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 1440° 
n
a cataract of emotion overflowing.
there’s no end in sight.
no wet floor signs.
no life jackets.

i’ve always had a problem pouring too much.
spilling my guts on the floor,
making a mess of it all,
waiting to see how far i could possibly -
fall.

i don’t mean to
i didn’t mean to

my cup is empty and still it never ends.
the water on the floor is turning to ice.
it’s getting colder and colder -
i’m running further and further.

i don’t mean to
i didn’t mean to

i’ll keep trying to run.

-
 1104° 
jules
the world’s got a habit
of chewing you up,
spitting you out
like a bad cigarette.
it doesn’t care
how many dreams you’ve got,
how many scars
you’ve earned.

people will smile at you,
talk about hope
like it’s something you can hold in your hands,
but they never mention
how it slips through your fingers
like sand
and disappears
before you can even grab it.

they tell you
there’s always a way out—
but you know better,
don’t you?
the exits are all locked
and the keys
are hidden in places
nobody bothers to look.

so you drink,
you smoke,
you **** up again and again,
and maybe you smile,
but it’s a lie,
a desperate lie,
just like everything else
they told you.

the truth?
the truth is,
no one’s coming to save you,
no one’s going to rewrite the rules,
no one’s going to put you back together
after you break.

you’ll just keep going,
because what else is there?
and the world will keep spinning,
chewing,
spitting,
until you’re nothing
but dust in its mouth.
 917° 
Dennis Willis
X
I'm stalling
always stalling
won't even
can't nope
ain't doing it
not even
knowin' y
 676° 
Maimoona Tahir
When I am so very easily moulded,
You use me,
And I am content when used,
That's the mystery of my nature,
I have a burning urge to be acknowledged,
You hear me my Lord,
And like the people,
you do not wish to listen,
You do not wish to acknowledge a fault in your making,
I am the fault in your making.
Broken and perturbed.
 526° 
Geof Spavins
It feels like I am wading through treacle,
Each step a sticky, slow-motion sequel.
My shoes are glued, my socks are too,
Even my thoughts are stuck like glue.

I try to run, but it’s more of a shuffle,
Every move met with a sweet sticky scuffle.
The world around me speeds on by,
While I’m trapped in this syrupy lie.

Friends wave hello, then quickly disappear,
As I trudge along, year after year.
But in this molasses, I find some cheer,
For life’s sweet moments are always quite near.

So I laugh at my plight, in this treacle-bound tale,
And embrace the slow, the sticky, the snail.
For in this gooey mess, I’ve found my pace,
A humorous journey, in a treacle-filled space.
 473° 
Nat Lipstadt
0 followers?

Dear New Poet:

Then I'm your man,
your very own
Northern star,
one leg up of a
3 legged stool,
upon which all,
we, enthroned poets,
the world-over,
do rule

the honor you
bequeath me  
to be,
a first follower,

your very own
first responder,

cannot be
disdained
nor
diminished

this case,
this birth,
novice revival,
heart transplant,
makes it
the greatest
to be the first—

the quencher
of your thirst
so long in the parching,
the throat burnt

by a desert sojourn
of a now ended,
forty years

so come to me!

message me
a message,
find me a find,
your poem so fine,
I here now vow,
our embrace will
ne’er be broken

give me this
honorific!

let us together
be terrific,
raise our glasses,
arms entwined
toasting you  
all that mind and 
breast of yours,
bursting full of 
future~contains,
the full release of, 
bringing longer life
to us both

I am a father.
I am a grandfather.
I am a First Follower.
I am a First Responder,
for all who need a leg up,
so step upon my heart,
the first step upon a ladder
with no top, no end ensighted

my legs are as old as time, but,
measure me not by the rings and 
the metered scales of gray hair aging,
shock of white, a cain mark, wizard-wizened

but by the muscles
of my deep affection,
the solemnity of this,
my irrevocable promise

this,
the blessing
we both earn and make
when you write,
while we wait
in quiet attendance -
for all your good works,
your kept promises

Blessed
are You Lord our God, 
Ruler of the Universe
who has given us life, 
sustained us until now,
allowing
the reader and the writer, to reach,
meet, embrace and
greet this day,
this new born poem,
with hallelujahs

                                         together
love to chat & encourage new poets
 440° 
S R Mats
Vestigium, a Latin word meaning "footprint, trace."

Day hides behind a curtain of white,
So hides the night, the fading night.
The fog that descended before the light
Moves and curls around the lights brightly.
The earth is swallowing the memory of the sky.

With pressed-tight lips and dreary-eyed
I am staring into the obscure day, forming
As the fog leaves a footprint, a trace
On objects and roofs, then slyly drips down.
Its soft coolness covers me, as well.

Where is the context of things barely seen?
An ephemeral blanket closes in on us all.
Unsettling until the day is elucidating sight.
The lights all have halos like a holy thing.
At least it gives each one a certain clarification.

