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M Vogel
sweet lord, girl..

I like the way your brain moves its thoughts  into its own deeper
realms with each thing said. You have that rare gift of being able to
be your own internal/external Muse.. even while midstream within
the process of writing it all out.

Alone.. maybe more than you may think you want to be, you are
never lonely. A very rare thing indeed in the modern world, kid.

Very unique, and very very special.
(It is very much the truth..)

I would always hope for the gifted ones such as yourself,  that you
would always and ever-increasingly be able to see your own
worthiness in yourself in being chosen to be a bearer of such a
wonderful gift. Kierkegaard was a chosen recipient such as you
(your rare mind's unfolding thought processes are in ways, much
like his), and through his own beautiful self-love, became.. through
his stewardship of the gift, the father of Existentialism. He felt the
Living Word within him, causing his wonderous mind to feel also,
through thought.. which in turn, churned deeply  his
forever-goldmining heart, which in turn, mused his mind into deeper processings of the deeply-felt word's expressions--

ever-cycling.. ever churning within him,  until every cell within his
electrified body became fully lit..

And out onto paper it all went.. as what was so beautifully
self-Mused within him was brought out from an internally-lit
darkness and into the full light of day. The deeply-searching, in you
is in relationship with the gifted Magical  in you,
(which is also so very much you [the gifts are irrevocable]),
bring out words and concepts/thought processes pretty much
previously unknown here in this world. Make your own self-Love..
self forgiveness.. self-acceptance, and self understanding.. all your Art..

And it will be your art that most blesses this world down here.
You've already got the goods, kid.. watch them become greatly
clarified in you as your own self-Love becomes your own finest art.
The gift, you already have-- clear as clear can be. Shame and
condemnation are powerful enough down here to make even the
most purest of pure, become obscure.

Yeah, kid..

"In the end..
The Love you take (in)
Is equal to
The Love,  you make"

Make your own self love, your goal-- surround yourself with
loving truthtellers who will love you for who you truly are..  rather
than what they want you to be (or think you should be)  for them.

Clearly you are worth every single bit of it all.

M Vogel
F Unting Somethingoranother)

The best ever death metal band out of Denton
Was a couple of guys who'd been friends since grade school
One was named Cyrus, the other was Jeff
And they practiced twice a week in Jeff's bedroom

The best ever death metal band out of Denton
Never settled on a name..
But the top three contenders after weeks of debate
      Were Satan's Fingers,
      ..and The Killers,

       and The Hospital Bombers

Jeff and Cyrus believed in their hearts
They were headed for stage lights and lear jets and fortune and fame
So in script that made prominent use of a pentagram
They stenciled their drum heads and guitars with their names

And this was how Cyrus got sent to the school
Where they told him he'd never be famous
And this was why Jeff, in the letters he'd write to his friend
Helped develop a plan to get even

When you punish a person for dreaming his dream
Don't expect him to thank or forgive you
The best ever death metal band out of Denton
Will in time,  both outpace and outlive you

Hail Satan
Hail Satan, tonight
Hail Satan
Hail, hail
god bless the beautiful hospital bomber in us all
Jamison Bell
You’d think by now I would have thought to myself to consider whatever you’re thinking.
Really I would, the truth is you see, that I may have or might have been drinking.

It could have been then, it’s for sure right now, and I’ll probably be high tomorrow.
There is no balm, suffer me not, for I’m nothing if not sorrow.
I ate some raspberries today
They were cold
And sweet
And soft

But their seeds get stuck in my teeth
They just sit
And ****
And poke

Until I get them out
Yonah Jeong
Love: fear without fear
fear comes from "Love"
Love blooms with fear
Love                the exit
                                      because of Fear.
Zoe Mae
A glossy Glock
Loaded cocked and ready to rock
Tick tock tick tock
I would run
Not walk
I’m angry at myself
For forgetting the sound of your voice
Cedric McClester
By:: Cedric McClester

Ye now you’ve doubled down
In spades
By telling everyone that he
Talk about throwing
The shades
You’re cutting him
With razor blades

Ye I know it’s hard having
Been tossed
You loved the one that
You lost
You were made to pay
The ultimate cost
And now you’re out
In the frost

Ye I know you’d like
To get her back
But she’s not coming
As a matter of fact
It might be better if
You used some tact
If you wanna have
A  better impact

Ye I don’t know what else
To say
You’d be bi-polar
But if you took your meds
You might be okay
If you wanna keep your
Madness at bay

Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2022.  All rights reserved.
air bubbles float with ocean foam
each time my breath escapes

my lungs deflate
my vision shakes

body sinking

i try to survive off of air bubbles
because it's all i have left
Her guts were long & tender, nailed & rocked &
graveled. Her trails were stacked & kidneyed,
her hair so near unraveled. She plucked her
brow, she cracked her whip, she crossed
her 2 good legs, she slopped down
uncooked bacon, green
potatoes & raw eggs.
En el balcón, un instante
nos quedamos los dos solos.
Desde la dulce mañana
de aquel día, éramos novios.

