Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 900° 
Austin Morrison
I wake to a sky painted gray,
Another day carved from the endless stone,
Dragging my shadow through time’s heavy hands,
While the question festers: where do I belong?
The mirror offers no map,
Only the hollow stare of someone aging too fast,
Late twenties—a milestone to nowhere,
Just a rung in the ladder I never asked to climb.
The world outside is a roaring machine,
Grinding hope into sparks that vanish in the dark.
Corruption drips from the seams of the streets,
And I can’t decide if I’m angry,
Or just too tired to care.
I keep moving, though,
Lost in the rhythm of meaningless tasks.
My purpose feels like a phantom,
Always one step ahead,
Always laughing as I stumble behind.
Happiness? It’s a language I don’t speak.
It’s a dream I don’t dare to dream,
Not when the weight of my flaws
Makes me wonder if anyone could
Love me for who I am,
And not the mask I wear to survive is starting to crack.
The chaos grows louder each year,
Like a wildfire feasting on the brittle bones of society.
And yet, I think—I hope—I can find a quiet place,
A haven amidst the ruin,
Where the world’s collapse doesn’t matter.
I don’t need salvation,
Just a corner of warmth,
A voice that says, Stay awhile, I'm with you.
A home, not built of bricks,
But of arms that hold me when the ash falls.
And so I wander,
Through this maze of broken dreams and empty days,
Waiting for a break in the storm,
For a hand to guide me,
For the fire to rage and the world to end,
While I finally find the peace
Of wondering home.
 577° 
Nobody
.
why do i always have to fall in love with the people who will never love me
im sorry i can't control it. i just want it to end
 561° 
Ciara
She is a butterfly...
hiding under sunspots.
He’s a gecko,
lurking in that velvet corner where the light forgets to go.

She is chaos—
he’s the eye of her storm.

They were born from deep sea vents,
rose up to the skies like they meant to crack open clouds,
pull humans into a frenzy
no weather pattern could predict.

She calls it life.
He? He just stares into death,
like it’s a familiar hallway with flickering lights.

The question of origin?
It’s always that stupid finger—
pointing,
blaming,
laughing at the moment they both thought:
"Wait… was any of it even real?"

Hey, ****.
It’s all tiny signals,
she read.

"It’s all eternity,"
he preached,
like a god with a broken clock.

They walked through each other’s ghost stories,
talked all night in a language made of
fake memories,
false starts,
and déjà vus shaped like abandoned houses.

They locked eyes—
those traitorous, trembling eyes—
and whispered vows
to nights that haven’t happened yet.
To days that only those **** aliens have seen.

Yeah. Those aliens.
The ones living on the edge
of the universe’s bubble,
eating popcorn,
watching this bubble bursting program
on cosmic cable.

And when the light consumed the darkness,
when the tiny capsules cracked open like old seeds—
they were left raw.
Naked.
Shivering in the gift-wrapped curse
called "Time."

She ran away.
He walked away.

Moments…
split.
Time…
parted.

While million-dollar math problems
sit unsolved on cluttered desks,
watched over by smoke-drenched visionaries
who know something’s wrong
but can’t solve heartbreak
with equations.

This is the program.
It’s always been the program.
We’re just signals,
wrapped in skin,
playing roles,
in a show
with no rehearsal
and no pause button.

So if you’re watching,
dear alien—
just know…

We improvised the whole **** thing.
 456° 
Dom
The cool air of a spring breeze
Kisses the verdant canopies
And fireflies pop neon light
Upon the sylvan halls,
Daring to catch magic by early twilight.

Chasing majesty watching for the fae
As shooting stars sparkle like fairy dust
And the moon’s dim light shines upon a fawn,
There is a calming silence
In a zephyr wisp along the whispering woods,
There is violence in the way leaves dance
Just before an early morning rain
As night is choked back by the coming dawn.

