solemnmaya - Hello Poetry

the hens have raised their fowl fists, protested the pecking order, debated the Cuckoo Clucks Clan, and started a coup in the coop. they have a bird's eye view from their fort, truly an eggcelent perch to reside in while they gather resources and duck when enemies fire. joining is a nestcessary evil to end the corruption. so, my dear, please don't chicken out.

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Oct 19, 2018

Oct 19, 2018 at 1:29 AM UTC

light as a feather

the hens have raised their fowl fists, protested the pecking order, debated the Cuckoo Clucks Clan, and started a coup in the coop. they have a bird's eye view from their fort, truly an eggcelent perch to reside in while they gather resources and duck when enemies fire. joining is a nestcessary evil to end the corruption. so, my dear, please don't chicken out.

11

i like seeing people when they're sleepy. completely real unfiltered humans, yawning in their baggy nightclothes, worn blankets wrapped like shawls, and soft smiles as they claim they aren't exhausted, no, their eyes are just tired. their low mumbling gives them away every time, though. people are wondrously beautiful in a natural, peaceful state.

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Oct 18, 2018

Oct 18, 2018 at 11:39 PM UTC

the dark circles under your eyes are cute, love

i like seeing people when they're sleepy. completely real unfiltered humans, yawning in their baggy nightclothes, worn blankets wrapped like shawls, and soft smiles as they claim they aren't exhausted, no, their eyes are just tired. their low mumbling gives them away every time, though. people are wondrously beautiful in a natural, peaceful state.

12

if it appears that my poems lack conviction, it's because they do. my words: white noise on a radio brain, and i can't change the station.

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Oct 18, 2018

Oct 18, 2018 at 10:26 AM UTC

creator's rage

if it appears that my poems lack conviction, it's because they do. my words: white noise on a radio brain, and i can't change the station.

6

regret comes crashing like the tides all at once pulling me under. i gasp for air but there is only saltwater and tears. i have a morbid fear of open ocean maybe because it would mean being alone with my thoughts that circle like sharks and showers that sting like jellyfish. kayaks of self- preservation shatter against the rocks. there is no saving me. let me sink or i will drag you down with me. please leave me to drown.

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Oct 18, 2018

Oct 18, 2018 at 1:51 AM UTC

drowning lessons

regret comes crashing like the tides all at once pulling me under. i gasp for air but there is only saltwater and tears. i have a morbid fear of open ocean maybe because it would mean being alone with my thoughts that circle like sharks and showers that sting like jellyfish. kayaks of self- preservation shatter against the rocks. there is no saving me. let me sink or i will drag you down with me. please leave me to drown.

19

i sleep in a house but dream of a home - i miss what it was like. where did i go wrong? can we calculate the precise moment that a building collapses? can we remember the exact moment that our lives crumble around us? -

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Oct 18, 2018

Oct 18, 2018 at 1:42 AM UTC

tension

i sleep in a house but dream of a home - i miss what it was like. where did i go wrong? can we calculate the precise moment that a building collapses? can we remember the exact moment that our lives crumble around us? -

8

if you can be anything be kind. we are all just humans. we laugh at cute cat videos, hum little songs, eat raw cookie dough and laugh when it makes one giant cookie mass. life is made of these moments. people deserve so much love. how often do we remind our families we love them? is it often enough? how many days do we think only of ourselves. human nature is beautiful and terrible and stunning. somehow hate seeps through the cracks of time and makes us bitter and angry. and it's fine to be angry. just don't let it consume you. remember sometimes that there are old folks out there who still tease each other, there are babies who giggle when you play peekaboo, there are dogs with slobbery tongues who need head scratches, there are children spinning and laughing when they fall. humams are important. we are special. even people we say we hate. i thought i hated my mom but i know she cares and i have seen her run when she thought i was in danger. i have seen her break into tears at getting a DUI and trying to explain to a child that she might lose her job. being human is tough. our hearts harden trying to protect ourselves but we end up locking people out. in trying to avoid being hurt we hurt the ones we love. please never forget that each person you meet has more than just facet. people are stunningly complex. don't judge someome til you've walked two moons in their moccasins. humans are worth so much. i don't know what i am saying but i mean it with all of me. i love you. you deserve so much.

