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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

   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...
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".
                 simple... 26 beats 10 digits...
even if there's the c k q...
              Siamese i.e. -
               the grapheme ae...

  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.

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.


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.
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.

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.

Nicole Torres

Her name is October.
She’s beautiful.
Sun-dipped hair with the eyes to match.
Radiant and
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

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?

Se baño en lagrimas
La mujer que marco en mi
Los demonios que cargo.
La primera, ella fue,
La que no e podido sacar
De aquella tarde de octubre.
Cuando el odio contamino mi sangre
Expulsando fuego en unos textos
Palabras de las que quizas me arrepiento
Pero dolor el que me ahorre...
Soledad con la que tropecé...


Yeah, I want you
But I can't have you
So I want you more..

and more... and more
Heard from the song Minimize.

Stubborn Love
We chase, we want
What we can't grasp
We hold, we grab
Whatever chance
Even a little attention
Even a little affection
From people we like
But don't like us back
Sierra Scanlan

tomorrow's thanksgiving,
i've been trying to avoid
thinking about this day
for weeks.

i've lodged the thought of
it out of my head,
i've buried it away
but i can no longer
avoid it.

i don't want to
stare at an empty
place at the table.

four plates,
four forks,
four spoons,
four knives,
four glasses,
instead of five.

having to fill the silence
with questions about
school and post-grad life,
to steer the topic away
from how empty and sad
we feel without you.

at some points,
seven months
feels the same
as one.

time physically passes by,
and the next thing i know,
it's been seven months
rather than three.

it feels subjective to me,
i've been waiting for time
to mend me and my
hurting heart
but the day hasn't

living with the loss
of you will always
even if it's just a bit.

i will stare at
the empty place
tomorrow and wonder
why you had to be taken
from me.

i give thanks for the 21
years i had with you
but they'll never feel like

do they celebrate
thanksgiving in heaven?

Kevin M Hamilton

i am a finch
crushed in the howling wind
not quite alive
but my limbs twist
of their own accord

your possession
is the strangest dream
i recall forgetting
in self-defence

i am a finch
in the storm's unblinking eye
never again
to touch the ground


I'm sitting at my work desk after hours because I have to get this off my chest. You loved me in ways I couldn't love you back.  I loved him in ways he would never understand. These empty nights of  just sitting alone  haunt me. They bring me back to all my winters past where my skin turns a ghostly white and my eyes sink in like a body on a soft mattress. I felt tattered and worn when I was yours. In fact I have felt that way with all of my lovers, tattered and worn like a favorite piece of clothing, worn so much it's falling apart.
I am again falling apart.

We broke up. We no longer belong to one another.
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.
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

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.

hazem al jaber

Word for you ...

my care for you ...
never break ...
my smile for you ...
never fades ...
and my love for you ...
never ever die ...
because you are always ...
here so deep inside this heart ...
my heart which it holds you ...
from so long years ...
and it will be ...
keep you forever inside ...
because i love you ...

yes my sweet rose ...
i do care for you ...
and never to hurt you ...
never to hurt the heart ...
the heart which it you ...

sweetheart ...
you got my heart ...
as i got yours ...
you got my word ...
to keep on love ...
only for you ...
however i'm alive ...
as i'm taking breathes ...

i do sweetheart ...
and will always be ...
on my word for you ...
to take care of you ...
and of your heart ...

love you ...

hazem al ...


My life was beneath the abyss
in extreme darkness.
The rays of hope and light seemed
Insurmountable to attain.
Swoon in timidness, I lost my way to get out of it.
The toddler within me absconded.
Letting me to find my very own way
Of exploring the resounding
truth of peace and love.


You said things,
these things that hurt
we thought something
you proved wrong
you tried to change,
It didn’t work
we left,
not turning back
you begged for forgiveness
she gave it
we went back
and forth
for years on end
you hurt us,
far too many times
yet she couldn’t leave,
not for good
one night,
everything changed
things were thrown along with words
I hid
police were called
Into custody you went
bruises covered her
my blood boiled
you begged again
and again
I had had enough
for a long time
I saw what you are
she didn’t
she cried for you
I comforted
she finally stopped going back
I wasn’t sure,
sure she wouldn’t waver
she tried
and tried
and tried
and didn’t go back...


