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 277° 
Poetic T
My stomach a grave of dead flesh,
     I fested on the carcass of


             The deceased
now entombed within.

There was no burial song,
       Just the ritual shredding

Of flesh.
        

I'm now content, and the bones
     I discard as if tooth picks

Of satisfaction.

  
I'm not sorrowful,
           For my belly is full.

As I gaze at the flowers,

  forna I will never desecrate
               your beauty.
Gosh this makes me hungry
 240° 
Peaceful Soul
One,
I close my eyes,
I see you,
But it’s blurred,
Open my eyes,
You disappear.

Two,,
I pinched my nose,
I smell you,
But hyposmia catching me,
Put my finger away,
Your scent has gone cold.

Three,,,
I block my ear,
I hear you,
But you’re whispering,
Unblock my hear,
Your voice fades away.

There is no four,,,,
I won’t shut my mouth,
I listen to your voice,
But my mouth froze,
Finally I have courage,
You’re in the other world.

Five,,,,,
See you there,
When I lose my senses,
But when,
Finally I lose them,
See you… honey-
Let us joy this moment in peace.
 165° 
Kam
Look me in the eye,
ask if I’m alright.
I might just tell you a lie.
 165° 
Benjamin Dollar
I think it’s time to say goodnight,
My words are no longer In flight,
There are many things I want to say,
But these rhymes are leading me astray,
So goodbye my friends just for now,
I’ll comeback one day when I’ve figured how!
 164° 
Jayantee Khare
At times
I thought of texting you
"good morning",
then I remembered that
you're on a trip
where I'm extra baggage,
and
that's perfectly ok...
Sometimes you have to except that your presence is undesirable in their life........
 145° 
flower child
R.
Every time I listen to them, I think of you
Do you hear it too ?
 143° 
JV Beaupre
The Indian gentleman, Brahmagupta,
invented the zero, null, nil, and zip--
just for times like this:
You betrayed me, you broke my heart.

Rewind, erase, delete, obliterate.
You are naught to me.
Brahmagupta did indeed invent the mathematical concept of zero in India in the 7th century, CE.
 137° 
JaegukLee
Inside the building
when a fire alarm vibrantly rings our earlobes,
many hurriedly descend their pathways to the remaining pieces of life -
But some disclose the past secrets embedded in the drawers

When the eyes of sin and guilt meet,
the growling guilt of a discloser
will chase after the witness,
neglecting the harmonious threads of camaraderie in the past

The disclosure of an enclosure that
leads to
the enclosure of a disclosure -
Isn’t this an infinite messy cycle of unending labyrinth?

So let time slip by,

until the emergency stairs transition into the rustic ones,
until the orange gleaming light radiates nearby
as if the surrounding is enlightened until
the sun is our longest, forever companion

Hopefully then, the spirit will naturally release itself
from the enclosure
a kind of release sailing through
the glossy rays of sunlight -
 125° 
Mitch Prax
We loved in technicolor!
Your words, your laugh,
your smile and your soul
painting my life in colors
I never knew existed.
And then you left,
and the colors faded fast-
leaving me in a
grayscale gaze.
 122° 
Brianna Joiner
I fell in love for the first time
and out of the love
it was not returned
yet I still wanted him for myself
So many years of knowing him
I fell in love with the bad things
and empty words of feeling wanted

BUT

I had to let him go
because I deserved to be loved in return
and not taken advantage of
yet me loving me was always my last choice

When it comes to loving him now
I no longer want to do that
I will no longer be last in my own life
Finally letting go of someone I knew couldn't be trusted to love me
 107° 
Patrick Kennon
Finally it comes
In waves of pill wrecked anxiety
I try to see another path
An alterior motive
So we've tried to dig deep
But the water is draining from the lake
And the fire is burning on her surface
 107° 
Raghu Menon
It was dry
Hot and humid
Dusty and nasty

Then
It rained
Cool and wet
Soothing and cozy.
 82° 
Steve
Because the earth’s round
Doesn’t mean it’s  having a ball.

Because waves crash
Doesn’t mean that they aren’t in control.

