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 Feb 2018
Arcassin B
By Arcassin Burnham

Too late to call,
Deliberately passionate about how you've been doing,
Crossing fingers in hopes that you don't see someone else and give all of your fruit and your veggies to them,
Putting yourself on the line for them,
Waste all your time with them,
Make me jealous in utter Requiem.

Stone cold blind men could see you from miles away admiring all that you are in a world where some will degrade,
Fight the sun if you gone from the shade,
The Sweat and the pain to be thrown to the wolves and sheeple eludes to the people that don't give a care about what is actually really important to see and look forward to, this corrupted world got a hold of you,
But I still love you,
You're delightful,
Hot like the summer,
So insightful,
Wait am I degrading a little? the situation is belittled, playing fiddle.
©abpoetry2018


https://arcassin.blogspot.com/2018/02/i-see-woman.html
 Feb 2018
Nat Lipstadt
VD/ lasting life

I have VD.

the decapitating, desiccating disease slow taking over

every day another word withers and there are no replacements

the diminishing returns cannot be substituted and all losses are
permanent, like Samson’s hair, once cut, cannot grow back

I live alone.  Easier then conversing,
gaps in your sentences,
****** communication that is pointless anyway

banished by overuse and incapacitated;
tarnished by time, silver polish resistant;
too late for inoculation the cortex eroding;
the Vocabulary Diminishment has cost me so far:

rain and all its weathered relations;
sad and it’s variant cousins;
body partition arrhythmia, breathtaking breathing loving has
jumped overboard

lasting life

never bothered me that verse and curse rhyme so fittingly,
fit for life, for ‘tis nothing but re-racked intermittent rhymes,
reasoned rhythms connecting the intermittent mayhem’s
dropping by for fun and choosing, verse or curse

nevertheless, won’t bother to explain the difference
between last and lasting, leave it for you to self-teach-taught

nonetheless,  body is degrading, the needs grow strongly weaker and the bites taken out by time, her, imagination, p ain,
even worse words disappear, f irst a letter the hole s aces are
modern art product, avant garde  at the finish line

empties remain as abscesses with all-access passes,
cortex locked on only receive is busted and most of your
transmissions go direct to the
Junk mail folder

winter drags and summer now a vision of was and no longer a
will be, a thrilling sensory palace with a closed sign
appliqué to my weakened ayes

time to rise time, to shave, put on the cutaway uniform
when you obtain the obligatory occasional I love you
and it winces, and tears still come easy
when you want them too
but you don’t want them to arrive or
let depart the ones that presently dry
of their own according in their place

mechanics of writing are obstacles and the cherished
lovely fluidity of transportation traveling transformation is searingly wearing and beyond the just,
the reach, of the true meaning of meme
which means has no more to communicate

the days of slow wasting away,
when the touch is worse
you say out out loud to the tiles
shave away the slough, flush the fallen skin cells,
just cut me down, these bad poems are too onerous
when the brrrain is hardened ice ball hitting forehead

so we go away in every sensory hurrah
retired to solitary ask no questions expect no answers
dreaming of healings but that is another self-starting movie
dreaming sequence that has been erased

fearsome, the energy drinks required to survey survival,

much easier to bid adieu and bypass au revoir

the standard set can be modified or erased
and everyone wants a shortcut lesson to skip to the
top of the line, are they unaware that line will choke au fin

important meetings ahead, assembly the solutions and your
children want answers and you give them a mirror and implore
them do better than thy lousy training

don’t make no difference, their genomes contain
mon nom so they come cursed and I who wrote, shot prayers
on skywriting writ, have none to offer present-lies

poor babies too long this elegy, too bad for you
work is hard and no r&r location on my list and short
attention spans will bring you low in world of words


say bad bye to over loved companions

https://hellopoetry.com/words/

the Vocabulary Diminishment disease don’t permit
reuse: true colors needed crest creation and all the
breaks are bad and the words have fled my pointer
fingerprint fingertip

code only in 0’s;
it’s like having halve a tongue
and if you were among the lucky few who knew my visage,
look away look away and let this too long spaghetti sauce be
recipe thrown away my vision is satisfied