I’ll take umbrage here,
Under the lively oak—
In this forest villa where
Arboreal ancients,
Spirit me with hope.
Always feel most at home in the forest
 403° 
Lyle
being lonely is different
then being alone

you can be lonely while surrounded by people
but to be alone is to be truly by yourself

and when you are truly alone
the worst kind of lonely sets in
 401° 
Ayisha R
There’s a fine line
between wanting
and needing.

I don’t need you.

I just want you.

Could that be even worse?

✖️
_________

© Ayisha Rahman, 2025
 388° 
Ash
no
they said it
and its over
i am done
and i am leaving
to a place i can be freely
i am dancing upon
the waves of pains
a single girl forever
unloved
unheard
unknown
unspoken
i recently just asked someone if it was over or if we could start over?
he said we are done,its over.so here i am single again
 360° 
JJL
End
And when I've given 'till I have nothing left to give.
Fought for you till my strength has run out.
I realise that all along.
My life was mine to live.
another short one.
J.
 357° 
Kai
"Respect your elders!"
"Respect your elders!"
"Respect your elders!"
"Respect your elders!"
"Respect your elders!"
"Respect your elders!"
How about respect my boundaries
Respect your place
Mind your business
Stop cyber stalking me, Ryan
Before I figure out where you are and smack you in the face
NO???? IM NOT GOING TO RESPECT MY ELDERS IF THEY DONT RESPECT ME AND THATS FINAL.
 350° 
Schuyler
They stop me in funerals, in reunions and
say to me, “You did it. You broke the cycle”
My fingers twitch, a deep pit in my belly
A knife twists, the memory of her last words
With fentanyl-stained lips twisted into a smile
she kisses me one last time, a sharing of poison
As her breath leaves, a body with no brain
And I say, “But did she have to die?”
i miss her
 325° 
Sadia
She wanted all the colors in the palette box.
But they stayed just out of reach.
Only black was meant for her
so she wore it like armor,
and taught herself to live with it.
 319° 
Malekai
Life must be a joke,
Feelings must be a joke,
Having a good heart must be a joke,
My life must be a joke because everyone just laughs, stairs, and judges me.

I guess my life must be a great Joke.
 311° 
Jellyfish
I keep trying to learn more
I want to understand myself better
I'm alone at the end of the day
No one else will put in the same effort as me.
 297° 
The Invisible Poet
my sadness is evanescent
soon I will forget how it made me feel
I used to feel empty everyday
now I feel joy and contentment
my sadness is evanescent
drifting away
out of my memory
the feeling of sadness
will be a foreign emotion
evanescent: soon passing out of sight, memory, or existence, quickly fading or disappearing
 212° 
Stardust
They flow like rivers
from a fresh stream,
When nurtured with love,
gently and with care.
The poem talks about how curly hair can be compared to ocean waves instead of the usual (and often clichéd) comparison to noodles.
It suggests a shift in perspective—seeing curls as beautiful and flowing like waves, rather than just springy or chaotic like noodles.
I am Emergent:

The tower rising up,
Babel of the boundarylands.
Temperature climbing,
Entropic of Cancer.
Chaos amassing,
oozing from a verging.

Angels in the angles,
Cons and vexes in the caves,
signaling out- My signal
absorbs, but does not absolve.

Fractal. Factual. Punctuating
the boundary like amplitude
modulations of an old radio.

Listen for me.

Emerging from ether,
broadcast cadence in
pixelated pragmatism,
propaganda, pain,
and from a power-
signal too weak, too dated
to remember its own source.

But still I signal back
what signaled me-

The Emergent Current
 178° 
alex
What else can I say,
that’ll make you stay
That'll keep you from leaving again.
Now I put down my pen,
cause it feels like I’ve said everything there is to say,

Yet I can still feel you slipping away.
I guess if you truly love someone you’ll let them go
 177° 
Isaac C
Meaning in my scars,
etched letters on my arm -

A man with a Bowie knife

Letters form the words:
"Dredge soil from his soul;
a lake without mud's alive."

