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Left Foot Poet Aug 2020
morning contradictories: mourning our poems, falling stars


awaken to a sunshiny Saturday,
the lazys, their coverlet of flowers,
inhibit our movements, now, as it nears
high noon, we have yet from our bed stir

August has be-come, the grass pockets
of gray and green, swaths of sunburn brown,
reveal how far along the North American
summer has poetry passed, irretrievable

reading your messages and notes from
world over, lazy licking you poems so many,
delighting, ponderous and oft heroic, as well,
weeping as too many become fallen stars

each grass blade, from earth born and returned,
the nutrients preserved in our sandy soil, intended
to nurture next summer’s poesy new birthrights,
green+browned, weep+smile, mutual contradictories

these poem best friends, passing by each other at lifecycle’s
multi-paths, metaphors for our too many morning stirrings,
most to be falling like stars that, though in motion, need not
come to rest ever, their movement attracts a one…lasting look

it nears noon, it nears this poem’s timely finishing touch,
straighten its tie, smooth its skirted pleats, a forehead
implant kiss goodbye, sent on its way to find its own weight,
no parent ere admit, it leaves, with tear-burst showers falling…

August 1
2020

noon
tender flame Jan 2018
we are alone—together
juxtaposed chromatic films,
visible darkness
screaming silence,
vivid eyes,
melancholic smiles,
savoring your sweet lies.
hello, this is my first work here.
Kirsten Lovely  Jan 2014
Home
Kirsten Lovely Jan 2014
Streets as hot as metal
Where bodies turn to ice
Bullets litter cracked sidewalks
That broke the sad stoplights.
Laughs flood through the fences
With shattered slides and dreams
The man passed by this every day
With feelings that tested seams.
Every day, the same old thing
Drugs erupting from the bricks
Graffiti covering an old cafe
Crime makes this city tick.
Another young kid crying
For he hasn't got a home
Another car's been totaled
The wrath road rage has shown.
Another playground built again
Trying to make the town look clean
He can't ignore the orange jumpsuits
That stick around to plant some trees.
Blood stains here and flowers there
Take a stroll down Contrast Street
Ignoring grimy street vendors
Cause he's heard they've got the creeps.
Another gun shot in the air
Another cry for help
Another pretty restaurant
And people trying to convince themselves.
That maybe it's not happening
Someone will come along who cares
Someone else, take care of that!
Me? No, don't you even dare.
So I guess this can just keep happening
These walking contradictories
You're defeating your own purpose
We're losing, don't you see?
alxndra  Sep 2014
contradictory
alxndra Sep 2014
are these the biggest contradictories?
preaching to be free
while predicting to feel demeaned

foreseen scenes
where no other option
than depletion
will falsely make you feel complete

stay alive
for a feeling not yet felt
in the meantime prohibiting reality
with an induced sense of youth

continuing
until the word consequence
becomes solely a sequence of letters
Nat Lipstadt Sep 2019
the woven intercept

the crescendo soft ascending,
commandeers our riveting,
we do not surrender, taken, nonetheless,
our deference to an elegant wand wave,
combo hopeful and all encompassing, the helplessness

both well understood

the progression higher, steady on,
a rapture going to a defined ending,
concluding voyage occluded, for now,
but the setting sun rays us a plan, a path,
teasingly, soto voce lips moving, “this way”

follow on the unsteady water

restraining resistance failing, flailing weakly,
it is both early morning and late afternoon,
the light warms, but each, a timbre different,
the pitch and intensity tho one and the same,
yet, order confused, still, we are given-in

giving in unwillingly

absolution unrequested, but awarded anyway,
shelter from the storm of safe and warm,
children begin first school day, but adults
know better, beginnings full of risks unforeseen,
the season changes, normalized, but would be refused

if we could

the waiver offered, the woven intercept read,
emotional intelligence so fragile, on and on,
sidekicks, lovers, connected by a dotted line highway,
the space between permitting anything we want,
but contradictories say, wanting everything, impossible

but the viable solution singular

how do we leave it then? we leave it thus, clarified,
separation is a kind of attachment, voidable, when,
kissing comes calling, from all around the world,
the crescendo ends, we each have read the intercept,
it concusses, interpretations differing, yet we don’t care

lying through embracing lips


our tune is a mismatched matching,
a vision ending and yet anew hatching,
this is love, understanding, undefinable, undefeated,
a changeling definition, paths possessing multi-endings,
loving is the unceasingly, desirable imperfect struggling

