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I don’t feel close
to poetry.

It feels elusive.
Once it spoke to me.
But now it’s mute.

It sits back
and doesn’t look
at me.

If I call out
it doesn’t hear.

Lately poetry is
like that demon
I used to want
to reappear.
Ms Noma
I fall in love with cities
Only in the night
That’s when they look so pretty
With all that twinkling light

I fall in love with cities
Only when it’s silent
No movement or a stir
And nothing is a blur

I fall in love with cities
When I’m the only one
That’s walking down the street
After rush hour is done

I fall in love with cities
If I let my mind soak in
Its spirit and its essence
That permeates my skin
rob kistner

our house was a one-floor white clapboard two-family
it was originally our town’s first school

rose miller was on our party line
sometimes I would listen
and rose would scold
and I would laugh

I loved to laugh

our white-washed picket fence
had a swinging gate

I would swing and swing
and laugh

it was my favorite thing

also the elms and oaks of Perry Street
where we lived

rolling in the gold, orange and red
of their piled autumn leaves
losing my Hop-a-long Cassidy hat
I would laugh until I’d cry
until I’d fly

laughing sent my heart in flight
but they were not all tears of joy

the nights of the rains frightened me
I did not laugh

a monster under my bed
does not scare me
because it is not there

it is in my bed

the rain brings it
from the room just down the hall

so I hide inside my fantasies
where it can’t find me

I do not like the rain and wind
or the footsteps

those long-night storms
blew my youth away

for forty years
I searched to find it

I looked for it
in the laughter of my schoolmates
as I acted the fool
disrupting the class
angering my teachers

I looked for it in my teachers’ smile

I was a very bright child
so I found hope and validation
in their recognition and praise
which I so desperately needed


I fought to try to find it
black and blue
and bloody battles

I liked the pain
felt I deserved it

I searched in the sweaty back seats
of flesh-stenched cars
rolling in blue-suede passion
with smooth-ass’d
teenaged girls

I searched the ivy’d climbs of academia
looking in the pretty panties
of the trust-fund debs
that roamed those halls

I called out to it
in amplified voice
from strobe-lit stages
strutting and screaming
over the roar of stacked marshalls
and the tie-dyed din
of Aquarius’s chosen children

I probed for it
down the throats
of clutching groupies
gluttonously gaping to gratify
engaged in their own desperate quest

I looked for it in bottles
in the smoke clouds of hash pipes
through the rolled bills
in the pure white snow
of Peruvian flake

I tore life apart
trying to find it

bad marriage by bad marriage
filled broken homes with children
soured friendship by soured friendship
failed career by failed career

still I rocked
and screamed harder
strutted stronger
and pranced bolder

chasing a higher high
perhaps to spot my lost youth
from such a lofty vantage

when finally I fell
it was a long way down

brutally I careened and crashed
through the barbs of my cruel words
damaging lies

through the carnage
of those who loved
and trusted me

through the charred year’s
of burned bridges

through the shards
of my fractured self respect

to the bitter bottom
the ruin that was me

as I wallowed in my shame
and lost hope
you found me

newly on your path of life
you reached down to me

in your bright un-jaded eyes
I saw a different possibility

I found love and reconciliation

I learned how to forgive
most especially – myself
I found humility
I found honesty
I found a friend