3:11 am and no more
s words to fall upon
 Feb 2018
Tash Mckay
I hide my soul
So no one can destroy it
Pull at it
Talk too it
I hide my soul
So no one can see me
Free me.
I hide my soul
Only on paper
I do not hide,
I hide me
I'd like too be set free like the stormy seas
Like the winter breeze
For now I like too see me as
a willow Tree
This would set me free
I think
For now I'll hide me
I don't want too be free
I'm frightened .
Love x falling in love again x no thanks x maybe x no x yes x I'll like me first like I love the willow Tree x
 Feb 2018
starchild
Every school is a top tent circus
everyone competing for a little fame
and at which I'm a freak
me and my friends were freaks
Were maniax

but everyone who is truly insane
has felt the true meaning of pain
we all have something that turned us into a monster

Sally she was *****
she was convinced it was a good thing
and she was used
to this day she still collects dolls
And she became a monster
and the man who used her never to be seen

Toby was made fun of and abused
he had these ticcs the mental disease
and kids at school always made fun of him
and his parents werent so nice to him either
he became a monster
And now everyone wished that they didn't mess with
Ticci toby

Jack was forgotten
he always wanted to make people laugh
and make them happy
but people were just mean to him
and he tried
but soon no one loved him
and everyone forgot about him
he became invisible
he became a monster
And everyone who made him forgotten
were only remembered as dead

jane was decieved
and alone
she was loved by a lot of people
but she lost everything
her parents
Her family
Her friends
And now she's our friend
And she's a monster
And everyone who took everything from her
Is long gone

hoodie was always stressed
people surrounded him
called him names
and made him sad
he always wore a hoodie
And now he goes by that name
He's no longer stressed
and now he's our friend
And a monster
And those who made him stressed
were no less alive then when hoodie was stressed

And those are my friends
I have more friends
each one just as diferent as the examples
I have given

What?
what's different about me?
Ooh well that's a fun story

Me?
I used to be a good kid
very nice I had friends
then everyone turned on me
Everyone bullied me
Everyone made fun of me
called me names
And so everyone made me a monster
And all these freaks are my friends

Were all freaks I this circus
And when the world gets a load of us
They'll look back and think
"Wow"

See all the freaks
Monsters
Crazy s
Maniacs
Were all like this
because others made us this way
They inflicted there
Pain
so we built up our walls
and our horns
Our claws
Our personality
And we became a monster

That others fear
Because they made us feel pain

And were all monsters
That are in pain
=)
 Feb 2018
starchild
I used to share a room whith my father
he would go outside and sit in his shed
Or
he would go out with friends
and get drunk

anyway when he was out
every night
I would stay up till midnight
and I would watch the stars and the moon

They'd like to sparkle and glow
iluminating the dark room and the outside
I always like to have a conversation with them
As I heard the clutter of conversation between stars

I always had my personal conversation with the moon
the moon would always give me complements
on how the light reflected on my pale skin
that nobody else liked
On how my personality was different
Which nobody loved
On my interesting take on the world
which everybody put me down for
And on my funny and different mind
which everybody called me dumb

On the first night of me doing this
the moon and stars forever became my friends
Id count everyone of them
id name everyone of them
Every time they appeared
Id say hello to each one before we began talking
We always has the funnest of conversations

And then midnight comes around
And I say to all of them
Good morning
Because I know they go away when the sun came up
So I said good morning because midnight is the start of
A new day
(I never liked the sun for chasing away my friends)

And id do this every single night and still do
But around the time I began kindergarten
I began to truely notice that some stars have disappeared
but there would be new and different ones
So I named the new ones
and welcome them
and things changed a little
Everytime a new one would come in
Id just name it and we'd continue our conversations

And there was this one star
Very unique
It was off in the middle of the sky
all alone no stars but far off around it
and it shined brightly
of course the other stars weren't avoiding this little star
In fact they were trying to go to the poor thing
but the sky had its own plans so it stayed alone