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Oct 16, 2018

Oct 16, 2018 at 10:45 AM UTC

remember that you are loved

if you can be anything be kind. we are all just humans. we laugh at cute cat videos, hum little songs, eat raw cookie dough and laugh when it makes one giant cookie mass. life is made of these moments. people deserve so much love. how often do we remind our families we love them? is it often enough? how many days do we think only of ourselves. human nature is beautiful and terrible and stunning. somehow hate seeps through the cracks of time and makes us bitter and angry. and it's fine to be angry. just don't let it consume you. remember sometimes that there are old folks out there who still tease each other, there are babies who giggle when you play peekaboo, there are dogs with slobbery tongues who need head scratches, there are children spinning and laughing when they fall. humams are important. we are special. even people we say we hate. i thought i hated my mom but i know she cares and i have seen her run when she thought i was in danger. i have seen her break into tears at getting a DUI and trying to explain to a child that she might lose her job. being human is tough. our hearts harden trying to protect ourselves but we end up locking people out. in trying to avoid being hurt we hurt the ones we love. please never forget that each person you meet has more than just facet. people are stunningly complex. don't judge someome til you've walked two moons in their moccasins. humans are worth so much. i don't know what i am saying but i mean it with all of me. i love you. you deserve so much.

40

Been itchin' to step on the toes of some politicians, ditchin' the sneakers and hitchin' the anger, an armor of agression, clothes of choler, cursing the contempt-ridden regressions of the system. Edgy kids turn into violent adults, You have the right to remain violent, folks, 'long as you're getting something done and not lounging lazily, waiting for things to change by themselves, putting your drive on a shelf, hazily remembering what you actually believed - go **** right off and leave. Stick to your guns. I'm so sick of saints and nuns advocating for peace. Peace is a piece of giving up belief. "Friendly Negotiations" to talk you out of your convinction, turn convicts into martyrs and we'll see which side you really trust. How can you believe that peace will will solve problems when it just causes feelings to be pent up? People are competitive, wanting all that opulence in the posthumous, and peace is a puzzling problem, not a solution. Peace would be basic if human nature wasn't so acidic, mixed with the tension of a complex society, your peace is about to burn a hole in the walls of government. The only peace for me is death. Ideals are nothing without people fighting for them with every last breath. Go out and scream as long as you're making noise. Rip limits to shreds, and raise your ******* voice.

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Oct 15, 2018

Oct 15, 2018 at 7:51 PM UTC

rant - transcribed from paper

Been itchin' to step on the toes of some politicians, ditchin' the sneakers and hitchin' the anger, an armor of agression, clothes of choler, cursing the contempt-ridden regressions of the system. Edgy kids turn into violent adults, You have the right to remain violent, folks, 'long as you're getting something done and not lounging lazily, waiting for things to change by themselves, putting your drive on a shelf, hazily remembering what you actually believed - go **** right off and leave. Stick to your guns. I'm so sick of saints and nuns advocating for peace. Peace is a piece of giving up belief. "Friendly Negotiations" to talk you out of your convinction, turn convicts into martyrs and we'll see which side you really trust. How can you believe that peace will will solve problems when it just causes feelings to be pent up? People are competitive, wanting all that opulence in the posthumous, and peace is a puzzling problem, not a solution. Peace would be basic if human nature wasn't so acidic, mixed with the tension of a complex society, your peace is about to burn a hole in the walls of government. The only peace for me is death. Ideals are nothing without people fighting for them with every last breath. Go out and scream as long as you're making noise. Rip limits to shreds, and raise your ******* voice.

19

Rue thy feeble fate. Fear the day when thine own eyes Fail to see beyond thy hand. Requiem for the rest-easies such as Thyself shall not come as welcome Praise, but as fire and brimstone, Blood from the grimy grindstones of The weary working, ready to rise And crush all unworthy opposition With their hilts of red-hot rage, Raising swords of liberty to the heavens and cutting down the opression that has stilted their air. Weep for this is thy fate: Thy death means justice for those who Have been defeated countless times, Under a blooming, burning sky defeats Pile up like stars, simmering, waiting to Become supernovas and take every puny Universe down in their own glorious Descent, like Icarus to the sun, a sweeter fall could not Exist on this lonely planet, Into the unforgiving waters of victory. Justice for those angry folk who by merit Have earned their own place, not by Some system that hands it to them, but By grit and toil alone, By the fierce madness that is Existing and not completely Giving in to the ruin of being human, Following the words that A wiser man than I spoke, that life is Struggle, that the only constant in this Life is the pain that all of us try to ignore In the futile attempt to block out the Tragedies that haunt us daily. Face thy fears, coward. Thou miserable wretch can't look thyself In the mirror, but can claim that we as a Species have hope for peace on Earth and Goodwill for all. What dost thou know of goodwill? When didst thou give a single moment of thought to the happiness of anyone but thyself and thine selfish avaricious interests? Thou shan't claim to know what is holy and just, yet scourge the very pious people that thou imitates; thou shan't slaughter the devout on a temple whose bricks are molded from hypocrisy and deceit. Rue thy feeble fate, Because thou deserveth every blow, every cry of mockery, every disgusted eye and every hideous pitiful moan that thy gravestone will inspire, and even Dante himself could not have imagined the flaming of the hellish unredeeming pyre that will be thy afterlife; rue thy fate for no morals, no intercessions, no pleas or entreaties to be spared from the filth and maggotry that thou hast built thy very house upon canst save thee now.

