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 Jun 2015
Henrianne Dela Cruz
When I was 14
I wanted to die
and as I sat silent in my room
no longer crying
with the blade in my hand
on my wrist
I wasn't bothered by the fact
that I didn't write a note
to say how I feel
to blame everyone for my decision
to say my final goodbyes.

I didn't bother.
I was so sure they wouldn't care
wouldn't notice
wouldn't mind.

I'm almost 20 now
and I am still sure.
No one would notice.
No one would care.
No one would mind.

And unlike 6 years ago.
No one is with me
to stop me now.
 Jun 2015
Nikita
Just because shes confident with her body
doesn't means she's a ****
It just shows how much of a judgemental ***** you really are.

Just because he's into guys
Doesnt mean hes against god
It just shows how closed minded you really are.

Just because she dresses differently
Doesnt mean shes depressed
It just shows how obilvious you really are.
  
People arent what they seem
So stop labelling and start accepting.
 Jun 2015
Arcassin B
By Arcassin Burnham

Life has never been easy,
Thinking I'm queasy,
Sitting in the drug test Line,
In my society,
Depression dancing on my brain,
With dark wavelengths,
Call me the cheapest ******* names,
No one believes in me,
Not even my mom,
But its ignorance taken,
Don't know where my real dad is from,
Wouldn't care if her little heart was aching,
So while in class shaking,
If could feel everybody around me,
Trying to stare through my soul,
I think they'll probably hate me,
As i prove my toughness to these generic ******* that never have ***,
Save the rich kids for later,
Improving all their success,
To soon later live a miserable fate in a place with mammals , snakes and gators,
There is no god if he allows the evils to roam free,
And what ***** the deal with being born sinners,
Either way we're considered mistakes in gods irony,
The Christians failed him anyways but they feel like winners,
Cause they can't go to hell,
I swear you'd surprised,
How hard my life is,
I need a different price,
After 17 years of livin' that's how many ***** I give.
06. 17 Years Of Living - (18 Part 2'mEP)
 Jun 2015
Ami Shae
I tapped into a magic realm
I didn't even know was there--
found a phantom ghost
with firelight and embers
glowing in its hair--

                                was this a spirit
                                coming for me
                                                              ­someone who might
                                                           ­   somehow set me free
and bring me along
to another life
away from this hell I'm in?

                                                            ­ OR what if this is a monster
                                                              (n­ow that I see its evil grin)
                                                   and it wants to torture me even more?

What if I can't escape this spirit
through an open door...
and I become trapped for all of time?
oh dear, dreams are haunting me again
in this crazy realm of mine!
This was inspired by a bad dream...believe me, it is rather mild compared to the nightmares I used to have...
it loomed like a ghost in the falling day.

an hour past the town on the way
the old man's eyes bore surprise

i wouldn't advise it, sir, not wise
waking them up is no sport

they who're sleeping in the dead men's fort.


All along i've been a phasmophobic
they ceased never to rule my head
lurking in nooks and under my bed.

it sounds nice to talk about spirits and souls
but at nights when hollows of burning coals
mistily appear and not in a dream
choke me out of scream
to that terror i fall an abject slave.

but my companion on that dusk was brave
looking at those eerily towering spires
he said let's try meeting a few vampires.

there was no door opening with a creak
but inside was a musty dark hole
where daylight made a quick retreat
as if to let the dead peacefully stroll.

we climbed up stairs strewn with dry leaves
amid sensing a storm brewing on the wing
for the awakened dead in anger seethes
to have their rest broken by the living.

soon swept us a gale of the squeaking dead
driving us out of that well occupied well
surely startled by the intruders' raid
the winged vampires were fleeing like hell.
a true story, my cover photo is the place where it happened.
 Jun 2015
Kolko
Loving you loving me
Is this a dream?
I have you here
But I can tell you want to be there.
You savaging soul
Just go.
But I'll still be here
Loving you loving me
Wishing this was just a dream.
You've done your harm, so you can go, but just know I'll still be here.
 Jun 2015
Pax
The day I stop dreaming
     is when I started my progress…

I never really understood to why, oh why
do we have to start a living?

In the city of progress, I became the mindless puppet
Of what we call ‘the clichés of society’
FOR NOW - I’m totally blind in all five senses
    to where my love should be place in…

From a specific today, I am robbed for my silence
Totally alone never wanted nor even needed
Conceivably A misplaced person in a ‘crazy world’
- or it is just me who thinks this way.