All that night i had a fun conversation
And at midnight I went to say good morning
but i forgot to name the poor star
so right when the clock struck 12:01
I named the star "Hayden"
and I said to Hayden good day
And he sparkled and I went to bed

The next day I went to school
and I felt how Hayden felt
alone
that day were having hot chocolate
and watching the nightmare before christmas
it was into the school year and a day before winter break
I was sitting in the back alone
watching the show
and this boy.... he walked up to me
and sat next to me and he said
" interesting movie huh?"
I just sat there and stared in amazement
And I shook off the look and just said "yah"
I'm going to spare you the rest of the conversation and just say
we became good friends
at the end of the day we shook hands and I said
" my name is Tommy."
And he said
" its nice to meet you Tommy ... my names Hayden... its nice to be your friend."

I walk away in amazement

but that night Hayden isn't in the sky
And never was again
And me and Hayden at school were friends
all the way up to fourth grade
He turned around and stabbed me in the back
He betrayed me and left me alone
And I never saw him again

I was truly alone again
Just had the stars and moon as friends

And new stars continue to roll in
And I continue to name each one

But I wonder
what happens to stars?
do they become suns
do they just explode and destroy and disappear
like he did?
And I say to myself
" not all stars disappear
not all stars will be that way
but we know
Stars are your friend when no one else is"


See everyone is a star in there own way
each different
and In a different location
But you gotta know
were all in the same sky

And as the moon lights up my life
And my room and the outside
I think and know
I'm glad to have the nigh sky as my friend
Cause when I'm dead
I don't wanna go to heaven and have fun
I don't wanna go to hell and watch those he wronged me
Burn
I want to dance and walk around the night sky
and truly meat the moon
and each star
Sun (even though if they chase away my friends
They deserve something to)
Nova
Black hole
Comet
Meteor
planet
I wanna meet everyone in the sky I saw
all of those who were there for me when I was alone
The night sky is mine
and my friends home
Don't worry
No one is alone
for the leading moon
isn't days doom
its happiness
and my true. happy. home.
=)
I love you all.... I love my friends and I love those of you who like my poetry.... you don't have to like my poetry I'm not one of those people. I love you all anyways.
 Feb 2018
Rebel Heart
I'm convinced blue is cursed
That same color reflected in your eyes
Blue lures me in and drowns me
It shatters what's left of my disguise
(The beginning to a long tribute to an old memory...Written 1/26-8/2010 by RH... Happy writing ~BM)
 Jan 2018
girl diffused
Here's what I'll collect of us:
1. Your hand holding my nine year old one,
2. small and uncertain
3. small and growing
4. You waking up before the rest of the world
5. The sound of you raking fallen brittle palm fronds and leaves
6. Feeding the dogs
7. Turning the cornmeal for them in the massive ***
8. Your rare smiles
9. The smell of Old Spice
10. Filling the shopping cart with whatever I wanted
11. My too-tiny hands clasping about the cart and pushing it along with you
12. Us scouring the aisles for Eggo's waffles and my favorite brand of banana chips
13. My nine year old self sitting on your lap while you dozed off
14. Our conversations about politics and the current state of the world
15. Our long conversations
16. Our long conversations about your youth
17. Me hearing your story about how you cared for yourself from 15 years old for the 105th time
18. Me never getting tired of hearing about that story
19. Your rare smiles reaching your eyes
20. The softness of your hair as I stroke your head now
21. Sitting by your bedside and being comforted by your soft breath as you sleep
22. Sitting by your bedside remembering my childhood with you
23. The long summers in your house with grandma and my cousin
24. The long summers in your house on the island
25. The long summers back home--back in your home country
26. Your hand holding my nine year old one,
27. small and uncertain
28. small and growing
29. You waking up before the rest of the world
30. You going to sleep after everyone else
31. Your hand holding mine.
32.   Your breath.
33.   The softness and steadiness of your breath.
A list poem dedicated to my 90-year-old grandfather as he battles prostate cancer. I love him and respect him with all my heart. There are so many other memories that I will cherish and hold onto, like most recently, my trip with him to Niagara Falls. These are just a few that I can fondly recall from childhood. He's essentially the father I never had.
 Dec 2017
Anya
I've found that makeup can cover the bruises just as well as it can disguise an ugly face.
I've learned that people aren't always kind and the world is a pretty ****** up place.
I've been told that you love me but I can't see past the fists flying toward my face.
I've seen the way you look into my eyes when you're sober and I feel the way my heart aches when you do.

