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Liz Delgado Apr 2016
Just when I thought I had shared everything of me with you, I realized I forgot to show you my favorite poems. And I did, and you read each and every one of them.
What made my heart race the most was the fact that you tried. You tried to understand how I would relate to this poem and you genuinely cared.
Just when you began painting of beautiful blues and yellows, reds and oranges, purples and greens, in a world that used to be just black and white for me,
when my thoughts because a little bit more optimistic, time and situations grabbed us both by our feet and dragged us away from each other.
We held on, and we fought, and we tried, and we cried.
In the end, our hands were worn out from gripping and we had to let go.
What made my heart hurt the most was the fact that I kept on reading and reading, and I kept finding more poems, but I had to keep them buried deep inside my chest.
No one else would understand, or at least care to.
Nat Lipstadt Dec 2023
inspired by a short story from the man from Snake River


<>


no alarm clocks heard expiring,
unrequired and unrequited,
we,
those, self-employed by the
nocturnal repetitive recounting
of sins of omission and worse,
those commissioned in
anger and haste, that breed only
more anger and lay further waste
from humans to 
humans,
awaken with an
irregular precision
and bad disorder,
demanding chances,
expiation, restitution, amendment,
but time erodes
possibilities for the
impossible,
foreign forgiveness

knock-you-down rushing currents
of water erodes Snake River boulders,
them oldsters just like the litany of our
malfeasances, indestructible in nature
geologic,
and in
human nature
illogic,
terms, such as time measurements,
irreverent and irredeemable,
for our sins
live far longer than
our owned memories,
in those harmed, who
cannot in the unlimited timeless quantity of
ever ever,
understand

your wry smile,
your why cries,
audibles you’ve
play called, go
unheard, unseen,
even and odd
Bach Orchestral Suites,
Beethoven Sonatas
more mock than soothe

trapped between industrial carpet
and flat unpainted Armstrong ceiling tiles,
you
in a hell of your own creation, forgot to include,
a Sabbath day extant, of rest for weary creators,
ever ever,

or planned in a world you’ve  designed,
so the best you
can do
is write
another and another
confession ever ever

watching and listening to
the alarm clock that neither
requires setting, for
it’s audible ticking is
alarm-ing curse
enough ever ever
that always never
rings
see “4:30 Am in the City” by Jim Cunningham from his book of short stories,
“Reel Stories”

writ at 7:00am
Deul Apr 2018
one-sided love is never healthy,
the person who loves,
suffers for happiness,
Betting everything he has enclouding himself
for a person who would never care enough
to love him back
but just a smile back
is enough for him
and it breaks someone's heart
the girl he doesn't love back
since he loves you
more than anything.

-ks.
Aa Harvey Apr 2018
The Three Angels


(The demon talks)

With all the death that surrounds our lives;
Surely it is no longer shocking,
That we are eternally searching, for that long goodnight.
In all the worlds, the stars and the twilight,
Live the horrors of a hive mind that is aching for sunlight.


You can only take the things that I have grown to hate;
For in each and every day, you have stood in my way.
But now the time has come for me to repay,
The hurt that you have caused me; with my own taste for pain.


When all else is dark and the birds have flown away,
You will be found cold as steel, in your personal shallow grave.
Without a doubt, you will be betrayed
And with an ice cold blade,
You will find yourself at the end of your days.


In a blackened cloak and cowl of ash;
The reaper is calling for you, so make a wish my Prince.
In this magnetic future, there is no turning back;
This death is foretold, forewritten and your future is destined.


You can never run inside a fate of quicksand
And as the breath drains from your lungs, you are left praying still.
Your precious life can be taken, simply by the touch of his hand;
So prepare for your dying day and write yourself a will.


In the depths of despair, we are all lacking air.
Offer us a sunshine inside a bag and we will honour your name.
A sickening world breeds only a lack of care;
Now this day of reckoning has come,
To splash this land with blood stains.


A ****** in mind; a vulture feeds upon the carcass.
I pity your entire life and your very existence.
We speak only of evil, because you people are so barbarous.
And now the evil has been awakened,
So you had better keep your distance.


We are forever indebted to the Devil and his teachings
And we shall remain devout and do all of his bidding.
Empathy is unseen through black eyes devoid of feelings;
So such beauty shall remain untouched by the hand of the King.


Love shall remain unrequired when the world is on fire;
So when all has turned black, I shall have no such desire.
The family feud shall reign eternal
And the gunshot will ring true and leave you down in the mire.


Falling and sinking and then drowning in blood.
With the dark angels touch, you will be conquered and taken.
No saviour is forthcoming to stop your society’s soul crush;
It will bring you down with every word,
That these imbeciles have spoken.


We all wear a mask to hide our inner-most secrets;
I have never taken a soul that didn’t need me to take it.
I stare into the stars from down inside this spiked pit;
Now the shackles have been removed,
So I can, at last, unleash this hatred!


(The angel speaks)

The darkness is unending in this place without hope;
We are trapped inside our memories and we will soon become ghosts.
If the burden we carry holds us back,
When forward is where we must go.
If we allow ourselves to become prisoners of thought;
Then our life will never leave the shallow.


The monsters are everywhere, so speak of them, for they will still be;
You cannot carry a book of spells that will banish everything.
You cannot live a life with beauty, if you are already inside your box;
You must face your fears head on and live your life free.


