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 587° 
Nat Lipstadt
~for she who will know~

the Mother of Muses came to me

on bended knee
come for to confess
a lie so grand it boggled
the heart

we bring you nothing more
than what you already possess,
the jewels of rose gold are emplaced
in your dual ventricles,
the veins stained with blue green sapphires to
feed the right and left hemispheres,
where the emerald heat and the yellow gold,
raw melt the alpha word-finery awaiting,
the pinpointed pinprick of an eyed glimpse

to release the oxidizing words atmospheric
we are not needed, just proceeders,
*** stirrers? no. *** watchers? oh yes.

all contained within,
this then, the art of the human heart,
where the external stains rest awaiting,
completing, complimenting, coming
to fruition in a reforged new birthing

see how the child looks with adoration,
perceiving the art of the mothers heart,
the spilling of time at the precise moment
when the exchange is as long as an eye wink
and as short as an entire lifetime

We the Muses, not teachers, nor inspirers,
just peddlers, collecting thimbles of words,
polished with hued syllables of tarnish,
experienced watchers discerning the exacting,
the interactive interactions of the cells,
the DNA concoctions of singers and sinners,
priests and the unforgivable, trying to tie
what deserves untying, which is an everlasting
poem that needs, laughing, an original act
of the art of the heart, yours, permission to say
The End


11:14pm
nyc
Sept. 18, 2019
there is almost always a poem in the simple, where true art awaits your
sculpting...
 446° 
808
lookin at black stars
and shining skies
listenin to running cars
and passerbies
 440° 
Seanathon
If no one reads
If no one comments
It still exists
It still IS
https://youtu.be/3VTsIju1dLI?t=158
 394° 
Maple Mathers

Dear Mother and Father,*

        I spoke with Ali today. Maybe it was the first time in years. Maybe it was the first time that we’d ever actually spoken at all. Either way. She told me some things that I thought you should know.

Prostitutes, ******, what have you. They’re not born, they’re created.

         Focus on this. Your white picket fence. Your barbecue, your big family dog. Your pristine, rich neighborhood. Your uppity gossip. Your rules, judgements, “charity.”

         Behind your closed doors, however, dwells something else.

         Something like hypocrisy. Something like abuse.

Now focus on this.

         Ali: dark and brooding, even as a small child. Questioning all of your family values, the ones that I had merely accepted.

         My little sister, the ultimate judge, the supreme *****.

         Forbidden black fingernails, black hair; fingernails, which you forced pink, hair that you insisted blond. Friends that you deemed “greasy” and “unsavory”.

         Hateful, teenage Ali. Ditching classes to go off with boys. Returning home with track marks and glossy eyes. Sneaking out with no destination, if only to not be at the one place she couldn’t be herself.

         Home.

Now, this. That awful “it’s not to late to save your soul” camp. A reform jail. Holier than thou epithets. Squeaky clean repentance. A stockade full of higher authority telling her, “you’re wrong,” telling her, “we are going to fix you.”

         Brain washing robots with backhanded facades.

         Sad, scared Ali. It’s no wonder she chose to rebel, for all she knew of authority was hypocrisy.

         Not just you.

         Instead, a withered, sick janitor.

         The old man who brought her the food that they didn’t serve in the dinning quarters. Fresh fruit, chocolate, and cheese. Food to outweigh the everyday gruel.


         This lonely, forlorn man expecting compensation in return. ****** compensation; unimaginable and certainly ungodly acts.

         This Janitor, he would wander into Ali's room in the early hours of the morning. . . And vanish, several hours later.

        His pockets, empty. His heart, full.

         In this sick and twisted world, the janitor believed that love could exist anywhere. He believed that romantic relationships should not be constricted by something as trivial as age.

         And Ali, she had alternative motives, and compensated her innocence to reach them.

         This was, perhaps, the beginning of Ali's stark career.

         The *compensation of her soul.


         Or, perhaps, it was the man that picked her up next, as a desperate hitchhiker.

         Ali, who finagled the nun’s keys and escaped that ungodly place forever.

         Ali, who climbed into a sinister car with a pretentious man who warped her in more ways than one would even imagine.

         Penniless, solitary, and willing.

         But, think. What would you do with yourself if you had absolutely nothing and no one to lose?

         **Prostitutes, ******, what have you. They’re not born, they’re created.
(All poems original Copyright of Eva Denali Will © 2015, 2016)


.
 294° 
Zay
It's okay to cry,
even the sun can't get away from the clouds,
It's okay to break every once in a while,
even the sun can't avoid the rain.