Because the sea is deep
Doesn’t mean that it’s thoughtful

Because land meets the sea
Doesn’t mean that they agree

Because you float my boat
Doesn’t make me the captain.
Five little ten worders to ponder.
 80° 
pearline cole
were driving animals to extinction
limiting our chances
to ever see their uniqueness.
 76° 
too soft
It is time to make the choice
to live or to die
I cannot go on living
while feeling like I am dying
 76° 
Tyler Lockwood
It’s not that
You don’t deserve poetry
I daresay that you deserve more poetry
Than could fill an entire book
It’s just that I have ignored
The rest of the world
For so long and
I owe Her
An absolutely gorgeous apology
i promise i will write about us
 73° 
Nat Lipstadt
Oh Eliot, Poor Eliot, Your Fans Hung You in the Closet and I'm Feelin' So Sad^

<>
we tithed thee with donations plenty,
here a dollar, there a fiver, a coupon for free chips,
worthy of somebody’s eternal gratitude,
that would be you,
da Duke, Duke of York

the largest online free poetry site,
a million visitors a day, why you must be
the richest poet online billionaire, right?
you,
da Duke, Duke of York and

occasional poet...

in return, all we occasional poets demand
steady on instant access, immediate satisfaction,
after all, a part time job deserves your bestus-best,
just like every other large online site, that never crashes,
we’re not like the just the rest, we are
p o e t s,
occasionally

so keep the servers engines, well stoked with Newcastle coal,
keep them up and running round the clock,
using only alternative energy,
like the unceasing sun in merry old England!

quit that other job, you must,
instead of giving up on us,
for us,
a poetry break, a writing recharge, please add a limited liability
clause to the FAQ’s,
that our lives must deal with the hiccup
occasional

you, da Duke, Duke of York,
newly now, an appointment royale as Major General,^^
you, the very model of a modern major general
possessing information vegetable, animal, mineral and
technical,
who knows the Queens  of England,
maybe now is telling tales of your heroics with the hordes of
poetical
hysterical
occasional

and
when you have a moment spare,
a haircut, please.

no, that is not a request, naturally

<>

10/19/19
Noontime NYC
natalino
^^Messers Gilbert and Sullivan

^ Oh Dad, Poor Dad,
Hung You In The Closet and I’m Feeling So Sad
By Arthur Kopit
Jonathan
Well, I made it out of lenses and tubing. The lenses I had because Ma-Ma-Mother gave me a set of lenses so I could see my stamps better. I have a fabulous collection of stamps, as well as a fantastic collection of coins and a simply unbelievable collection of books. Well sir, Ma-Ma-Mother gave me these lenses so I could see my stamps better. She suspected that some were fake so she gave me the lenses so I might be...able to see. You see? Well sir, I happen to have nearly a billion sta-stamps. So far I’ve looked closely at 1,352,769. I’ve discovered three actual fakes! Number 1,352,767 was a fake. Number1,352,768 was a fake, and number 1,352,769 was a fake. They were stuck together. Ma-Mother made me feed them im-mediately to her fly –traps. Well... (He whispers.) one day, when Mother wasn’t looking...that is, when she was out, I heard an air-plane flying...somewhere, far away. And I ran outside to the porch so that JI might see what it looked like. The airplane. With hundreds of people inside it. Hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of people. And I thought to myself, if I could just see...if I could just see what they looked like, the people, sitting at their windows looking out...and flying. If I Could see...just once...if I could see just once what they looked like...then I might...know what I-what I... (Slight pause.) So I...built a telescope in case the plane ever...came back again. The tubing from and old blowgun (He reaches behind the bureau and produces a huge blowgun, easily a foot larger than he Mother brought back from her last hunting trip to Zanzibar. The lenses were the lenses she had given me for my stamp. So I built it. My telescope. A telescope so I might be able to see. And... (He walks out to the porch.) and...and I could see! I could! I COULD! I really could. For miles and miles I could see. For miles and miles and miles! Only...
You take the time to build a telescope that can sa-see for miles, then there’s nothing out there to see. MA-Mother says it’s a lesson in Life. [Pause] But I’m not sorry I built my telescope. And you know why? Because, I saw you. Even if I didn’t see anything else, I did see you. And...and I’m...very glad.
Typed by: Jeremy Mash 2-16-06
 72° 
Zainab Ibrahim
Mirror Mirror On The Wall?
Was it really all a lie?

Mirror Mirror On The Wall?
Was it even love At all?
Or did I just hear,
What I have always yearned?

Mirror Mirror On The Wall?
Why does letting go always hurt?

She continues to beseaech the cracked mirror upon the wall,
A mirror that can offer her no answer
And as she does,
Her heart continues to break
Forming cracks upon its surface.
 70° 
Nikoletta
I'm dreaming white dreams
I'm telling white lies
I'm crying white tears
I'm flying in white skies

Everything is white
So pale and so cold
And even though I am blind
I still can see them all

But still..

