Confessional Poetry - Hello Poetry

Aug 2020

Graff1980

I spend my regret
like it’s a foreign currency,
higher value
in my current deflated market.

I take my memories
and hold them till
they ulcerate my mind,
till seizures set in
and in my trembling
I find the curved lines
that connect us.

I take all the time
I have not wasted
in seeking purely
pleasurable moments,
even if I needed that leisure,
and I give it to the body you view;
Let this meat collect
compound interest
as it grows and thins,
flabs out and tightens
gains and loses muscle.

I am just a vessel
of borrowed flesh,
a thief of the present
that I steal for myself
and share sparingly.

I devour the world
and excrete neat
lines of love
and give them
to all of you.

Aug 2020

Graff1980

Untitled 478

I want to be
super lean
and ****,
so one day
someone
will say
they love me.

I got flab
but I’m not
that bad.

I eat clean,
except when I don’t.
Then I am mean
to myself,

but I know
that though
I work hard
to get buff
it won’t be enough
to earn somebody’s love.

Funny thing,
makes me laugh,
knowing this
should make me sad,
but the truth is
that I am useless.

All this stuff that I do
won’t make someone
I love
love me to.

Hell, it ain’t even enough
to make me love
myself.

#confession

Aug 2020

Graff1980

Untitled 476

The cool blue aquatic,
silver fish swimming
whilst shimmering green,
is such a beautiful thing.

The cute colorful clown fish
wiggling,

The turtle slowly moving
across that underwater world.

The rapture, of something
so pure,
or at least the illusion
of ocean life purity
is a relief to me.

A nice break
and what I need to see
to escape this
terrible tragedy
we call humanity.

#nature

Jul 2020

Graff1980

Old Dreams

We brought down the system,
took all those new weapons
they were selling,
took out the businesses
that made a profit
from making hell.

We took out
the politicians
who sold out
and kept our poor conditions
for a political position.

We wrote verses to inspire
strangers to strive for higher
ambitions than greed.

We took care of those in need,
reinvigorated the earth
with mother nature’s seed.
That’s how we made change
and taught others to succeed.

Then one day I woke up.
Now I no longer believe
that we can be better
then what I have seen.
I hope sturdier hearts than mine
keep striving to achieve
my old dreams.

#dreams #hopes #humanity

Jul 2020

Graff1980

Untitled 468

I’ve given up
on finding true love.

I’ve given up
on my writer’s fantasy.

I’ve given up
on my faith in humanity.

I’ve given up
on hope for a better future.

I’ve given up
on changing the world.

All that have is here and now,
enjoying life,
and just being kind.

#hope

Jul 2020

Graff1980

Untitled 466

I lost Jupiter
in a crumpled notebook,
as my pale white
queen of the night
passed me by
and got on with her life,

and my sweet potato,
fellow fairy poet
has long since
vanished.
Don’t I know it.

I’ve parted ways
with many friends
who will not
message me again,
and I miss each of them.

As they go,
so do I
disengaging
from these sites
as tiny bits
of my poetics
are divested
then invested
in friends that
discard the heart
I handed them.

Sometimes,
I wonder
if they remember me
or if I was just
a passing word fancy,
indulged and forgotten
in less than a breath.

#friends #leaving #abandoned #left #poets

Jul 2020

Graff1980

Untitled 465

On brighter days,
I summit the sky,
then fall to escape
the rest of the world
that I try to
keep at bay.

I hit the water hard,
play in it like
it’s my own
backyard
swimming through
the deep salty blue
clear water view.

These are my daydreams,
a mind stream
I used to find
a line to rhyme
and work
poetry from my
ravaged mind.

On darker days
when the moon is
obscured by
a clouded sky
and fog moistens
my gray tinted window;

When the crow caws,
and the creepers claw
striking out in rage.
Taking this terror,
I paint my poetry page
with weird lines.

In the noon hours
I seek inspiration
from a nap,
waking refreshed
with a wonderful
dream reflection
slipping through
my bleary mind.
All points of inspiration
belong to me,
as I struggle to find
the right line.

Jul 2020

Lori Jones McCaffery

CHALLENGE #4

Common people called him stingy
And with his funds he was.
But he was parsimonious
In areas that they never saw.

Epitaph
True, he never spent a dime
If he could get it free.
He never wasted any time
That anyone could see.

He didn’t have much love to give
And wanted no love back
He had a certain way to live
Laid out in white and black.

He didn’t give and didn’t take.
He had no use for friends.
He died alone and that’s the way
This kind of story ends
ljm

The word was, of course, Parsimonious. I like doing these, but am having trouble keeping up with one a day every day. They are easy, but sorta like graffitti on a wall. It's OK to paint them out.

Jul 2020

Nico Reznick

Ashes For Dust

My brother came up to collect our mother’s ashes.
At the same time, he dropped off her old vacuum cleaner.
I don’t know why exactly.
I hadn’t asked for it and didn’t need it;
I guess it would have been a waste to just get rid of it.
The thing is,
it hadn’t been emptied,
and for some reason that
broke me
all over again.

That grimy little time capsule.
That cyclone technology urn.
Contents:
Dust of a home you can never go back to;
Fur of a cat now settled with a new owner;
Dead cells of a dead woman.

Remains.

#death #life #loss #bereavement #grief #mortality

Jul 2020

Graff1980

Untitled 458

I created my only little world order
a comfort collected against disorder,
cause though I know entropy
will eventually consume everything
I like to think
I make my own purpose.

That I write meaning into
this universe I view
by the force of my creative will.

So, when the shadows come in
swallowing my well being
I have a foundation to fall back on.

Boy I was wrong,
the king of meaninglessness
the projector of
poetry that says to everyone
that nothing really matters,
got a little silly
and caught up in
all those distractions
from reality.

Thankfully, all it takes
is a pandemic to shake
me from my stupor
and put me right back into the corner
remembering how much
I really don’t matter.