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 Jan 2019 mac
japheth
plot
 Jan 2019 mac
japheth
every year,

i've always hoped
for a plot twist.

but this time around,

i won't.

why wait for one

when you can twist fate

yourself?
here's to a year of me being in control
 Jan 2019 mac
Josh
They Are Not Me
 Jan 2019 mac
Josh
I hate everyone,
They say loneliness
Is just the inability to
Connect with others
Around you but I know
For a fact I would still
Hate them all,
Fake, stupid people,
I hate people
 Jan 2019 mac
WordsHelp
She Believed
 Jan 2019 mac
WordsHelp
But the boy told the girl,
“I will always protect you.”
And, for the first time,
She believed him.

The boy told the girl,
“You are special.”
And, for the first time,
She believed him.

The boy told the girl,
“Your soul is made of pure gold.”
And, for the first time,
She believed him.

The boy told the girl,
“I love you.”
And, for the first time,
She believed him.
 May 2018 mac
japheth
monsters
 May 2018 mac
japheth
there are monsters everywhere.

no,

i’m not talking about
those under your bed,
those waiting for you in the dark,
those hanging on the branches of the trees,
those staring at you when you sleep,

no.

not those monsters.

i’m talking about
those who destroy your good mood,
those who bring you down in every mistake you make,
those who always look for a flaw in whatever you do,
those who make you feel sorry for ever being here.

those monsters.

but just like the monsters you imagine

— they are all in your head.

you can ignore them
and see that those monsters,
are ever so small;
so easy to trample,
so easy to destroy.
so live on, my friend.
 May 2018 mac
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
 May 2018 mac
Lucia
8:36 am
 May 2018 mac
Lucia
If it were up to me,
I'd let myself rot here
Drowned in my cotton sheets
And allow my skin to finally sink
In between the gaps of my rib cage.

Rot and
putrefy and
fester and
ooze,
Flesh dripping off bone,
So this stink of my own decay may be apparent to me alone no longer.

Senses overburdened by defeat.
can't bring myself to get out of bed
 May 2018 mac
zoie marie lynn
i’m made of sidewalk cracks and moments i should’ve taken
i’m made of broken rings and the wrong girls i put my trust in.
because i didn’t know what love was until i kissed a girl made of thorns
and i didn’t know what happiness was until fear started sleeping without locking the door.
i’m no where near what the world makes me out to be
what it expects from me
and maybe that’s okay.
i’m made of ****** coffee and the constant pressure of being something else
i'm made of holes in the foundation and girls that kiss me just to watch me melt.
because i didn't know what lust was until i touched skin made of broken glass
and i didn't know what hope was until i fell a little too fast.
my story ends before it even starts
because forever is only real if you look like art
but i look like broken promises in an empty hallway
and maybe that's okay.
and strange what desire will make foolish people do

— The End —