You say I'm childish
For freely professing
All the words that are
Etched on my heart

As if I had any
Other choice but to
Be buried by them

The older I get
the less I search for

truth

because these days
a white face and honking nose

work for me

the simple and absurd things
in this life

that are all I need

I love you
but you hated that I love you
so I hated
that you hated that I love you
until you broke me
and I hated all of you
but you wanted me to love you now
but back then you hated my love
so I wont give it
I hate you
but you hated that I hate you
but its your fault

No matter what your station in life
always do your best every day
Pick up socks, lend a helping hand
call a friend, ... go for a walk

No matter how you hurt inside
smiling will help you heal
Find a nature spot you love, sit  
trust in God, have faith in you

No matter what they tell you
own your own truth, don't settle
Give love a chance, spend wisely
be good to others and to yourself.

My love for you is a slate
And yours is a notebook
Every time we fight
you tear of a page

Romeo, gosh, I'm sorry how things turned out,
and sorry I didn't die after all like you thought.
I'm old now, you wouldn't look twice at me
but I miss you still, even so, most definitely.

You could find me tonight across from a cornfield
working the St. Lucy's Fall Festival and how would you feel
about that, babe? I wear a lumpy old overcoat
and sell tickets to teenagers so in love they almost float.

I get feeling sentimental and sad about everything
remembering how you said you were the All-Powerful Weather King
and could make the sun come out if I wished it,
or kiss me and kiss me again if I told you I missed it.

My goodness, Romeo, you don't know how often I still think of you,
like when I saw some crestfallen kid with wild hair walking through
the festival like he had something on his mind
and he seemed lonesome, like you, and quiet and kind.

It's almost midnight and the lights are going dim
so I've got to pack up and go home alone again.
I wish so hard that things had turned out different
and I'd say, "Romeo, oh Romeo," and you'd know what I meant.

I’ve got a small house made of cobblestone,
and I have a mountain made of chairs.
I’m safely inside; withering to the bone,
and hanging onto my last remaining hairs.
I know what awaits outside my window
and I won’t open the door for anyone.
It’s not like I have any special place to go,
and I don’t care much for the beating sun.

The lights are all off, but I risk a candle
in truth it’s as much light as I can handle.
It’s solely so that I prepare for the battle
against the first foe; the lurking shadow
we all know.

But when a voice rings out
begging and pleading for my help,
asking me to simply let them inside.
I’m more worried about myself,
and preserving what’s left of my health.
I can’t prevent it, I run and hide,
I refuse to go outside.
Savor what’s left of my last breath,
today I won’t be tricked by death.

I let the stranger into my abode anyway
I guess I let my compassion get the best of me.
Emphasizing he had only minimal time to stay
he reassured he wasn’t tricking or testing me.
“Don’t you miss the trees and sun in a park,
why do you live like this way?” is what he said,
I replied “I’d rather be nothing in the dark,
instead of being dead.”
I won’t fade into my made bed.

But he’s the one that is bleeding,
medical attention he’s needing.
But I won’t let anyone into my fortresss of solitude.
Tells me he’s not trying to scare me
but letting him in was already daring,
I just can’t stand to be so cruel, uncaring or rude.
I refuse to be subdued.

He may not make it out alive
but maybe neither will I.
He shows his true colors and they thrive
as he shows me how to die.
The hand knocked and made it’s mark
but it wasn’t a delusion in my head.
While I’d rather be nothing in the dark
instead of being dead.

You prostrate,
Fold your hands,
Bring tears to your eyes,
And ask for forgiveness  from
Allah,
And yet, you are not prepared to forgive your fellow human being.
18/9/2025

I could be a writer,
breathing life into words,
I could be a musician,
turning emotions into song,
I could be an artist,
coaxing being into the inanimate,
I could be a poet,
awakening the dormant within,
I could be...
or,
alternatively,
I can be.

По кафе-шантанам Монреаля,
Что сейчас зовутся караоке,
Я вчера шатался очень пьяным,
Ты была прекрасна, даже очень.
Утро нам разлили по бокалам,
Осень по макушкам пролетела,
Не признал тебя родная, и короче,
Мы похоже спелись, Красавэлла.

The sky has seen all versions of you.

It sees you when you are brave and strong,
Also, it sees you when you are a complete mess, falling apart at the seams,

And yet, the stars still shine brightly for you at night, because you are beautiful.
And no matter where you are at, you are worth it.

Just remember that during the times you break and are at your lowest.
You are worth the good things.

