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charles bateman
My life has value,I have only one
Only one shot before it's all gone.
So please tread softly
In my world of peace
Fight for what is good and true
for love to say the least.
My outer appearance is only a reflection of that within
To judge me for the way I look is an ilbe gotten sin.
This is just a small piece of what you will see in me
This is a part of my life
I think you will agree.
Rahama Abdulkadri
     "This isn't who you are."

    "You're not the girl I used to know."

   "I don't know who you've become."

He repeats these lines
So much these days
It annoys me more than
A broken record ever could
Ever should
Ever would
Cause I told him
I warned him thoroughly

     "I'm not nice."

    "You won't like the real me."

   "I'm not worth fighting for."

But he didn't listen
He filled my head with empty
Promises that he meant
He filled my heart with hollow
Vows that he could never fulfill

     "How can a person be so cold?"

    "How can a lady be so cruel?"

   "How can you change so fast?"

He looks hurt and
I hurt a little
But I shut down
Cause that's what I always do

     "I'm nefarious, lover."

    "Had my heart broken a few times."

   "Now it's made of stone."
I hope Nefarious Breed finds this.♥♥♥
I search for the love
I search for the healing
I hurt myself trying to regain feeling
Was I born this way
With the illness and the voices
Or did I ruin myself
With my own thoughtless choices
you wear your depression
as a mask of undeniable normality-
don't say you're messed up.
it carves wells beneath your eyes,
streaks your face with a natural glow,
weighs down your heart
so you don't fly away to the stars...
away from us-
don't tell me it steals your beauty.
it keeps your pen going
during those early mornings
after all the caffeine
has run out
and your mind can no longer battle
the long, black fingers of sleep
grasping for you-
don't write any more society-approved lies.
it leaves art on your skin,
whether it be permanent
or with assorted colors of paint,
that tell stories,
your stories,
without words.
no longer hide the battles you've fought-
don't let others scorn your victories.

you are a masterpiece,
you are perfection.
don't let this depression
own you,
but become more than it.
please share with whoever you think needs to hear this, stay strong my fellow poets, without you we lose not only a unique perspective, but a unique, beautiful person<3
Mystic Ink Plus
One of the leader
Once planned
Poverty eradication

Someone interrupted

Kill the Poor
That simple


Breaking the silence
He said
Raise your hands

No one did
Genre: Observational
Theme: Advocate Of Truth
I walk down the street
late at night
a sense of paranoia
mixes with fright

I hear footsteps behind me
voices whisper in my head

I look back
all that's there
is a stray cat

it runs into the distance
I'm anxious to get home
each passing minute
feels endless
I wish I was safe at home

I pass a beggar
throw some change into a cup
but he gets up
and starts following me
block after block

I'm starting to get scared
as I walk down a dark street
three right turns
and he's still there
behind me

I hurry, and pick up my feet
but he simply walks faster
matching my beat

he starts talking
asking me questions
where I'm going
if I'm single
if I'm interested in a bargain

I ignore him
keep walking
he's still there, right behind me

I finally reach home
turn onto my cul de sac
check the locks three times over
make sure they're intact

go upstairs
shaking with what could've been
pondering why
this always seems to happen
to me
When cameras were first invented,
The photographs were in Black & White,
Yet, the happiness was genuine and colourful.

Now, in this era,
The photographs are full of colours,
Our happiness are colourless
Just like old Black & White Photographs....
Anonymous Freak
Yellow city lights,
Streaks of red,
Huffing and puffing
Trucks and buses,
Dripping roof,
Cold sidewalk,
Wearing my happy red shoes.

I’d like to take up the earth
In my hands,
And fold it over like fabric.
Then stitch through the grassy weave
And bring your home
Closer to me.
But though I cannot make that happen
You are only a time travel
Of two hours away.

You can measure it in
Hot beverages
And scenery,
I’ve even measured it in rain,
The space between
You and me.

Here I am,
In my small town version of a city,
Sitting on my duffel bag,
Because I’d rather shiver in the outdoors,
And you’re only a matter
Of Beatles albums away.
From series - Phone Files
Lorenzo Que
I know you're scared—
You're scared to write.
But I know that you're missing yourself tonight.

