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 290° 
Haydn Swan

Full to the brim with the coffers of iniquity,
yet thirsting for the riches of enchantment,
too many cheques written to be honoured,
debts due to be recovered at my behest,
I've sailed the seas of temptations tides,
melted my wings in the heat of the sun,
longed for the fulfilment of an honest wage,
would that I could indulge in coffee shop chat,
put all to rights over an intellectual cigarette,
yet here I am, morally broke,
no words in coins left in my bank,
to dream of dreams I now must rest.

 224° 
Carter Ginter

I wake up cold in my bed
And cuddle up next to someone I care for deeply
Waiting for a moment
To text "good morning" to the girl I love

Bliss.
This is free love.
This is beautiful.

I'm lost in the moment
Lost in her eyes
A vibration on the table brings me back
I expect it's from my love
And it is
But not the one I expected

Instead
My ex-fiancé's name flashes before me
Followed by the smiley face I never removed
"Hey"

What?
I'm in shock
Is this an accident?
And old message stuck in my phone?
It buzzes again

"Could I ask you something"
My heart is racing
What could you have to say to me?
"Those letters."
I guess you read them
"Do you still feel that way?
Or have you moved on now..."

I'll never move on
My love is limitless and endless
But for that same reason
I'm so confused

Of course I love you
I always will
But I love someone else too
And I know I'll love another soon enough

My love needs more than monogamy can give me
The experience of polyamory is all so new
It's liberating
And it's beautiful
And I love it
But I love you too

You are almost every great memory
That I have from the past 2 years
But I'm also a different person now
Than I was four months ago

I still can picture a future with only you
But polyamory would have to come off the table
I don't know if I'm ready for that
Even if I don't know what a poly future looks like

I need time to process this
I need a minute to breathe
I need to reflect on these possibilities
Love is a beautiful thing
But right now it's suffocating

 190° 
alex

when a boy shows you his hands
bare except for the dust
he’s begging you to look past
take them in yours.
squeeze them once.
twice.
say without speaking
that you understand that the valleys
in his palms were meant to cradle
shooting star wishes
that he’s allowed to still hope for.
when a boy shows you his eyes
of milk and crimson and melanin
a bloodshot vein for every night he can’t sleep
let him shut his eyelids.
say without speaking
that you understand that the black hole pinpricks
of his irises hold more than the universe
should allow.
when a boy shows you his soul
shivering but still working toward friction
iced over but still working toward melting
let him come to rest next to yours.
say without speaking
that you understand that he is lonely
and that his silence speaks volumes
and that you kept his treasure close
because you love him.
when a boy shows you his hands
show him your hands.
when a boy shows you his eyes
show him your eyes.
when a boy shows you his soul
show him that
this is a comfortable place to rest it.
when a boy shows you the hardness that shaped him
show him the softness
that you have in store.

k
 130° 
A M

they say that people are
a collection of their experiences
the sum of all the moments
that make up their life

I'm glad that so many of mine
are spent with you

 130° 
Isabel

We're made up of space dust
Does that make us stars?
Twinkling and glowing
And shining and growing
And someday imploding
In what used to be ours

It's 1 am and I have school tomorrow. What do I do? I write lame poems about stars
 120° 
amc

The world is a terrible place
Judging someone because of race
Seeing a face
And looking at it with disgrace
Having choices
We can't choose, but must face
The world is a terrible place

I loved you
You smiled because you knew
Our love grew
Until you broke my heart halfway through
You shattered my expectations i created and drew
My perfect sky blue
Lost its beautiful light hue
Without further adieu
Thank you
For changing my perspective on life anew
The world is a terrible place

 107° 
Camellia Japonica

The lights were dim,
and the noise was loud,
crowds of people all around.
I lost my way in the throng,
bourne along on the beat of the night.
Cigarettes needed, I left the bar
suddenly there you are.
You tried to chat I wanted none of that
just my smokes and a familiar face,
I tried with grace to let you know
move on, just go.
Just then I I knew my mistake,
you grabbed my arm and hissed in my face
“My name is John”
I tried to smile use some guile,
but you were hell bent, and all that I did seemed to provoke.
I choked the fear down, when I realised we were alone,
how did you get me here?
Wedged between the wall and the cigarette machine.
Croaks were all that I could summon as you undid my buttons,
frozen in fear, switched off from here.
Fight or flight?
Neither just fright.
I remember your smell, your touch, your words
I wanted to scream GO TO HELL but nothing came out.
The kisses were the worst,
no matter how hard I tried to move my head away
your lips, your tongue found their target.
Bruising me, pushing me, grabbing me, groping me
As you pinned my hands behind my back, I gave up,
Just like that.