I don't understand how "I love you" turns into "Shut up" so quickly
The love was there but it left when I decided to walk out the door.
You pushed me away and I finally chose to leave.
I got tired of all the lies and the punches thrown in my direction.

The bruises have faded away and I'm able to feel more than just oppressed.
I've grown stronger and I've learned that I am more than your hurtful words.
someone make a title for this
 Dec 2017
Anya
She feels invisible
Full of insecurities, of doubts
No matter how much she reminds herself
That's she's not worth the struggle
She's still tired of people and their nonsense
People talk and gossip
Refusing to understand why
She's invisible
People laugh and enjoy life
Why can't she?
The capability of being noticed
It makes her envious
Living seems impossible
Being forced to live this "normality"
What's wrong with being different?
She's invisible
People scared of homosexuals, suicides, and "freaks"
Nothing's wrong with them
People feel unwanted-she feels unwanted
Undecided, under appreciated, never understood
Being afraid to even show her true self
She's invisible
Praying to be loved
She's hidden
Hiding who she is from fear
Making those beautiful artworks in her room
Her arms being her canvases
Sitting, thinking in the shower for ages
Always guilty for no reason
She's invisible
There isn't really a sad or depressing backstory to this, just a little something I wrote when I was like 12 or so. Hope you guys enjoy it.
 Nov 2017
Anya
When the judge asked what I was thinking, I replied “no comment.”
What really came to mind was the betrayal, the fury, the angst, that I feel on a daily basis.
I can’t get through a single day without thinking about what you’ve done.
You’ve hurt me.
Not physically, no, but my heart is bruised and broken and there are scars on all my thoughts.
Some days I try to think of the good times we had together.
Going fishing, walking through the woods, fixing stupid broken cars...
But then your stupid mistake pops back into my mind and “I HATE YOU” follows close behind.
What you did was disgusting and from here on I out I choose to say “no comment”.
People don’t deserve to know what you did, you don’t deserve that kind of publicity.
You weren’t with me for my 17th birthday, you don’t see how much I’ve grown in the past 10 months.
And when your birthday passed by, it was as if you didn’t even exist.
Father’s Day was the same way too, because your fatherhood should not be celebrated.
Seeing you now, and hearing the frustrating plea deal you got disgusts me.
Three years of parole and you’re off the hook.
I have to carry this with me for a lifetime but you only get 1,095 days with it.
Do you know how many days are in the average lifetime? 27,765 days.
Your sentence is no where near as damaging as mine.
You will never know how I feel.
You will never care to ask.
You will never see me graduate, or get married, or have a family of my own.
You will be far, far away from me.
Maybe you’ll rot in a pickup truck like your own father.
Or maybe you’ll waste your days away and sit in your own filth like your mother.
But do not ever drag me down to that hell with you.
Don’t ever talk to me.
I don’t need your apology and I don’t need your love.
So when the judge asks “Do you have anything to say?”
I suggest you tell him “no comment.”
To the ******* who ******* up the rest of my life.
 Nov 2017
Rebel Heart
Seldom does one write an emotional poem
Not relating to death and depression
Nor the dark demons caged within...
A shard of the dark side of the soul
Can be found buried within
The depths of each poem carved onto the page
With the ink of the beating heart...
And maybe that reminds those of us
Who live and bleed between the words spilled
That only in the suffering
Can we truly begin to understand
And only in the understanding
Can we truly begin to live...
Because we live
Only to spill these words
So that others may have a chance
At the second life that blooms
From all the heartache...
All only so
The world can be seen
In the different lights
The aching words promise
Bits of a writing assignment buried back in time about the topic "Why is the 'best' or the most historically popular poetry depressing?"... Leave your thoughts
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