It doesn’t matter If I play the wrong song
Moments fade, memories last too long
That’s the wrong beat, so I can’t dance
It’s just too fast for good romance

Slow it down, let it beat like a heart
A one and a two, accent on the start
Wham two three, wham two three
Your heart beats the best of me

Love is the rhythm in a heartbeat
It drives the soul, there’s no retreat
Primal and deep, down to the core
Everlasting, ever yearning, pounding for more

9/12/25

And if you look
Hard enough
Into tomorrow
You will see the
Future,
I will create.

Not out of hope.

Not out of love.

But out of persistence
In failure
And the strength
Of disobedience.

I am not a ray of light.

I am
A
Cataclysm.

leafs fall so delicately
branches sway carefree
flowers bloom so slowly
clouds drift with no rush
yet humans walk in numbers and letters

Crushed By The Weight of Truth
Buried,
Under the dusty rubble of fallen bricks
From a condemned house of secrets
Haunted by betrayal and fear
That the skeletons of a heinous crime
May fail to turn to dust


Suffocated
By a the silver electrical tape of pledge confidentiality
I am bound to a rocking chair
Outside of his empty closet facing the cracked window
where the wrecking ball of posthumous justice
Has lost its momentum

Julia Masi

Quiet calls my name from the clouds.
I lost my wings,
a deafening reality.
Quiet calls my name from the clouds.

Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!
Houston do you copy
I am all alone
Flesh and bone
don't let go
I am not a clOne

When I read
poems from the past,
I barely understand them.

I try, yes—
but they are minds
from another time.

It takes time
to connect with them.

Then I imagine myself:
will they, in the future,
read the poems I write to you
and understand
anything at all?

Head out the car window
cool wind on my face
it feels minty
from my freashly brushed teeth
I'm running on less than half an hour of sleep
I look like crap
but that's okay
because it's morning
it's a new day

Everything comes full circle,
At least eventually.
Two years lonely,
One year loved.
It'll come full circle,
When I'm back in 'someone's' arms.

Althought alone i feel satistied
my soul yet is scared
worried maybe afraid
I am lonely with my solitude and the scarcity of travellers.  
but i will keep going
one day i will find my way

i wish I could be more
than a closed shut case
with you, I wish I could
be open like a butterfly
taking flight, but I feel
chained beneath the sea;
Never to be known.

The ideals of youth
so easily crumble
for comforts
with the
coming of
age

I ate the fruit named
'You' and let it's
heavenly nectar
kiss my lips and tongue;
let it seep into my throat like
your angels of love-making
-
In that dream of mine were
I tasted the rosy dawn that
was you and in that
red, lush sweetness

pretended you were
mine.

The only time
is now

No future yet

All past gone

A spot in
eternity

forever.

Eelco van der Waals

Blocking
Others
Way
May
Not
Step
You
In
Blockbuster
Unblock
Your
Thought
Which
Leads
You
Towards
­Blockbuster
                          - Amisha priya

Buscaba Madalena pecadora
un hombre, y Dios halló sus pies, y en ellos
perdón, que más la fe que los cabellos
ata sus pies, sus ojos enamora.

De su muerte a su vida se mejora,
efecto en Cristo de sus ojos bellos,
sigue su luz, y al occidente dellos
canta en los cielos y en peñascos llora.

«Si amabas, dijo Cristo, soy tan blando
que con amor a quien amó conquisto,
si amabas, Madalena, vive amando».

Discreta amante, que el peligro visto
súbitamente trasladó llorando
los amores del mundo a los [de] Cristo.

Dad

Mysterious man.
Occasional parent.

Always so Mysterious.
Kind enough, to be sure.

But Absent.
Always.

if i define life
its this very moment now
the next is just hope

In winter, when the flakes of snow falls down
There has got to be a moment before
Where the fall season have got a heavy weight of the winter ready.
What a lovely moment of the summer turns into a season Fall.
Rest in It's warm serenity of rainbow is bounty of the Fall seasonal.

It's only of a many-hued, colorful occasion of a year that is the rains of the start to fall.
On the cheeks of the pumpkin seasonal is an autumn colored and blush
Only in September of every year
There's a shade tone on features.
While every one couldve fall in love with
When it's only one week early and everything fashioned by the brown pigment
Every piles from the luck chances is by the means of the eliminating a depression,,
As of the every autumnal evening turns into a memory of sadly nostalgia.
And the total sum up the color of the red, brown ,yellow and orange, designed neatly at the each side to side
Together with the each of the features of autumn.
Such tender resides with the every quality in autumnal reminiscence.