I never saw death
I never saw life
I never saw a face
I never saw the light

My blind eyes are white
And they're always shut
But I still can see the darkness
That lies inside your heart
This is my very first poem, I hope you like it!!!
I didn't even know I was swimming
Until I began to drown
 64° 
FJ Davis
Their very essence motivates the good
to do good. Yet, no one has ever become
good by "doing good." Even the darkest
heart can learn to imitate behavior.
 63° 
Akshay
These words are for me,
For I'm the one who's hurting,
I'm just healing myself.
I often wonder why we can't understand other's poems sometimes, but deep down it is the one who writes it knows the value of it.
 60° 
Ainnoot
Poetry is a lie disguised behind mysterious words... no wonder I write so much.
 59° 
Nathaniel
Curiosity arises on me whilst in my slumber-
Begging for death - bland, little, and somber.
For what wine quenches in the finis?
Life contracts death as death to the mother.

Is the ship rested upon the seabed departed?
Lost and addled the skeletoned sailors uncharted?
Oh! A their diaries fail to notion-
Of a cataclysm that waves adapted to fainthearted.

For what our mirrors surrender
Is that which our ideals birth
 55° 
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!
Explanation 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
I love you all!!
 54° 
yasmin
Because sometimes,
paper is the only one
who listens.
 50° 
eli
today,
I wore it again
and people complimented me
they say red is my color
and it suits me.

today,
it's too thick and dark
did I overapply
no, it's the right amount
just enough
to make them think
I'm fine.

today,
I look at myself
in the mirror,
and they're right
red shines on me,
so I applied
another layer,
and another
until my lips felt too thick,
but my eyes still see
the scars beneath it.
 48° 
onlylovepoetry
a love letter in the sand


she implores me at my weakest,
early morn, when sleep and sorrow
yet linger on my eyelids and dreamt stories
still have not been replaced by the careworn,
life’s erasures that ***** sparks of creativity

write me a love letter, a forever composition,
resistant to aging, time and weathering, a poetics
stamped with a maker’s mark, a signet, a hallmark
to our love that will be read unceasingly, a party to eternal
preserve our sharing, under glass, in paint, in this ink,
in this atmosphere

deny not my request, for it is holy tinged, reddish singed,
the best of us to become immortalized,
for all other lovers to follow, in garden planted,
a peony’s blooming upon request, whenever needed,  
be ready seeded, to salve and save, to be given and gotten,
in a single act jointed

no matter if our names brown edge to faded,
our love revived when it is voiced, witnessed, taken,
our love refreshed upon renewal by others eyes, lips, sensations,
make it an oath, a promising, combining our combination,
bless it for everyone, to be a blessing, a dressing of loving


poet rose from prone, our templar bed, bathed his face,
bid his woman, follow, her bidding to be won, for this now
is the moment precise that such a need be immediacy met,
a task such, cannot be denied, temporized, delayed by delicacy,
a challenge so eloquently stated, must be instantly sated

to the sandy beach I took her, for she would be the first witness
to her creation, her inspirational must become perpetual,
with forefinger in the sand drew the words she had chosen,
for in every respect, he gave grandeur, preservation worthy, now encapsulated as “I will be yours forevermore”


“how can this be eternal, in minutes, the tides arrival,
it’s erasure a certainty” she laments...

not true, I soothed, the tide will take each grain of our anthem,
with our bodies ash, to every seventh corner, where lovers gather,
to be rewritten, melded together, soft spoken unison,
spreading our tale, forevermore...

it will take 100 years for a single grain to cross the ocean,
and then, when all are as one, as we begun, this day,
our love letter in the sand perpetual
10/16/19
 47° 
Madeysin
I just want to want to want to be alive. But I don’t have any wishes left.
 43° 
last rainy night
your eyes still look familiar
but the looks they give me now are foreign
 43° 
Somon
If forever
Meant
a minute
Spent
with you,
I'd spend
every second,
Wishing
for two.
 43° 
Alex Teng
We fell in love by chance,
We stay in love by choice.
 43° 
Alex Teng
Falling in love is easy,
Staying in love is not.
 42° 
Cyam
maybe im not alone
the demons their holding on
might as well befriend them
at the very least they wont leave me
 41° 
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 stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
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.
 41° 
The Lenora
Falling

Because you pushed me

I am fallen

Because you pushed me

Don't be afraid

Just accept

What will happen now
written 19 October 2019.

by The Lenora.

All rights reserved.
 40° 
maria
Sorry for the sadness
I'm not trying to
it's just life,
you know,
everyone's playing hide and seek
Some people need answers you don't really have or are too clear, they just don't want to hear

Written on October 20, 2019
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