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 442° 
Ghostfeather
There was a day, like no other -
filled with light from the pulsing sun.
There was a day, in which I would rather,
dry the ink and experienced some fun.
And as I went out through that door,
like many thousand times before,
a raindrop on my nose, found its place
then swiftly running down my face,
it fell on concrete tiles and then it smeared,
it took my breath away, and swiftly disappeared.
I shouldn't have taken my bike,
I hate riding in a sunny-rainy weather;
I was sad, but it was fun.
a (the) woman’s body (pretty pleasing)

is my reciprocal

her waist is my happy place

her neck is my doorway

the rest is
best when she is mirror accessorizing,
preening, **** upon first rising,
tallying the gains and the losses

unaware of my watching,
never satisfied she, tho she is 98% unadmitting contented,
as she shifts her weight,
from knee to knee extended alternating
with slow delicacy

for the pleasure is trebled
for her imagine image reverberates
throughout the house

for ever mirror is pre-positioned
accidentally angled just so

she doesn’t know and asks why I’m grinning,
answer is
no confessionary, no telling I’m sinning,

eyes scheming-dreaming of her reciprocity

she smiles and says  
“good morning bad boy”

maybe she does know
but you won’t tell her,
we, you and me,
are pretty pleasing

she is 1/me
she is won over me
 335° 
Callie Richter
you say my heart
is cold.
i'm sorry.
it's been shattered
so many times
freezing it
was the only way
i knew
to put it
back together.
 280° 
Amy byrne
Once we bloomed & blossomed
Together we grew
We wore but two roses
Swaying in the wind
Until you pollinated with another
Causing my petals to fall
Leaving me withered
 250° 
tina lombardo
Word of mind

I have alot of words running through my mind
They wait to be heard
They wait to be listened
They wait to be loved
They wait to be sad
They wait to be angry
They wait for something to happen
What esel can  I say
Need to make room for new ones
My mind is full
 212° 
Madison
I crave a new feeling.
That near death thrill,
The one that makes you feel so alive.
The falling,
But never landing.
The light,
Surrounded by darkness.
The knowing,
That you'll only be guessing.
I'm bored.
 166° 
Sarah
eye contact -
this beautiful, forbidden moment of intimacy
when suddenly I see you and you see me.

magnetism -
and we can't help ourselves
to look back.
 131° 
Oliver O'Connor
maybe if I didn't see you that summer day
maybe if I didn't hear your laugh
maybe if I didn't talk to you the first day we met
maybe if I didn't ask for your name
maybe if I didn't wish to be your friend
maybe if I didn't follow you around all summer
maybe if I didn't see you in the hallway so much
maybe if I didn't buy you things
maybe if I didn't get your friends to like me
maybe if I didn't see you stare at me when 'I wasn't looking'
maybe if I didn't kiss you in front of the courtyard
maybe if I didn't ask you out on my birthday for luck

maybe if I didn't let you in

maybe if I didn't hold your hand
maybe if I didn't text you so late at night
maybe if I didn't talk so much
maybe if I didn't call you when you weren't okay
maybe if I didn't spend so much money on our two-month gift
maybe if I didn't smoke so many cigarettes
maybe if I didn't tell you so much

then

maybe
just maybe

I would have been better off.
it’s a beautiful thing
this day and age
with bubbling permafrost
with drug-resistance
with obesity treatments
with technological advancements
with scientific discoveries
with silent wars
with blue lava
with bleeding glaciers
with divorce
with sensitivity
with my generation
of people believing
this new generation
is completely and
utterly clueless as a
common occurrence

but let’s think about
what these kids are
into nowadays.

let’s think about who
invented these inane
things for the kids.

my generation of people.

so the kids of today are
the ones who are ******
for liking the things
that we’ve created?