Still, the fog is closing in.
 344° 
Emma
In the gray it dwells,
shades of sorrow, hues of joy,
eyes paint what they feel.

Between dark and light,
truth bends to our weary hearts,
colors shift with moods.

A storm clouds the mind,
turning clear skies into ash,
world shaped by our fears.

Yet hope’s golden glow,
softens shadows, clears the haze,
brightens all we see.

Feelings weave the veil,
through which life unfolds its face,
mine lies in between.
Sometimes I don't feel or see colour's rather shades of in-between black and white.
 338° 
Arobeum
I would write about you hundred times over till my breath is hitched,
And I no longer feel the blood in my veins.
I would remember your name even If i have alzheimer's disease.
Remember your every feel till I am numb and till death makes me sleep.
 295° 
silent echo
Fat Bertha opened her front door.
She was dressed in a sheer negligee and a seductive smile.

"Hello babe", she purred, "will I do?".

I admired her full figure, scarcely hidden beneath.

I could hardly catch a breath before she dragged me inside and ravaged me.

I only popped round to borrow some teabags.
 280° 
layla
I post these poems online

Not because they're good

But to keep a memoir of my thoughts

To look back on and be understood
as long as my living presence lingers on this planet my brain will be misunderstood
 271° 
Boris
This dusk
speaks of everything
I cannot express
 260° 
Maria Etre
RAISING YOUR
VOICE
will only
lower you
in my
eyes
 240° 
Robert
Broken, a dove lay.
Crimson blood stains her wings red.
Surly love was the cause.
 226° 
Scarlet McCall
I love you.
I hate you.
I love you.
I hate you.
I love you.
I hate you...
oops. Have to get another daisy...
"He loves me/he loves me not" might be an important question, but the more important question is: Who do you love?
 207° 
Farah Taskin
I can't take this anymore
I can't take this anymore
I can't take this anymore
Gaza  is bleeding and bleeding and bleeding
Gaza is bleeding and bleeding and bleeding
Gaza is bleeding and bleeding and
bleeding
When will they end the occupation
Gaza is bleeding and bleeding and bleeding
I can't take this anymore
Gaza is bleeding and bleeding and bleeding
 194° 
J
Words in my mind lingered there,
like the warmth after a sunset.
Longing to depart from my lips,
but in a battle with the mind.

Buried the words in my heart,
wrapped up with the pain.
Those words would have saved you,
If only I'd known the power they held.
I should have let you known everything. I am sorry...
 192° 
Willow
My mind is calm,
Empty,
But not in the way I cherish.
The whiteout is blank,
Motionless,
The water on a still lake.
I long for the storms,
Rivers,
Rainfalls of inspirations.
Instead,
All I get,
Is c a l m
 161° 
Icarus
Why must I be
E
N
  O
   U
     G
      H
For you?

What is
E n o u g h?

I am sorry I am
Unsatisfactory.
I will change, I swear.
Let me change.
H o w
D o   I

C
H
  A
   N
    G
     E
      ?

Help me change.
Help me be who you want me to be.
Help me be the person I am not.
Help me be the better person, the other version of me.
Help me change.
HELP
ME.

Help me, so I can be good enough for you.
Good enough for them.
Good enough for myself.
 154° 
kfaye
that promises to be
sand
at the
end of the world .


water-known and
willing
- [ ] to erode
- [ ] into
- [ ] longing
i have a B
not good enough.
i am trying my best
not good enough.
i have plenty of friends
not good enough.
i am really proud of myself
not good enough.
i am just a human being
not good enough.
i am a trans person
not good enough.
i keep trying
but i always know what you will say.
not good enough.
not good enough.
not good enough.
because to you,
it never really is
 149° 
mads
My brain has been torn apart
Crumpled together
And smeared across the billboards of my timeline
My heart shredded and trampled on
My body has seen torments and tortures
That parents fear and
Don’t understand the possibility.
I was told it was my fault.
Every action had its cause.
Every act of terror had its reason.
Me.

But it was never my fault.

I wasn’t the reason I hated this thigh,
Or this skin
Or these bones.
Or this brain
This way of thinking.