-El paisaje soñoliento
dormía sus vagos tonos,
bajo el cielo gris y rosa
del crepúsculo de otoño.-

Le dije que iba a besarla;
bajó, serena, los ojos
y me ofreció sus mejillas,
como quien pierde un tesoro.

-Caían las hojas muertas,
en el jardín silencioso,
y en el aire erraba aún
un perfume de heliotropos.-

No se atrevía a mirarme;
le dije que éramos novios,
...y las lágrimas rodaron
de sus ojos melancólicos.
Michael John

there was a blackcap
in the agave
a rambunctious chap
he cried as if to me
i want this and i want

(with a burning brand
of tainted ruby)
and, i want it now, see,
by the blasted horns of pan-

it all just hits me sometimes, the weight of a million bricks all coming down
one by one
and then by groups
then huge chunks, until i can't breathe anymore

i'm sorry i couldn't be better for you
for everyone
i'm sorry for the burden i've become

i'll get better one day, i promise
just wait for me please
Seranaea Jones

all my mistakes in life
add weight to a scale
of self-judgement–

so far i sense
a balance—

yet it feels to me like
i've let so much ballast
get washed overboard...

s jones

save your space
before there's no room
build the bridge
or burn it soon
Chalaced Heart
Where as you sleep the feeling of your sight freed into price of leaving your life in winter you nearly have the idea of her in your heart as the mud forced the sun to leave you sunkin' deep with living and you left this curling underneath my feet with warmth below zero and returned with dark holes as the mud went and filled all with water to gasp the nature of the full moon
I am a dreamer.
I vision things that don't yet exist.

I am a stubborn believer.
I believe my visions come true.

I am limitless.
I dream big dreams.
Desiree Schort
Tiny little tippy toes,
Zip zippity zip across,
Silk strings float upon the air,
Invisible trap of death,
Needle sharp two juicy fangs
Merry-go-round goes dinner
Save the fat one for later
Tiny little beady eyes,
Dennis Willis
They won't let you stay
will they

They say
You are free now

To roam about
She keeps songs
locked away in boxes
like secrets.
She will take them out
like postcards
to help her remember
the feeling of
a different time,
a different person
by her side.
She likes the one
that makes her
eyes close
to see the lights.
She smiles at
the one that  
makes her stand
up on tiptoes,
the one that
helps her forget
she doesn’t know
what to do
with her hands.

The tune
will carry her.

Like it did
the times when
voices broke
like a heart.
When instruments’ strings
would snap
and hurt.
our lips will never meet
nor our fingers intertwine
and so bless my dreams
for indulging what's not mine
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)
Salmabanu Hatim
Do not do something bad that your past does not let you go,
It smears your now and future,
Past has witnesses and truth always prevails.
to all my lovers,

please indemnify
the bits of myocardium
you borrowed from me.

you may return them to this address:

150 Mediastinum Lane
Thoracic Cavity, DNR
"her name"

I'm not overreacting
Not making up
negative scenarios in my head
I feel too much,
too fast

A thousand needles
rip and tear me
from the inside out
A weight inside me falling,
breaking my heart into a million pieces.

My heart feels like it has stopped beating
and it begins to be hard to breathe
for my lungs stop working
and I try to gasp for air  

I clench my fists
draw blood from my palms

Forcefully, I let out a smile
using it to cover up the pain I feel
And the tears hiding behind my eyes
As I laugh making painful jokes.

But you'll never know it
Because I hid it from you
Through treacherous currents and coral reefs
no sunken Manila galleon holds a treasure far more precious than thee.
Fair maiden
thyn beauty has spoken to me.
I wish I can find you a cure,
To heal everything I done wrong to you.
I wish I can give much more,
Knowing my love has always been so true.
I miss the way you used to laugh,
Knowing I’m here to always hold you strong.
Alas, what left of me is staph…
Burning needles under my skin and wrong.
It’s not your fault of me falling,
All done to myself a long time ago.
The bugs aren’t in me yet crawling,
My chemical romance you’ll never know.
So what of the days to all shine,
My heart blackened and praised a shrine?
I'm back! What did I miss?
Its been 2 years.
C Conner
Too many times we talk
And the words fall.
And my mind is silent
Waiting for another day.

And the sun is up.
And the sun is down.
Still no word from the heart -
The silent pain of dying.
Ruby Nemo
believe him when he says
I will always take care of you
because even if he fails you
at least you'll be devastated
at least you'll feel something
jan. 26, '22
Sydney Rose
my one wish is
to find someone
who sees the world
as beautiful as i do
with their mouth
preaching poetic beauty
as i have once did
to all the boys
i have loved
m h John
i spent my life trying to please
someone with a twisted disease
i broke myself down
and tucked my feelings away
to become the person
they wanted me to be
i let myself be watched
through the glass of a two sided mirror
of a sociopath
i wallowed my spirit away
and begged for acceptance
but there’s nothing in the world
that i could do
to let the narcissist know
that i am human too
the only thing that can please a narcissist is being miserable
Sharmila Juliet
She is a poem of his heart
He never disclosed
In front of anyone.
Allá en las horas más dulces
De mi fugitiva infancia,
Sirvióme de cuidadora
Una mujer muy anciana,
Con su rostro todo arrugas,
Su cabeza toda canas
Y su corazón tranquilo
Todo bondad y esperanzas.