Free from the fear of death, we must all rest one day;
But for now we must sing to cover our nervous eyes.
Let joyous thoughts create your face
And keep the undertaker from your grave;
For too soon we will be taken, so use well your only time.


As the grandfather clock ticks and the pendulum swings,
The house of the dead will forever be beckoning.
But if we live carefully and let our dreams be carefree,
We can fulfil our destiny and change our time of reckoning.


In mirrors we see shadows flicker and their shape may change;
But as soon as we look at those shadows through natural eyes,
There is nothing there to be seen.
So we stare deep into the mirror that is our soul, searching once again;
Those images are no longer there to be found,
But they will be back inside our darkest dreams.


In the midnight hour we awaken screaming no!
We tell the tale of the beast that lurks in the shadows.
We see it all so clearly, in the back of our minds.
But our words are felt unnecessary;
They tell us go to sleep now and be mellow.


(The poet replies)

We can never relax in this nightmare of a bloodbath!
It is real I tell you!  So stop that laughter!
You will regret this lost minute, when you are under attack!
So take these words deep inside your heart
And remember them forever after!


Your time is coming, so beware the ides of March;
You cannot light your way in the rain with that torch.
The daylight may be your friend, but evil likes to lurk in the dark.
The killer, the reaper;
Your future is forever more.


In your last living hour and the first second of your death,
You will be praying for an escape key and wishing for a wish.
You will call out to God and inevitably you will still be dead;
Because when your hour glass is empty, then that will be the end of it.


(The angel speak)

Your future is uncertain, but the threat of death haunts us all;
We can be nothing without action, so seize this time.
When all is turning black and we are without a door;
We will hope for a purpose, a direction, a sight for sore eyes.


The bats will feast on your blood as you lay under moonlight;
The lost and found box will one day contain your soul.
If all we can be is dead, then surely we must embrace this life;
Now is not our final hour, it is our finest hour!
So along the pure path we must go!


Each stepping stone will carry us across the Dead Sea;
If we truly believe, then we can achieve anything.
So run for the hills, to bask in the dawns morning call
And as you drop to your knees to embrace the light,
You will find your true meaning.


Pause for thought beneath a rainbow, if you are thinking of the end;
Because we are just beginning to tell the tale of mankind.
Through bloodshot eyes, bullets have been fired my friend;
But here we stand, here we fall and still humanity survives.


The mischievous spirits dance in the rose petals beneath our feet;
As the angel’s soothe our hearts inside the pit of defeat.
In a hopeless state we can never set ourselves free;
But humans are kind sometimes,
So have trust, faith and love and you shall be at peace.


We cannot rest in peace if our soul is in pieces;
So stay true to your belief that the spirits are good.
As we gasp for air, we stay clear of our graveyard; we all want this
And as once more we rise, we become immortal
And in this Heaven I promise you, we shall all forever be loved.


(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Kevin Mar 2017
is he homeless or on a mental health hunger strike?
is she homeless or addicted to feeling more than her existence?
is he homeless or a veteran that fought an unrequired war?
is she homeless or a forgotten child from a long line of abusers?
is he homeless or an item thrown away from within a pyramid scheme?
is she homeless or someone kicked out of her home because she
can't decide whose mouth she's going to feed?
is he homeless or looking for God amongst us?
is she homeless or trying to keep herself together?

we only know they're homeless
and that's good enough for most of us.
behind all of our appearances lie an unimaginable amount of unheard stories. they've been told, but people, en masse, refuse to listen; or at least refuse to act. be kind to all. show them love like you would your valued tribesman. it's amazing what only a little love can do.
Earth:
I dig my hands into the earth
from whence I came to be
aromas of fresh tilling
warmed by sun: the earth and me.

And if when gone, my silly bones
enrich this dirt some more
then I have reached my destiny
and will not have been so poor.

Air:
Imagination soundless
save for gentle blowing breeze
all thought made unrequired
by whispers in the trees.

I open up my throat
breathing deeply of free air
close my eyes, enraptured
of a day without a care.

Fire
They say the devil heats his hearth
with the fire of human sin
but I don't think that can be true
'cos I keep mine locked within.

It cleanses me by burning bright
and renews me every day
the white-hot fire of my wrongs
burns my sins away.

Water
Crystal clear and glittering
in sunshine wave and tide
the waters of my oceans
in whose depths my heart shall hide.

For feeling silky torrents
wash my fears away
take me to the ocean
far from blue I cannot stay.
Anjee Bhatia  Aug 2012
Just
Anjee Bhatia Aug 2012
I can’t remember
what I wanted to ask.
I feel foolish.
Unrequired
This could change
everything.
Give me the ***** princes
Who glitter in the dark
The ones with crooked, broken teeth
Apt to leave a mark.

Give me a fallen angel
For I can’t abide a saint
Mephistopheles, yes please!
A pietist he ain’t.

Give me sight of every scar
Each blackened bruise behold
A man by passion’s furies burned
A thousand truths untold.

Give me a heinous lover
Not a lap dog to a girl
I shan’t demand a loyal serf
For my petals to unfurl.

Give me a howl of ecstasy
A stiletto in your side
My dear dishevelled Jesus
To inverted cross be tied.

Give me up for treason
Should I question such intent
By bloodied light of dawn I rise
Unrequired to repent.

Who cares for perfect manners?
Profanity’s divine
Give me your hell-bent lust, my love,
And rapture shall be mine.
My lil' homage to Sebastian Horsley, Jeffrey Bernard and all the other **** fine rogues I never got to ****.

— The End —