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a man of means and meager will
perched upon his window sill  
playing vague for the promise of power
sings a song of a beg for the borrow
last chance, take the lead or follow
deny the headline buried shallow
a wink for here today gone tomorrow

patronize our cornerstone
lie to cover a backbone
stand upon the working hands
a great pretender in command
the artistic gesture moves the band
a flaunt for the sake of humanity
jaded swings on a strand

depravity seeks a bended knee
prosperity stands with hypocrisy
all to shake down a charity
inspires food for the Frey
feed the mighty, deny the small
the future strums for us all
as the fool dances, a fool circle

a **** to hunt is the pounce of greed
posed the tiger crouching mean
we see a coward dwelling in debris
fallen deep beside the seeds for spring
every bloom fighting for the surface
eager to bend, flourish, live to die savage
the grasp to breathe, a place to seethe



Terry D’Arcy-Ryan
A fading fluorescent
reads 3:21 AM.
Drunken eyes dance,
Phantom feelings flash,
And muddled, drifting dreams
And ringing silence overwhelms all.

The only thing more quantitative than the twinkling stars,
Is this everlasting night sky above our heads,
This velvet black backdrop in which they are embedded.

And do the stars not shine all the brighter in it?
Your light was a seed, my darkness the fertile soil,
Our bond, an embrace of unknown and careless proportions.
But will happen when our makeshift universe grows dim?

A muted cuckoo clock sings 4:00 AM
When shadows can cast without a light.
It didn’t stop what came before,
And no number of sheep can stop what’s now.
written by my friend, Alison. reminded me of Bee's poem (link below):
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2693729/moonlight-lover/
it wasn't snowing yet, but they'd told us it would.
probably I said something infantile, about how
I could smell it, the frostiness of snowflakes in the
air, because you smiled that knowing smile of yours,
like you were an adult and i was a child and you
didn't have the heart to take my innocence away.

that look always made my heart smile, sadly, and
it also drove me up a wall, partly because it made
me want to hug you close and pity you the
burden of assumed moral superiority, and whisper
that you, too were a child. but mostly because you
were right— I clung to my naiveté while you, you
had already had the good sense to push it away.
it followed you around with sad puppy eyes, but
you knew it and you kept it at arm's length.
you brave, brave soul.

when it did start to snow I wasn't surprised. you
were. you didn't say anything. we were in
a deserted school hallway, listening, removed
from the other kids' cries. we were
delighted too, but the others wanted to run home
early, and we knew the definition
of home better than they. and I can speak only for
myself but it seemed we both wanted only to stay
forever side by side, tucked away in our corner,
me reveling in the softness of love and friendship
and winter, you trying to be there with me but having
trouble leaving your mind, where that sad-eyed
puppy snapped at your heels. it whimpered
but you held your own.

and slowly, we built up moments like this one.
we wallowed in each other and in the coziness
of cloudy days. we read good poetry and
heard good music and took photographs as we
discussed life from our  softer world.
there were moments of such pure white happiness
that they came full circle to being sad,
simply because I knew I would never be that
happy again, and I was not wrong, and I didn't
want to be. and we had
sad moments, too, never ever think I am not
happy to be sad with you.

and slowly, too, your innocence knew its
defeat, and sat obediently at your feet,
and we shared things.
but I was a child, and a weak one at that, and
God knew I was not as strong as you so she
gave me no great suffering to speak of, to
share with you. no way to reciprocate the
vulnerability you gave, and that in
itself was suffering for me.

I regret that I was not good at saying things.
that while
you had to be your own adult and push childhood
away, I clung hopelessly to mine as
I discovered me and watched it slip
from my small hands.

among the plethora of reasons I can give for
bitterly hating sunny days is the
way the sun slanted through the window and lit
up your eyes and swilled particles around
your face like fairy dust on the day you reached
out and pulled my lanyard over your own neck.
look, you said, content. almost proud.
I'm wearing a bit of you around my
neck,
and you wove it through your
sunlit fingers, eyes bright. you tugged on it,
lightly. that's what love does, it strangles
you. and we all want it.


and I gasped at the way that word sounded,
so harsh in such beautiful sunlight on such
a soft face. but I don't want to strangle
you
. I said that. thoughtlessly,
instinctively. I regret it every day. in that regard,
you gave me a strength, but it's no german shepherd—
you are so **** strong.

when your ache tugged and tugged at you,
tore you from reality, or brought you closer to it,
it slipped its finger into that lanyard knot. loosened it.
I could have reached out right then, as you had when you
pulled the sun-soaked string over your head, and
tightened it. tightened us. been a friend.

I didn't tug the knot. if you run.
when you run,
I know that two grown dogs
will follow after you, blocked
from the sun by your receding shadow.
The Greek philosopher Plato once said that in the beginning, all humans had four arms, four legs, and a single head, on which two faces were interwoven. We were whole, we were empowered, gifted the ability to ask the Gods for the answers to the true questions, those questions that transcended human thought. We flourished, nurtured by the incubator of bliss: a happiness incomparable to anything in existence today. We did not coexist as two separate beings, rather living as The One.

But as humans, we also had this primeval desire, this primeval hunger to achieve and attain. So we flaunted our gifts. Our indomitability soon seized us and we, in our blatant arrogance, defiled the divinity of the celestial beings. The Gods, offended, separated The One, forming two distinctly different beings.

We wept, overcome by our woes, not knowing how to console ourselves. Without our other half, life was not only saddening, but also pointless. Days and days went by, with not so much as even a hint of happiness. Then began a spark in every being. We yearned for our other half, so for our other half, we searched. The reformation of The One became imperative, lest all of the human race live purposelessly for the rest of our days. And so as we searched, from the fading twilight to the dark crevices of our very own natures, we found.

This search is known as love, and it is the closest thing to The One we may experience in this lifetime. It gives each of our lives meaning, each of our lives purpose. This is the story of how a boy and a girl sought and found one another.
an introduction to a story i'm writing lol
when you wake up in the morning,
take a deep breath.
smile and take comfort in the fact that every breath is godgiven.
smile to the filtered sunlight pouring in through the window.
smile to your comforter and thank it for well, comforting you.
step outside.
smile to the brisk, morning air.
smile to the chirping larks and the meandering bunnies.
smile to the soft grass beneath your feet.
but also, take some time to
smile to your demons because they gifted you strength.
smile to your regrets because they gifted you wisdom.
smile to your sins because they gifted you morality.
smile to optimistic nihilism and our significant insignificance in the universe.
smile to the value of life and another day of it.
i now realize some words i've used in other poems have reappeared here lol. i felt grateful today, and i'm happy about it.
show me
with trembling fingers
a shallow breath
what it means
to close a book

take the barren thread
raise me up
adjusting buckling knees

show me
how much you hate me
beyond what words
could say
this one really caught me off guard. thanks to you, Lana, for this masterpiece. originally titled ‘love me’. to me, it reminded me of my social anxiety (hence the title).
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