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 Oct 2016 Minnie
mk
there must be a place where broken words go
the ones without a limb
not fully formed
not spoken right
not heard

there must be a place where broken words go
the sentences left uncompleted
the trailing words that never left the lips
the "but" and the "and"
that were always left hanging

somewhere between silence and speech
there must be a place where broken words go
full of stutters and writers block sufferers
somewhere between the "i love"
and the "you" that never followed
or the "wait"
that was whispered into the air
the "please come back"
that made peace with dying
on the corners of a turning mouth

there must be a place where broken words go
the words spoken but never heard
the letters written but never posted
the train of thought that crashed into the clouds
the words in the bottle that traveled the sea
but sunk to the bottom before it could ever reach

there must be a place where my broken words go
the stains on my diary that didn't come from a pen
and the letters on my thighs that don't make sense
the things i could never say
and the things i said that came out all wrong
all the broken alphabets in my song
that cry for salvation
for one more chance

there must be a place where broken words go
there must be a place i can call home.
 Oct 2016 Minnie
Corvus
Being the black sheep of the family
Is all well and good until winter comes.
The grass is frozen, food is scarce
And those stomachs don't stop rumbling,
Ever wailing to be appeased,
Unaware and uncaring to the icy conditions.
They're not monsters, no.
They huddle together for warmth;
Snow dusting their coarse wool
As they stand, determined to make it through the cold.
But their stomachs scream like dying beasts,
And the ache is so prevalent in their empty bellies.
No fat to chew on, time passes by so slowly,
And that black sheep is starting to look like the odd one out.
It doesn't look like food,
But it does seem just enough like an other
To smother any guilt that may linger
At the bottom of a recently-assuaged hunger.
They're not monsters, no,
Because the black sheep was never one of them.
Families stick together, folks.
 Oct 2016 Minnie
Stephen
Simple
 Oct 2016 Minnie
Stephen
clock in clock out
dive in block out
knuckle down
try not to drown
get a grip
don't slip
sane words
sane words
same words
forwards
sideways
backwards
find a way
not to say
that or that

and surely not that

jesus christ, son
take a pill. chill
 Oct 2016 Minnie
Abellakai
Amsterdam
 Oct 2016 Minnie
Abellakai
I saw Anne Frank's journal,
In the back of an acidic club.
The colors were blinding
Bodies upon bodies,
I feel sane.
Fulfilling every craving,
My tactics come pre-rolled,
I follow the sound of the drug.
My hand is cramping,
From glass shattering knowledge.
And the stoners dance once again,
Slowly beginning to rap in Norwegian.
I love you closely,
One day we'll be together.
I'm talking about the city of course.
Or maybe myself.
I'm rapidly transforming
And the rest of me is melted.
I'm happy.
 Oct 2016 Minnie
Rapunzoll
my mother always said
"don't fall in love with a poet"
they pretend to love you
but what they really love
is writing about loving you
you are mere words to them
feelings cheapened by a page,
dusty grey typewriters,
and many unfinished drafts
of lovers both old and new,
you are the question mark,
but not the answer,
they are searching for ?
person unidentified: mystery
the page wanderer,
each poem a missing
person poster to cover their
bedroom walls.
they cannot love something
that is in their head
poets are the loneliest of
all people, my mother said.
they write to immortalize
what has long passed.
to live within their words,
but not reality,
lost souls writing suicide notes
and proclaiming it art.
© copyright

NOTE: i've noticed people sharing this to other sites without having spoken to me about it beforehand, I do not give permission for this and all poems are copyright, keep this in mind.

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my mother never actually said this to me, but i figure i'll probably end up saying it one day if i have children.

it's pessimistic yes, but i know there are exceptions. please don't take to heart. it's more a criticism of myself than all poets. :)
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