© JLB
23/11/2017
02:20 GMT
 101° 
Leila Shearer

You can look forward
To the future
Just remember to
Place 'IF' in front
Of each thought/idea.

I prefer it that way.
Not just to avoid
Disappointment or pain
If things don't work
It also keeps us
On our toes.

We're aware that
Nothing's guaranteed
So we place more energy
Into appreciating the present.

Nor do we become
Too comfortable
Or lazy.

We continue working hard
To keep relationships
And moments the
Best they can possibly be
Because we know
It could be taken away
In an instant.

Focusing on the future
Can make us accept
A present we're
Not Satisfied with
Because it'll get "better"
In the future.
Which is a load of shit!

Focus on now,
Make now everything
It can possibly be
And you'll stop
Latching onto the future.

l.v.s

Something I've begun telling myself constantly. I'll prefer life and live it to the fullest once I learn this lesson...
 98° 
L Seagull

There’s always weed, misery and deep conversations

 93° 
Kaitlyn

A rush of blood to the head
The excitement of dread
Why
Do we yearn for the reasons we bled?

To be free from reality
You can't see your mortality
It's obvious
Why the devil loves hospitality

Nobody watches him slide through the door
You give him everything yet he somehow wants more
Let him tear up the carpet
The curtains
The floor

That was the last time

Every time
You swore

k.d.

 83° 
Zafreen

It's a strange feeling
Hard to identify

It starts with butterflies in your stomach
Then comes the giant down hill on the rollercoaster
It's a total mix
One part Adrenaline and two parts caffeine
Makes you search frantically for the right definition
What is the answer?

But your mind is in the clouds
Slowly, but surely falling down to earth

I'm falling and
falling and falling

Until

THUMP!
You are hit with the brick wall of realization
I fell

But the crash is the absolute worst
you feel crushed
like an ant on the sidewalk.

I spent some time on this version. Hope you like it! Comment, and like

rusty spoons,

broken chandeliers,

wasted berries,

empty glasses

dead wine


a love that fades,

faster,

than I could drink

cold,

but longing


the pleasure of nothingness

the touch of nothingness

the sound of nothingness

the taste of nothingness

"I just want to be free, wild and young"
I am tired of how much I must change for him, why?
 61° 
Cyril

I’ve dated a queen and a peasant;
life’s full of questions
The queen was needy and had her own way
The peasant was kind, and lived far away.
The queen had it good, and thought she ruled. The love wasn’t fair; and she took what she could,
A son a daughter..
I wasn’t ready; my life torn in two,
See my heart was with another,
Who deserved, wanted it too.
The peasant I loved.. my heart resides,
As she was the woman, who had stolen my eyes,
Long long ago I fell deep in love,
Our love was ethereal, and still had a flame.
Until I lost her with words disguised as pain
Life, will. Never. Be. The. Same.

Falling in love while your still getting over someone else, is.. a .. horrible.. idea.. taking the time to recover is for the best, because you.. we.. won’t hurt somebody else without even realizing it.
Sharing your heart with multiple people isn’t fair..
 53° 
Jeff Stier

Every moment in time
is delicate
ready to shatter

Every moment in time
is soon lost
and seldom found

I live in a moth-built cocoon
moss in my ears
deluded into thinking
I will soon be the butterfly
I once was

But in this life
it will never be
unless the ocean
loses its argument
against the land

Unless the moon
says no more
to the sun

So in that spirit I hold out my hands
for the next blessing
receive it dutifully
and with a gratitude deeper than music

Here to chime
until my time
like bells in the wind.