all monsters long subdued
I’ve found my way back
and a reason to come back

back to the sunny side
of the Perry Street of my youth

and swingin'
on that white-washed picket gate

rob kistner © 2009
Recommended for  ADULT  READERS  ONLY!
This is a true and unfortunate story of the darker side of 1950's suburbia.
But this story thankfully ends well.
it’s an exercise in futility
cut your losses
before it’s too late
scrape the leftovers
off the plate
Michael John
five minute poem
it takes six to die
so this should be a cinch
already one has gone
so that is what we say
hold on
that is another
and shit happens
a third
i am my own winch
who else
who is else
yes, good question
when i am you
and the other
u my bro or sis
light will
walk this blighted land
that may occur yet
anyway time presses which
is beyond words
which are rather a waste when you
think about it when
love stares us in the eye like some black
bird with it´s cheeky tail held high
anyway times up..
Allen James
Ask me how I’m doing and I’ll make it sell,
Tell you all is well,
When all is hell,
Falling through the sky,
Ain't hit the ground yet,
Just me and God here playing Russian roulette,
The wage is set,
A bet’s a bet,
Final stages of rage but my mind won’t reset,
Mental vegan, seeking only the raw truth,
I got a residence in present tense,
And the future on mute ,
I could be wrong,
But at least I have the courage to face it,
My word is gold,
Yours is a fake ass bracelet,
Three steps to forgiveness,
But life ain’t a waltz,
It’s a dance with the devil,
And he leads till you’re lost,
You see I paid the cost and got nothing back,
But pages of thoughts and a midnight snack,
They call it "hell and back",
Ah the hell with that,
I’m burning for my sins,
No matter what the habitat,
Fully packed and ready to die,
I’m ditching this life like a runaway bride,
Too young to hide but never too old,
To wreak absolute havoc with the anger I hold ,
I’m as real as pain,
Yet far from a heathen,
Only reason I left heaven,
Was to make peace with my demons,
Problem is they just want to get even,
And now I'm barely breathing,
Barely sleeping at night,
So to answer your question,
No I ain't alright.
In a few hours
I will face death
Already I’m immersed in sweat showers
And my well wishers weave my wreath

But in a few days
I will live again
Rising from the ashes of my essays
I will join the ranks of drunken men

But right now, let me get some sleep
Because the torture will definitely be deep
The assault will probably taint my soul
But in a few days, relief will make me whole
A silent snigger is a lion's roar to me.
I reject them on every level,
From their shoes to their sickly smiles,
All eyes shall  cower from my glare
I will go my own way
Experimental verse for graphic novel about the life of painter Vincent van Gogh See Crows Cage (collection for full list)
I wish you knew
What it felt like
To be abandoned
Just so you'd know
How much it means
To me
That you stay
Because no amount of tears
Or thank yous
Could ever sum up
How grateful I am
To have someone
Who doesn't get scared
When I get scared
No matter how often
I tell you
I love you
It'll never be enough
I'll never be able
To show you
Exactly what
My heart is feeling
Because you
Came into my life
And put my heart
Back together
You saw the scars
The blood
The tear stains
The piles of shit
And you put it back together
I didn't even have to ask
I'm glad
Nobody has ever hurt you
The way they've hurt me
I just wish
You could somehow understand
How much I've been hurt
To see how much
Your love
Means to me
Not Applicable



This.                        Poems
Mess.                     And
My.                         Friends
Nothing.                         More
Less.                      Than

A.                           Mess

                                                    ­     I'm a mess
I'm a mess...
Elizabeth Owsley
My pain

I can’t take it any more
This pain is to much

You hurt me
And broke me
Left me to die

So good bye

I’m done trusting you
Cause when I did you took advantage of me

I thought you were nice
I thought you cared
I thought you had a heart of gold
But you didn’t have one at all

You lie
Didn’t care
it made me
bleed and
but now I realize
You never cared about me
I thought you had a heart of gold
But you didn’t have one at all
Kamaljit Singh
My dear poem,
stay put,
in the womb of my diary.
Coz, if I deliver you here,
people will judge you.
They shall judge you,
by the number of loves, likes and comments,
you fetch.
And I can't guarantee you all this praise.
Because for you to get these loves and likes,
I need to reciprocate for other’s poems.
I need to love poems,
that I don’t even like.
I have to comment graciously,
even when I am at loss of words.
I have to email appreciation,
even when I don’t mean it.
No wonder how beautiful you are,
I will have to do this “public relation” exercise for you,
and since I am just a poet,
and not adept at management,
I would fail terribly.
Today what is “visible”,
“seems” to sell.
Truth “may seem to lie rusting”
in some dark recesses.
But these sham conventions,
don't discourage me,
because history tells me,
that truth can be suppressed ,
bruised and traumatised for a while,
but it never dies.
Truth will have its day,
when it shall shine bright,
without the crutches of,
the whimsical, loves , likes and comments.
He brought all the nuances of pain
those that scratch the bottomless pit
and I still love his vain coldness
one that unsettles and rumbles
with icicles that bursts to iced pebbles
and the space between the ridges
turned to hours, hours to days
and the silence became a punishment
as if banished to feel the pace of another
and how I saw his veins lay unsettled
splitting the tensions of the rotating clock
as if to utter some words and remedies
as if to narrate sonnets of the longing peace
but every warmness was ignored
and the tenderness was destroyed
until love became a wrestling field
of unjust manipulation and control
and the playfulness withered
right at the corner of where we played
making those magical connections
of the energetic pull and push
and his essence made me die again
lost in the woods of the sweet dreams
and now we bid,lonely and unwanted
growing yet another notch unknotted
"Why can't you just write like a normal happy human?"