So just for this moment,
Forget everything you've learned.
Forget all your missing fragments.
Forget that you were ever burnt.

And just write.

Remember that night,
Where you almost lost it?
You took pen, papers, words, and you learned how to fight.
'Till this day you are still so in love with it.

You lost yourself in this busy world,
But you found yourself in the flow of words.

Never let go of who you are,
Never let go of something that loves you even with all your scars.
My first poem about how words saved me—how it loves me endlessly and how I love it right back.
Path Humble
left my phone unlocked
on the taxis back seat,
won't be the last time

called it a few times
finally, the driver picked up

he had a fare immediately after mine,
and was now headed way downtown,
and would call later
when fate returned him nearer my office

and so it came to pass,
very shortly thereafter,

we met on the street,
he rolled down  the window
and with the greatest smile of pleasure,
as if he had won the lottery
handed me my phone

I had two $20's to cover any expense he might have incurred,
neatly folded in my hand  
and offered it right up, right away;
but the driver repeatedly pushed my hand away
as I insisted,

"No sir, no no, not necessary!

Allah sent me a fare
that took me soon back close to you, so,
  no loss of time did I suffer,
so your offer is kindly unnecessary!"

to which I replied,

Allah sent you to me
so I could reward you!"

and with an equally, beaming smile continued,

"our ride and meeting today,
together was pre-ordained it was

Inshallah!" ^

something he could not dispute...

  we parted ways
   each believing,
   each receiving
a heavenly check plus,
each, credited with a mitzvah^^
on our
respective trip logs,
our humanly divine balance sheets,
kept by the supreme taxi driver
Arabic for ^"God/Allah willing" or "if God/Allah wills," frequently spoken by a Muslim

^^a meritorious or charitable act in the Jewish tradition

NYC taxi cab drivers are suffering economically by the explosion of ride hailing app cars, many unable to pay their bills, earn a living, have committed suicide over the past few months

true story, poetry is there for the taking
Danielle L Cook
You fell in love with a girl and I'm wearing her skin
On the surface composed and inside broken
I have two souls and they hate each other
Sukanya Sinha Roy
Suddenly it is so quiet here
The house was quieter before, but now it echoes

Still have so many things to do
Ought to get the washing in from the clothesline

There are bits and pieces of your life
floating around my screen, like lanterns in the sky

The space between us is sacred
Will turn off the lights, I think,and mute the television
Shiloh Reeves
We spoke of this last night, yet most people neglect it—- The void, the emptiness, how life is seemingly meaningless but those thoughts fade away.

I try to ease the pain with substance but, as I stare into your eyes, I stand by an earlier conclusion.

The greatest drug in life is good friendship and maybe some poetry.
My 1st poem, enjoy
Luz Hanaii
In pain and suffering, we feel the lash of correction
At times we don't understand why?
We see others laugh and carry on.
Yet we only see outwardly, what they wish us to see,
but they too have gone,
or will eventually go through the refining fires.
None of us can escape the molding hands.

The more we go through the easier one
-can relate to other's suffering and pain.
Pain educates the spirit if open to change,
conserves us humble and compassionate.

It is such a gift to be able to express your deepest feelings.
This is a special world of poetry with many dear hearts,
it's an oasis that keeps us sane.  To be part of those who have
loving hearts unspoiled by the harshness of the world and those
who dwell in it,  it's truly a blessing from above.

For those of us who are constantly challenged in many ways,
I send you my sincere prayers and love.
May you always be at peace, no matter the storms.
That no illness, person, situation or abuse
-can ever separate us from His loving and saving grace.

Maria Andrea
"It's hard to forget someone who gave you so much to remember"

It is hard to forget your morning texts,
how you put emojis next to your words so that it'll sound less deceiving.
I can't forget those days, you and I were laughing so hard like we could die in that very moment.
You know I wouldn't forget. I wouldn't.
You brought me back to life but now you put me back again to the edge, where I could watch the grounds and be gone.
I hope it was just easy, easy to ignore the memories, but I couldn't help it. every thing from waking to falling, It all reminds me of you.
Dog Years
So tired, she thought it best
to wear her heart on her sleeves
and get things off her chest

Ignored a notion misconceived
that living like an open book
would only make her more naive

She said if they simply take another look
they'll see a clear transparency
and maybe, just maybe, let me off the hook
May Elizabeth
You pushed.
You pushed me too far.
Too far I fell.
I fell down the hill.
The hill you built,
And then I stop.
I stop rolling and
I stop crying.
It's dark.