 51° 
nim

I thought he was perfect.
He's got the cutest smile, a handsome face; yet not too hot so other girls would steal him.
Smart, aces the exams without studying, too.

Clever, cute, loyal to death and loves me, too.
What more could I possibly ever wish for?

The thin layer of sweat covers his body, glittering in the last dusk's breath.
Sparkles of silver are in his eyes, as if God himself got down on Earth to pour galaxies in his wooden eyes, which are prospecting me.

So, what's the missing puzzle?
You love him, don't you?

Then look at you.

Gazing at the reflection in the mirror, quietly standing.
I look at the dark circles under my eyes which are expanding, following my nose line by the parallel.

Then I look at my nose which I've always hated; the uneven line, like the messy sea in sky's rage.

Then I look at myself.

And I rage, too.

So where's the missing puzzle?
Why does he care?
Why do I?
Ah, youth - well you wore me thin,
And, by the skin of I teeth I'd almost felt something.

So there's the missing puzzle.
Me.

I even showed him how I look without makeup. I showed him my madness and my crazyness which would shoo any man away.
Why's he here?

I'm not perfect like him.
And I can't stand, oh, I can't stand the pressure.
I look at my curvy body and stretch marks, lining my legs and showing me my fight with life I'd quit from for another reason.

Why me?

And now,
The mirror's smudged with blood
And I'm sitting on a lonely chair,
A lonely soul, in a lonely room,
With a lonely mind in this lonely world.

I don't know love no more.
How could I?
I take out the mirror bits from out of my fist, silently observing.

Then I look at me.

The face of a disappointed warrior with a long past of fighting her own life,
And it might seem dramatic to you,
But I've had a lot of things on my mind
Which you wouldn't find on the normal silver plate.

I'm not perfect, nor I plan to be.
I see through the lies caused by the love veil, and I choosed to rip it off, but it's not falling down.

And I'm afraid,
I'm afraid if I stay;
When will he
Take it
Off?

A simple love story.
 48° 
Nolan Bucsis

There's a certain beauty.
In a house falling apart.
With holes in the floor.
Grime collecting in corners.
Never cleaned.
Frantic edgy grafiti.
And a collective apathy.
Punctuated with loud drunken parties.
Cause we're in the ghetto.
In a small town.
And, there's.
Hundreds of cats in our alley.
Left behind by former owners.
Much like.
We.
Are.

 46° 
Scarlett

I am  a coward
I cannot stand tall
when words are thrown my way
and I am not very good at confrontation
due to the fact that my heart is too exposed
in  its cage that is my chest

ba-bum
ba-bum
ba-bum

a rhythm I know to well
add in the short breaths

the
tick
tick
ticking

of a clock inside my head
a soundtrack that is my own
different from the rest

 45° 
Sayer

Shower dreams and unflinching glances
Downtown I believe we go down with dances caught up in single stances-
We all will slip

It's horrifying to give everything away while the moon cries carefully and the stars scream for satisfaction amongst your never ending wake

Growing up is the hardest part until
You in one way forget what day it is
And only pictures can puncture your soul

Nothing's going to change so just stop trying to want anything, you'll
Get what you need as I need some sort
Of car crash for me some sort of slip some sort of horrible accident to happen (in my dreams)
To just remember quietly where life begins
and ends with a halt

And yes it's all your fault.

So give up
 42° 
triztessa

I was writing a song for the flowers
withering on top of the computer table
but like all things in nature,
change turned the petals
into something grey and pure
they die beautifully,
unlike us
when we wither,
we do not fold into ourselves
we do not look up to the sky
but only avoid the light,
fold within our comforts
to hide and embrace the dark.
and so when love withers,
we let it die.
We are just human
after all.

 42° 
katalyn

Almost eight billion souls
And all I see in them
is ur absence

 39° 
Deep Ponderer

I asked someone
In a serene manner,
"Why so serious?"
I received a full throated reply,
"Should I act like a child then,
The way you do!?"

I gave a poise reply
With a gentle smile,
"I certainly do not act like a child,
But the child within
Teaches me to live,
Not to simply survive."