Nothing was ever wrong with me.
 130° 
دema flutter
Is it that hard to be loyal?
 109° 
neth jones
sirens bawl
clear skies mean no school
(prospect of drone-strike)
12/24

[the forrest animals quiet
long before i hear
military tread]
 109° 
Kani
Poetry is born not in time
Oasic words born rather out of time
Elapsed time uncounted in the stream of time
Treasured verses beyond time
Revamping soul connections bequest of time
Yarns spun in spools of time
This piece is called Linked.
We want to connect, with our friends and family but also with ourselves. Here, I share my reflections on connection.
 101° 
dead poet
a bed of roses;
ruffled polyester, scorned:
unlucky petals.
 100° 
The Machine
If my ability,
to emphasize,
gets lost to some degree,
Pain's euthanized,
Numb deep inside me.
 95° 
IrieSide
even the sweetest
of fruits, memories
and happiest moments
fade into nothing

to be grateful
for the fleeting life
and to realize
that all is
loss

it is all washed away,
into an infinite and
galactic ocean
into the very fabric
that wove
creation

fall into nothingness,
as to say goodbye

the question of why attach
to something so fleeting
and why even love,
when it will all
disappear

perhaps rewarded,
in some after-life
or reacquainted
with eternal
memory

And here we are,
in this presence

an illusion
of stability
for but a brief
time
 93° 
Arla
The sun wears the same stupid mask
All the time
To cover its ugliness.

The rain is raw.
It knows its flaws.

It’s happy we stay in it
And happier when we enjoy it.
It just wants to be
loved.
 90° 
Nathan Holler
It’s as small as a ripple in the water
It’s as big as a cloud
It can get quiet or real loud
It’s as sweet as a drop of honey
It’s as bitter as a lime
It’s as natural as the trees
It’s as fake as masked smile
It’s as dangerous as bite of a viper
As warm as a fire
As cold as the winter breeze
It can give you everything at the risk of losing everything
Are you willing to take the risk
 88° 
Traveler
The simplicity of rhymes
freely flows
through the readers mind.
As simplistic words unravel
in an array of poetic babble
we channel
the memes of our muses.

No forced word can capture,
no college can teach
the aesthetics of laughter,
the glamour of grief.

The essay of brilliance
awaits in the zone.
The Muse and the Master
in the hearts of gold.
Traveler Tim
 87° 
zozzyz
سالت عيوني من عيونها عليك  لكن تقبلت مصيري
كيف تعطيني ظهرك و تشوف ناس غيري  

انتظرتك لأخر يوم  متى ممكن يصافح بالولا قلبي
متى ممكن فؤادك يتطمن  على احساسي و على حبي

اخذتني رغما عن الهموم  حملت على كتفك شعوري
ما انسى الليل وعيونك  لكن تنسى العين و تعجز توفي.
 86° 
Jack Groundhog
Will she, won’t she
buy my Christmas wares:
If I work to sell me
will she take my snare?

The practiced pitter-patter
of my seller’s pitch
hangs in crisp cold air
and hopes to scratch her itch.

Her eyes dart to and fro
from one stall to the next:
the jingling coins’ fickle flow,
Christmas bells that leave me vexed.

Will she, won’t she,
see this heart that beats?
What if I add it free
to the sale of these sweetmeats?

Each moment wisps of tinsel
a-flutter in icy gales:
I fear her dismissal
as I grasp at just one more sale.

A spark of insight melts the ice
in a tiny warming breeze:
It’s not my wares I price,
but what I’m truly selling’s me.
Inspired by observing sellers at Christmas markets in Potsdam this December while taking photos.
 80° 
zoe
Frost caught up
to ghostly fingers;
His December walks
filled dark prophecies,
would he witness
another year
or a month?

In the deep snow,
he knew the answer.

The Necromancer told him,
in her underworldly dreams,
he had once been her true love.
He smirked:
I’m still here
in your words.
 64° 
JDK
This one is better.
That one is worse.
Constantly measured.
What are they worth?

Gauging the other;
bonds can be severed, tooled and re-worked.

Stats can be padded, embellished and torqued.

Doomed from the start,
or gifted at birth?

Crimes can be trifled, hidden, obscured.

Nothing is certain, but one thing is sure:
Romance is dead, and couples are cursed.
Good luck
 62° 
S
Is it still power if the other person is just weak?
Answer me
 60° 
showyoulove
Lord, you held nothing back, not even your life
You forgave me when I denied you thrice
You still loved me when I betrayed you with a kiss
You ran out to meet me with grace and forgiveness
You desire to give me all I could possibly need
But so often, I ignore you and pay you no heed
Help me give you everything, to abandon it all
Because I know it is Jesus who calls
If I don't surrender to the power of the love
I am missing out on all that could be
And I won't experience a more wonderful reality
I come to life in the light of your love
Help me live a life that is fully realized
Yours is the blood that courses through my veins
And when all is stripped away, only your love yet remains
 59° 
n
i wake up in a sweat, but i am so cold
i check the clock, its only been an hour
i haven’t slept in such a long time

far, or near
i can always feel it

am i the moth
or am i the flame

-
 59° 
Kyle
My notes come from the heart
The strings tug like a small vessel
The vibration moves my soul
All around are crowds of cheering people
But all falls on deaf ears
My notes come from the heart
They are scepters of my indomitable spirit
Deaf to sound but not feeling
Again, in moonlight I push the keys
My notes come from the heart
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