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 Apr 2020
Graff1980
There is a melody here
made unclear
by the clutter of
collecting stuff,

and though I can’t play guitar,
I can still whistle
white hearted tunes
to turn sour silent hours
into less ghastly
beasts of reflection.

So, this is just a little bit of
talk therapy,
in the form of
stream of conscious poetry.
 Apr 2020
Graff1980
Today, someone is missing a friend,
or mourning the loss
of someone who won’t
be back this way again.

Someone is listening to
the whispering winds,
longing to hear a ghost
that is whistling at them.

Somewhere tears stream,
and a mother screams,
dealing with the unseen
searing agony of losing
someone they loved dearly.

Today, on February seventh
of twenty twenty
I am telling you few
who happen to view
this poem
on purpose
or in passing
that nothing is everlasting,
and if this is the last thing
I ever get to say to you;

Today, there is at least one dude
sending out his love
to the whole night sky
and hoping it rains
or snows a whole load
of joy and light
into your onetime life.
 Apr 2020
Ann M Johnson
Fear stay far away from me
I want to make it clear
I don't want you near
You are not needed or wanted
Best not be heeded
You are not invited
You are a robber
trying to take what is dear
You do what you can to force your way in
Trying to invade my thoughts or dreams
You don't care about what I really need
You are an enemy
Your animosity against peace and serenity is atrocious
Your a bully you expect me to stand and take notice
You are indeed a brute I will not salute
I will stand my ground I don't want you around
You need to be evicted you don't give you only take
You did not get permission to try to live rent free in my head
Fear  I will not shed any tears
I will forget about you as I head to bed.
Thoughts from this isomniac
 Apr 2020
Sourodeep
Above this cloud of madness
flows a gentle cool breeze
drifting  away all the sadness
striped butterflies flapping at ease

sound of the waves are heard
once suppressed by the chaos
rhythmic crashing no longer weird
silent therapy broken by the gentle dose

If only one drowns deep can one taste
the salt can be the much needed sweet
where there is no emotion to waste
and only generous soul to greet.
More lonely writing sitting by the window.
 Apr 2020
Ann M Johnson
How many times have plans been carefully made
then drifted away when faced with the problems of
real life.
What good does it do to worry or fret it takes away from what I can do today.
When I watch the news I feel the blues
I can choose to limit my exposure to maintain a sense of serenity
I don’t need to plan every moment after all
I can choose to let go of some of the stress before I become a mess
I don’t have to continue setting myself up with such a hurried pace
It can be such a waste draining too much energy
I need to breathe and think
Talk to friends and reconnect with family that I have not talked with in awhile
Take time to laugh when something tickles my funny bone and smile
Take time to cry and grieve when I need to.
My Contentment can be found when giving up on previous plans
and taking things one day at a time and living in the present moment.
After all, I don't know what joys or sorrows tomorrow will bring.
I can choose to live life in the moment this day.
I can choose to make the best of this current social distancing take time to slow down and live in the moment today.
 Apr 2020
Graff1980
There is a dark little shadow
that crosses my mind,
a whispering voice
that says
“Its just fine
to walk around being kind,
but don’t you dare be a hero.”

There’s a hustler’s voice
that coarsely calls out
with the weariness
of ages of doubt,
“do, do some good,
but beyond that
if you try to save that world
your gonna fall flat.”

But there’s a third little fella
that is barely perceptible
that find all these others
quite verily contemptable,
he is the hopeful dreamer
that hasn’t died yet,
with optimism that
hasn’t quite dried up.

He tries to tell me
“we can be better
and as that example
be a world trend setter,”

so, I smack myself silly
to silence that foolish child,
cause that little guy
isn’t too bright.
 Apr 2020
Graff1980
the unwanted compulsion
that enters unbidden,

the impetuous impulse
that refuses to remain hidden
cause it rages like a lava storm
frustrating and incinerating
every organic thing in its path,

such an inopportune occurrence,
a deeply resonating disturbance,
the deadliest and most addicting
drug of all,
a catastrophe worse than Lucifer’s fall
cause it has crushed more angel hearts
than any other heavenly disaster.