Embrace your inner child:)
Stay blessed.
 38° 
scooby

She turned her home into a brothel,
and killed god in the process,
because he was an untrained craigslist hire
and struck a nail straight through a wire
hidden in the wall,
and died
foaming at the mouth.
She,
in turn googled a WikiHow
and did the work herself.

I am tired mostly of poetry that is about women and their sad downfall into their own sexuality.
 37° 
ren

Teach my nerve endings to breathe,
That it doesn't always have to be
Static shouts from one anxiety
To another.

Teach me to set my palm on my chest,
That the warmth that fills my body
Can be enough.

Teach me that it's okay to whisper,
That I shouldn't have to scream
To be noticed,
To be loved.

 37° 
Annie

Red roses
And your broken smile
Don't go
Please stay here for a while

We'll talk
About how the world will end
The dark theories
And the forgotten thread

The broken glass
And the moon lighting our faces
Feel the moment
Feel it before we leave our traces

In a hundred years
And days I can't count
These silk robes will smell like us
But we won't be here -we won't be found

 36° 
ST Rossa

Words of hate unraveling
from the leg of a sick wedding dove.

This heavenly drug,
schizophrenic love.

Never again!
Never again....

I still wonder how i fell into
A sea of love and vile,
It was like everytime i saw her
she would bathe my heart in ecstasy.
The taste of blood with every kiss
would cease my breath,
remembering her still stings
the depths of my nose.
By her side i was the most stable guy,
and her by mine the most insane at times.
God! She was addicted to everything
except making me happy.
Always drenched in sweat
not always hers or mine ,
a beast when not even a period
stopped her at the cusp of her lust.

 33° 
Nicole Torres

Her name is October.
She’s beautiful.
Sun-dipped hair with the eyes to match.
Radiant and
warm.
So warm that the trees can almost breathe again and come back to life;
That I can almost breathe again
without it burning my lungs.

Her name is

Her name is-

Her cheeks would turn the slightest shade of pink when I leaned in to kiss them.

And I used to joke about how it’s only because of the cold weather,
Until she stopped laughing at that.

Now her mouth is a straight line.
Like a highway I would’ve wanted to follow.

If only it curved up at the edges, as if it were one of her favorite back roads.

Her head turns to look at anything besides me
And she pulls the leaves down with her as she walks away
Making her “goodbye” a statement of nature

Maybe if I scream for her
Maybe if I plead for her
Maybe if I reach for her
Maybe…


Her name was October.
That’s all I can remember
As my raised hand drops to my side.
Is there ever any point
Of grasping at disappearing air,
that used to be your oxygen?

 33° 
Nat Lipstadt

Until you have bent your ear to Shakespeare's sonnets,
Till you have laughed with Ogden Nash,
Wept with Frost, visited Byron's ghost,
Read the songs of King Solomon,
And once you
Despair of being their equal,
Shed your winter coat of worry,
Screw your courage to the sticking point,
Begin to write then with reckless courage,
Unfettered abandon, make a fool of yourself!

Scout the competition.
Weep, for you and I will never surpass
The giants who preceeded us, and yet,
Laugh, cause they thought the same thing as well...

 32° 
onlylovepoetry

I give thanks for:

the uncommon greatness of common sense

for the steady approach of that wondrous day when
kindness is neither random or unexpected,
but the rule, not the exception

for our opinions and deeds, that are our own,
derived without coercion, born from our thoughts and observations and that
we are equal to both
owning them and to changing them


that we live in a time that friendships can grow just through the exchange of words and leap bounds over physical
impasses



for eyes that see deeper than skin,
ears that hear
what those ashamed wish you didn’t, hands that grasp regardless of distance,
the taste of  kisses come easy

for the  day when I at last knew, the pleasure of giving
so far exceeded receiving, that giving and receiving became
synonymous

that I learned best skill to possess  is
to anticipate the needs of others

that my lucky position in this world permits me
to act on the things for which I am thankful

that someday I will need no longer inquire,
are you my poem,
for the answer is self-evident to us both