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.

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

A simple love story.

A fiery bush paints the surface of my soul with desolation

Venomous air leads to my dreadful silent suffocation

I know fear is manifested through our imagination

But I can still feel its tormenting hopeless paralyzation

I agonizingly die within when I'm in isolation

My dark sinister thoughts talk with strong elaboration

More and more my broken earthly vessel is salvation


do you love me?
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

Brent Kincaid

A roster of rotten rogues and rascals
Rapscallions and self-righteous racketeers.
Wrapped themselves in the American Flag,
Like Wicked Witches of the West in drag.
Not a whit of statesmanship in the bunch.
Hearts as black as coal, I have a hunch.
If we go by behavior, the devil is alive;
Queen bees who hate the workers in the hive.

They started with genocide of all those here,
Native Americans before the whites drew near.
They kept it up by importing a million black folks
They owned and raped and made up ugly jokes.
In time they treated Irish and Italians the same.
Let them come here and then played a sick game.
Promises to those, the non-Europeans, were not kept.
They heaped them with bias while good Christians slept.

It has been going on forever since antiquity.
They make our fine country a den of iniquity;
When not operating from a sense of disdain
They run their show on hatred, death and pain.
They claim they work for the people, but
Most of the people can tell what is really what.
Distressingly disgusting, diabolically divisive
They do their best when citizens are permissive.

In time they decided monopolies were great.
They let those with money put up the gates
And charge those with little to pass through
To get food, water, places to live. Not new.
Old country villainy was given a new face
And soon only a few creeps owned the place.
They cheated and swindled and laughed at those
Who starved, rebelled and fought and died.
Rich children splurged on geegaws far and wide.

Soon the list of enemies grew in the mansions,
They included over half of regular American citizens:
Blacks women and poor people were told shut up.
There was not enough nectar to put into their cups.
Gays, agnostics and atheists were treated as if
They were the living minions of the Christian devil
Liberals and objections to conservatives called evil.
Anyone who had issues to the gathering of massive wealth
Was treated as a criminal who wanted to steal their wealth.

The self-righteous racketeers bought newspapers and lies
All created to be swallowed whole by the lazy and unwise
Who could not see that they bought and sold more crooks
That got into office and wrote evil laws into the books.
This is not a new game, in this computerized info age.
This is an ancient costume covering up the old outrage.
It only takes for most of us to stand by and not protest
When leaders lie, and cheat and steal and call it a jest.

Denial is a pernicious disease. Just look at who is in the White House and who runs Congress.

the last time i felt you
snow covered the mountains
and i was lost somewhere between
home and a river
i almost ran from you
across the sea and to a dreary
i found the sunlight there
even mid-december would have felt more
like home than there with you.
the day i felt you leave me
you let me.
four years ago
no river of yours can take me home
you will never carve your path in mine
i'm stronger than your ocean

you're made of mist and you don't know it

Vale Luna

Have you ever looked up at the sky
When it was raining
And wondered where the clouds stop?
Because you know
That somewhere across the world
It isn't raining.

So where do the clouds stop?
Is it possible that someone
Is standing right at the edge
Of dry warmth
Gazing out into the cold wetness?

Where do the clouds stop?
Is it possible that someone
Is standing right at the edge
Of where the water falls
Staring out at the daylight?

Where do the clouds stop?
Is it possible to stand
Right at the divide
One hand being hit by raindrops
The other being hit by sun rays?

Where do the clouds stop?

Have you ever looked up at the sky
When it was raining
And wondered when the clouds will stop?
Because you know
That sometime in your future
It won't be raining.

Crystal Casey

You, with your bloody lips and red eyes
I wish my wings could shield
You, with heart shredded by vicious lies
I wish my words could heal

You, in your beaten form and fallen crest
I wish my thoughts could touch
You, in your shattered dreams so harshly pressed
We wish it wasn't so much


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


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


Millions and billions
Of smiles passed
A twitch of the lips
A giggle
And a laugh
Why is it that
Even though the sun
Is full
My chest is still empty
My heart fallen
My stomach is full

Vivian Do Nguyen

Beat up is how I feel today,
since I grasp to be really sleepy.
Feeling needing to then pray,
it's sad: I'm sensing really sleazy.