Writing used to be easy,
fairy tales of joy & ease an of words,
but momma says
thats for a little girl.

Now it's writing for perfection,
perfect punctuation,
perfect spelling,
perfect meaning.

What if I didn't want to be perfect,
what if I wanted to write easy?

To write with words that didn't complain of self hurt,
even when I'm dying on the inside.
To write with words of love and acceptance,
even when people around shove hate down my throat.
To write with words that show that things are okay,
even when they might not.
To write with words that people want to read,
even when all I say is a lie.

What if I wrote with my heart, as broke as it is,
what if I wrote it out,
and finally let it heal?
I have had this one for a couple years on a document with a question my friend asked, that's said above, and finally decided to put it somewhere for people to see.
how do you know when (a human is too broken?)


human too broken?

like the light bulb, removal from its fixture, a simple shaking revelation of the tinkling filament spent, something that cannot be repaired, the only option is replacement and that makes
you cry

the empty box of oatmeal raisin cookies, you find secret’d,
hid by you, not to be found by you
at the bottom of the kitchen garbage,
but box betrayal, by the chartreuse tipped box lid sided
peeking upwards, asking, silencing screaming,
what did I do to deserve
this degrading

like the blouse now too tight that it brings stares as the buttons strain, unwelcome attention unintended,
you know it but still pretend not to see,
for you both once loved that silky guise that so
heightened the high tender, the match of your pink rose skin letting, no! making
your eyes glisten, like broken filament glass, on the sidewalk,
recalling the pleasured admiration,
rain remembered from the
prior priority of a life consisting of only
perfect gifts

so mean revert to the poseur question; this is how...

remove the human from a fixed place, whimpering-threatened,
you may hear clear the crackle cackling  of the innard shards against the misperception of a body intact,
even if you do,
no repair service you want,  can be found, see it nowhere,
is it even
anywhere advertised?

the body presumed intact is secret’d under a tactile coverlet,
holey scupperrd holy cuttered
so that the cells and bicuspids, the threads
no longer function in a tandem,
you keep it in the closet closed,
in the back, deep hid, where,
when it screams why,
it can be safe ignored,
because  ‘betrayed’ is no longer a word,
in your globe's dictionary,
the parental controls activated by you to
save your own inner child’s unconstrained confusion,
it has been removed

so the broken glass, the clothes you dressed each other,
if not weep-well,
well enough hid,
the fit is off,
the fit is off,
the coverlet ripped so bad and neither cares
an unexpected poem, unplanned, needing work
aug 4-5
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.
Madeline Thetard
Today I told someone hello.
2. They didn't say it back.
3. Today I smiled at someone in the hall.
4. They didn't smile back.
5. Today I looked in the mirror to see if I was invisible.
6. Turns out I'm not invisible -- then why can't anyone see me?
7. Today I made a fake Instagram account under a trendy name from the 1960s to see whether I knew any people who had real Instagram accounts.
8. All of the accounts were private save for one.
9. Today I forced myself to be happy for a particular past crush who posted lots of pictures on Instagram with his new girlfriend. Hurrah.
10. Today I looked at everyone's smiling faces and wondered why I wasn't smiling with them.
11. Today I wondered why some people are complete idiots.
12. Today I wondered why my skin tone - white as milk - should make people believe that I can't handle spice, or make people believe that I am stupid.
1. Today I told someone hello.
2. They didn't say it back.
13. Today I comforted someone who said she had no love life.
14. I didn't have the courage to tell her that I've never had a love life and probably never will.
15. Today I told someone I write poetry and they laughed at me.
16. Today I cried in front of a mirror while singing a made-up song that wasn't even sad.
17. Today I told people I was fine when I really was not.
5. Today I looked in the mirror to see if I was invisible.
18. I wish I was invisible.
19. If I were invisible maybe it wouldn't hurt so much 'cause I know I'm here but people refuse to see it.
20. Can I please just be invisible?
1. Today I told someone hello.
2. They didn't say it back.
Not in a fantastic mood right now.

be aware
of what is on your mind
all the worries
all the hate
know them
feel them
steering every movement
spinning your thoughts
into oblivion
so that you can't remember
the you you once were
now stop