0

Oct 14, 2018

Oct 14, 2018 at 4:17 PM UTC

reckoning

Rue thy feeble fate. Fear the day when thine own eyes Fail to see beyond thy hand. Requiem for the rest-easies such as Thyself shall not come as welcome Praise, but as fire and brimstone, Blood from the grimy grindstones of The weary working, ready to rise And crush all unworthy opposition With their hilts of red-hot rage, Raising swords of liberty to the heavens and cutting down the opression that has stilted their air. Weep for this is thy fate: Thy death means justice for those who Have been defeated countless times, Under a blooming, burning sky defeats Pile up like stars, simmering, waiting to Become supernovas and take every puny Universe down in their own glorious Descent, like Icarus to the sun, a sweeter fall could not Exist on this lonely planet, Into the unforgiving waters of victory. Justice for those angry folk who by merit Have earned their own place, not by Some system that hands it to them, but By grit and toil alone, By the fierce madness that is Existing and not completely Giving in to the ruin of being human, Following the words that A wiser man than I spoke, that life is Struggle, that the only constant in this Life is the pain that all of us try to ignore In the futile attempt to block out the Tragedies that haunt us daily. Face thy fears, coward. Thou miserable wretch can't look thyself In the mirror, but can claim that we as a Species have hope for peace on Earth and Goodwill for all. What dost thou know of goodwill? When didst thou give a single moment of thought to the happiness of anyone but thyself and thine selfish avaricious interests? Thou shan't claim to know what is holy and just, yet scourge the very pious people that thou imitates; thou shan't slaughter the devout on a temple whose bricks are molded from hypocrisy and deceit. Rue thy feeble fate, Because thou deserveth every blow, every cry of mockery, every disgusted eye and every hideous pitiful moan that thy gravestone will inspire, and even Dante himself could not have imagined the flaming of the hellish unredeeming pyre that will be thy afterlife; rue thy fate for no morals, no intercessions, no pleas or entreaties to be spared from the filth and maggotry that thou hast built thy very house upon canst save thee now.

27

My bunny does not comprehend the vast size of the universe. My bunny does not ask questions like "Why do we exist?" My bunny is a simple creature. But it seems so much more peaceful not to wonder these things, not to stay up late wracking your brain at the mysteries of life, that sometimes, I wish I was a bunny too. Is ignorance truly bliss? If I was ignorant, I wouldn't have to ask this.

0

Oct 14, 2018

Oct 14, 2018 at 2:48 PM UTC

My bunny has it all figured out.

My bunny does not comprehend the vast size of the universe. My bunny does not ask questions like "Why do we exist?" My bunny is a simple creature. But it seems so much more peaceful not to wonder these things, not to stay up late wracking your brain at the mysteries of life, that sometimes, I wish I was a bunny too. Is ignorance truly bliss? If I was ignorant, I wouldn't have to ask this.

21

Wake up with a jump and a start. This isn't just prose, this is an art. To weave your stories, through and through, with broken pen and missing shoe. With mixed conviction, perfect diction, convicts swoon at your traditions. As long as you believe the lines make sense, they'll breathe your soul and lack pretense. Self-defense from knives to words and songs to birds, soaring o'er the roar and o'er the dives, through the skyscraper's windows, break a floor and seek to strive. Words are not just words, I've heard many a stern voice attacking a sturdy herd of wavering wordsmiths who have forgetten that they have a choice. Alliteration counts as craftful creation and the tale of poets shows it: these sentences are paintings of a nation. Decorating time and space and all its stations of making a stand. You're a poet, perfectly pathological, hurting through rose- colored opticals and bleeding for something beautifuly better, just getting lost calls but keep searching for the right letters; don't let the sands of time make you hate your written desert. It's worth your weary hands.

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Oct 10, 2018

Oct 10, 2018 at 8:49 PM UTC

Rhyme But No Reason

Wake up with a jump and a start. This isn't just prose, this is an art. To weave your stories, through and through, with broken pen and missing shoe. With mixed conviction, perfect diction, convicts swoon at your traditions. As long as you believe the lines make sense, they'll breathe your soul and lack pretense. Self-defense from knives to words and songs to birds, soaring o'er the roar and o'er the dives, through the skyscraper's windows, break a floor and seek to strive. Words are not just words, I've heard many a stern voice attacking a sturdy herd of wavering wordsmiths who have forgetten that they have a choice. Alliteration counts as craftful creation and the tale of poets shows it: these sentences are paintings of a nation. Decorating time and space and all its stations of making a stand. You're a poet, perfectly pathological, hurting through rose- colored opticals and bleeding for something beautifuly better, just getting lost calls but keep searching for the right letters; don't let the sands of time make you hate your written desert. It's worth your weary hands.

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