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 388° 
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!
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

The poem is one year old this month!

Hay
No matter who you are
You have my deepest respect!
 254° 
Caroline Petersen
Your eyes tell me how you really feel
The once bright stars I used to see
Are now lost in your blue eyes sea
The glowing is gone
And I know
I will never have you
The way that I used to
 230° 
Denise Uy
The wall is my punching bag
and your face is my inspiration.
Even when my knuckles sag,
there is no hesitation.

I have bruises on my fingers
but it is not the wall's fault.
It is the surge of my anger's
and they make my fists stronger.

The poison you poured in me
is overflowing the bottle.
Every punch the wall meets
is every sip of my struggle.

The pain is sinking in
and it feels worse than the bruises.
It's buried deeper within
so I dig but it refuses.

The wall is nothing
to what festers inside.
My punches do nothing
and there is nowhere to hide.

The disease is within me
and it is thriving in my mind.
The only way out is nowhere in sight.
I looked to my fists to set myself free
but my fists have no eyes
so I cannot see.

Now, my arms deserve to rest.
I'll even bid them a good night
because today won't be the worst
and I'll need them another time.
 125° 
jee
sing me your inspiration,
so that words may blossom
through the rings of the tree
in my paper.

gift me your passions,
so that pathways may carve
through inked rivers
and graphite daydreams.

paint me your love,
so that I may palette
your rainbow
and color my canvas

with my favorite colors of you.

the soft pink
of the inside of your lips,
and the offset grey
haloed through your eyelashes.

tiger lily freckles framed
by sweet peach
and wallflower blushes.

rainfall wrists
and dutch cocoa silk.

all my canvas needs
are the colors of you.
acrylic affirmations and watercolor whispers
I make coffee at 3 am
and take it out to the porch
nursing the heat
between my freezing fingers

the stars smile down on me
I spell your name
like a new constellation
but I can't find you

here
 118° 
Lewis
I miss the feeling of your red nails coiled around my neck
It would feel like cold lightning striking my spine
My face would flush
And I was electrified
 96° 
Kushal
My poetry is my diary.
The trail left by my soul,
The song sung by my heart,
And the places my mind dared to explore.
135 poems in(just on here). I still always come back here when I feel the need to write. I always tell people if they wish to understand me, my poetry is where my soul is shown.

It's amazing that this place exists, and I think many like me have found a haven in it.
 79° 
John Destalo
a community
of soft white

extensions of
the earth

gifts for
the eyes

and the nose
maybe the

tongue

a mixture of
ingredients

water
seed
soil
light

who owns
the recipe

I don’t want
to know
 73° 
amal
those are black nights
in black days
here in africa
just in the voice of wild jungles,
I'm standing by my dry feelings
looking for the stars lights,
I have to run and run
Through the trees of dreams
out of the hell
no mercy
no death
just a great lies
in the black nights
 66° 
michael cera
i know you're outside my door,

waiting for someone,

you probably adore.

but these walls are too pretty,

and i can finally feel the floor.

i know that you care,

yet i dont know anything anymore.

all I have is behind that door.

it's hard to keep looking forward.

it's hard to write and not feel stupid,

it's hard to open up and not refuse it.

but I love you and I'm sorry;

for missing all your favorite holidays.
 64° 
Nyx
-

I like you

-
Nothing more and nothing less
 58° 
Ken Pepiton
Part of life is flowing,
part of life is falling,
part of life is growing,
part of life is knowing

this goes on and on. Art as Intuition,
shared by the art itself, AI says.
http://kenpepiton.com/Blake_Songs_of_Innocense_Experience_kpepiton.pdf
 56° 
Amanda Sant'Anna
If you are waiting for a love poem
Because you want to feel something other than loneliness
Do not waste your tears right here
There is no one to wipe them dry

If you are waiting for a love poem
Because you're tired of your empty life
Do not let the years go by
You are not a slave of destiny
Love is sitting outside the lines
 51° 
nevaeh
tricks and treats
giggles and screams
under the full moon
this halloween
🎃
im actually working 9 hours on halloween so maybe not for me
 50° 
Jeremy Stacy
Oh well, another thought just set sail
 49° 
Cate
Leonora & her hyena heart
beautiful the challenge laid
in the early morning of surrealist air

with her red lips & long dark hair
touching him possessively upon his neck
this dawn was far from finished yet