Physically, I'm okay, emotionally I am colder than any winter.
Angela Liyanto
I would imagine my shoes full of broken wineglass
     and I would bicker, shoot, hum, wring
     carefully take them all out,
     with my godcrazed sweaty hands
I would see hallucinatory men in love, all destroyed with jarring
     scars on their arms because of the Great War,
     wrestle each other to steaks in the dead beach
     moaning with their twenty year old cigars
     still in their tortured mouths
I would see children playing at Dawn,
     They never grow older, always the age of eight
     They all played games with me, especially
     In those Westfield overblown supermarkets
I would dream of a pure Strawberry Field's kingdom,
     With John Lennon’s flannel shirts and a picture
     of some artist’s wife wanting to jump off the Brooklyn bridge
     Thinking I’m related to Napoleon
     who I forgotten about, ever since we left Chinatown that day.

So I called the twenty four hour hotline, where all the suicidal people call in the middle of the night,
      groaning in my bathtub, thinking of my visions,
      knowing one thing, I cried,
      “ I don’t want to turn into a cockroach like Gregor did!”
Instead I turned into a Shakespearean agony girl in two days,
     and wrote dramas in my room at midnight
     hissing of the mistreatment of slaves back in 1821.

After, I wept of the romances of the guiltless terraces in the tiny
     exhaustible corners of the street, in the abandoned libraries,
     and went back to school half-insane filled with gibberish stanzas
     and academics that sounded like more gibberish.

Then, I was I crowned with pinnacle ‘Madness of Thou Brain and Sick Oblivion, with auditory hallucinations’

I gave my one synapse yell to my only friend in town, and they all
     sent me to some institution where I felt more belonging than I
     did in eight years.

I met a girl who was planning to read To Kill A Mockingbird in an hour,

I met a boy from Juvie who smoked too much and took too many pills

I met a boy who was just as sick as me, we played Twister in the
     dark until the nurses caught us holding hands,
     I never saw him again after that.

I met a girl who completed her suicide two days before her

Can you see it yet? In the tiny inexhaustible corners of the streets?
     In the abandoned libraries?

In little time, my generation will beat their visions to the streets,
     their innovation will rise to daring freshness.
A poem that reflects the society of modern times, a hallucinogenic mess of questions, but still somehow surviving and standing firm in its ideas.
the dark approaches as if it is an ineluctable storm
created by thoughts falling like dominoes

or explodes into existence in a breath
detonated by a word innocently spoken

an eclipse constructed of your fears
like locusts eating all the light

with hooks and claws they grasp the air
pulling it up from your lungs

fighting blind against attacks from every side
weapons fall from your trembling grasp

I still see you dimly, enveloped in despair
you no longer see me at all

I have become a phantom, intangible
dispersed into powerless anguish by your terror

my voice is only a murmur to you
a far-off echo, indistinct

defenses and barriers you have labored on
transform into spun glass latticework

shattering through them without knowing
shards left embedded in your skin

stumbling blindly in the darkness
you are swallowed whole into the void

once more you are ripped away
imprisoned in the Stygian, pitiless hole

the emptiness turns its gaze to me
mocking laughter blisters my flesh

I can only wait and call to you
how long till you return

to me
"Some people come into your life for a season, a reason and a lifetime.

Some people come into your life for a season. It's exciting, it's enthralling, it's incredible but that season has to move on, that season has a next phase, that season has an end point. Some people don't care for you just when you're alone, they just care when they alone.

Some people come into your life for a reason. To help you learn, to help you grow, to help support you through your most difficult times.

Never forget the person who was there for you when no one else was. When they had every reason to not be there. When they could have used any excuse to not be in your life, they chose to be there right next to you - they may be there to help you physically, emotionally or spiritually, they almost feel like they've been sent.

And then you have have people that are there for a lifetime. They were sometimes hidden in the cracks. They were sometimes not even recognised but they stood there by your side. These were the people that you often forgot, these are the people you often missed, these were the people who were busy loving you even when you were giving nothing to them.

Ask yourself, who in your life has played this role? Who in your life has been there for a lifetime? How can you show them that they matter to you? How can you reach out to them to make sure you know that they care. Ask yourself, who has been there in your worst times? Who has been there when no one else has?