But I am safe here,
Comfortable in the ditch,
Comfortable in the rut
That you placed me in.
One big eye watching me.
One force keeping me
From the unknown.
One push and I roll down.
I roll down into dark oblivion
And absolute uncertainty.
But one push and you’re
I literally wrote this an hour ago. I based it on Georgia O'Keeffe's painting "Black Abstraction." I went to an exhibit at the Ashmolean Museum earlier and was given the prompt and wrote the poem based on her painting.
ezra jason
i am
in this situation where
nothing i can say out
loud gets close to what
i mean and everything
you say without speaking
is what i want to hear
I am adept
In the art of being okay
I have mastered the craft
Of covering my troubles
I use all sorts of fancy facades
Acrylic, oil, watercolor
You name it.

I can paint over nearly anything

You will never know
How late I was up last night
Or why.

My eyes flicker
Like candlelight
But you couldn’t see
You couldn’t possibly see
I’m too good
For that.

I can dance, too
Waltzing away my sorrows
Carefully tip toe-ing the
I get a standing ovation every time

I’m very talented, you see.

But my all time favorite
Is my disappearing act
I’m still perfecting it
Right now
But one of these days
I’ll show you
How I

Right through your fingers.
I used to write
My secrets in the sand,
Knowing they would never stay
Long enough to be told.

I used to just swim,
pulled my hair up and never
Really tasted the salt that foamed
After the crash.

I've ran in the sand,
Sure, but never have I
Ever let it smooth my
Skin into what it could be.

Before today, I've never
Let the current take me
Under and feel what it's like
To always come back to something.
you said
you were afraid
to lose me
and then you
faced your fears
and left
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.
mari jagt
i am so small
compared to the mountains
i am so little
compared to the sea
i am so tiny
in comparison to the islands
and i am so large
compared to what i thought i would be
Psychotic Poetess
Finally, we all settled down.
And things make sense only now.
(May God kill me if I ever settle down
the way they do!)
Jobs and kids
We've got lives, at least
There's nothing I'd rather wish!
Miraculous, and so vulgar, it is
We became "adults" - but some of us
are caged still like kids
like birds
who sing

Finally, we got a path
We sowed what we reaped,
but life hasn't been a bitch - to us
We all got over those ugly years
Where you sold yourself and I drowned in fears

If we meet, what will be of me?
If you look at me,
you will see a freak,
(in all senses of it)
It's no surprise - we got only who we are
I'd kill to know what's on your minds
On the sad place, where our dreams got crushed
I see it floating like debris on the water
Did we really got over? Are we still indebted to the past?
Was it true what we did then - was it a mistake we should pass?
Like an old skin that, oh, snakes shed
Are we the same snake at all? I am, and I am not
This mystery of the self

Finally, we grew up
Who are we? Was it a tryout?
An existential tryout for us

Finally, we are out.
I do not wish to be back.
But I can't help to look back
And I have a weird feeling in my heart,
when I see who we are now,
this was a winning hand!
that things only get better
if you learn to wait in time
Poem on meeting my high school fellow students.
You look & see me
as an innocent soul
but only,
if you knew what I've done.
If only,
you could see me for me,
for who I really am.
All the enmity
I've caused
in the lives of those
who have done nothing
but love me.
The first time
you said you loved
me, it was as if
I had been pulled aboard
a life raft after being
lost at sea. But
I see now that this
raft is littered with
holes and
we are sinking, but
you are convinced
that your love is a
teacup to scoop out
the water pooling around
my ankles and you will save
us, but the teacup has a crack
down one side and
do you see where I
am going with this?
A tablespoon of water
will never put out
a forest fire; I am burning
through acres.
What a pretty holiday
I wish that I had gone
But did you know that all they did
was post it on their phones?

