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 3d Kayla S
Micha
take,
take all i have,
open me up,
rob me
of what working organs i have left,
carve what you want
into my bones,
take,
until there's nothing left,
and then scream,
into unhearing ears,
that i'm not giving you enough.

perhaps then i shall be reborn.

when i am no longer
of any use to you,
my blind eyes shall see you
for what you really are.
not fixing,
not caring,
not approaching,
but intruding,
stealing,
killing.

blessed be the vivisected.
ayyy first poem on here!
The Sun was late today,
Claims she was stuck in traffic,
Surrounded by clouds that
Would not give way.
She apologises nonetheless,
For any inconvenience caused
The delays and/or distress.

I suspect she simply overslept.
Based on the smell of ethanol,
Cigarettes upon the breath.
Half popped packs of paracetamol
Left discarded on the desk.
The good mornings softly spoken
That shows the will is bent,
Not broken.
Ignoring token take out coffee
Cups of renewable confessions.

It's quite the sight to see,
The one that's always early
Arriving this time dishevelled,
Disoriented, unsettled.
She stumbles through yawns
Stretching out the groans of dawn.
Still she manages a smile.
So the world begins to brighten
At least for a little while.
What's that thing that you Yanks do?
From the civil war to World War Two
From Gettysburg to the sea o tranquility
That haunting sound gets driven into me
Through the smoke and swathed in reverb
The nations emotions
Sonically preserved
Uniquely you
You ******* own it
That old evocative
American trumpet.
 3d Kayla S
Liana
Tomorrow
begins the end
Tomorrow
I sit alone again
Tomorrow
I pretend I care what I'm learning about
Tomorrow
I wake up early exhausted
Tomorrow
I spend hours doing busywork
Tomorrow
I have to keep myself together the whole day
Tomorrow
The struggle to keep my tears in continues
Tomorrow
I feel so lonely always
Tomorrow
Begins a whole week of this
Tomorrow is monday

"Tomorrow is only a day awayyyyyyy"
-Annie

"Unfortunately"
-My response
 3d Kayla S
Daria
I want a touch of Eminescu
To make you fall for me outright,
And hints of Grigorescu’s hues
To turn your art to pure delight.

A bit of Creangă, I would keep,
To share our tale for all to hear,
And, blessed by Slavici’s stroke of luck,
I found you near, a heart sincere.

With Blaga’s strength, I’ll crush my fears,
And Bacovia’s heart shall feed on pain,
To make friends with my solitude,
And find some beauty in the rain.

And maybe just a bit of Petrescu
To spend with you one final night,
So Stănescu will recall from me,
You were my rarest, purest light.
The poem is inspired by the great Romanian writers and artists who shaped our literary and cultural heritage. Each reference—Eminescu, Grigorescu, Creangă, Slavici, Blaga, Bacovia, Petrescu and Stănescu—represents a unique influence on themes of love, nostalgia, solitude, and artistic passion. Through this piece, I wanted to weave their essence into a personal journey of love and reflection.
Days are passing, and some are gone,
We’re running, though some have moved on

We are lazy souls, unlike the sun,
We’re walking, though we need to run

We lie and cheat ourselves each day;
We’re devils with nasty vibes at play

We will be questioned for our dark shadows,
And punished, cast through fiery windows...
in many ways many
of us are
compromised
labeled    priced
bought and sold
          or
waiting in line
to be sold

the only escape hatch
is inside of us

do not let anyone or
entity buy you

and do not sell yourself

take yourself off the shelf

quarantine the virus

tune in to your humanity
and spirituality

tune out the survival
of the fittest mentality
of this dog eat dog world
©2024 Daniel Irwin Tucker
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