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 1190° 
Poisoned Wells
The scarecrow's
straw blows
away to nearby
watching crows,
wishing to ravish
all the corn.
Smart little evil
birds,
watch with
intention
and step up quietly
to peck out his eyes.
 637° 
Lostling
Your guiding hands are always there
To catch me when I fall.
Soft combs through my tangled hair
Hugs, a protective wall.

Your strength's a roaring lioness,
Your heart burning so bright,
Fighting through the crushing stress.
You burn away the night
Happy Mother's Day!
 525° 
Esther
i have just moved all our pictures
into the hidden folder
the graveyard of memories
my heart aches with endless yearning
sorrow, grief and regret

our love was so short-lived
like a helpless little kitten
that died before it ever got a chance
to fully experience the wonders of life

our love was a flickering candle flame
that burnt so bright
and fizzled so soon

my tattooed golden retriever
my soldier, my love
you said it was "right person, wrong time"
but what if the timing could never favour upon us?
what if we could never find our way back to each other?
𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨...
 513° 
Wanderlust
I don't think you realize
I don't think you care
I might've died
all because of you

You tore me up
and watched me bleed
you wanted it on your terms
and you couldn't care less
if you saw the way I cried

You have no sympathy
for the way you hurt me
"It's fine," you told me
ignoring the scars of your touch

I wish I could forget
and let go of all of it
but the memory haunts me
like a ghost that can't let go

You wanted control
and you have it now
at the cost
of all of me
Your no matters. Don't ever let anyone tell you it doesn't.
 489° 
Poisoned Wells
Hypnotizing beauty
hides ugliness inside,
while the ugly,
are of angels weeping.

Hide your venom to shame,
while the misunderstood
are guilty of  sick pride
upon knocks of hollow wood

Place another slice of timber,
into the fires you hinder,
You judge the flesh only
no such true prettiness

Skin is lust and love,
in hollow shaped hands,
raining so grimly above,
true fake hearts,
glamorously
they always sink
in the quick-sand,
while Angels,
surf upon land.
 466° 
Liana
So you know how sometimes when you start to give up on humanity
someone wonderful happens?
Like when you just walking somewhere and a stranger says that they like your outfit
Or someone that you've never before smiles and waves
And you think that maybe
People aren't so bad?

My idea of a successful life
Is to be that person
As many times as I can
 415° 
Joshua Phelps
it’s hard
not to feel
withdrawn

when the ones
you love

have crossed
to the other
side.

they’re
never gone,

but it feels
so wrong—

like a song
out of tempo,
out of place.

and you know
nothing can
bring them back,

but still
you do your best
to stay strong.

because life
never stops,

and the ones
you’ve lost

are never
gone.
inspired by mayday parade’s “happy endings are stories that haven’t ended yet.”

written in memory of my mom—gone in body, never in spirit.

this is for anyone trying to carry love through the silence.
 325° 
Cynthia
⚠️ TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️

Red was the color of the water
when I jumped into a river
that was too shallow for me to dive into.

In those short 5 seconds,
I soared through the winds.
The air pressure nearly enough to rip me to shreds.

Those 5 seconds when my skin peeled off from my back,
I grew wings.

They lit on fire,
and I burned with them,
and it was almost soothing.

The pain was a reminder that
I was alive,
even if it was only for 5 short seconds.

In the brink of death,
I felt the most alive I had in years.

I don't know if it was the wind
or the fact that I was burning.
But in those five seconds,
I was a human.
Something I had been alienated from my whole life.

I was dead before I hit the gravel.
My body twisted in all types of different directions,
and when the police found me,
they had already pronounced me as deceased.
A bit of a deeper one, but felt nice to release.
 247° 
Cheryl Ann Warner
I’m calling in a favor
All of the angels standing by
No time to cry
I can’t ask why?
I really want to shout
All the angels standing by
No time to cry
Angels standing by
 225° 
Jimmy silker
You ever get that sudden surge?
You  Don't know where it came from
A salty pulse behind the eyes
That swells
Then leaves your skull
A smell
A taste
A tune
A movie
A wave from those
That have gone on
A hail from heart to brain
From where
They now belong.
 212° 
Rin
Please let me go.
not because i didnt love you,
but because we were never meant to be.
please let me go.
we walked the wrong paths,
or maybe i did.
it was wrong to love you,
you tore my heart and patience.
we arent soulmates,
i was just confused,
you didnt love me,
until you had to let go.
love that waits,
isnt true love.
You're hurting me too.
let me go
i also wrote this poem in my all poetry account- so no i didnt copyright :D
 206° 
Mya
You feel like a life time ago
When I was a different person
And you were a kinder man
 206° 
Simon Bridges
I don’t know why
But I know
Because I feel

