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 Nov 2014
unwritten
she was a poet,
and he was her pen.
in him,
she always found words to write,
songs to sing,
thoughts to think.

he'd smile,
and kiss her softly,
and say,
"write me a poem."

and she would.
she'd put poe,
and whitman,
and shakespeare to shame,
and she'd write a poem that made his eyes water.

she'd compare him
to a rose with no thorns,
a book with no end,
a world with no poverty --
the things we all wish for,
but can never attain.

//

he asked her one day,
"what am i?"
and so she picked up her pen,
and began the usual:
you are the shining sun after a hurricane,
with rays that open the eyes of the blind.

but he stopped her after those two lines,
and said that this time,
he didn't want any metaphors,
or similes,
or analogies.
he wanted the truth.

and so on that night,
as he slept,
the poet picked up her pen,
and she wrote.

she wrote,
then thought better of it,
then started over again,
and this cycle continued well into the early hours of the morning,
until suddenly,
she wrote, frantic,
if i can't love you for what you really are,
have i ever really loved you at all?


this, too,
she thought better of,
condemning it to the trash.

the next morning the poet was gone,
her final work a mere two words:

i'm sorry.

(a.m.)
this is more of a story than a poem but i like how it came out so leave thoughts & comments please
 Nov 2014
Bipolar Hypocrite
Happiness is...

Not being sad.
People compare happiness to many different things,
Then I forget what happiness means.

But I write the truth,
And I won't forget,
What happiness truly means.

:)
 Nov 2014
Bipolar Hypocrite
We are the Dupids,
The two of us,
We search for love,
Then crumple it up.

Instead of love arrows,
We shoot poison darts,
We crush their souls,
And rip them apart.

The sight of two, 
disgusts us to death,
Then when we have run out of darts,
We are in total debt.

We don't love, 
We aim to hate,
We don't care if we go to hell
We will face our fate.

Those stupid hormones,
We'd **** them if we could,
We hate their stupid love stuff,
We would rip it, yes we would.

But unfortunately for me,
I have been struck by Cupid,
I'm falling hard,
I am no more a Dupid.
 Nov 2014
Ember Evanescent
Maybe his phone is broken?
Maybe he lost my number?
Did I give him the wrong number by mistake?
He might have a girlfriend?
Maybe he is just busy?
Is he just waiting a little before he texts me?
Gay maybe?
Or he might just have forgotten?
I don't know, maybe he is just nervous?
He might have a good reason
it will happen if I just wait
eventually my screen will light up with an unknown number
with a text that says: hey
I just need to hang on
it will work out
it will
it will
...okay, at this point even I don't believe myself
I'm just lying to myself now.
This was just really, REALLY important to me.
I guess I expected this to happen, I just didn't expect it to hurt this much.

Repost if you know this feeling. Or if you have felt rejected before.
 Nov 2014
Ember Evanescent
WRITE A POEM ABOUT WHAT YOU WOULD SPECIFICALLY WANT YOUR DREAM GUY OR GIRL TO BE LIKE AND POST IT AS A POEM! MESSAGE ME OR COMMENT TO LET ME KNOW IF YOU ACCEPTED THE CHALLENGE AND WROTE ONE SO I CAN CHECK OUT YOUR POEM!
INCLUDE THE HASHTAG #CHALLENGE IN THE TAGS SECTION!
CAN'T WAIT TO SEE WHAT YOU COME UP WITH!

PLEASE REPOST SO AS MANY PEOPLE AS POSSIBLE CAN GET INVOLVED IN THE CHALLENGE! :)
I wrote a poem called I like the type of boy... which was along these lines, so try doing something like that if you don't really understand what the challenge is.
 Oct 2014
Just Melz
She cries late
                  every night
     Turns off all the
                           lights
         Sits in bed
bawls
             her eyes out
      in the dark
Cutting out pieces
      of her heart
No one can see
                          the scars
           of her sewing
back up her chest
       Soon she will be
             an empty shell
        Hopefully
                    putting her soul to rest
If her heart
                    is no longer there
It can't get broken,
              right?
If no one can see
                          the tears
Then she never cried,
                     right?
 Oct 2014
Ember Evanescent
READ EVERY THIRD WORD

Absolutely undoubtedly,  I really truly can't express my hate for despicable him. The memories though, were unforgettable, I won't even try.

(I sincerely mean both sentences within this thought st the same time.)

