Lukewarm - Hello Poetry

Behind each antler of ruby Every tongue cast in gold A chick weaves their feathers Onto the shapeless sheep The Button’s eye to keep worn hands for tourist tatters Market-memories to be sold A fabric-born & raised duty Not yet blossomed to be bold Old enough for trendy matters Blessed with blisters to reap But praised for their ingenuity Everyday they pluck them fresh: Blisters made in Bangladesh

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May 17

May 17, 2026 at 9:32 AM UTC

"Made in Bangladesh"

Behind each antler of ruby Every tongue cast in gold A chick weaves their feathers Onto the shapeless sheep The Button’s eye to keep worn hands for tourist tatters Market-memories to be sold A fabric-born & raised duty Not yet blossomed to be bold Old enough for trendy matters Blessed with blisters to reap But praised for their ingenuity Everyday they pluck them fresh: Blisters made in Bangladesh

14

This is my last laid skin it's known in politics it pretends to question- everything but when your eyes give me wonder i've already changed My human-leather jack from waist up till the neck my props and rations- everything all it takes is a wander the wrong night to ponder copy of copy of copy... the sun is made of cardboard and has a teletubbie smile the stars hang on a cord and the people on a pile my cheeks are powdered white and for love i have a script behind the decor you'll find nothing but- tricks ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?

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May 17

May 17, 2026 at 9:16 AM UTC

Body double

This is my last laid skin it's known in politics it pretends to question- everything but when your eyes give me wonder i've already changed My human-leather jack from waist up till the neck my props and rations- everything all it takes is a wander the wrong night to ponder copy of copy of copy... the sun is made of cardboard and has a teletubbie smile the stars hang on a cord and the people on a pile my cheeks are powdered white and for love i have a script behind the decor you'll find nothing but- tricks ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?

32

Pass on the metronome move along or move wrong click for the cattle chain their hearts in a song granny-red curtains dampened by the bath smoked by the bather worn by the shower nostrils full of iron eyes and skin dracula. blackened nails and lungs fueled by father's pride walking a soldier's path with youth still in his hide pass it on his life had just begun no gods were thanked but quick he went passed on by joints of nickel the little man with his leather jack a fresh-made license shivering on the asphalt next to his mangled arms and head his eyes still smart despite foul play of the trucker who broke his neck pass it on her eyes were never wrong but the slums taught her to not be sought after so the beatings stayed hidden in the alley, attic and basement but before she flew to freedom she just had to bring them her own blood, eyes and tears fled the house, scream the same in newer walls, but still her name pass on the metronome keep singing that song it clicks for the cattle move or die young

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Apr 23

Apr 23, 2026 at 10:07 AM UTC

The Metronome

Pass on the metronome move along or move wrong click for the cattle chain their hearts in a song granny-red curtains dampened by the bath smoked by the bather worn by the shower nostrils full of iron eyes and skin dracula. blackened nails and lungs fueled by father's pride walking a soldier's path with youth still in his hide pass it on his life had just begun no gods were thanked but quick he went passed on by joints of nickel the little man with his leather jack a fresh-made license shivering on the asphalt next to his mangled arms and head his eyes still smart despite foul play of the trucker who broke his neck pass it on her eyes were never wrong but the slums taught her to not be sought after so the beatings stayed hidden in the alley, attic and basement but before she flew to freedom she just had to bring them her own blood, eyes and tears fled the house, scream the same in newer walls, but still her name pass on the metronome keep singing that song it clicks for the cattle move or die young

40

Unearth the wilderness search the plains for what they have begun a drastic fillerscene dramatic for the elder and the young it's not some simple math an eternal codex filing out the clocks a tragic disarray a hopeless vendor scrubbing of the docks you set the bar and then flew high nails and flesh will not suffice keep the drama if it's class pardon me, if i'm not dead the magic's gone flowers died you set the bar and then flew high i've cut our corners just to cry again i hope you see me when you soar when the air is thick and my eyes sore the fighting's done silence lies my airy friend, the bar is set Strange amendments through my head Scrub the ceiling, wringe the past Raise the stakes, for the best My Love is worn I’m Petrified caress and hold the soil kiss the grass to take over my mind answer the blatant call skin me a puppet without a hide is what i should've told your saddened soul that sorry night