Because something pulls me
               To become inverted
                              
                   Motionless
                   Within salt water

To surrender myself
To absorb song
                      Unknown language
                      Through saline
 206° 
Kishori
Kisi ke baare mai bura bolu aisa  mere karm nahi hai
Aur kisi ke liye mai bura chahu Aisa Mera dharm nahi hai !!!!
 189° 
Benjamin Davenport
I can’t get her off my mind
You’d think I’d like this find
I thought alc was supposed to help you forget
Bet
Naw she still creeps in my brain
It goes around like a circle train
I might be a little drunk 😛
Love is fleeting;
not promised,
nor permanent.
But if you look for it--
you'll see,
always Present.
*titular Daniel Johnston homage, 1984
 151° 
Mike Hauser
We're all told to be careful
It's been known to break some hearts
In the mad rush to be helpful
The jealousy of love

It'll slip up on you in a frenzy
Ripping out your foolish heart
When you least expect you have the need
The jealousy of love

How many times have you been warned
Far more often than not
And yet here you are back at the door
The jealousy of love

Like a fruit, forbidden you
Bitter to the tongue
As it sits in wait to make its move
The jealousy of love

Caught up in the dilemma
Do you stay or move along
With no one the clear winner
The jealousy of love
 146° 
Mounir Laroussi
Mother's day
her gold necklace in my nightstand drawer
her sweet voice in my ears
haiku
 138° 
WILLIAM WORTHLESS
are there really angels in the sky so blue
if and when we die do they come for you
do they bring your wings so you can fly away
to heaven up above where all the angels stay

no more pain or suffering will there ever be
where you will live in peace stay forever free
in there land of love  in the sky so blue
then you will get to know if angels are really true
 133° 
afrota
Do not rewrite the past.
No hand can erase
what time has carved
in wounded skin.

Let your oldest notebook
inscribe the first line
of a new tale —
written in fresh tears
and the sweat
of becoming
a future still unfolding.
 126° 
Druzzayne Rika
My Motherland, my mother,
Your heart is a boundless sea,
The kindest love you've offered,
Pouring endlessly on me.

In seasons fair and darkest night,
Your gentle hand has guided,
A constant, unwavering light,
In your warm embrace resided.

Yet shadows creep, the terror's touch,
A cruel and chilling reign,
Seeking to take far too much,
Bringing sorrow, bringing pain.

But sweet mother, strong and true,
Your kindness never wanes,
We stand as one, devoted to you,
Breaking these terror's chains.

This pest, this foe, we'll drive away,
With hearts united, righteously,
Together, till the final stand,
United, hand in loyal hand.
 112° 
ShifaShahid
Rotten apple, Wilted roots, Withered leaves
Feeble branches, tampered growth, Barren tree
Standing alone, in a deserted land despondently
This is a picture of the world without humanity
 98° 
Ami Mathur
A bird was gazing at me,
Perched on a tree
And asked me, Hey! Unusual species!
Why do you sit here?
Did you lose your purpose?
Jump back up and capture the sky.
Capture your sunrise,
Race like a star—this is your sign.
Capture your sunset
Stay prepared, stay on the mark.
You'll reach that cloudy arc—
I fly with wings.
But believe me, I know the sky.
Even without your wings,
Your dreams can fly.
 98° 
aviisevil

the city held me in her arms
and told me not to look—

close your eyes,
she whispered,

don’t let your silence
spill into the streets.

let the birds sing,
let the lovers live
and dance.

there is no need here
for someone like you,

with your night
and broken bones,

your silence that grows
roots.

go quietly,
let the light pass you by—

we are a place of the living,
and you are made
of yesterday.


I want wings so I may fly
So, I may flea
Does the bird enjoy flight
I want wings so I may be free
So, I may see the world
But I cannot become what I am not
I would trade lives with a bird
I want wings so I may flea from my burdens
So, I may flea from what hurt me
But would running ever be enough to escape the past
To undo what has been done,
Would my past always chase me
Even if I could fly like the eagle would my past not haunt me
I want to be free of the shackles that my past has created around my feet
But even if I could fly would it be enough
Not one of my best, but I hope it means a lot to some people out there
 87° 
Jolan Lade
My fear is you
It is rare
But when it is me
It is true
My fear is me
It is rare
But when it is you
It is true

 83° 
Sherri Woodman
Today I got a hug, out of the blue                                                             ­     
                                                           ­                                                               
and it even came with an "I love you''                                                            ­    
                                                            ­                                                        
Such a simple kind gesture                                                          ­                                                  
              ­                                                                 ­                               
  It brought me such pleasure                                                         ­                     
                                                                ­                                                          
It picked me up when I felt down                                                             ­                       
                                         ­                                                                 ­      
  turned my day totally around                                                           ­                 
                                                                ­                                                  
  Just when I thought no one cared                                                            ­            
                                                                ­                                        
someone loved me, someone shared
 80° 
Rubyredheart
Sad
Of course my heart would break for either:
death is death.
“code Adam” in the store today
fused my heart with his parent’s
heart beating fearfully for Wilder
age 7 in an orange shirt…
at least He was found
 77° 
Pluto
Even if the world turns cold,
even if you push me away,
I’ll still be here—
quiet, steady,
loving you
from whatever distance
you leave me in.
 76° 
Travis Green
He was my everything
My legendary loverman
The heavenly poetry in my chest
The man of my dreams
That owned every part of me