I’m sorry but we have to
be the ones who are obtuse
for believing such things,
oblivious for not
realizing them and
showing the world
we have
little or no imagination
anymore.

the generation before us
has lied to us and
thought us to lie
to the generation
after.

whether it’s the gods
or holidays
or what not.

the youth of the today
are autonomous.
they can not take
responsibility for
their actions nor do
they understand and
just go along
with the trends,
much like,
all the generations
before them
but we need a scapegoat
to cover up our own
farce implementations.

the truth of the matter is..
we’re all a little vacuous
in our own way
especially the ones with
an answer for everything.
living in an imperfect world
where there’s always room
for improvement
nothing for us
or against us
wrapped up in our
congratulatory
self-contradictory
and illogical theories
and as useless as
exploding appendix.

the lost generation
the interbellum generation
the silent generation
the baby boomers
generation x
the millennials

a strong admixture
of imbecility and
self-assurance
filled with belief
and unawareness
to a senseless world

like hate
like blame
like gossip
like jealousy
like being offended
like being impressive
like the punk rock dream
like hospital waiting rooms
like fundraisers and charity events
like your co-worker to the right and
the left of you
and their families
and their families before
them

our greatest creation
our strongest aide

to deconstruct
 131° 
Mohan Nath Siddh
लाल, पीले, नीले और हरे
आज कई हैं रंग बिखरे
पर‌ अंतरमन श्वेत बने
और दूसरे रंगों को पहचाने
झूठ, फरेब, और घृणा मिटा
शांति, सत्यता, प्यार रूपी
श्वेत रंग का आश्रय चुने
होली की सार्थकता जानें
और हुड़दंग का नाम ना दें।
 130° 
Mary Gay Kearns
You
Lavender lays where the spider cries
On the gravel path by the lawn
The licacious tree spills its leaves
And the spider runs around.

If I could give you a book of thistledown
Lined in sashes of jade silk
And edged in purple squares
Your days fill every day
And every day be you.

Love Mary
 128° 
Nat Lipstadt
be ever gentle to thy words
treat them, your tools, well,
cleansing and protecting,
wrapping them in cloths of chamois and moleskin
that they may be well conditioned and
pour forth with a temperament clear and viscous,
reflecting their high honors and a noble lineage,
they are well-intentioned to exist far longer
than your meager temporal life,
upon this ever hasty, ever perpetual, orbit

give them all respect, their fair due,
they are treasure immeasurable,
for which you have been granted guardianship,
custody received from others to be gifted onwards,
yours, but for the duration

so oft we trifle words,
expel them from the country of our body,
without passport and earnestness,
as if they were the cheapest of footnote filler,
day tourists, to be treated as leavings,
refuse for daily discardation,
barely noting their fast comings and faster disappearance,
but leaving not, a mark of distinction

more truffle than trifle,
find them in the dark forest of your life,
use them sparingly, just for soaring,
take them from the roots of your trees,
shave them with a paring knife,
counts them in bites and measure them in grams,
even in grains,
for words are the seasoning of our lives,
agent provacateurs that can modify the moment,
bringing out to the fore
the flavor of the underlying

speak them slow and distinct,
for they arrive slow to you,
a trickling of refugees for your sheltering,
harbor them as full companions,
protected by natural law,
provision them well,
prepared and ever ready for a quick departure,
moor them at the embarcadero,
for the next restless leg of endlessness,
which they themselves will inform you
will last longer than eternity,
long after there are no humans to speak them
Oct. 6, 2015
4:30am
Manhattan Island
 123° 
Ephemeral Oblivion
But maybe we ended for a reason...

because you didn't know how to handle my tidal waves of emotion.

But...

I don't want you back, at least, not like that.

I want the 2 a.m. conversations, the comfort that you gave me when I cried, or screamed, or raged, or even just sat there, lost in the toxicity of my mind.

I miss being wrapped in your arms, security that they were.

But most of all...

I.

Miss.

You.
It's 11:20 p.m., and I'm thinking of you.
 123° 
Emily M
In sickness I am fearful,
In health I am more so,
When I fall into slumber is my only peace,
Dreams, visions if you will,
Laughter, screams,
Both see me,
Both trying to carry me away,
Lifting me up,
Tearing me apart,
I'm only human,
What more can I do?
Where can I go?
How much will ever be enough?

- Emily M
January 28, 2019
 113° 
Aquila Venatici
I bought a bag, today
it is rectangular
I had forgotten about
the time you made fun of them,
and as I checked out,
I remembered.