It's okay to not be okay,
even the moon has to use the sun's light,
It's okay to be a little scared,
even the moon can't handle the dark.
 292° 
Aaliyah Houvener
I sat down to write a suicide note
So many people  to apologize  to
But the only words on my final paper is
Say I am sorry to my sisters for not being  strong  anymore
 230° 
Godwin Valentine
1985 i arrived
Just like 80's film
I hit 'em with the boots in July
I don't need snow
I gotta go bigger
I gotta go figure
There's an aching,
There's a hole in my chest
It's amazing
That the crown of a king doesn't change me
It's amazing
But that's when I remember
That we all want,
We all need fashion.
 201° 
Stu Harley
this is my heart
let it glow
and
this is
my soul
let it show
but
this is my rose
that
i
want you to know
 193° 
Enas
October 4th 2016

You know what day this is.

I was smiling quietly when you told me. I suppose I could say I feel happy & proud beyond measure, but that’s not quite all of it; more than that, in this big day, I’m fulfilled, four words that mean the world are realised & a dear promise of a lifetime on a torn page sees the light of day because of you.

Bliss.
You are my bliss.
 170° 
Carmen Jane
Most green is ebbing away,
Only to reveal true colors
The red and the yellows,
They brighten my day

The green wicked witch
Hid her true colors,
Using hate and powers
Never had time to switch

Have you seen the bravery?
Have you seen the love
It's not trendy or it's unsavory
It's all hidden, thereof

Words are dancing aleatory
No one  jumps so high to catch them
They prefer an allegory
Using words they get from scrum.
 152° 
Etelith
Tell my friends and family, I love them
 121° 
Thomas Burge
You and me wasn't meant to be we
I get that, I'm not blind I can see
Don't make me jealous don't make me sad
No matter what you do you know I'll get mad
Stop please I asked but you won't
I know I love you but clearly you don't
I want to lie down
in a hot bath and let the
water soothe my soul.
black beauty - Lana del Rey
 105° 
Limem ALi
Nothing i say
Nothing i do
Not even a sorry
Neither an excuse, nor a sentence
Will change years of silence

Now, all is meaningless
All in the past
The scene was set and
The page have been turned

There is nothing
Nothing will do
The case is closed
No me and you
 101° 
Allison Wonder
Stomach is empty
Weight falling like fat raindrops.
Still is not enough.
(c) Allison Wonder
4/11/19
 92° 
Richard Barnes
Love expressed through the heart’s pen
empties my soul on yellowed paper,
not just lines of ink, but living as blood
through my veins that validates this feeling
of madding unrest as it
expresses love’s feeling for you.
By my passionate heart; You devour all of me.
 91° 
sunprincess
If us humans lived in a perfect world
We could all sing, dance and smile
Like we were the winner of American Idol
Not be depressed and suicidal

No tearing or cutting of pieces
If everyone of us lived in a perfect world
Our picture of life would be intact perfectly
We would be living in harmony

In a perfect world, life would be good
No crying, no sobbing, and no tears
Death and dying wouldn’t be an issue
No need for a Kleenex tissue

Greta from Sweden, the climate scientists
And every last one of us humans
Could lay our heads down and sleep well
Not worry about waking up in Hell

If we only lived in a perfect world
 73° 
Sahil
My wings were clipped the day I was born
I was put under the pressure of a billion eyes
My dreams ripped my skies torn
My life was built on a faithful lie

The shadows of my imagination
feared the glare of their expectations
My broken bones, My shattered heart
Sang the stories of me being torn apart
 59° 
ATL
I wanted to learn

so last night my fourth grade teacher
tore my eyelids off

and sat me near a television screen
that showed my mother dying
over and over
and over again.

I left as a cavity
of a boy,

collapsing at the sound of passing cars

as I searched for a payphone where
I could speak to the static about Gabriel.

(where is he?)