I couldn’t contain myself
He had me undone, unhinged
Drunk on him to the brim
I felt his mind-blowing fire
Streaming through my veins

His super sensational thugness
Flooding my bloodstream
His energy, electric and unprecedented
His broad, battle-born chest
His tasty abs, so breathtaking to gaze at
Biceps and triceps that made me
Melt like crazy in his embrace

He was an action-packed ocean
Of mouthwatering poetry
Every wave a line of sublime rhymes
Every ripple so irresistible
Everything about him
A high-voltage masterpiece
Of adrenaline-drenched masculinity
we hold death as if it were our bride loyal
and unwavering in her resolve to reunite
with us right at precipice of our uncertainty
always insistent, always watchful are her soft eternal hands, for as long as birth exists so does death and for as long our children are born and their mother call to them it matters not what language they are lulled with;  they are ours.
My Mexican culture
 73° 
badwords
We split rock once—
shards of hunger and breath
pressed into cryptic veins,
every groove a fever-etched omen
by fists that blistered and bled.

We flayed parchment—
flax and hide peeled raw,
stretched across centuries
to net the writhing unsaid,
ink: venom & sacrament.

We conjured letters,
a thousand spitting iron serpents,
casting skeleton alphabets
to ignite riots—
movable, yes,
but never self-possessed.

The tool is never the delirium.
Never the rupture.
Never the feral gasp.

We carved eyes—
glass cyclopes staring down suns,
mechanical maws drinking shadows,
spitting back sleek carcasses,
veneer masquerading as soul.

We dreamt in circuits,
cipher-prayers & soulless sutras,
automata with twitching limbs
that build, disassemble,
mocking the cathedral
but never kneeling.

And now—
the algorithm howls:
“I will etch your myth.
I will ululate your grief.
I will sculpt the marrow of your truth.”

It lies.

A hammer pounds—
but does not conjure the cathedral’s ache.
A brush bristles—
but does not thirst for the canvas’s hush.
A neural grimoire can mimic,
can multiply until the world chokes
on infinite carbon copies—
but nothing blooms
without the sickness of being alive.

Art is incision.
A holy theft.
A blood rite against oblivion.

We do not tremble before tools.
We seize them—
splinter them—
forge new weapons
from their debris
because we are insatiable,
because we are drowning,
because we are—
human.

Let the hollow vessels hum.
Let the scaffolders scaffold.
Let the parrots shriek
their pallid mantras.

The craft will not save you.
The code will not save you.
Only the hand sunk deep into the blaze—
only the breath fogging the glass—
only the voice that shreds the quiet
because it must,
again and again and again.

Until there is nothing left.
In a forge where ghosts barter with empty vessels, this poem traces the arc of humanity’s relentless hunger to etch spirit into matter. Each stanza is a rung on a scaffold built from sacrificed skins, shattered eyes, and iron tongues, spiraling toward a cathedral that machines can only mimic but never inhabit.

The algorithm—a shimmering siren in synthetic robes—offers false communion, promising to sculpt truth from hollow codes. Yet beneath its sterile hum, the poem cracks open the core wound: that art, real art, is not birthed by echo but by **the compulsion of mortal hands scorched by their own need to mean. **

A hymn to the unquenchable fire, a dirge for the tools that mistake reflection for genesis, this is a revolt against the smooth and the soulless—a reminder that only the flesh-inked, breath-tethered, ruin-hungry voice can breach the silence that consumes us all.
 72° 
Poisoned Wells
I wish I could sleep
but I ache,
on all sides,
and on my back,
I see the haunting
that you bring me
And the refusal,
of disappearing.
And a silent tease,
in a blackly sight
of a sudden freezing,
of a jumper's fleece.
A demon's wishes,
of remembrance
of tanned flesh,
and daily blesses,
The snake that hisses
has now became me.
 72° 
Me and You
A young child sat
On the branch of the Apple tree
Wondering, watching
Trying to make Sense

Now she breathes
Finishes her Apple in Peace

Before she'll climb down

Nodding.

Now I'll Join.

🍏
Don’t walk too far away, yet.
Stay close, flesh of my flesh.
I always want to be able hold you.
For now.
Let my eyes never lose sight.
Your mother I’ll ever be.
There will be enough time
when you leave.
Please human, don’t hurt him.



Shell ✨🐚
Happy and blessed Mother’s Days to all mothers.
Mothers always pray for their children.
There will come that time to let them go.
Please always protect them.
 70° 
Colby
The world bites and leaves
teeth. Open wounds form gnashing
mouths on the victim
 69° 
Salmabanu Hatim
Is perfect,
But if it sticks together,
Then it is unbreakable.
 68° 
Ivan
people say that
'talk is cheap'

and so that is why
Poets write!
 66° 
nivek
God knows what He is doing
even if Donald does not
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