Often we feel we care more about people than they care for us.. Truth is we're just looking at the wrong people. "
Written by - Jay Shetty
#season #reason #lifetime
As a Teen
My path programed as a watchword
Lonely Monitored to be guided
Less worrisome
Maybe, because
I got experienced guardian

As a teenager
My path shared not to whole
Briefly monitored and barely guided
Bit worrisome to strive
Maybe, because
I seize to prove independent

As a youth
My path interweave with my career
Total responsibility to guide
Though worrisome when unplanned
Maybe, because
I penned my progress on it

As an Adult
My path for a companion
An illusion not to be guided by pretense
A worrisome challenge
Maybe, because
Love fades away as life progresses
Life is a progress,  a progress of actualization although if you are lucky, your path will be less stressful. Guardian love fades as we show confident.
Maria Etre
She couldn't
- - - -c- - - -u- - - -t- - - -
-----f- - - -e - - - e- - - l- - - i- - - n- - - g- - - s------
so she
- - - -c- - - -u- - - -t- - - -
- - - - - h- - - - a- - - -i- - -r- - -
Leviathan Andrew
If I die in a school shooting
I'll never go home again.
My room will sit unused,
A capsule frozen in time,
A snapshot of how I was.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my dog again.
She will sit at the front door
Waiting for me and wondering,
Why I never came home

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never graduate from high school.
My yearbooks will sit stacked
Stopped short of their goal,
Missing years that should have been

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my mom again.
She will sit distraught,
Planning a funeral
For a child taken from her.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my friends again.
They'll sit together, missing me.
One empty seat among them,
A constant reminder of their loss

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my little sister again.
She will sit through high school
Knowing I can't guide her through,
That she has to figure it out alone

If I die in a school shooting
My school will be stained.
Pools of students lives will sit,
Blood tattoos on the brick structures,
Marks of death ground into it.

If I die in a school shooting
Everyone will wear black.
They'll send their thoughts and prayers
To a town marred by death,
Forever to be the home of a shooting.

If I die in a school shooting
Will the world change?
Or will I become one of hundreds  
Of kids who have to die?
What will it take?

If things continue this way
Children will have to live in fear.
They'll look over their shoulders
Always worried and wondering,
If they'll die in a school shooting.
The state of Florida is now home to the two most deadly mass shootings in American history. Pulse Nightclub was attacked in my city, I have friends who attend Marjory Stoneman Douglas in Parkland. My little sister often fears going to school. I'm afraid to graduate and leave her. I want to be able to protect her if something happens. I hate that we have a reason to be afraid... That it's reasonable to have these fears. I hate it so f*cking much.
Mr Quiet
I could give you the entire universe but then i would just be giving you yourself.
but it's true tho
Sara Svensson
Your face has been splattered with freckles all over.
I look at you and I'm staring up at a star filled sky, yet to be mapped out.
I give a name to the constellation on the bridge of your nose.
I give a name to the cluster of freckles on your eyelid.
I map the sky out and give everything names and I name them all after me.
Brianna Love
She can walk
             night and day
               never letting either
                  get in her way.
She learned this trick
                     many moons ago
                     going deep within
           and never letting it show.
Her soul is innocent
her heart is pure
she’s gone through more
than most could endure.
            She’s an angel of light
                 an angel of dark
                 you never know
              what you will spark.
                      You want to hurt her?
                         Please, go ahead and try
                           she’ll be the one to show you
                                  just how well she can
­                                                                l­
                                                                ­  y.
                                  Her soul innocent
                    her heart pure
      but never think for one minute
that she’s not secure.
                                Say what you will
                          please, do what you must
                       but your jealousy and hatred
                             won’t waver her trust!
Even Those Angels Out There Have Their Limits…..
30 Days
It feels like we haven’t talked in ages

And I could be sad about that

But how lucky am I to have found someone that makes me feel that way

Where any time without you feels like an eternity

I hope you’re doing okay
I know you’re doing okay

You’re a strong woman and I’ll forever be enamored by that

Sometimes I need to remember to thank the universe for letting us cross paths

Thank you for being who you are

Don’t ever change
andromeda green
Are you okay?
Are you alright, are you fine, are you good?
Are you adequate, are you decent?
Are you emotionally stable, sleeping without crying, smiling because you want to?
Are you breathing without questioning, are you waking up without trying, are you eating without throwing up?
Are you reading this poem right now and thinking no?
Are you thinking for the first time, will I ever be okay?