Repost if your thoughts argue with themselves like mine.
Please comment I love to read interpretations of my work and really any other thoughts you may have!  :)
Repost if your thoughts argue with themselves like mine.
Please comment I love to read interpretations of my work and really any other thoughts you may have!  :)
 Oct 2014
Ember Evanescent
He
is
a mystery novel
words in between the lines that I don't get
He
is
a foreign melody
but I don't know his lyrics yet

If I could learn to know that boy
the one who doesn't know my name
but I know his, and I hold my breath when he passes by
while kind of wishing he was doing the same
Maybe if I could get him alone in a room
the way I've wanted to all along
'cause
I
want to
know him
learn to know him
he's been echoing off my thoughts
for a little too long

Repost if you like someone who literally does NOT know you exist ;)
Or if you just really like reposting stuff. Then you feel free to do that :P
Please comment! I love to read interpretations on my work or stories you want to share or really any thoughts you have on anything really :)
Repost if you like someone who literally does NOT know you exist ;)
Or if you just really like reposting stuff. Then you feel free to do that :P
Please comment! I love to read interpretations on my work or stories you want to share or really any thoughts you have on anything really :)
 Oct 2014
Jolene D'Souza
One fine morning
on my way to work
I met a real dinosaur
in big boots and a mischievous smirk

I’m kinda lonely he said
just visiting this town
I don’t have any friends
and thats bringing me kinda down

He looked kinda sad
with his tiny Dino eyes
I’d have to call in late
and explain it to the office guys

First we went out for ice cream
then we played a video game
He cracked a lot of dinosaur jokes
which were all kinda lame

When he would laugh
his mouth would open wide
Which sorta kinda scared me
and made me want to hide

His Dino tail would wiggle
and his laces would always come loose
It was funny trying to watch him
tie up his dinosaur shoes

Then we went to Iceland
and all the rides were cool
It was really spectacular seeing a dinosaur
floating in the swimming pool

Then we were really hungry
and we went out to dine
He scared all the waiters and waitresses
and drank up all the wine

I climbed up on his back
and he went for a run
Omigosh this day was perfect
I was having so much fun

Everywhere we walked
people screamed and ran
at the big stomping dinosaur
causing all the traffic jams

If only they would listen
If only they could see
Mr. Dinosaur is just a nice guy
just like you and me

Our perfect day was over
Dino had to go back home
probably back to Jurassic Park
and left me here alone

Next morning at work was a ******
such a tiresome bore
I just wanted to leave the office
and run out the office door

When the clock stuck five
I finally decided to leave
I left my dull office
and Lo & behold I just could not believe

Standing before me
in front of my very eyes
stood my dinosaur buddy
what a nice surprise!

We talked and talked for hours
even after dark
and when the day was over
I decided to move in to Jurassic Park

Now we’re never lonely
Dinosaur and me
Dinosaur has a friend
and I have family
 Oct 2014
r
lonely moths -
black and white
and in-betweens

navigating
by the same light

  spiraling -
adapting
- changing

traits
moth-ers know

no need to race
- we are one.

r ~ 10/28/14

http://anthro.palomar.edu/vary/vary_2.htm
\¥/\
  |   £epidoptera
/ \
 Oct 2014
Ember Evanescent
Hello Poetry Support Group (collaboration between Ena Alysopriano and Ember Evanescent)


People of all ages sitting in a circle staring at the ground, ceiling, etc. a few twitching.


"Hi, I'm Fred."


"Hi Fred"


"I started this group because I found that I was on Hello Poetry 24/7. I got an account and I loved it. At first I was only on a little, posting one or two poems a day. But I loved it so much I began spending more time on it. It became a problem when I was fired for focusing on Hello Poetry instead of the heavy machinery I was operating. I was drinking so much coffee so I didn't have to sleep that I couldn't think straight. I began writing strange poems about adhesive sloths and grapes. My wife threatened to leave me if I didn't delete my account. I tried to stay off it but, it didn't work out. My wife took my kids and told me that I was too irresponsible. I responded with a limerick. She was very mad and left immediately after. I really want to stop being addicted to Hello Poetry and when I asked I got an overwhelming response from people who felt the same. If everyone could please introduce themselves in a clockwise direction."