What amazing friends they have
I wish that I had more
but actually these people have just met
and are a bore

What a funny club night
I feel left out again
Well maybe its another way
to drown out all the pain

What a lovely boyfriend
He bought her lovely gifts
but do you know that hes repaying
her for all his sins?

Pretty pretty wedding pictures
for everyone to see
did you know he sometimes
"accidentally" makes her bleed

happy shopping family
filling up a cart
did you know the parents
can't grow love in their hearts?

Happy, smiling faces
I wonder what they've seen
and why they have to force a smile
on pictures on this screen

Lovely posing woman
why do you hold your breath?
How many pictures did it take
to make you look your best?

Is it worth it? Is it needed?
to get approval from your 'friends'?
Are we worthy? Are we needed?
does it matter end?
devante moore
I’ve never received a flower
Or even a rose
But I’m a guy
So it’s acceptable I suppose
No kisses
Or sweets
No treats
That signifies ones feelings for me
No token of ones love
But I have gotten
Watered with hate
Planted in betrayal
Fertilized with lies
And maintained by fakes
Roses are Red
But my roses are dead
And crumble beneath my feet
I’m a little addicted
to your hand in mine
my body leaning against yours
and the soft smile you have
while staring into my eyes

I’m a little addicted
to being close to you
the sweet smell of your perfume
and the way you nudge me
when you want attention

I’m a little addicted
to holding you in my arms
your body so close to mine
and tracing words on your skin
i love you so much

I’m a little addicted
to you
maybe i’m more than a little addicted
Thom Jamieson
Keep treading
Exhausted I swim
against a relentless undertow
gasping for breathe
while the brackish depths
beckon below
with the promise of sleep
Flickering visions
as I cycle between
the raging storm and icy winds above
and the cold dark silence beneath
Each time I surface
Another loved one
friend or family
is gone
drowned or rescued
and each time my heart breaks
and my resolve weakens
To surface once again
For soon I will be alone
with nothing
but the raging storm above
and the bowels of uncertainty
city of flips
wants to be my friend, for I am poet-woman nineteen.

she is sweet but sad. super sad.

a good poet who wants to guide me.

but there/theirs is the odor, not faint, of wants wanting,
the pus of corruption behind the curtains,
the Wizard-ess of Oz's
special blackout curtains.

seen how easy, how her illusions,
my medium rare rejections,
morph into her delusions,

and her delusions devolve into
her conspiracy theories.

"SHE will be my mentor, poetess lover, teacher for no charge!"

my parents thinks it's great, she wants (to be) skin in my game.

my parents will find this poem accidentally, exactly,

how I do not want
to be skinned alive.

for I am poet-woman nineteen and still! now, long past
the point of being fooled, the point of no return.

and see no point,
have no intention,
of returning to either valley

no more conning my mind into letting my body be-fused.^  

that ain't me babe.
Valsa George
A king fisher
swooped down
over the silent lake
A flash
of amber and blue
Bobbed up
with a sloshing silver fish
from its beak
like an ornate pendant
Something that surprised me and a sight that I really enjoyed!
Heavy chested I breathe
as the moon whitewashes the night.

The season is changing
and in the wind is the vapor of hyacinth
in the thick of which
the glowworms drink the nectar of night.

They have no philosophy and I have many
like while they dance just for the sake of life
my mind enveloped in obscurity
has shackled my feet and clipped my wings.

I wonder if the glowworms have a mind
that knows when they dance
they have an audience.

Maybe the stars know the same way
when they twinkle.
April W
buried by my thoughts
yours came to visit again
the warmth of your chest
the deepness of your breath
all came back to me
like a crashing wave so strong
I'm drowning below the surface

down here
I want to trace your hands
whisper in your ears
and put it all behind us
hear the gentle strokes of your mind
painting the love you bear for me
curl up into the depths of your soul
so you can always protect me

why is it when I say your name
it pierces my ears
and I feel pain through my whole body
why is it that despite rationality
this doesn't seem rational
and indecisiveness takes over me