You will be okay.
You will be alright, you will be fine, you will be good.
You will be adequate, you will be decent.
You will be emotionally stable, you will sleep without crying, and smile for the happiness blooming inside of you.
You will breathe without questioning, you will wake up to a new day, you will eat easily
are going to be okay.
So please smile sunshine
It’s a fine new day
To be okay :)

- a.g.
just a reminder that everything gets better folks. please, please hang in there. i believe in each and one of y'all.

UPDATE: thank you so so so much for 7.9k. the overwhelming amount of comments and messages and loves make me feel so happy to spread this poem. thank you.
Kathryn Irene
Drown me
          as I have sinned
          for stealing your heart
          I held you captive
          those chocolate eyes
Your hand in mine
          I mislead
          into your heart
You have the upperhand
          Pulling me by my strings
          grabbing the keys
I beg you not
          The chains now broken
          you just walk away
          I'm left alone
          My heart a prison
- SkullsNBones
View more poems on my instagram
Gabriel burnS
screeching blackness
the music is over
the veil has fallen
I am the needle running in circles
spinning its wheels
running on empty
for hours on end
for days ongoing
waiting for the hand to
tear through the shadows
the white noise
flip the vinyl world
and guide me on track
where all I touch
is your songs
where curtains are wings
and my sky is you everywhere
Antonio Machado
De diez cabezas, nueve
embisten y una piensa.
Nunca extrañéis que un bruto
se descuerne luchando por la idea.
Pagan Paul
Snow drifts down
     laying a lawn cold sheet
across the frozen ground,
          creating art reliefs
like acid etching glass,
open space rolling and undulating,
in small hills and depressions,
     bedecked in a veil of white.
The silence is deafening,
quiet having been enjoyed
     and surpassed,
briefly punctuated by the call of a bird,
     A sharp whistle that shrieks
and attacks the silence.
The fresh smell of snowfall wafts up
     as it settles and glistens
in the light of silver moonbeams,
randomly peeping through clouds.
The taste of peace,
in the frigid air,
sends imagination soaring
from the desolation of isolation
to another time and place.
          The snow falls,
in a relentless race for the ground,
               all is still,
               nothing stirs,
as the moor welcomes its quilt
and sleeps with a cold heart,
                       of being kissed by the Sun.

© Pagan Paul (28/05/18)
Sarah Spencer
I cannot lie.

I think of you
before I fall asleep
where in my mind you still creep
I think of you
where the happiest moments lay
underneath warm afternoon rays
I think of you
even through the sea of bottles,
a facade on full throttle
I think of you
when I try to restore
and move on with the boy next door

and I can only cry.
thnx for reading!
late at night, i lie awake
thinking of things i should have said
all the mistakes i've made
and signs i should've read

then think about what i can't live without
you, front and center in my mind
sometimes it feels like halfway love
almost, but not quite

still, parts of you make me whole
who i am and who i need to be
i think of love letters that weren't torn up
feelings of blue and green

when i'm without you
blank page, artless innocence
i realize how dependent i've grown to you
and feel the need to create a distance

sometimes i look up at the purple sky
and wonder if you're looking too
i gaze at the colors and the beauty of it all
though its beauty would never compare to you
Maxim Keyfman
in a wooden old hut which
I'm already standing and sitting and reading
which day my lamp burns there
which day I sit and write
it is there looking out the window looking at the forest
looking at a tree looking at owls and deer

and playing the piano occasionally rarely
playing and playing and playing I look again
in the sun to the moon on the clouds that
have lain in all this and everything again and again
day after day not going anywhere nowhere
leaving I sit and sit in my chair in the hut

She Writes
You asked me why I like you
But I didn’t want to tell
Some of my reasons are cheesy...
But here is why I fell

I love the way your lips curve
When I make you smile
It makes me want to pull you close
And kiss you for awhile

I love the way your eyes twinkle
When you talk about things you love
I truely believe
You are a gift from above

I love that you are compassionate
You have such a big heart
That was the first thing I noticed
Right from the start

I love the way it feels
When you hold me tight
I finally feel safe
Like I could sleep through the night

I love that you don’t judge me
For my less than perfect self
That is more attractive
Than any amount of wealth

There are so many more reasons
But I’ll start with just this few
Maybe someday
I’ll give this poem to you

Aaron J Patrick
"Damn it"
I refuted

I said,
"Bless it"

The world is enough a hell to be damned
Why curse it further?
a mini-work
i touched your soul
and scribbled my name on it
love, you’ll never get lost again
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