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The tragedy is
there's a prison in my mind
all the thoughts that lurk there
are ones I wish were never mine
they etch into my heart
the scars I wear so bright

They whisper wicked stories
of things that never happened
or maybe things that did
things that shouldn't create ripples
in the current in my life
but here I lay in bed
stuck awake at night
eyes cutting blankly
through the nothingness of my cold and dark bedroom
Carlo C Gomez
Blue and red make purple
Red and green make yellow
What a bride hides
Makes one strange bedfellow

I pray that...
the smell of your flesh
reaching to me...
دُعآ مي کُنَم
بُويِ تَنَت به مَن بِرِسَد
I pray that...
the fragrance of your breath
reaching to me...
دُعآ مي کُنَم
عَطرِ نَفَس هآیَت به مَن بِرِسَد
And you are the beginning of my
وَ تُو آغآزِ جُنونِ مَن
I am free...
I do not have to obey 🕊☘
In a place where entropy collects
my memories of youth
are barely left.

In a deep shiver
I shutter to search
my issues of trust
and limited worth.

There in my program
in bold letters it says
the damages left…
The curtain is closed
on the stages of yesteryears
as we rewrite our scrips
take the wheel and stir!
Pine wafting through the
open layout of our house.
A million needles
waiting to be
swept up or
hidden under the rug.
The curious cat circles the tree
both meant to be wild,
but now domesticated
for the joy of human kind.
Why are we so selfish?
Universe Poems
"The language of a flower speaks
outside of the senses and peaks"

© 2021 Carol Natasha Diviney
I don't feel special,
I'm not unique.
I want to cry
but I can't even speak.
My hands reach out,
but they cannot hold
a single thing
but the bitter cold.
Everything's frozen,
I feel lost.
Even my tears
have turned to frost.
When I cut my waist
it bleeds black.
I'm so deeply gone
there's no way back.
This is goodbye
You look like yourself
But you're someone else,
You might tell the truth
But you have your shells,
A smile and cool shades on
A bit wet underneath,
So many lost fantasies
Dreams that could never breathe,
An optimistic teenager
That's given up on life
Over unrealistic old standards
Living on old fools' advice.

Everything that dies doesn't pass
Everything living isn't alive
Broken bridges could heal one day
But dead souls are harder to revive
Only way to get over the pain
Is to turn it into literature
The more you try to run from it
Your laughs and smiles just get faker.
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)
stumbled upon your hideaway
an unexpected intrusion,
sunken heart I swallowed
hallucinating your shadow,

bluntly dismissing my worries
as my eyes fondly sought
a heaven within your cheeks,

softly blushing underneath
your eyes treasured me
oh, naive little me,

put a foot aside, darling,
undone love awaits outside,
fantasies blinded your soul
while I stood, earnestly
yearning to own your heart
We could make a disturbing
poem that people might
mistake for high art
I am almost confident that I will never feel as whole as I did helping you break apart piece by piece
Hooria Iftikhar
I'm not sure how you don't
The wonderful wacky
Being that is me
I suppose I could try harder
But it's not my fault that
You can't see
Cydney Something
All I know
Is how
I feel

And sometimes I
Wish I
Knew nothing
Coralie Marie
people tend to complain
in the very peace and quiet
about what someone else
has accomplished in the hurry
Tyler Harper
i used to deny myself death
as i was learned inflicting it
  would send me to hell.

i guess it saved me

i still bathe in that wish.
counting as they slowly wilt away,
  my white pedals of ash.
   the reward of risking the whole flower.
When I was little
I was scared
Scared of the monsters living under my bed
I used to hide, under my blanket
Under my blanket, I was safe
The monsters couldn’t reach me under my blanket

My parents used to say
The monsters would go away
I would grow up and that then they would leave

But I grew up
And the monsters didn’t leave
Turns out my monsters, grew with me
Now instead of under my bed
The monsters live inside my head