LGA 11/22/17 1:00pm
 31° 
Olympia

wistful exhausted eyes
look desperately
at the reflection in the mirror
through cracked lens
and dark circles
tears should be falling
but nothing is coming
only the sore distant pain
of knowing he's never gonna be here
he's always gonna be there
a reminder
in the back of your mind
like a fog you can't shake
but forget him for a moment
because you're stronger than this
you were meant for greatness
destined for beauty
and yet he still hurts you all the more
pulls you down and backward
till you back starting at the reflection
blank stares
sore eyes
wavering faith in the thing called
"soul-mates"

(inside my mind ... at the moment)
 29° 
Nicole

just the other day my mother asked me why i don’t write Happy Things.
i couldn’t produced the words from my tongue to explain that happiness is a firefly hovering just out of reach,
how it sometimes dips
just low enough for my fingertips
to brush its wings
before it soars above my head once again.
i couldn’t figure out how to make her understand that most of my time is spent with my head surrounded by darkness, so that the “happy” moments only appear to be a grey light.
my brain functions at a baseline of a light drizzle and a slight chill spent alone,
where happy can't live because of the possibility of catching the sad.
she wouldn’t believe me when i said that i can’t write Happy Things because i need to drain them of their nectar while their light is still in front of me.
i cannot afford to write Happy Things because then i would never have the chance to experience them as close to fullness as I can.

happy doesn’t linger the way depression can.

 28° 
Jack Jenkins

i'm a frozen tempest
there's nothing left to bleed
my body is hollowed
emptied of it's essence
a frozen burn from my touch
fire turned to cold ash
spin me
out of control
for i am cold and weary
a broken sculpture
i cannot hear your whispers
my head is split
the veins trail to my heart
where you left your mark
oh how you killed me
with torture
before the killing blow
you said you would grow old with me
but that turned to a lie
you're a desolate soul
looking for hope & love
yet you killed me
i turned to ice
frozen solid
but melting
i still miss you
i still love you
i still hate you
what can i do?
poetry is the only place
i can speak to you
your face reminds me
to
not to trust so much
keep my love at a limit
say "fine" when i'm not
i locked you out of my life
but there's still a draft
that carries your scent
& it lets me know
i'm still hurting
from you
you were my best friend
oh you killed me...

For all my words, I'm still speechless when people ask me why she left...
 27° 
elsa angelica

I don't know what to do
I don't know how to be
I feel I need him
to live
I really love him
He tries to convince me
He is no good but I know
It's not true
He gently  pushes me away
He does not know how
Much it hurts
I listen to my heart
I don't want to let him
Go
BUT I cannot remove
This urge to wanting
To be so close
I want to text him
I patiently wait maybe
He will think of me
One of these days
But my heart breaks
I have to remove from myself
The passion I feel
I Have to stop
From showing the love
I really feel
I have to stop my mouth
From wanting to say
I love you still

I feel like I have to detach myself when I don't want to
 27° 
PaperclipPoems

Let the fireflies of your creativity
fly
Don’t cast shadow on what is meant to shine
Bright

 27° 
Mateuš Conrad

how far can analysis go,
if philosophy books do not
utilise grammatical words / categories?

i dare say, let's begin with
that mathematics calls coordinates,
a simple (x, y, z) of the algebra
that translates into
  (1 across, 2 up, 3 diagonally) -

in language, that's a bit more
complicated:

   the category of prepositions stretches:
on, in, from, with, counter(-) -
with or without the hyphen affix making
counter a suffix...
                against is still minded
as a preposition...
                               as...
  
oh god, i believe in the trans-movement,
although i believe in the transcendence
of grammatical categorisation of words,
minus the meat & two veg,
and minus the floral pattern analogy
of female genitalia... for fuck's sake.

language, you must admit, has more
coordinate "starting" / incision markers
that mathematics had or ever will, "have".
why?
                 simple... 26 beats 10 digits...
even if there's the c k q...
              Siamese i.e. -
               the grapheme ae...
                      whatever...

  i hate the devilishly debilitating stance
of having perfected language and
treating this perfecting as anti-"scientific"...
   your parents originated from norwich?
if not so: i'd think so.
                    