Logically, I should be afraid to fall,
and in my great wisdom try to avoid it all,

but the longing for love
makes a ******* and a fool of me.
 Apr 2020
muteD
I’m feeling like giving up.
As I sit and gaze into nothin’
I hear my heart thumpin
through the music that’s crumpin
in my ears.
and I’m wishin
for it to all slow down
and stop.
I’m wishing I could
replace my blood with molasses
and then slit my wrist and watch.
Watch as the life drains from my eyes.
Would you believe me if I told you, that wasn’t a lie?
Not an exaggeration
or a tale?
Of course you wouldn’t
because you aren’t me
you don’t have my mind
or the thoughts that creep in.
and with a mouth
that is permanently disconnected
from my mind,
how will I ever get you
to understand
why I am the way I am?
written: 4/1/20
 Apr 2020
Ghada Marai
My pen dried from the ink
so did my eyes from all the tears
but i still have words to speak
and more wailing to weep
.
Im all torn apart
laying face down on the ground
a lifeless corps down earth
whilst a mind is roaming among the stars
somewhere i could meet you or even see you from afar.
.
   I wonder when all of this will face an end ,
" one day " as one said
truth, untold
words, unspoken
promises were broken
Eyes that lost the spark , waited in the dark.
but what if it was true, that only me and you
                                                          will last .
                       will you come searching for me ?
                                                 cause im long lost .
 Apr 2020
Graff1980
Notice me,
as I sit swaying
in my grief.

Please pay attention
when I mention
what is nibbling
at my sleeve.

As the monster comes
to gobble me,
and I start wobbling
and sobbing
on the street
where my family
fell before me.

Please see the sorrow
that adorns
the ragged clothes
and pains I have worn,
the scars that have adorn
this torn flesh
as fresh wounds
well up with new blood.

Please see the poverty
of inhumanity
that has bankrupted
our society,
turning empathy
into a handicap
and sociopathy
into an attractive trait.

Please, while I wait
for the hate to abate
see me and acknowledge
my minor existence
because I am human
and only here for mere minutes
then gone
never to return.
 Mar 2020
Graff1980
I am a limited edition,
a once in eternity
type of being.

I am a sparkling collection
of particles in procession
passing from one
generation to the next,
that will never have
this configuration again.

I am an eternal
space traveler
cause all that I was
came from the cosmos
and will go back there again.

My ego expansive,
and the void
that I dance in
is massive
and will make you
all the same as me in
the very end.
 Mar 2020
Sourodeep
The alarm wakes me up at seven,
I get ready to face another day,
with nowhere to go even
the whole day at first seems grey

But birds peep through the windows,
worried about the change in norm,
as the world goes through it's lows
I stay indoors during the invisible storm.

A sweet boredom clouds my mind
to maintain my sanity
I travel to any tranquil place I find
in my head and away from earth's gravity

I write, I paint, to go out I refrain
I hear the birds chirp, from my window ajar
I count the twinkles of that lonely star
I observe things I earlier looked in disdain


I try to pluck words from the new garden
where plants imbibe love of the sun
undisturbed, attended only by its own brethren
and my scattered thoughts do not cast shadows
while I watch another sunset at the horizon.
Penning some thoughts after a long time now that my mind needs some exercise more than anything else.
 Mar 2020
Graff1980
What a weird world,
of purple hues,
and soft blues
that waver over
the rippling water
as I ponder
this world askew.

See the silver swirls
of salty friends
who fall in and swim
then leap out again.

Watch the madman
paint a trashcan,
making the canvass melt
with the insanity he felt
as all his pigments bleed
but never die;

Being more immortal than I
these thoughts fly,
then descend in
the brains of younger men,
till the poetry
comes flowing free,

and they bring the artistry
of madness
to another generation.
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