When I look at my brother and father

I beg for my eyes to be caressed until they’re scarred

with every daytime matinee
and curtsy on the train platform

that built me into this mosaic
of a “man”.
deeply personal. would appreciate kind words and condolences. my mother is alive but a part of me has died.
 55° 
Des Nicole
I've been through a lot
If that makes me weird
So be it..
 53° 
kyss
I still remember the last time I saw you
and I remember the day I realized
it was really over

but life goes on, as things do
however, I still find myself
thinking about you

I’ve seen other people,
I’m sure you have too
but still, I really, truly do
myss you
 49° 
Luludi
Y..... it’s me
I crave your love
Your understanding, your words, your eyes, your arms they are mine
You shine on me like a neon light in the pouring rain
You always hold my hand
We’re always together, dozing off in this ocean of warmth and purity
When I still had it in me to loose myself...in your eyes I saw eternal bliss and I love you endlessly
Nothing before or after has ever carried me as your love. Only your fingers through my hair gave meaning and understanding to everything I ever craved
I am crazy for you but crazy I am not
 46° 
Mari
This is why I don't
share my opinions-
They won't listen.
They think I'm strange.
They think that they're always right.
They make me feel guilty
even though I didn't do anything wrong.
But still,
I won't stop.
 45° 
Natasha
the sun she hides,
cease the birdsong call
the leaves frozen, frail
fall.

the darkness long,
quiet river weeps
silence but scurry, settle
sleep.

lay still to rest,
flaxen unfold
dying carefully, cautious
cold.
I haven't written in so long so just a little piece of whatever about the weather and stuff
the scent of incense
hangs heavy in the air
the constant murmer of voices
comes crashing like waves
but your eyes meet mine
and the faces disappear
the voices die,
all that remains
is an unspoken invitation
from my lips
willing yours to kiss them
and yours happily
meet their request
leaving our love tasting
like oranges
tenderly plucked
from moonlight lips.
 44° 
Navila
Ever since the pink
of sunrise
was realized in His hands,
God knew
there need to be souls
in awe
and reverent
of His new masterpiece;
a miracle that would
arise every day
gracing His new world
with its ever-changing beauty.

He knew
the sun’s alchemy
upon the sky
would not bring tears
to the eyes of His angels.
This world
would be wasted
on them,
for they would
strip down
this Earth
to its mechanics,
oblivious to its magic.

So He conceived,
of humans,
whose faults
and flaws
would not allow
them to understand
the depth of His creations
but would allow
them to perceive
the splendor of each
daybreak
and the bleeding watercolors
of each sunset.
 43° 
Renn Powell
and if i never find another soul to love, i'll be okay with yours being the last.
 42° 
Blckstr
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 too *******.
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.
 41° 
JT
Today
I wore black
Because
Event hough
I am still breathing
I am no longer
Alive

-jt
 40° 
Anne
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.
 39° 
Atlas
Can we be best friends in love dear
Can we grow old together?
I wanna be by your side for the years and years to come
Can we fall like feathers
Falling softly for one another
I wanna be here for you through the good and the bad my love

-Abbey Glover
 39° 
F A Pacelli
together we walk 
to our deaths
in this thing called life 
but somehow we forget 
we are in this thing
together
 39° 
Levi Johnson
I just have to look
at you
to feel it.

To know it
I have to look
away.

Like the pages
of a book
mid-tornado,

Fragments of
information, the pieces
all out of place.

Still,

I believe you
beg to be
read.
 38° 
Kirsten Claire
I gave them fickle fables
Far from forging truths
Fair young women
With facades cast over
Their fear-filled eyes
As they realize
There is no fairy tail
For fabricated dreams
No Prince Charming
Will fall for them
It is the princess fallout
That happens to
All folly young women

9/21/2019
 37° 
Donna
Hi as HP stopped
selective daily poems
Thought I’d asked..that’s all
Hey the last daily poem was selected on 27th June there’s been no more since x
 36° 
Faith
Lips that have never been kissed
Hair that's never been brushed back
Cheeks that have never been caressed
Hands that have never been held

Yes, I know I dont need a boy
But it gets kind of lonely
These days I spend my time in wistful dreams
 36° 
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.
 35° 
elisha belle
just a little more,
I should wait.
just a little more,
I will strive.
just a little more,
I will fight.

but,

just a little more,
I will stop.
just a little more,
I will give up.
just a little more,
I will die.

just a little more,
just a little more.
whatever hardships we face, there is always an end. we just have to go on, just a little more.
 35° 
Paraluman
I’m scared as f*ck
to want you.

But here
I am,

Still wanting you
anyway.
 33° 
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
 33° 
William Troup
Dull would be me if my soul did stop
   and take measure of time, fallacies, and lies.
Hollow would be me if my heart did crack
   and take feelings of pain, battery, and cries.
Weak would be me if my mind did sleep
   and take action on hate, preachers, and sighs.
Fallen would be me if my soul did stop ...
   but what is it to care
      if nothing, but this?
         ... not me!
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