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Ciel Noir
making choices
           is not for the
                 faint of heart                
                               any step                ⍜
                           into the future        ☇≣⤷
                                             is a step 〳〵
                                                   into the
                                     ­                                    dark
if you're reading this,
(which you might be or you might not be
how am I supposed to know)
this is your sign to
do not disturb.
these doors are lovingly closed to you.
to J.J. (you have nice initials btw)
also p.s. you give really nice hugs
bottles and bottles of spiral boy
Drink until I’m Dead
drink until I see red Spirals
growing out my head
u see the knife
you watch the glow
u see me smile
but can't hear me cry
u think i'm happy
but inside i'm breaking
u see the blood
then u realize
that i wasn't
when i said
i'm depressed!
u wish u gave me the
support i needed
but now it's too late.
I'm dying inside...
i have grown flowers out of the marrow of my bones
i have harbored seeds from the blood that flows
i have created skies from the pain in my eyes
and i do it all for you,
my wildflower
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
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)
Martyrs bear its proof:
They've already remembered
I's what they forget
I like the fact
That I write
Just the way I like
I write the fact
That I like
Just the way I write
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
Ashly Kocher
One day you’ll look back
Forget the past
Live in the moment
Walk toward your future
One day….
The past has guided you
To live within each moment
Allowing you to move toward your future
Living your best life to the fullest extent…
Zoe Mae
Brick nudges the clouds
Pink hues rain down like starlight
Suits dash without sight
i love to watch the sunrise breaking at the dawn
in between the mountains bringing in the morn,

lighting up the valleys and its pastures green
such a lovely sight one that must be seen.

it gives a sense of freedom and makes you feel so free
this lovely piece of nature for all the world to see
Creo a veces que estás a mi lado tendida,
sobre mi brazo izquierdo la cabeza dormida.
Realidad me parece mi amorosa locura,
me sonrío a mí mismo con inmensa dulzura
y silenciosamente para no despertarte
me inclino hacia tu rostro quieto para besarte
pero mis labios juntos se pierden en la nada
y mi beso se hiela sobre la fría almohada,
tal como un pajarito que en una noche eleve
al abatir su vuelo se cayera en la nieve.
Pesada la cabeza de sueño y de lectura,
y el corazón henchido de infinita ternura,
cierro el libro que leo, mato la rubia llama,
subo el mar del embozo y me abrigo en la cama.
Y, la ardiente mejilla sobre la fresca almohada,
digo tu claro nombre, casi sin hacer ruido:
Creo que está a mi lado tu orejita rosada
y el túnel de juguete de tu oído.
Esta noche hay tormenta pero aun late lejana,
el relámpago pinta de verde mi persiana,
entra un aire cargado de humedad y de rosas,
en las sombras se tuercen mis manos voluptuosas
y una fiebre dulcísima cosquillea mi pecho:
estoy como una cruz de carne sobre el lecho.
Ha empezado a caer la lluvia lentamente.
Pero mi almohada tiene un hueco solamente.
Redondos de vigilia tengo abiertos los ojos,
los brazos como remos, los dedos casi flojos.
Hay un montón de ropa negra sobre una silla
y la luz de una vela da su coma amarilla.
He aquí que una lágrima ha caído en la almohada
y ha sonado en la funda de hilo almidonada.
Si lloro alguna noche, cuando estés a mi lado,
a la aurora tendrás el cabello mojado.
No me puedo dormir de soledad y tristeza,
yo pondría en tu hombro la cansada cabeza,
y lloraría un poco, y lloraría apenas...
Pero hay una distancia de juncos y de arenas.
Y tú estarás dormida, con tu tierra y tu cielo,
rodeada de la noche cerrada de tu pelo.
Dentro de un par de horas, o más, cuando me acueste,
el zafiro nocturno será una flor celeste,
yo una red de rocío, y una cinta de grana:
ya perdida la noche, perderé la mañana.
Sobre mi techo aun varias estrellas quedan.
Dime si te despiertan las lágrimas que ruedan.
La noche para mí es fantasmagoría,
más excitante que la misma poesía.
En el postigo albar hay una luz rosada,
primero fue violeta, luego será dorada.
¡Cómo cantan los gallos! se ve que están contentos.
No cantarían con mis pensamientos.
Siempre a la madrugada hace un poco de frío,
estrecharé a estas horas tu cuerpo con el mío.
Ahora cruza los campos un gran carro sonoro.
El día entra en mi cuarto como un labriego de oro.
I think I’d rather be your friend
Than your wife
You speak to your friends all the time
You laugh on the phone
And share ideas
And secrets
As you wife
I clean
And cook
And take care of you
And miss out
On all the joys of being your friend
I think I’d rather
Be your friend
Cydney Something
All I know
Is how
I feel