       i'm about this | | close to losing
my temper and frying a belgian waffle...
calling in Thai with a crisp Eloise salad and
reminding the inclusion of the use of tamarind...
that over-salty peanut butter paste...

i hate being the person to break it to you:
language can be re-celebrated
having tasted the piquant pompousness of
over-exaggerated establishment of science
as a quasi-religion...
                          
language can be as scientific as an -logy
affix -
    as long as it minds the bouncy-castle
of grammar, notably categorisation words
of the orthodox caste choice of woo-woo-wording...
it's best to begin with shrapnel,
notably the already titled observation,
correlation between mathematical coordinates
and worded "coordination"
        via prepositions...

               we already sharpened
the islamic five pillars into two:
  a- (without)
                             the- (with) -
the prefix distinction, unfortunately is only
entertained by the indefinite articulation -
since a definite articulation has a higher name,
most distinguishable...
            
                                  there's a "point"
to "the" point, only given that "the" point
   is gambling on "a" point, without a recurring
point of curbed ambitions of
                   said: "point" being demaned
  in the first place...

in the existentialist vernacular that's also
called: juggling the "ditto" / inverted commas -
two things are apparent:
                        three things are being said.

only when language is "unnecessarily"
complicated does life become the so craving for
answering: life's short, life's simple -
  yes, but that being said -
language is elongated, with death being
the centipede to a butterfly's two weeks' worth
of gilded glide and pomp and
         colour-dyed circumvent of
the numb-packing grey and, everyday.

 27° 
Akira Chinen

She was the first sin made of flesh
when no act of love was lewd or wicked
before men and gods
invented shame and virtue

hers were the fingers
that carved the heart of every star
and whose kiss set their fires ablaze
to burn eternally
in the vast emptiness of space
to give us something beautiful
to look up and pray to in the moments
we can find no beauty within ourselves

and beauty is within her name
and the colors of her eyes
and lust and desire burst from her womb
like a wild garden spilling over the universe
to give life hunger and reason

and she carved out a small piece of her soul
to give time a heartbeat
and set eternity into motion
and she is as old as she is young
for she lives outside
of the rules of deterioration and death

she is endless and kind
and you felt the warmth of her breath
in your lungs in your first gasp of air
and you will know her again briefly
as your take your last
and hear the sound
of her gently black wings carry you off
to the place where stars are born
and she carves you into a heart
to float in the sky
and comfort those
who need to find beauty
somewhere outside of themselves

 27° 
Natasha L

Two years
Two thousand tears shed
All because you took my unconscious body to bed
What was going through your head
When you peeled my skin-tight dress off of me

What did you see
Did you see me
Or was I just something to get you off
Was it the dead weight of my body that turned you on
Or the fact that I had just turned 21?

 27° 
BJ Donovan

Normal is a Casualty

    I accidentally wandered inside your heart.
    I didn't mean for you to watch me die.
    This burden would rob the blind
    and leave the weak for dead.

    Our bed's become a battlefield,
    a no man's land between us.
    We finally reached an armistice,
    but all wars leave their wounded.

    Time has slowed to a crawl waiting
    for test results and next moves.
    Will we ever know normal again?
    The clock's always midnight and noon.

 26° 
Rose Amberlyn

White smudges like maps line the walls.
Crinkled bills sit on the counter.
The shades have wiped away the sun.
And humming drifts through the room,
Without a greeting.

Air sits thick upon the chest.
A pencil skipping skillfully to the tune,
Of Rosemary Clooney.
A single bead of moisture glides towards the desk.

One single tear of a paper takes us from Monday to Tuesday.
And it's here we find ourselves.
Again and again and again.

Until everything changes once again.

 25° 
Meghna Sharma

all that is lost
isn't always meant
to be found,
in the first place;
like faint traces
of your cologne
on the pillow
where i rest;
like our first
awkward picture together;
like your maddening lust
to not be satiated
because it makes you
value things less,
and probably that's why
when you found out
that you could have me:
you left,
because some things, darling
aren't meant to be
found.

 25° 
Kaels

do you love me?
or
are you in love with me?
cause theres a big difference
and if you don't know it
I don't want to know
because that means
you probably just love me
you're not in love with me
and I'm in love with you

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