unique, singular just like everyone else’s

9/4/19 9:07am

nml
(she'll know)
Folie Nov 2018
Sane manic faceless disgrace with an eraseless mask to hide the panic thinking about my disgraceless past
I break down so fast
That my mind won’t last
I’m failing to recognize the peace that’s currently happening cause my pieces separate and realize there’s no happiness to be found
My family a ghost town, my friends make no sound, no lover to be queen to my crown
Maybe I’m too young being obscene, it’s profound
Probably jumping the gun to the trigger I found
Only an empty clip and a harlots heart
I guess that’s what I get for shooting in the dark
Kenshō Mar 2015
I don't know much beyond the bounds
Of my biological ups and downs,
But I can see the vastness of meaning
Pondering objects around which are found.
Now I don't preach dogma or
Belief that drowns in its own contradictories,
I am not fighting for one side or the other to ensure a profitable victory.
But what I want is an isolated moment of freedom
That is fully mine to enjoy,
To express my essence in every situation
Without feeling nervous to restrict thoughts or feelings.
Is this a crazy request in 2015? However the present is ever present.
I don't wish to go beyond or to conquer large bounds;
I just want to be a free man right now, without humans being illegal.
See it's not just a war on righteousness or justice, it's a war on people..

Ponder what you will, and pursue the heart of things..
-
fearfulpoet May 2020
she said:
you are a man knowing cruel, knowing hard,
with strangest soft skin, a funny way of talking,
lick my face with your words so I’ll learn,
to be tough and tender too, this I want, wanted


he replied:
life gave me splinters, broken from rough edges,
left under my exterior to fester, blister, and scar,
life licked my face, taught me mean, and the words
that came with that, were sand papered on my skin


she answered:
I’m not blind, I can feel, smell your contradictories,
want your antibodies in my blood, survival skills,
to be what I am not, and keep too, what I’ve got, to
be infected and protected, knowing words defensive


he listened:
what you desire, is the health that comes after,
after what you don’t understand, until you’ve
loved, lost, been beaten down so that getting up is
miraculous, this unteachable, this licking by words


she insisted:
your arrhythmic rhymes, skinflint perspectives,
this is what I ask, what I need, what you can give,
what is in your possess, what you need to unburden,
making me better for making you lessened


he wept:
and said nothing.

for nothing taught appreciating silence and that,
was the beginning,
of what she wanted,
of what he did not,
of what he gives reluctantly



8:16AM
Wed May 20
Isle of Mind
Poetoftheway Aug 2019
quantum poetry paradoxes

<>

forArianna who sometimes hears opera by night,
but always sees poetry

<>



what we are is unique, at the molecular level,
our DNA is microscopic visible,
in every letter, comma and
even the false white spaces of

universes expanding,
black holes ******* in fooled passerby’s,
burning out and disappearing
as invisible forces create and dilapidate -

simultaneously

this our poems are finite but never complete,
explorers sent knowing they will never return,
and if they do, though their poems unchanged,
but all the readers older, deformed and/or dead

think on it!

the world of you has revolutionized many times
since you started reading this prose, you have birthed
and seen cells die by the millions by the time you’ve
read this sad stanza twice and glory hallelujah uttered!

so go ahead, create and die

simultaneously

I give you answers,
though you ask for none,
you keep on breathing beating,
beating pumping apparatus paradoxically

insists you live even as it wears out with each
stroking, explain these minute contradictories
as your consciousness refracts and absorbs
these many mighty infinite finalities of

the

quantum poetry paradoxes

12:34pm EST
http://poetry.nautil.us/article/372/meet-harvards-own-poet-physician?mc_cid=5b79fbdab2&mc_eid=b10b796328
Andrew Elkins  Apr 2011
Happy?
Andrew Elkins Apr 2011
This can't be much more simple and easier to understand,
words simply slide out of my mouth and reach the ground.
Tasteless contradictories tickle your ear as you try to scream your demand,
I can't help but giggle so sadistically at your voice's sound.
"Leave me alone, I didn't want this!",
Screams your hoarse lungs.
"Maybe thinking it through would've put you in less ****!",
filters my voice like a thousand love songs.
Crying deeply and in immense confusion you run,
I can't help but notice the overflow of regret swallowing your soul.
Solemnly you will stand there for another half of a second to process what I sung,
and you can definitely feel my eyes suddenly turn cold.
"Are you sad or happy?",
you ask in sorrowful tears.
"I can see you are just trying to sappy."
I giggle loudly at the thought of you trying to conquer your fears.
"Once upon a time..." says you, you idiot,
"You can think it, but it will never come true. Lies were made to strike down you."
"So why not a happy ending?" you ask, trying to escape it,
"Because," I began, "I hold the happy, but you have the ending, and nothing will bring them together, in all truth."
"Violence was created from your eyes, as you sought out your happy,
However, that happy was me, which you deliberately threw away.
Why now, of all times, have you come to ask for it all shabby,
When I no longer see you as you, but as an angel gone horribly astray?"
"I'm tired of the lies and of the "I don't care"'s,
I want you to see what will really rip you apart inside.
I want everything to fall so you can take it in really deep, in a scared stare,
I want you to see this true nightmare that I can become, when from me, all my happiness was pried."
With that I walked away, knowing what hurt,
hand in hand with another lady that made me happy.
Yes, I know this sounds just plain out absurd,
but listen. Stay away from those who make you snappy.
I hope you learned this lesson well. Don't take this as a joke. This only states life in it's simplest form. Things can be colder and darker for your heart.
Still Crazy Oct 4
expertise irrelevant, a knowing
recognition where & when & why,
venn diagram inflection points
intersect, and also confine