And sometimes I
Wish I
Knew nothing
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.
Anais Vionet
As poets make their final search
for the lost syllables of fall
and wet branches of the stately birch
point out foliage is out of style
youngsters dream of holidays and smile.
holidays are coming and I can’t wait
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.
Edmund black
All things forgotten
Not one thing forgotten
Everything is dear
The dearly beloved
A Precious time,
the journey of love
Make no mistake
Mistakes will be made
The end
Will never define us
A true bond
How special it is
For better or worse
Take my love anyway
For it was always yours.
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
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
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.
Love is a concept
And I am
The artist
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
Have fun with your guilt,
the gnawing feeling deep in your soul,
because of what you did to me,
I hate you and you deserve to feel bad.

Have fun with your anger,
the boiling lava filling your pores,
because of the hurt you caused me,
I hate you and you deserve to hate yourself too.

Have fun with your fear,
the electricity that runs through your nerves,
because of the fear you initially caused me,
I hate you and you deserve to be afraid.
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

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 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
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.
And with a sincere smile,
she looked to the stars
knowing the future was worthwhile,
even, with a thousand scars.
creating cages
can't control
can't counter
can't contest
can't clean
can't cry,
can cry
cancel culture.
I hate cancel culture :(
goodnight ya'll
keep your eyes closed love.

           e     t      
       m           i
    o                 m
s                        e  
                            s     all you have to
                                                                ­ l                  is to what the sound
                                                           ­      i            n
                                                  ­                s           e
                                                               ­          t

                                                              ­                               v
                                                               ­                         a        e
                             ­                                          of the  w               s
                         ­                                                                 ­            tells  you
                                                                ­                                        to do.
"keep your eyes closed love. sometimes all you have to listen is to what the sound of the waves tells you to do"

When I was much younger, beaches were my second favorite places. I still love watching waves as they go by, crashing against each other and the whole process repeating all over again.
His love
lived in my eyes
ups and downs
little white lies
we played joy
well after dark
knickers around
his twisted toes
a gentle pose
my scented rose
he held me tight
by the band
on my hand
peace and one love
is a song he sang
my hallelujah's
I sing
to his soul
I still hear
his heart beat
heaven behold.
Lunar Roses
I'm sure it is
I'm sure that it's just a figment
A picture of a fractured soul

It's shards being picked up by blood soaked hands scorned with cuts
But it's there
The blood still flows from a beating heart
And you make it beat faster
It's a cold call in the middle of the night,
you're orbiting a big yellow sun with long brown hair,
and sharp, fierce, green eyes.
Now you're being thrown from her orbit,
hurdling into a vacuum,
it's like driving without headlights.
Don't hold your breath,
you're out of her pull,
out of her grasp,
don't look back.
Just collide with other planets,
crashing and burning up with no sound,
it's a silent film.
Shedding yourself,
pieces of you crumble and break away,
as your last bits blister through the atmosphere.
Stripped down,
smooth and bare, like a newborn,
you land into the arms of a planet you can call home.
Copyright Barry Pietrantonio
Her eyes were fiery
While her lips peeled away
Her sun was setting
But her colors never fade
When she bites she is bitter
But when she smiles she is sweet
Like a nectarine emblem
She’s the fruit of life’s tree.
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