So I hide, under my blanket
Where I think I am safe
Wondering if after all this time
My blanket can still keep the monsters at bay
They said,
"The most beautiful art is
looking into someone's eyes
when they talk about the
things they love.
And I said,
"Or looking at someone you love.
Or maybe, just maybe,
by looking at the mirror
is the most beautiful art
anyone should appreciate."
Appreciation post for myself; for you and for everyone as well. You deserve more than the world has to offer.
fray narte
these days, emptiness is beginning to look more like a poem that writes itself. the irony is it is everything i can't be and everything i am
She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."
What's the difference?
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.
Lydia Brady
I'm silently loving you
you'll never know
that I think of you,
and it shows.
But if I had you
would it make anything better?
silently loving you,
mysterious heaven.
I’m really scared
Im loosing it
My fragile mind
Slowly bruising it
I think too much
Overusing it
it’s my fault
But I keep doing it
your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you
if only i could chase you with pizza but shots don't work like that
A W Bullen
into the mirror

there was
nothing staring
back at me

could be
I'm free

could be
I'm free
The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.
A little escape from the madness.
Or maybe, into.
I wish that I could trust my brain
To, at the very least, remain the same,
Forever wed to depression's corner.
In the dark, growing colder.
But now Paranoia like a flower blooms,
And I hear the footsteps as he haunts my room,
Breathes down silky skin of neck
To prove he's there and away I shan't get.
His shadow lurks around every turn,
And he taints the world with smells that burn.
I am lonely in this terror
Of stalker and murderous specter.
I tell them he's coming to get me,
But alas, only I can see him.
I wish that I could trust my brain,
But it makes monsters all the same.

You're more beautiful
And more outstanding and bright
Than you'll ever know.

You're worth more than you'll know. Just a reminder.
I Wished the planet was black
the whiter shade of pale
and Venus was a male
Sheila was called Gail
and Joanne was in jail
Jona said inside of the whale.
I try to find art in a picture of the future—
but my fingers keep on tracing
each one of my past paintings,
thinking about how beautiful it was
when I colored them wild and free.
it was hard to leave you
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!
Exclamation 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

No matter who you are
You have my deepest respect!

All is vanity
The meanings of passion
The aesthetic expression
The lines we draw and stay within
Even love is beyond intent
Vanity transcends
Flowing from our pens
And so we breathe again
We're made of tiny forests
upon life's beautiful tyranny
demanding its fair duty or its
virus claims its pound of flesh
I decided to write a poem
To put words together
In such a way
As to express
My innermost feelings

And I lost the words
And my thoughts drifted
And my computer keys stuck
And nothing came forward

Perhaps tomorrow
I will write a poem
To express my life
And for today
I’ll just go
To play
Thomas W Case
Saturn is in
line with
Venus tonight
but, nothing's easy
when you're down.
The clowns walk
around, dressed in
yellow; fast food smiles
and cheeseburger
souls, and nothings
easy when you're down.

The dancers with poles
and sadness, that Halloween,
fires burning...childhood,
perfumed dreams,
kind of sadness fills the
navy blue night.
I can't find the North star,
and the jack-lanterns lie rotting
in the streets of Nebraska
and Kansas, and the candies
all gone, and the kids wait.
And I can't find  
the deep blue shirt I bought
at Goodwill, and Billy Burroughs
is filled with worms and earth,
and Bukowski looks at Satan
and says, "what do you
mean, we're out of whiskey?"

I've never been much for the stars,
and family and Thanksgiving are
painfully overrated,
and nothing's easy when
you're down.
check out my youtube channel
The ground is molten lava
there is fire in the
air we breathe, it is
my one desire to have
you here with me.
You may want to
pray to Jesus when
this story ends. Will
you keep my company
I guess that just depends
I count the souls here
by the trillions, we get
more every day. Some
times it's by the billions
and they are here to stay.
Here you will find Buda,
Allah's in here too
I know this may upset
some, not what it's
meant to do. I am just
a demon and soul's
are up for sale, the next
step when the wicked
die is here with me
in hell. This description
is not over, river's of feces
on the floor. You will seek
to find a way out but
will not find the door.
each person here doe's
suffer, the torment never
ends. If a name is
not in the book of
life the suffering  just
Renaceré yo piedra,
y aún te amaré mujer a ti.

Renaceré yo viento,
y aún te amaré mujer a ti.

Renaceré yo ola,
y aún te amaré mujer a ti.

Renaceré yo fuego,
y aún te amaré mujer a ti.

Renaceré yo hombre,
y aún te amaré mujer a ti.
Mary Anne Norton
Morning song begun
Brilliant colors in the sky
Birds sing in the trees
Ylang Ylang
Pin a feeling
Like an insect,
When it happens-
-"i'm very lonely,
And my eyes
are so different,

-Butterfly drew with
Wings as it set.
  You're lucky
If it spins,
'If it flies, it never dies.'

Now rip paintings off
the walls
Rip colors, off,
Throw candles, away,
Foods, plants
Cloaks & blankets
Paint all white,
Spill waters to valleys
I guess
'You took mountains everywhere
You went to'
I guess
'You took them with you'
And maybe, i guess
It's pinned now
& you see
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