& when I sang him to his sleep
crouching in the shadows deep

a tribal longing in my heart became
a new creature quite untamed
heartbreakingly forever unafraid

so I wander with my hyena heart
searching for the inn of the dawn
within her spirit is reborn
closer both to our real form
Leonora Carrington -the inn of the dawn horse
 41° 
C
I am haunted:
Not by poltergeist,
but by my unlived lives.
Parallel universes
won't ever speak,
they took an oath
to keep from me.
I have words and voices
humming in my head
that will never be met
outside of my bed.
I have to accept
I cannot have it all,
I have to accept
knowing nothing at all.
 41° 
Abdullah Ayyash
I want to scream my deepest fear
Uncover my deepest sin
Admit my wrongdoings
But the ice under me
Is very thin

The lion inside of me
Who scars the jungle
And fight an army of angry men
Can't fight the loneliness anymore
Or the sadness, deeper within
His lioness has gone
His lioness has left the den
© Copyright
Abdullah Ayyash
October 31st, 2020
 40° 
bonnie
it's cold outside, enough that i want to leave,
but she's light and dark and everything in between
and i can't see her face in my dreams
but i smell her,
cinnamon and vanilla
and her fingertips on my arm
and goosebumps raise in the wake of her touch
but i'm not cold anymore.
 36° 
Lily08
They say doing it all is an impossible task,
But I’ve come to find doing it sane
Is the impossible part.
 36° 
Josie Lenz
I can’t leave

the fatigue
that i keep
in my brain
hidden
from the pain
that i breathe
that i bleed
as I plead
to be free


I am chained

to this bed
all the dread
that i feel
that i fear
is the sound
that i hear
as i scream
in my dreams
in my head
I am dead
 35° 
Mary Frances
I look at myself everyday
in the mirror and then realize
I've been given the most beautiful gift
I could ever ask for - my existence;
my chance of life;
my chance of love.
 35° 
Max Vale
Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
I can't sleep at night,
Because I'm thinking of you.

I know this is bad,
You lost my letter.
But now its gone,
It'll never get better.

So rubies are red,
Sapphires are blue.
Making next time,
I'll end up with you.
 34° 
Dean
when you sleep it's like you never cried,

breathing soft and steady, wet cheeks dried.



when you sleep it's like you never lost,

boundaries weren't broken and lines weren't crossed.



when you sleep it's like you're still there,

and you still smile and you still care.



when you sleep you look young as I,

no crease in your brow and no old worn sigh.



and so if sleep is death just being shy,

is it still so wrong,

to wish

to die?
This was made by yamiyurei
 31° 
Deadwood Jawn
-------------------------------------------------------



H́ͨ̆ͪ̉­̴̛̫̥̳̪̘̫͙̟ͪ̈̓ͨ͟ͅE̶̊͒̔̀͛̌͡͏̛͉̦͚͚͔͝ ̵͑̔͗ͥ̉̐͋̈ͥ͒͑̋ͨ̍͂̚͏͕̼̲̫̥̫̮̙͖̤̮͖͓̲͍͍̀̕W̢̹͕̫͇̙̞͇̪̌̋̆̔̃͛͛ͩ͐̊̃ͨ̅ͮ̍͊̈́́̚­͉͕͍̞̱̠ͅͅA̛͆̋ͩ̓͋̓҉̶͙̣̹̥̩̘̪S̡̃ͤ͗̒̐̊͛̍̕͞͏̰͍͖̥̦͎̻̱̪̪̙̭̫͔͚̘̣͉ͅ ̵̉̈́̌̾̿ͪͤ̃̈́͏̡̗̪̦̹̪̟̞̪̗͇̯ͅN̸̢̨̺̱͉͙̝̖̣̻̺̳͔̮̱̜̪͚̠̤̜ͬͮ͐ͤ̋ͪͩ̇̂̀͊̉̏ͦ̏̌ͧ̑­O̵̡̹͓̣͙̘͈̩̳̫̼̖͙͌̂̃̚͘͠Ṭ̢͓̭̦̣̗̩̭̪͉͓ͤͬ̋̎̓̾̔͛͛̔͂̾ͬ̄͊ͦͥ̅͡ ̧ͩͤ̑̿̿̇̚͘͏̢̛̯̬͍̹̳̘͇̥̩̣̩̟̤̺͉A̶̴̬̗͍̥̞̞̩̝̩̣̰̳ͯ̎ͥ̏̃ͮͤ̆̋̏͜͜Lͨ̀̄̏̓̉̋͆̋̇­̸̧͔̼̰̪̱͕̞̺̬̼̘̟̭ͥ͐͒̅͗͠͝͠W̧̖͙̞̪͙͙ͮ̑ͥ͆͛̌̽ͭ͐̌ͩͦ̓́̚̚͘ͅA̰̺̝͙͖̻̹̘̣͌ͨ̾̓͢͜­̬̣̺Y̢͎̹̩̺̦̬͚͉̲͎͓͉̅̄̽̅̎̏̎̌͂̃ͫͭ͞͞S̴̵̨̠̞̖̠̳̖͇̓̇ͧͮͥ͗͑̅̃̾͗͂ͨ͊́̆ͨ͢͢ ͦ͌̌̃̋̒̽͜͏̴̧̪̯̻͙͇̙͈͉̠̠͇̜͈͇͍̣͕̞͢L̵ͪ̊̏̃ͭ̒͊҉҉̞̰̣̥̺͙̣̥̳̠̹̭̘̜̜̙Iͨ̂ͬ̑̿͋͐­̲̗̹͓̠̜͕̞̞̻͙̞͚̼̫̲̞̣̟̃͑̓̃̂͊͛̅̓ͥ̕͜K̅͊ͤ̃̊͂ͮ͊͒̒̎̿҉́͡҉͏̖̯̜̜͔̪̖̟̙̞̺͎̦̖̠E­̶̶̵̪̱̺͍̫͎̣̾̽̂̾̒ͣ̀ͬ̏̐̿ͭ̿͟͡ ̸̧̡̞̠̻̟́̅ͮ̋̕͢T̡̢̼͕̝̠̼̩̜̜͓̠̱̘̜̲̦́͆ͩͨ̈͊ͮ̆̈͑͐̚͜͢͝ͅH̡ͫͧ͛̐ͦ̋ͣ̔̓̾͆͐ͥͯ̚͢­͕͉̤̫̹̟͇̭́I̷̧̨̒ͬ̇ͬ̾̆ͬ̂̌͌͏͍͍͔̖̮̪̖͓̰͎̪Ş̴̰̭̜͓͚̖̯̦͇͓̞̹̼̺͖̐ͪ̐̅͒̚̕͘



