230° 
Lauren
By. Lauren

Is this really real?
Are you really here right now?
I heard the knock of a door.
Just my mind deceives me.
Are you really in my bed right now?
Or do I just want you.
Do you actually know my name right now?
Or am I dreaming?
I'm afraid I'm dreaming.
Pinch me if this is real.
Am I even writing this or are my thoughts just racing?
Am I just playing a game
Or are you here in my room?
In my bed next to me.
My heart is racing.
Is yours too?
 208° 
Isabella
There are no perfect goodbyes
As hard as may try
We can plan them
Imagine them
But there are no perfect goodbyes
 200° 
Anne
hey you. why
do                          you
always                       want
to                          confuse
                     me.
                its
                 always
             either
     this
or

t
t      .      h
a
when emotions goes overboard. what do you choose more- listening to your head or your heart more?
 169° 
Anika Nelson
You're thirsty?
Here.
Let me offer you some of my tears!
(I've got plenty)
 153° 
Seth
Keep some fun
Keep the love
Get back your desire
Stop the whining
There wasn’t much to begin with
What’s the wall now?

Leave your prints on metals
Let them find you
Make the cold warm
Bring heart and body
Suspend yourself from dailys
 148° 
Marta
In my madness
I’m a lone wolf

When I’m sane I will be with you
I’ll care for you
I’ll be kind
I’ll smile and chat

But in my madness
I’ll be magnificent
Greater than Life
Impossible

When I’m sane I’ll be with you
When I’m mad
I’ll write poetry

I’ll be with you when I’m sane
Because you read my poetry
 145° 
Ashly Kocher
At the end of the day
You are the heart of it all
 137° 
laura
August burned quickly, incipient nostalgia
prematurely vanished, mellow and gentle
sea stone on the tiled table, cedar plank
with fish, sunset through the eye-slit window

thigh high in life and riding wherever life
takes me like a hopeless romantic
shout out to ang for lighting literally every poem of mine up

edit: Daily #2 babyyyyyy
 127° 
Victoria Edwards
Sin
I walk through ****
To heal the fallen angels
Because halos shine brighter
In the glow of the underworld

They've abandoned God's light
In search for another
For within a sinful plight
The hater becomes the lover

And perhaps I'm them
trapped beneath an expression
Because in place of my God
I am stuck in depression
 119° 
Christy
Raw and beautiful,
Surreal yet so real
A simple touch changes her life
She takes in the sensation
As vital as oxygen, she yearns for more
Her senses are electrified
A comforting warmth embodies her
Yet sends her mind into a conjunction
Relaxation and excitement,
Primal yet extraordinary
This is connection

-CMH
We are created by connection, we must live with connection, we will die remembering those very connections.
 119° 
harlee kae
when you're little
everything feels black and white
good vs evil
a perfectly labeled box
for you to divide people into
experiences into

but the older i get
the more i realize
life is all about the gray
and most things are a mix of good and bad
happy and sad
an abundance of hues
some in crisp lines
and others splattered all about

and that maybe it's up to us
to make the painting worthwhile
i don't know. it was better in my head.
 111° 
Bo Tansky
I am an artist
I am not
Painting with oils and with words
Painting arranging itself on the blank canvas
Words stumble and fall into calligraphed stanzas
I am only an artist when I am not
Words, dare I say my
If I’m lucky and don’t try
Favorite colors falling from an azure sky.
 104° 
Joshua Marshall
I'm sorry, I have to
break your heart.
I can't pretend to
feel the same.