I'm keeping my head up, slowly,
because I'm enduring to be tired.
Having me then feel dopey,
I need my parents, required.

Holding up my really slow head,
is really, just indeed, truly hard.
I’d thought to stay back in bed,
but won't: Mom and Dad guard.

I don’t know why I'm so drained.
Washed-out is how I currently feel.
It’s hard to keep my wiped brain.
That's how I hope that it can heal.

This actually has 100 words, as my other works do, while in ABAB form.
J Klein

The baby snatched it up in a flash
This hairy pickle piece from the floor
Before I could make the saving dash
He had swallowed it and wanted more

I was struck by his fearless foraging
For by the grime he was un-phased
Great joy did the crusty pickle bring
As i watched it light up his face

Then I felt a strange poetic pensation
And a thought began to form
Over-thinking this current situation;
i thought...

"why DON'T we defy the norm?"

At some point in life we lose our zeal
No hairy pickel would we eat
Replaced with a fear of what others might feel
We desire to stand yet we stay in our seats

We fall in line
We beat the drum
While we pass up all the tasty crumbs
The tiny pieces of life on a crusty floor
                we've FORGOTTEN
            whom we're LIVING for


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

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

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
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...

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
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...
Natasha L

I love you the most in goodbyes
    When I see the sadness in your eyes

I love you the most in a tight embrace
   When a smile creeps across my face

I love you the most every moment of every day
   When you know how to make me feel 'okay'


All White

Such a long walk
That took seconds
Down the hall to see
White is all I saw
Head to toe covered
Except your reddened face
The crematory man
Said you'd be discolored
All I saw was you
In the yard
Sitting in the Star Wars room
Blue electric guitar
And bass lines
With or without you
And I learned
That life is fragile
And you looked it too.
I prayed and prayed
And sent my words
To the heavens
And felt the sky
Open up and swallow
My tears and pleas
Some writings
A Lock of hair
And a visual memory
Is what I left with
And will carry with
Till my day comes
When they all walk in
And all they see white
All white...

About seeing my cousin in the crematorium before he was to be cremated. We were allowed a viewing. He died from hypothermia because he was homeless and a vet. He had paranoid schizophrenia which is why he would not allow us or docs to help him. He thought we were trying to kill him. He was in the Air Force for years and developed it during that time. He was only in his mid 40’s and we were very close bf he became ill. Rip Corky.
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?

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

Caprial Koe

Expecting you to be there
Expecting you to care
Is exhausting
As I get lost in the echo
Of your hollow words
Whispers of emotions
You didn’t feel

Telling others of first sight
and first touch
but truly not recalling them

I became the victim
Of your “three word lie”
As I feel my heart die
knowing you can never
knowing you will never

Feel the way I felt
when I looked into your eyes

Oskar Erikson

i cant throw my body into the arms of another.
my tendons
the ligaments, the muscles
my heatstrings lie in tatters between your teeth.
                                     behind lips that never
                                     had a nice word for me.
and if i wasnt so sad
to find the pity in this prose
id of thought im happy
                                                though i guess im not, i suppose.


Your mouth is a gun
And each I LOVE YOU
Is a bullet, reminding me
That im alive.

Ashes to Ashley

Just once
I would like to be
the poem

and not the poet.


You make me feel blue
Not as in sad
As in I drank up the sky and took on another hue
You are my muse and I’m a girl in a notepad
I feel blue like the kind airplanes travel across
They are fleeting but I will last
We are the cause of beautiful and mad chaos
Sunny days and hurricanes in the forecast
The feeling of blue goes farther than the sky
It dives into the ocean, it brings things to life
It drips out of the eyes in a joyful cry
You see, the feeling of blue is not a feeling of strife
Blue is simply the color of love
And into it’s waters, you give me a gentle shove

Not including iambic pentameter because no thank you.
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