"Hi… I'm… um… kittylover682"


"Hi kittylover682"


"So… I used to have a name, but now I can only remember my screen name. In fact, that is really the only part of my identity that remains. I miss obsessing over kitties and petting them, but now I just spend all my time on Hello Poetry. I used to have such a kitty-full life! I had so much potential! i made friends with every type of kitty, even new ones, i never discriminated. I met persian kitties, and alley kitties and tabby kitties and I went and pet them and showed them love… then i got kicked out of people's houses for sneaking in to pet their kitties… but my point is, kitties were my LIFE! And now, my life revolves around that little lightening bolt and i can only seem to speak in metaphors. That lightning bolt is the death of my heart, the thorn in my side, the electricity that warps my body and it just… it is a storm inside of my life. The agony when i see that my lightning bolt is not lit up with a notification… it is an undying fiery hell within my soul. I makes me want to… to… well, it makes me consider leaping off of cliffs or in front of trains… but the only thing that stops me is the hindering idea that I may have to get off of hello poetry for a few moments to go do that so I remain, under my bed on my computer, posting poetry, reading poetry, commenting, liking, reposting… its a VICIOUS CYCLE!!! WHAT HAPPENED TO ME?!!!!”


“Hi I’m DaPoet”


“Hi DaPoet”


“Like, kittylover682 I had a different name, but this is MUCH cooler. I don’t think I have a problem, because who says there is anything wrong with being a poet? Also I’m not a normal poet. All of my poems are also raps. I’m here because my mom thinks I have a problem. Apparently choosing poetry over sleep and school is not okay. I don’t understand her ‘logic’”


“Hi I’m DYING”


“Hi Dying”


“No, that’s not my name, who CARES what my name is?! I’m only still here and not on Hello Poetry right now because my sister has chained me to this chair and bolted it to the floor. She thinks I need help but I AM DYING! I need to get on it! I DON’T HAVE A PROBLEM! I’M FINE! I’M FINE! GIVE ME BACK MY LAPTOP!”


“Please calm down.”


“Shut up Fred!

There once was a man named Fred,

who got it into his stupid head,

that people needed to be cured,

of the obsession with the written word,

and as soon as I get unchained FRED IS GOING TO BE DEAD!”


“Okay… please stop creating violent limericks on the spot. We have all been there, there IS a way out.”


“I DON’T WANT A WAY OUT! I HATE TO SHOUT, BUT WITHOUT A DOUBT YOU ARE A BIG DUMB LOUT!”


“Okay, stop making really ****** rhymes please.”


“Well then… GIVE ME BACK MY LAPTOP!”


“Okay… let’s just move on. We’ll come back to you. Next person, please go on, I’ll duct tape his mouth shut. Silence is golden, but duct tape is silver, after all.”


“Hi I’m…Sally”


“Excuse me, could you put down your phone while you introduce yourself?”


“No… Oh my gosh, Poetry is Life started trending!”


“I’m sorry what?”


“My fourth latest poem started trending!”


“YAY!” everyone claps and congratulates Sally


“No. No more Hello Poetry. We are supposed to stop obsessing over poetry and be cured from this addiction.”


“I don’t want to be cured.”


“I love Hello Poetry”


“Why don’t we change this to a spoken word club!”


“Yes!”


“Hi I’m DaPoet and I declare this a new spoken word club!”


“YAY!”


“No no no! I created this to-” Sally clubs Fred in the head with her phone and he drops dead


“YAY! FRED IS DEAD!”


“He was hit in the head”


“And we are now free”


“To write continuous poetry!”


“And become more obsessed instead!”


The end.



REPOST IF YOU REALLY NEED TO ATTEND THIS SUPPORT GROUP TOO LIKE US
PLEASE COMMENT! WE LOVE TO READ ANY THOUGHTS YOU HAVE!
REPOST IF YOU REALLY NEED TO ATTEND THIS SUPPORT GROUP TOO LIKE US
PLEASE COMMENT! WE LOVE TO READ ANY THOUGHTS YOU HAVE!
 Oct 2014
M
Though your hand pulled the trigger,
You tied your own noose,
You emptied the bottle's contents into your hands,
You jumped and finally let loose,

Your hand could have been held,
Your voice could have been heard.
Your tears could have been wiped away,
Your demons could have been cured.

They say suicide is selfish,
At one's own will and action.
Why is it that until after the fact,
We finally give a reaction?

Life should be cherished
While still around.
Don't tell me some don't speak up,
Don't tell me they never made a sound.