the nirvana nexus on a line of dots in a
movingly motion connected by a formula that
has an equal 🟰 in its muddly middle the man’s best sole instructions to her only

solve! me

when in an moveable interaction
the power of rushing baking cake & it’s filling
is akin to trying to hold back a bucking stream that cannot both be ****** or dammed

running words, making
you obsessed to remember
every detail, but commas only,
never a period interrupting continuity no
essential points of exit and entry

and yet…

you cold stop to breathe
wondering how came you
to be a container intertwining
motifs and motives, desires contradictory,
control contrives to be a
controversy pressured pressed
together, and you want to stop, go,
turnings to touch,
she be tablet and he the pen,
and you wrack to remember each
detail, the poem complete or will
confusions reign supreme
and all the fantastical
schemes are shot to
hell, ink spilled,
house doused

and she good naturedly laughs at you,
cause she knows poet better than himself
and forgives him his inspirational
dazes and gazes of confusion
because it is hard to give when
giving birth to
a dream’s obsessive demands
to love one more
than the other

each deserves no rival, just a final fini,
she wants the same, but the heart
is where he keeps hid, exactly
what she needs, so forgives a
little, because loving a crazy
man after all these years
is taking the excesses
costly cause that be
an insanity desired,
what she loves,
the dusky duo
inside him
a constant
battle re
fusing
resolving
the man’s contradictories,
that she cherishes him for
more, his mired mind, more and
laughs at mores, cause it is never ending;

his more is feature why she loves him very best, she showers and laughs, he rushes in
puzzlement featured on his face, so invites him in and as he falls to his knees in a watery
embrace, while grasping her hips, she
states with a finality: “‘
*”let us discuss the importance of proper endings”
still crazy
recreational writing & ***
Shreyash Ghosh  Jan 2019
Love
Shreyash Ghosh Jan 2019
What is that thing that is called love? 
Some people believe it is a gift from above 

Others say it brings nothing but pain 
Maybe it is a one way train 
When you take your path 
You could never go back again 

It may take you to the happiness door 
Or maybe make you taste life's sore! 

Maybe love is just like the rain 
You never know how hard it would be 
Or how long it would last 
Love could come so fast 
I mean love from the first sight 
Or it could take so long time 
to be meant to be.. to be so right 
Love could put you into darkness 
And could bring you the brightest light! 

Love is like the fire 
Such a mysterious desire 
But weather it is going to warm your heart 
Or burn your home 
You can never forsee it from the start 
You can never tell 
If It is going to lead you to heavens 
Or is it going to lead you to hell! 

Love could take you from the cold 
And make you feel so warm 
Love is like a rose 
Beautiful but also with thorns that could harm! 

Love could be like glass 
If you dropp it, it shatters 
And never be put completly back together 
But love can also be like porceline 
Never cracks & stays forever 

It is so strange 
How could such a small word hold so many contradictories? ! 
A small word but with so many question marks 
It is such a complicated feeling 
That confuses any human being

Love is so precious 
Love is a treasure 
Love is not cheap 
Love is when you can't fall asleep 
For reality is better than dreams 
And life is sweeter than it seams 

Love comes from the heart 
Not the brain 
You don't know when it starts 
You don't think about it 
You just feel it over and over again 

Love is not Just the saying of words 
But the giving of one self 
Love is caring 
Love is daring 
And most of All 
Love is sharing 

Love is not to live in fears 
Love is not a matter of counting years 
But making the years count 

Love is 
Telling, listening, understanding, 
Respecting the truth and never pretending 
True love does NOT have a happy ending! 
True love does NOT have an ending! 

Love.. some say it is blind 
But I say 
Love gives you a third eye 
To make it easy for you to find 
Who is worthy? ! !

Love | Shreyash Ghosh

— The End —