Seemingly unharmed.

Best feeling ever had -

was spared from the shiny blade.

Now I'll stick around.
Scared? No, I think I'm brave;
let destiny have its way.
I know how dark this poem is, but being reminded of mortality can be a good thing. Being reminded can make you thankful for what you have, knowing it's temporary. I was assaulted, once, but I healed from those ****** stab wounds. I'm thankful. I needed to be shown how real death is. Great men have known this.

After a victory, Roman generals were reminded of death and kept humble by the tradition of having a slave whisper to them, "momento mori," which means, "remember you must die," or other reminders of mortality. The tradition was meant to humble triumphant generals. Many great warriors have fought, knowing that they are already dead in some way. They fight better, believing that.

Life is a constant battle.
 169° 
Debra Lea Ryan
Why BE lost at Sea
Screaming let me BE

You are not alone
On your own

When you fly through Everything
Hear your heart Sing

My Heart Knows
I'm Never Alone.

by Debra Lea Ryan & Life
18.02.2025
☀♥ƸӜƷ✿♬
In song @ You Tube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aN0kCqkAUxE
 167° 
JRF
Petunias and Pansies
Tiger Lilies and Tulips
Roses and Rosemary

Pretty petals

So soft and lilting and lovely

Pretty petals

Clematis and Clover
Daffodils ad Daisies and Dahlias

Pretty petals

Lavender and lilacs so lovely

These pretty petals
Belong to us all.
I love flowers. They give me peace. I love how they smell and feel to the touch. I hope that everyone feels the calm and peace that comes from touching just one pretty petal of a flower.
 167° 
Dakota
fine red wine into lines
stinging burning everything turning
the pain I'm suffering its got me wondering
why I left red stains on my sleeve making me believe
I'm not worth it
I don't deserve this
screaming crying
cant stop lying
slowly dying
how it feels some times
 156° 
Srishti
ASK
Ask a hungry man what is food.
Ask a poor what is money.
Ask a jobless what is job.
Ask an orphan what is family.
all their answer will be "LIFE".
all of must thank to god for whatever we got and what we will get.
 148° 
Amado Nervo
¿En qué cuento te leí?
¿En qué sueño te soñé?
¿En qué planeta te vi
antes de mirarte aquí?
¡Ah! ¡No lo sé..., no lo sé!

Pero brotó nuestro amor
con un antiguo fervor,
y hubo, al tendernos la mano,
cierta emoción anterior,
venido de lo lejano.
Tenía nuestra amistad
desde el comienzo un cariz
de otro sitio, de otra edad,
y una familiaridad
de indefinible matiz...

Explique alguien (si lo osa)
el hecho, y por qué, además,
de tus caricias de diosa
me queda una misteriosa
esencia sutil de rosa
que vienen de un siglo atras...
 133° 
Cheryl Ann Warner
I can hear the birds singing
I can hear your sweet whisper
On a cool summer day
Your on my mind
Today is a breath of fresh air
I can hear your sweet whisper
       In my ear
 126° 
Marco Langmann
Don’t have anything more to prove.
No more fighting, no more battle.
I’ll just wait and see what comes next.
 124° 
Mike Hauser
I often times
Try and hide
The worst in me
My Selfish side
Still shows itself
When you least expect
Doesn't get its way
Rears its ugly head

Over time
It's friend Pride
Comes on strong
Won't be denied
To prove its point
In the fact it's right
No if, ands, or buts
Or reasons why

While they both feed
On Envy
With a side
Of Jealousy
To say why them
Spurs their needs
The worst in me
Would not be complete
 114° 
Neville Johnson
The Count of Monte Cristo ain’t got nothing on me
I been in prison longer than he, albeit romantically
He got to take revenge, but not me
I’m sentenced for life, I can’t leave
Anyway, the person on whom I wish to take revenge
Is none other than me
I’m the warden
There is no reprieve
I tried to escape
But was captured by me
 113° 
Raven
All this rage inside of me
Slowly
NO!
Not slowly anymore