We're all fighting battles
Day in and day out,
And in my heart of hearts,
These people didn't **** themselves on their own; I have no doubts.

Controversial and complicated,
Evoking and deep,
Taking your own life
Is not a solo leap

Into the unknown of death,
Afterlife and reincarnation;
It's a leap that's sometimes aided,
A path that's prepaved towards life's suffocation.

Yes, suicide is a solo act
Done on your own,
And reasons why people choose this fate
Will sometimes be left unknown.

Don't be a force behind a trigger though,
A force behind tying a rope;
Be a force of empathy and compassion,
A force of inspiring hope.

We can't save the world,
Or all the lost souls.
We can save our own actions though,
And keep in mind what we ought to always know;

You never truly know
What people are enduring,
What people are hiding,
Why people are hurting.

You never truly know
Who needs a simple smile or a grand gesture-
Whoever you help though,
Will always remember.

Therefore, with clichés aside
And pessimistic notions unheard
Please love and be kind and listen;
Their abilities to save and set free are one of the only things in this world I am assured.

We leave marks upon this world,
Without our consent and sometimes our conscious thought.
So try to leave behind marks that inspire and grow,
Marks that in the best light, cannot be forgot.

Though you pulled the trigger
And tied your own noose,
I wish you knew that path wasn't made for you,
And that will forever remain the truth.

I wish you knew that you weren't alone,
Even in your darkest hour.
I wish you knew that pulling that trigger
Didn't give you all the control and power-

It took a life worth living,
A soul worth saving and repairing.
It took your whole life to make it to that point,
And seconds to leave us all despairing

For closure, reason and hindsight
As to why you didn't reach for aid.
But even more so,
Why our own arms, now shaking by our sides, heartwrenchingly stayed.
Suicide is controversial so with that in mind, I appreciate commentary but please don't attack me for my standpoint on the matter. This subject can open up a lot of doors and by writing this, as much of my writing is, I'm expressing myself the best way I know how. I'm not looking for a debate here, please don't start one.

Within 7 months at my high school, 3 students committed suicide. I didn't know any of them personally but it still impacted me and does to this day. It reaffirmed that people change, leave or die without much notice. Therefore, be kind. Be understanding. Tell people you love them while you can. Your actions can stir up more than you can comprehend, for the best or the worst. 3 suicides later, watching friends, my school and community cope finally convinced me that taking my own life was not worth it and finding help was my only option. I struggled throughout middle school up until my senior year with bouts of depression and suicidal thoughts. Some people aided me on that path; they bullied me, called me names, etc. And they didn't know the damage they were inflicting. There were also people that saved my life without even knowing it, and every day I am thankful for the small to grand, conscious to unconscious efforts to keep me around.

Ultimately, this is about how the path to suicide isn't a solo path; people are sometimes driven to extreme measures because of how people have treated them before. Don't be nice to others because you're fearful they'll **** themselves if you aren't; that isn't what this is about. It's about being the best version of yourself to others because you just never really know how someone's life is going. You can't control anyone but yourself, so control the fact that you can be good to people. Giving to others, I have found, does nt leave you any less full but even more so. Give love, give a hand, give help and guidance and take those things when given to you. Please please PLEASE know that your life is important, and worth saving, even if you have to save yourself.
 Oct 2014
Eleni Demiris
And she ran as fast as she could
Down the street
Lit by the tall, towering trees of light
As the crisp fall breeze whispered across her cheeks
She had to hide it
For what was in her hands
Was not a possession of her own
It twinkles and rekindles itself in her palms
The brightest burning star in the universe is hers to keep
It belongs to no one
Now that she has it in her damp, trembling, palms.
“This is my future”
She hummed into the night air
As the brothers of her hidden treasure
Continued to lead the way for her.
“This is my future,”
She sang as her pace quickened
And stardust flew from her hands
Like the softest sand floating
As if in slow motion
To another destination.
It lit up the trail she left behind
Concealing her past with a brighter future.
Today was the day she learned how to fly!
She finally untethered her wings
And reached for the moon;
And it happened,
Just like they always said it would,
Despite her fears
And mistrust in her passions,
Despite everyone telling her “no”
And suffocating her aspirations with their words,
Despite all of it
She was able to land amongst the stars.
And she’s finally doing it.
She’s finally living
The way it was meant to be.
By feeling It all.
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