It may mean we
have to part.
You'll forgive me
one of these days.
 101° 
Patches of Thought
♋︎

loneliness is real
don't doubt it for a moment
it can make you motionless
you can't get out of your own head
everything is frozen in time
time is your enemy
an emptiness you can't fill

But, it can be filled
family
friends
strangers
prayer
meditation

Wipe your eyes
tomorrow you'll
see the world differently

♋︎
This is just for those who are seemingly lost in their loneliness.  May you find your way out of it. God Bless
Find hope through God
 96° 
ren
it was like we had our hands tied together but,
you were finding out your way out of the threads first,
wanting to get away like my skin was getting too hot to touch,
but you didn't know my knots were already loose,
i got away first.
this is the part where i fell out of love
 96° 
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 ****** –”
I know it sounds ******,
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.
 65° 
The Lone Rager
Do you think, even, Ole McDonald knows
what the **** "EIEIO" means?
 63° 
Alex Teng
Fly
Break the norms and raise high,
Who told you, that you cannot fly.
 62° 
ohellobeautiful
no matter how hard
these winds blow and shake me
i stay  r o o t e d  with the Earth

storms exist to awake me
one of the first few
rhymes i ever wrote
*and still my favorite*
 61° 
Octavio Paz
¿Por qué tocas mi pecho nuevamente?
Llegas, silenciosa, secreta, armada,
tal los guerreros a una ciudad dormida;
quemas mi lengua con tus labios, pulpo,
y despiertas los furores, los goces,
y esta angustia sin fin
que enciende lo que toca
y engendra en cada cosa
una avidez sombría.
El mundo cede y se desploma
como metal al fuego.
Entre mis ruinas me levanto,
solo, desnudo, despojado,
sobre la roca inmensa del silencio,
como un solitario combatiente
contra invisibles huestes.
Verdad abrasadora,
¿a qué me empujas?
No quiero tu verdad,
tu insensata pregunta.
¿A qué esta lucha estéril?
No es el hombre criatura capaz de contenerte,
avidez que sólo en la sed se sacia,
llama que todos los labios consume,
espíritu que no vive en ninguna forma
mas hace arder todas las formas
con un secreto fuego indestructible.
Pero insistes, lágrima escarnecida,
y alzas en mí tu imperio desolado.
Subes desde lo más hondo de mí,
desde el centro innombrable de mi ser,
ejército, marea.
Creces, tu sed me ahoga,
expulsando, tiránica,
aquello que no cede
a tu espada frenética.
Ya sólo tú me habitas,
tú, sin nombre, furiosa sustancia,
avidez subterránea, delirante.
Golpean mi pecho tus fantasmas,
despiertas a mi tacto,
hielas mi frente
y haces proféticos mis ojos.
Percibo el mundo y te toco,
sustancia intocable,
unidad de mi alma y de mi cuerpo,
y contemplo el combate que combato
y mis bodas de tierra.
Nublan mis ojos imágenes opuestas,
y a las mismas imágenes
otras, más profundas, las niegan,
ardiente balbuceo,
aguas que anega un agua más oculta y densa.
En su húmeda tiniebla vida y muerte,
quietud y movimiento, son lo mismo.
Insiste, vencedora,
porque tan sólo existo porque existes,
y mi boca y mi lengua se formaron
para decir tan sólo tu existencia
y tus secretas sílabas, palabra
impalpable y despótica,
sustancia de mi alma.
Eres tan sólo un sueño,
pero en ti sueña el mundo
y su mudez habla con tus palabras.
Rozo al tocar tu pecho
la eléctrica frontera de la vida,
la tiniebla de sangre
donde pacta la boca cruel y enamorada,
ávida aún de destruir lo que ama
y revivir lo que destruye,
con el mundo, impasible
y siempre idéntico a sí mismo,
porque no se detiene en ninguna forma
ni se demora sobre lo que engendra.
Llévame, solitaria,
llévame entre los sueños,
llévame, madre mía,
despiértame del todo,
hazme soñar tu sueño,
unta mis ojos con aceite,
para que al conocerte me conozca.
 60° 
Peter B
Her eyes
reflect my moon.
In her eyes
it's always full.
 58° 
Amoy
torn apart
unable to mend
pieces scattered across the galaxy
lost in the vortex of time
taken for granted time after time
fabrication of tears sown on my soul
I want to feel this no more
 55° 
Sharmila Juliet
Darling
Even a single rose can
Portray a beautiful picture
As you do.
 55° 
Me
12
How I feel when I'm with you
happy
yet
helpless
Both can ****
        The only difference is
                      Cigarettes shatter lungs
         She shatters everything