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Apr 16

Apr 16, 2026 at 12:01 PM UTC

Fly High Standards

Unearth the wilderness search the plains for what they have begun a drastic fillerscene dramatic for the elder and the young it's not some simple math an eternal codex filing out the clocks a tragic disarray a hopeless vendor scrubbing of the docks you set the bar and then flew high nails and flesh will not suffice keep the drama if it's class pardon me, if i'm not dead the magic's gone flowers died you set the bar and then flew high i've cut our corners just to cry again i hope you see me when you soar when the air is thick and my eyes sore the fighting's done silence lies my airy friend, the bar is set Strange amendments through my head Scrub the ceiling, wringe the past Raise the stakes, for the best My Love is worn I’m Petrified caress and hold the soil kiss the grass to take over my mind answer the blatant call skin me a puppet without a hide is what i should've told your saddened soul that sorry night

33

the air is sparse, my joint is thick smoke hurdles above me and this bloke we never talk, or so i thought: "Now that's a chick i'd dig" he sputters out. so far my peaceful smoke his beads locked on what he sought yet he didn't eye her as a counterpart. i give her an awkward nod apologetic, for the other puffer she walls us junks, her eyes stay hard. the bloke curses every god just to cringe some hearts, passing by in his tragic need to be loved. it's never eye for an eye, in the mind of the unseen.

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Apr 8

Apr 8, 2026 at 3:23 PM UTC

Attention please

the air is sparse, my joint is thick smoke hurdles above me and this bloke we never talk, or so i thought: "Now that's a chick i'd dig" he sputters out. so far my peaceful smoke his beads locked on what he sought yet he didn't eye her as a counterpart. i give her an awkward nod apologetic, for the other puffer she walls us junks, her eyes stay hard. the bloke curses every god just to cringe some hearts, passing by in his tragic need to be loved. it's never eye for an eye, in the mind of the unseen.

15

I wish to censor the sensory my mortal curse: a panic so pure it tugs on my arteries wringes my atriums knots my trachea a cute ribbon stretched tight around my lungs my intestines too saturated in stress distorted with kidneys, the liver and stomach swerving into a fleshly flower bouquet acid up to my palate but i can't let it fly my lips refuse to open my organs in ballet my tears afraid to cry if i open up i die my brain dries cold by a panic so pure

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Apr 8

Apr 8, 2026 at 12:15 PM UTC

B4REAL

I wish to censor the sensory my mortal curse: a panic so pure it tugs on my arteries wringes my atriums knots my trachea a cute ribbon stretched tight around my lungs my intestines too saturated in stress distorted with kidneys, the liver and stomach swerving into a fleshly flower bouquet acid up to my palate but i can't let it fly my lips refuse to open my organs in ballet my tears afraid to cry if i open up i die my brain dries cold by a panic so pure

21

we're not meant for this much noise for this many options this many comparisons of windows into so many lives i wake up and before my feet hit the ground- i've already been measured there's someone smarter someone more creative someone happier fitter than i am so far my quiet, ordinary morning it falls behind feels lesser im an analog heart living in a digital scoreboard measured in metrics while scrolling through emotions we brand our pain label it as growth we perform healing but never do so loneliness feels industrial a mass-produced element attention is not intimacy still i gave it all to algorithms and they never loved me back this binary drug paralysed me for years filtered my memories into an undead database i called myself content priced my own loneliness refreshed to see if i still existed but how can i feel safe in a world that never stops reloading that never allows me to be rebellion isn't about louder posting it's about logging off long enough to hear my own thoughts again without the audience without performance