­--------------------------------------------------------
He wasn't. Thanks for understanding, Lydia.. Lydia is angry.. Someone's hurt him..
This is Lydia speaking.
 31° 
Astral
When I was a child,
I was taught poetry wasn't mild,
It was deep as the sea,
And it seemed truly unachievable for me.
I was taught poetry had to rhyme,
Every single line, every single time.
So poetry seemed out of my reach,
Like chasing a seagull down a beach,
Jumping ever so slightly away,
Or soaring into the sunny day.

So I never thrived for what I thought would,
No, Could
Never be.

I guess now I'm fixing the mistakes of past me.
 29° 
Strying
I can't stop
Your words
bring me tingles,
over text,
And butterflies form every time
I get a notification.

Your voice alone brings a smile
to my face, but it'll never work.

I'm just kidding myself thinking
that it'll be better this time.
That this is not the exact same as before.

For he left me alone,
and you're already too far away.
().()
^True^
 27° 
Bek Blanchard
Now there were two of them
Separated between thousands
of read texts and timely
chats touched by sound
but not skin  
Awake in the others sleeping
Sleeping in the others awake  
Restless as they wait
Restless as they wait
 27° 
misha
your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

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
 25° 
Arya
If you touch me
with your cold fingers
you might feel ,
the mornings and evenings
passed with no reason
months and years
sustained by ignorance
shredded days and nights
enveloped with a silent rhythm
at last, you would see
the myth of a my fragile
body's breathing soul!
 24° 
Carlo C Gomez
Our inheritance
is loss

I don't care
about liberation

Freedom is
the ignis fatuus

Everyone's a slave
to something
 24° 
Paul Idiaghe
sky, a sea;
the sun is a ship sinking
slowly
into slumber  

& i’m a seed
sleeping
on soiled sheets,

sproutless, seeking the solace

of silence,
the nascence
of night—
the delight

in drawing dreams from dust
to dusk into day
into divinity;
in withdrawing

to the wild and wondrous
womb of waking.
 24° 
tainted black
..
she
closed her
eyes and took
a very deep breath,
crossed her fingers then
w  h     i     s    p   e    r     e   d,
"I long to see the   o n l  y
man who made me
shine in his
darkness
..
 24° 
REY
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 like *******.
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.
 23° 
Jeremy Stacy
You ask for my thoughts on what I see,
my opinion, mademoiselle, is you put a spell on me
 23° 
E
The face in the mirror
the look in the eye's
that reflection ain't me it's just a disguise
the fading of hair
the wrinkles that bend
it's just a life story that's told on my skin
this man in the mirror he ain't really me
their's a child inside that want's to be free
that woman of mine you could say she's the same
sometimes in the covers we laugh and play games
but as I get old and my life bears thin
I think of the fun
and think of the friends
so you could say i'm kind of bold
it's just a part of getting old
A poem my dad wrote on his 45th birthday
we all thought it was funny but truth is
I think it was the greatest one he ever wrote
 23° 
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.
 22° 
Rupert Pip
Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.
Get to know me like I do you; inside and out.
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