            I remembered the first moment
my lips pressed the filter
     as I lit it up breathed it all
                savored every smoke
       as if we covered up painful lies
        in a container of painkillers

The same way  
we used to pressed our lips
     sparked something between us
           savored every moment we had
    as if our love was a rose
               in a valley of tulips
Gold
 53° 
Jayantee Khare
***

hold me not
touch me not
maybe I'm clumsy-clumsy-clumsy!

have headache
want chocolate shake
maybe I'm lazy-lazy-lazy!

feel me not
mind me not
I'm cranky-cranky-cranky!

the mood is swinging
find me clinging
I'm touchy-touchy-touchy!

may be crazy
sometimes hazy
I'm moody-moody-moody!

stay away
go your way
I'm feelo-feelo-feelo!

just be there
patient listener
I'm despo-despo-despo!

here i contradict
have conflict
I'm ******-******-******!

changing hormones
troubling estrogens
tell me not a fatso-fatso-fatso!

maybe I'll be ok again!
maybe you'll love me then!


Maybe few females relate....resonate....rate .....
A big thnx to all readers and those who appreciated, thnx hp, thnx Elliott
 50° 
Silent Moon
But you're too quiet to be one.
In elementary school, I was overall a quiet child but meanwhile my friends wanted to do the school talent show. I chose to be the monster who screamed and jumped out of the blanket multiple times but they said I was too quiet. Therefore, I ended up not doing it. I fairly regret this now.
 50° 
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
 47° 
JR Falk
so I noticed that we both drink coffee.
just like anyone, we both like ours a certain way.
i like mine sweeter, with just the aftertaste of coffee there.
caramel, sugar, creamer.
i think about when i’ll have my next cup, and the idea of it alone makes me happy.
i don’t care what time of day i have it, i almost always have a cup.
i make time for my coffee.
it might be safe to say i think you like your coffee black.
you might add just the smallest touch to soften its bitter taste, but never too much.
sometimes i think you just pour it and carry on, as though it’s nothing important at all.
as though all it is, is just some quick fix.
like you just want to get it over with.
we drink it in two different ways.
i drink it slowly.
i note every flavor in every sip, i enjoy it.
i note the warmth it brings me.
i like it all hours of the day.
you drink it quickly.
quicker than me, at least.
you don’t care if it burns your tongue, or perhaps you’re used to the pain.
you accept it.
you never let it last, you move on to something else soon after.
i lay in your bed, watching your eyes as they skim the screen in front of you.
your mind is somewhere else.
i savor the moments you look my way, if even for a second, and smile at me.
i wonder if you even notice them.
i feel your laugh vibrate my bones, making the hair on my arms stand on end.
do i make you feel at all?
i reflect on it every time i drink my coffee.
i think about it with each and every sip, taking my time.
something tells me that you don’t do the same.
after all, it's just coffee.
but i put my all into this coffee.
i think you like your coffee black.
3:06am
08.09.18

im actually drinking coffee rn. rip
 46° 
the dirty poet
i see the flyer at starbucks

"are you caucasian?
without mental health
and drug problems?"

wow
i don’t know the answer to any of these questions
is a jew a caucasian?
is the occasional *****, ****-slamming drunken rampage
a drug problem?
as for mental health
i’m a deadbeat poet and unpopular pop musician
i’ve got a job fighting death and boredom
and i just changed my facebook password to "eat ****"
my frustrations have driven weaker souls to homicide
but are these PROBLEMS?
 45° 
sheila sharpe
(A WARNING TO THE CURIOUS)

Distance yourself
from this world
before you
into its troubled atmosphere
are hurled
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