Sometimes I would think no one would ever really captured
                          - ‘the essence of my heart’
Or probably it was just me, who never did take noticed.
Guessing I am too
  - Perverse to feel anything within the walls of my five senses.

Despite everything else, I understood how Society lives by.
The imaginable ways it burdens and pleasure in
–> Giving –> Receiving –> Showing –> US
                                                         how life works with their walls.

I could never blame how our world becomes a harsh place,
Yet I could took the blame on US
   or our humanity is too faulty consecutively.
Too many Securities from any Insecurities.
Walls upon Wall of their Owning Glory,
      Almost nothing is free.

So I stand chained from cultural responsibilities,
for we were made to think this way.

Ashamed of what I discovered
So I hide in the covers of my pen
To write, just write,
A Written voice for the fallen..

A friend told me “I think life ends when a man stops from breathing and also when he stops from dreaming. What will keep us moving if we no longer have holds to aspirations, to hope...”

Then my friend, Kalypso answered a big part of it in her review on what I am talking about in this piece, she said: “being a dreamer for so long, having to pull my head and heart out of the clouds and start the mundane process every day, over and over again, would bring me into this realm of thinking. Wondering why we do ...what we do? What is the purpose of working just to pay bills and survive, but barely live? Feeling like I disappeared in the process of becoming an adult and taking on responsibilities. Having no time to explore the world. To ponder the mysteries of life...or capture the beauty of everything around us. How the monotony takes away your creativity and individualism, blends you into society, almost making you invisible.”

Then Rachelle’s questions arise saying: “Do we grumble? Do fall into a deeper pit of despair or do we try to figure out how to transform our reality such that the world is exciting and challenging again?”

With all those thoughts arises from my poem, I came to understand that despite I stop dreaming big, I still hold on to the little hope and a hint faith I have on myself that someday, in some way a dream could rise again from the burned pages of my bucket list.

I am thankful that I have find/found friends in my writings.
So I appreciate everyone who reads me, greatly....

http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/willyampax/1336541/
 Jun 2015
niamh
A life without love
Is like a night sky without the stars.
It's still there,
Just not quite as beautiful
 Jun 2015
SøułSurvivør
---

i'm here

invisible hand
retching in your pocket
reaching in your face
teaching all

or nothing

blue bottles buzz
round my head in circles
making me dizzy

I pick a posie of dandilions
gone to seed

I foray about
looking for the shiniest
diamonds in aluminum cans

the brass ring
must certainly be
tarnished gold

the forge bellows that is my chest
heaves in another cough
cooling my tounge
the empty wind that echos ashes
spent embers collect
in the cracks
of the

abyss

my bones which were disjointed
oh so slowly reassemble
instantly
but someone
at the factory didn't
read the
destructions

my legs are arms
my hands
feet

i lie under a cold
sky
in july
oh don't cry
when i die

no whitened seplechur my inheritance
my epitaph nonsense

a palm tree o'r my

grave



soulsurvivor
(C) 6/13/2015
Stream of consciousness work
about the homeless in Los Angeles

Maybe this kind of poem should
have no final destination
This one did. But I allowed it to flow

---
 Jun 2015
brandon nagley
Everyone's a master poet
Until
One day...

They stop getting all those likes
On their whimsical page,

Than thats the part
Where they
Threaten to leave H.P!!!!

Ha!!

But tis
They always stay!!!
 Jun 2015
brandon nagley
This is just for all h.p people
I want to apologize if ive posted your poems in rooms that your poems don't belong
Fact is I hate how there are rooms for different categories
We should not be separate poets
Poets should be one
Not hiding our souls in quote (rooms for different poems)
If it was up to me all poems would be on one page
Page title-,poets-as-one!!!
So yeah lol
If I posted anyone's poems in rooms I should have a lot *** I do click on the room quickly and just add
Please dont take as disrespect for sending to wrong rooms
Just sick of (cliques) everyone sais post your poem here or there
Write like this or that!!!! B.s that isn't poetry that is pure control!! So for any which may be a lot I posted your poems in quote wrong room I apologize!! For time to stop separating our work!! And become one group of poets
Separation is our downfall ! Sorry truth

Thanks and sorry again
Your friend
Brandon Cory nagley!!

Oh ps: people make mistakes
We need to forgive another
Loves answer
God bless!!
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