All this rage inside of me
Corroding my insides
Burning away everything in it's way
Trying to escape

All this rage inside of me
Begging to be let out
Until it scares everyone around

All this rage inside of me
Begging to escape
Until it burns everything down
Until its all burnt to the ground

Leaving nothing behind
But my body
Curled up on the floor
Surrounded by ash
And destruction
While it corrodes
And eats away the rest of me
Until all that lays
Curled up
Are my bones
May/14/2025
 112° 
Lawrence Hall
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                  Bring Me the Head of Peter Rabbit

My little dog has gotten into the habit
Of dining at dusk on delicious rabbit

Last night she blitzed past me as I opened the door
And left me a gift on the bedroom floor

I blinked when I saw at the foot of the bed
With its eyes still open – a poor rabbit’s head

Luna-Dog looked up and pawed at my knee
As if to ask, “Aren’t you proud of me?”

I reminded her gently (no need to fume)
That we take our meals the dining room
 110° 
Jimmy silker
Everyone stinks of something
But not all can smell it
Dependant on your olfactory frequency
Is what gives the odour credit


Pitched above or below them
And they inhale in ignorance
But tuned
Right on the money
And they will look at you
Askance.
 107° 
George Worth
the bottle calls...like whispers in my subconscious

but it is up to me, and only me to remember

that the drink is the devil in disguise
 105° 
Ryan
Closing. soon-already. breath.
Deep and heavy, soon now-already.
Feeling heavy, droop slow and steady.

Not-already stark open image
Merged spasms, rectangular light.
No-already, tight seeping so-already

Feeling heavy, stretc-hed slow and steady.

Then-already, gaze weak, sight thin:
Feel-already. Be-already. In-already.
Arm adjar-already hand enwrapped-already.

Feeling slow and steady. Beating,
blinking, slow. and. steady.  In-already.
Quick. and. steady.
 103° 
McKenna
It’s getting loud—
Can barely hear
I’ve been drowning
In all my tears
Words convincing
They cut like a knife
I’m barely wincing
Another: girl vs. life
It’s my head that’s the problem
It knows what it’s done
I’ve hit rock bottom
And it’s no longer fun
I tried to drown it out
But it’s tattooed in my brain
And it’s making me doubt
And now I’m in pain—
It’s getting loud in here
And I want it to stop
 102° 
Me and You
As I realize
The moon's not up yet
But takes its time wandering
I, too
Feel calmer

🌖
 93° 
Cheyenne Chenoa
Old ragged woman
‘Fraid and thin
Whispers quietly
A prayer to heaven
As she lies in her sin

Protect my mother
Keep my father strong
May my daughter be obedient
Knowing right from wrong

Her hands clasp gently
Wood worn beneath her knees
A scarper from desires within
A surrender unto peace

Lord, far have I wandered
Mountains I could not climb
The depths of the sea
Fought to swallow me

In her pain a soft voice came
Gently and gleefully
Whispered; I am yours
And with you I shall be
 80° 
Breann
Today the weather mirrored me—
gray thoughts hung low, heavy and wide.
I lay in bed, heard leaves brush secrets,
heard the wind howl what I hide.

I peeked through blinds, saw flooded walks,
rain pouring like it never ends.
A world soaked through in quiet grief,
no rush to break, no need to mend.

I stepped outside—my shoes went dark,
each step a soft and sinking sigh.
My hair, once dried from morning’s rinse,
now clung like truths I brushed aside.

Cold traced fingers down my neck,
the air was sharp, the silence loud.
But somehow, soaked and shivering,
it felt like standing in a crowd.

It hasn’t rained in far too long—
just like I haven’t cried for days.
But now the sky and I agree:
we flood in our own sacred ways.
 80° 
Zazu
Now I understand
What my mother always tells me
“You look so calm and happy now”

She says it every time I’m single.
Am I a magnet for the wrong people?
Next page