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Mar 2

Mar 2, 2026 at 4:37 PM UTC

Logged Off

we're not meant for this much noise for this many options this many comparisons of windows into so many lives i wake up and before my feet hit the ground- i've already been measured there's someone smarter someone more creative someone happier fitter than i am so far my quiet, ordinary morning it falls behind feels lesser im an analog heart living in a digital scoreboard measured in metrics while scrolling through emotions we brand our pain label it as growth we perform healing but never do so loneliness feels industrial a mass-produced element attention is not intimacy still i gave it all to algorithms and they never loved me back this binary drug paralysed me for years filtered my memories into an undead database i called myself content priced my own loneliness refreshed to see if i still existed but how can i feel safe in a world that never stops reloading that never allows me to be rebellion isn't about louder posting it's about logging off long enough to hear my own thoughts again without the audience without performance

41

i've come to known that i reshaped my avoidance my fear of the unknown all it took was little pride just enough to pump the ego it dragged me out of the filth the ever so peacefull hive i built of plastic luck and cradled sorries yet this pride had not foreseen flesh rotting in my tissued hands pride gave me freedom i became part once again with a corrosive mind fed by time, trinkets and lies i feel no shame, not anymore when mistaken for a lover i appear average on cover yet chase myself homesick a bird without his nest has no reason to fly i was meant to be held not soar through the sky a need to be buried alive won't that give the ick?

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Feb 26

Feb 26, 2026 at 3:27 PM UTC

Little Pride

i've come to known that i reshaped my avoidance my fear of the unknown all it took was little pride just enough to pump the ego it dragged me out of the filth the ever so peacefull hive i built of plastic luck and cradled sorries yet this pride had not foreseen flesh rotting in my tissued hands pride gave me freedom i became part once again with a corrosive mind fed by time, trinkets and lies i feel no shame, not anymore when mistaken for a lover i appear average on cover yet chase myself homesick a bird without his nest has no reason to fly i was meant to be held not soar through the sky a need to be buried alive won't that give the ick?

24

she hums her words away sings the tunes another way dances like the bees with assent to space petrifies the honeymoon dusts gloom on the flowers rise and shine, rinse and die In the human curse she found her powers that's where she lies no mind's at ease when trapped in urge Oh tu me manques mon amour toujours, toujours in a different verse in another noon...

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Feb 9

Feb 9, 2026 at 3:57 PM UTC

Ephemeral Echoes

she hums her words away sings the tunes another way dances like the bees with assent to space petrifies the honeymoon dusts gloom on the flowers rise and shine, rinse and die In the human curse she found her powers that's where she lies no mind's at ease when trapped in urge Oh tu me manques mon amour toujours, toujours in a different verse in another noon...

17

Mimic the Mime for he rhymes without words, creates without tools, speaks up without cries. The Mime is wise for he knows he's right: words will wallow without intent, their art is loose, dynamic, radical they are labelled before spoken, destroyed by biased minds. And so the Mime knows: in his world cancellation has no pride, censorship has no soul, politics no hive. The Mime may not rhyme, but his mind is the only one free from terror in disguise. He'll live a peaceful life until we decide this freedom is optional too We'll call it too simple, too nice, not credible. We move together to the day we hang the Mime for his lack of words.

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Jan 18

Jan 18, 2026 at 12:03 PM UTC

Mimic the Mime

Mimic the Mime for he rhymes without words, creates without tools, speaks up without cries. The Mime is wise for he knows he's right: words will wallow without intent, their art is loose, dynamic, radical they are labelled before spoken, destroyed by biased minds. And so the Mime knows: in his world cancellation has no pride, censorship has no soul, politics no hive. The Mime may not rhyme, but his mind is the only one free from terror in disguise. He'll live a peaceful life until we decide this freedom is optional too We'll call it too simple, too nice, not credible. We move together to the day we hang the Mime for his lack of words.

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