I cried.

she looks like you.
i miss her so bad
 83° 
Hg
wri
ting is
threading
your           life
thro             ugh
a ne           edle
and         if
you sew
secrets
you'll
get
po
ke
d
a
l
i
t
t
l
e
.
©Hg
 71° 
Temporal Fugue
I know I won't get to all
but ******, I'm gonna try
thumb up to every comment
up until the day I die

I can't react to every line and word
but ****** I can try
thumbs up to ever poet/poetess
maybe no one has, to cry

I'm just a singularity
but ****** all too ****
we, as a community
stand up, and hear the yell

I'm not you, and you're not me
but when you see thumbs down
chime in with words and thumbs
chase the trolls, outta HP town
Thumbs down has no other purpose that to provide trolls with a mechanism to pester and put forth their hate. REMOVE it! You can't control how many accounts people have here (it's not realistic to assume you can) so remove their reason for creating them!
Nothing really left to say :(

Thank you my friends for the daily, I feel undeserving, but extremely, appreciative! :) (bow)
 65° 
TT
.
Cold. Dark. Numb.
The emptiness.



Water dropping.
.
..
...
....

Still cold. But loud. Voices repeating, not caring what you want.
 63° 
moon child
I don't want to spend my youth
Without
In order to spend my future
With

I am willing to throw my tomorrow
Into the wind
As payment for a better
Today

I will risk what lies ahead
To ensure peace where I am
Right
Now

The future is not guaranteed.
The future is not a given right.
The future is not fair.

Today is sure.
Today is a gift.
Today is what I wake up to every morning.

So I will not stop living
For the future.
I will live on
For today.
 62° 
Crow
we do not write poetry
we write mirrors
which are held up
to curious faces
who read
looking for their
own reflections
 61° 
Diya
I wasn't born
With this hole in my heart
But it developed gradually
When pain drilled my chest to cling it's art.
Oh! I was smiling radiating the usual rainbow colours!
But just then, I was grayed and torn
Just like  withered flowers!
The pain! Yes the pain
Is unbearable
My tears all are in vain
They are just emotional fool , being unstoppable!
I am fed up of emotional breakdown
My soul became mournful, being lost in the ghost town!
I know, sorrows are part of life
But how can I frequently bear the pain that cut deeper than the knife!
I try my best to just forget and move on
But what shall I do when I am trapped in the useless emotion?
Just in a process of getting relieve from the feeling of being hurt! It's really difficult...
Sorry,my poem sounded somewhat boring but I really meant what I said .
For nine months straight
You carried my weight

You’ve delt with my flaws
I’m forever in awe

I love you mom
Forever and on
 57° 
Star BG
Broken heart,  I shall fix  -- kintsukuroi
Broken things, I will mend -- kintsukuroi
Broken dreams, I shall repair -- kintsukuroi
Broken life, I will fix -- kintsukuroi
Inspired by Edmund Black

There is nothing that can't be repaired with time and the right intention.

And even when death separates the pain can be repaired with the mortar of memories and knowing life is eternal.

kintsukuroi- is the Japanese art of mending broken pottery using resin laced with gold or silver. kintsukuroi has a deeper philosophical significance. An embracing of the flawed or imperfect. A rebirth.
 56° 
Alex Smith
The wind cries Mona
And carries her to me.
Because -
Sometimes I think
This love
Is as pure as can be.
But it can be superficial
Or fake
Or for goodness sake
Please let me get my
Mind straight.
 56° 
b e mccomb
i dread the day you learn
for the first time that
you can't just love all
the darkness in me away

and no matter how much
you care i will still toss
and turn at night and scars
might still appear on my skin

i dread the day you realize
that you can't cure me
and sometimes all you can do
is stand next to me and
hold my hand through fog
pouring out of my ears so black
and thick we can't even see
each other's faces

i dread the days i can't
get out of bed
the days you want to
take me out and all
i can manage is a prettified
shell of myself

i dread the day you learn
that sometimes no matter
how hard i try i still can't
pull myself together

the day you learn that
there isn't an answer
you can give that will
save me from my fears