I can't seem to articulate this feeling
but I haven't forgotten
and I never will
and with a heavy heart
a heavy mind
and soul
I'm so sorry baby,
but we must have unfinished business

hey you, I hope you read this poem
Path Humble
Poems on a Mirror

~for Glenn Currier~

you don’t know me
I don’t know you;
poems on a mirror I ken
truly well

poems on the mirror saved, and then,
comme the seasoning of leave-falling,
poems dropping and drained...the post-it glue loosened by
the daily heat of watery tears,
making a space for
this one, for you...

there are poems and they arrive with fresh arrogance,
each an arrow demanding your all as a target regardless  
of what the shooter really thinks or wants, other than
obedient acknowledgment and their self-loving flattery

but some render where no rendering should be allowed

those are the ones affixed - ones you chose to join the chosen,
slapped onto mirrors - so many that they almost
cover complete your image from presentation

almost only because these poems are yours, you,
they’re the truly accurate reflection even if not your words,
indeed especially because they’re not yours

but they start your day as a poem should
and in doing so,
become you

What a Hall of Fame, to be a poem on Glenn’s Hall of Mirrors

go pick the plums...
“Glenn Currier  to Valerie Burroughs

“So true. So beautifully put. This is one I will add to Poems on my Mirror. Literally. I am going to copy and paste it or just write it on a post-it note and put on my mirror as a reminder of what poetry should be. Thank you.”
she gave me her nudes
she was bare
and naked
and so out
and open
and i willingly
accepted it
because it wasnt the nudes
that showed her body
the physical aspects
that made her beautiful
it was the words
she didnt choose
and the spontaneity
that left her
either from her lips
or her fingers
or ink

she was as bare
as her nudes
and i accepted
her for her.
10:02 PM 5/1/2018
It's exactly one year
Since you left
This tiring cold earth
Your death
Gave birth to something deep
A wound, now a scar
I watch and feel everynight
A stubborn scar
That deepens with time
Instead of fading
Today this time
I was in a bus
Coming to your funeral
Disappointed like a dog without a bone
And an actor without a home
It's exactly 366 days since your death
Mordecai Amos Suga Masimbira
Died at nineteen before he grabbed
What he was working for
The Nobel piece prize in physics and chemistry
Even in your death
You're unconquered
And I will make you famous
Because you were denied
A long life
Which you deserved
Because to all you were perfect.
A perfect beacon of light
Through the family's dark night.
Words will never cover your void
And only when we meet again will I rejoice.
You live in my dreams
In my art
And in my heart
Which is still moaning like a dove
Solely standing on a thorny branch
Weeping sorely
With burning hope and love
He was my lil brother, i miss him, i love him and i don't why death took him away...
Ira lvisortiz
Before you date me

You need to understand that I'm damaged. I get triggered easily. I have struggled with things. There are nights when I'm curled up on a ball on the floor and I won't talk to anyone. I'll shut you out. I'm not going to be able to trust you for a while because everyone has always left, cheated, or chosen someone else. I need reassurance. I will need you. I will need you to keep choosing me, I'll need you to care when I text you saying I'm getting bad again. I;m a lot, I know this.

So before you think I'm always happy, that I'll always be positive, that I'll always be smiling - know the reality before you get involved. Don't enter my life if you can't handle it. Lastly, don't you dare touch my heart if you aren't ready for that.
Andrew Durst
My death will be liberating.

And I do not say that in the sense
that I am going to find a cliff
and take a good jump off.


I am just trying to find a
clever way to tell you

that I do not know what is going
to happen next.

You see,

there is a
fine line
dreaming and


I am finding out for myself
that being in love
does not always

being awake.

And for my sake
I fall in love with daydreams,
hazy realities

the hung-over idea

of not being enough.

It is all out of my hands.
                 It is all out of time.

And the only thing I have left to do,

is decide.
Thank you to anyone that reads this.
Amy I Hughes
A lie is fake
The truth is real
A lie will mask
What truth reveals

A lie is dirty
The truth is clean
The lie lays in shadow
The truth beams

You are the liar
I am the truth
The lie is easy
The truth cuts through

You can't face mine
I don't want yours
One cut too far
But what do I lose?

Not much lost
Nothing gained
No more lies
No more pain

You are fake
I am real
You can't mask
What I reveal
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