De noche junto a mi lecho
Mil historias me contaba
De geniecillos y ninfas,
De trasgos y de fantasmas.

¡Pobrecilla! ¡cuántas veces
En estas noches amargas
En que repaso tristezas
En mi alcoba solitaria,
Al oír que de la torre
Vuelan en lentas parvadas
Las mismas horas que entonces
Pasé a su lado tan gratas,
He pensado en ella y visto
Llegar su sombra a mi estancia
Pretendiendo como en antes
Secar con cuentos mis lágrimas!

En cierta vez, caí enfermo,
La fiebre me devoraba,
Y en mi delirio quería
Para volar tener alas.
«Dámelas tú»: -grité altivo-
«Tú, nunca me niegas nada»:
-«Es verdad, nada te niego,

»Pero no sufras, ten calma,
Las alas que Dios te ha dado
Las tiene tu ángel de guarda;
Esta noche se las pido
Y te las daré mañana».

Nunca le faltó manera
De responder a mis ansias,
Y siempre al verme llorando,
Con la paciencia más santa,
Me dijo tales ternuras
Que aun me conmueven el alma.
Ella, que al velar mi sueño
De puntillas caminaba,
Y porque rumor ninguno
A mis oídos llegara
Iba a sosegar el péndulo
De un viejo reloj de sala;
Ella, que jamás hubiera
Permitido a gente extraña
Lanzar un débil suspiro
A dos pasos de mi cama;
Que en balcones y rendijas
Cortaba al aire la entrada
Y por no causarme susto
Rezaba siempre en voz baja;
Una noche fue a mi lecho
Alegre y entusiasmada
Diciéndome: -¡Ven, despierta,
Ya es hora... no tardes... anda!

Sobrecogido de miedo
Yo le pregunté: ¿Qué pasa?
-Ya lo sabrás cuando escuches
El vuelo de las campanas,
El tronar de los petardos
Y el disparo de las salvas-.

Abrigado hasta los ojos
Salí con la pobre anciana,
Y un sueño del paraíso
Me fingió lo que miraba.
Desde las enhiestas torres
A las humildes ventanas,
Lo mismo en extensas calles
Que en las más estrechas plazas,
Faroles y gallardetes,
Banderolas y oriflamas
Con los hermosos colores
De la bandera de Iguala.
Y al escuchar tantos gritos,
Tantos himnos, tantas dianas,
El rumor de los repiques
Y el estallar de las salvas,
En brazos de mi niñera
Lloré sin saber la causa.
-Lloras de placer-, me dijo
Esta es una fiesta santa,
La sola fiesta que alegra
Mi corazón y mis canas.
Hoy es quince de setiembre,
Y en esta noche sagrada,
Hace cuarenta y cuatro años,
Si mi memoria no es mala,
Un cura humilde en Dolores
Hizo nacer a la Patria.
Cuando era yo jovencita
Mi padre, que en paz descansa
Me traia de la mano
En esta noche a la plaza
Para repetir con todos
Los que aquí gozan y cantan,
El grito de independencia
Que repercute en el alma;
Mi padre, mi pobre padre,
Fue soldado de Galeana;
Pero mira... allí está el héroe
Alcé mis ojos con ansia
Y vi un inmenso retrato
Entre lucientes guirnaldas
Bañado por los reflejos
De las luces de Bengala.

Un rostro apacible y dulce,
Una frente limpia y ancha,
Una mirada de apóstol,
Una cabeza muy cana...
¡Era Hidalgo, el Padre Hidalgo,
El salvador de la Patria!

¿Lo ves? me dijo temblando
De regocijo la anciana...
-Sí, le respondí, sintiendo
No sé qué dentro del alma,
Y entonces a un mismo impulso
Con las manos enlazadas,
Nos pusimos de rodillas
Llenos los ojos de lágrimas.
My Dear Poet

there is a
butterfly on
fire flickering
from her

her iris
it spreads like
virus fluttering
as it slowly

of the yoke
tears now soak
her wings and
her cries
Things wont be the same after this.
I know that they weren't for me.

It takes time for these things to heal,
and it leaves a nasty scar.

But it's a scar you wear with your family,
It's a scar that keeps you strong.

Know that the sadness is okay,
know that I am never far.
This one is for you. I hope you are doing okay... I really, really hope that you are holding on.
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.
I exist outside of him
A strange concept to process
Eleven years will bind you to a man
Seperation is a storyteller
A strange concept to process
This time apart has told a story
Of a woman reclaiming her sanctuary
I exist outside of him
We are over
I am still breathing
i am still breathing
If you’re the one that’s so concerned about the world ending
Why are you trying so hard to bring it to it’s knees?
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