you aren't the first person
who has tried to love the
darkness inside away
my family and friends
have given it their all
but someday you too will learn
that if love could
cure mental illness
the world would be
a much better place
copyright 8/6/18 b. e. mccomb
 55° 
lX0st
Paint me a picture
Of your skin
Does it bronze beneath the sun?
Or sizzle and blush
Like your cheeks
When you’re in love?
Is it soft to the touch
Like when your palms graze
The smooth surface of water?
Or rough around the edges
Like your favorite book
And its lovingly worn corners?
Does it melt in the heat
Like sweet syrupy treats
Dripping through your fingers?
Or does it welcome the winter
With wide open arms
As if greeting a lover?
Paint me a picture
Of your skin
 54° 
Sushant
You can feel it in your chest, how much more real does it need to get?
If you’re going through a bad time then take this as a sign. There is help. There is hope. ♡
 54° 
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.
 53° 
Poetry
Lick my lips
Cradle my face
Gaze into my eyes
And tell me I'm safe
 52° 
Cobear
All my problems fell away
When my hands were on her hips
 50° 
grace
maybe if i didn't push us
to be something we weren't meant to be
you would still be around
and you'd still be here for me
 48° 
julianna
Why do I think such dark things?
I remember the dark days
When the sun was shining,
But I imagined myself hanging from trees.
I imaged myself,
Bleeding out.
All I wanted was privacy and more blades.
Goodbye, I wrote while the water turned red,
Goodbye.
Free write to the song Broken by Lund
Every situation that I been through,
is just full of darkness,
All through my life,
I hardly talked about it though,
It gives me pain and suffering,
I been hurt too many times,
that it hard for me to live,
I want to live and not give up,
it just that i been mentally in pain,
and also i just feel a burden,
Mostly I feel like way cause their certain people,
People that made me feel that way,
I feel so useless cause of
no one lets me help them with anything,
I feel like that my heart is like billions of pieces,
that it would be hard to fix,
I just wish that my pain just to go away,
cause my life is full of darkness and sadness.
 47° 
Rowan Jupiter
unmotivated,
uninspired,

stressed,
scared,

dreading,
doubting,
­
wanting,
needing

to write.
to create.

but my mind's drier
than eyes after crying
writer's block.
 45° 
Savanna
Like a drug,
You seep out of my skin;
The withdrawal makes me feel dizzy,
Unable to stand or support myself.
My mind craves of nothing but you,
I hate being sober.
 42° 
Mara W Kayh
My life is a virtual battlefield
complete with hidden traps,
layered atop cowardly assaults

between highly guarded spans of peace,
Inside my house
chairs and walls
are coarsely blown to bits
by verbal bombs,
and stark fists of shrapnel.

Behind that simple smile,
semblance of solid love
so easily shaken,
lies a ripened mine field

I tread on tiptoes
yet it erupts under
calloused feet unprovoked,
blasting color to grey
as sacred sanctuary
falls to scarred terrain.

Spears lodged inside ribs
I peel myself from the ground,
shake off soot,
wait for dust to settle
before I march forward, again.

yes I lose the battles
But I will win this war.
Reminded me of the song by Pat Benatar, "love is a battlefield"
But again, hate seeps in as well.
 42° 
Joliver
If there was one word
One word, isolated by itself
That I cannot stand above all others
It would have to be "Okay"
I despise "Okay"
"Okay"
Is how your millionth day at work went
"Okay"
Is off-brand raisin bran
"Okay"
Is how you say school is going
When you don't want to admit you spend
Every second of it
Wanting to die

"Okay"
Is packed to the brim with
Hidden implications
Like a treasure chest
Filled with bottles
With little subliminal hatreds
Written on tiny slips of paper
Passively aggressively pushed inside
To discover later
As I pull out a treasure map
And try to decipher
Where I went wrong

"Okay"
Is a one word dismissal
That feels like an essay a thousand pages long
"Okay"
Is a poison dripping with disinterest
When I dared to share with you
Something I thought might make you smile
"Okay"
Is like trying to talk to a wall
While watching the paint on it dry
"Okay"
Takes two seconds to write
Yet I waited days
For that dreaded word
To grace my notifications
"Okay"
Should be used sparingly
As if each time you send it
You **** the receiver just a little bit
"Okay"
Should not be said so often that
I know what you're about to say
Like I saw it in a crystal ball
"Okay"
Is not looking up from your phone
When I tell you about my day
"Okay"
Is not the proper response
To "I love you"

They say that the opposite of love isn't hatred
It's indifference
And I can't think of a response
More indifferent to pouring out
My heart into your hands
Than "Okay"
At least the last thing you said to me
Before we parted ways
Showed that you cared
At least a little bit
"I hate you"
Stung less
Than the thousands of times
Over our countless conversations
You responded
"Okay"
Okay?
 41° 
Thorns
Oof
Life is an
Oof
 41° 
Albatross
Broken heart, broken dreams
Broke everything except me
 40° 
Donna
Poetry is a
good way of helping you get
to a lovely place
it sure as helped me x
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