Themes of isolation and the inability to move forward in life.

A man gives up on his dreams and sits still, dreaming of better days and trying to make the best of his situation without taking any actions. This leads to his death, and with "detectives overdue", the apartment becomes caked in a thick layer of dust, sprouting insects, spiders, and other miscellaneous creatures that can thrive in that sort of environment.

Set in a universe I created where the God of Luck, God of Fate, and the Cursed God all reign supreme, we have a man who has difficulty coping with the world he lives in. Though he prays to the God of Luck of God of Fate, he still becomes consumed by the temptation of evil and turns into one of those outcasted from the followers of Luck and Fate.

After having trouble sleeping and trying to find out why, I thought maybe my depression had some connection to it; in this poem, that connection is indeed the problem. Originally inspired by a song my dad wrote.

This poem continues my present trend of poetry where my lack of sleep and lack of dreaming takes place as the main subjects.

"The stories I seek/ Aren't seen for weeks" deals with my lack of dreams when I finally do get to sleep.

Xanadu is the place of an *****-influenced dream Samuel Taylor Coleridge had, resulting in the poem "Kubla Khan". The mention of Xanadu is supposed to take flight to the dream-like state of mind, resulting in odd choices of descriptive language and a sort of ranting.

"Where prose is always posing" is describing the influence of the poem, saying that prose is constantly forming in my dreams. Two lines later, the word "Contortions" is used to describe the type of posing the prose is doing, saying that the poetry is confusing, incomplete, and/or twisted.

"[M]eek/ And humble banter stew" is describing the tone most of my poetry has, saying that it gives off polite and humble undertones while the sentence structure is "banter". The word choice of "stew" pertains to the definition, "A state of agitation, uneasiness, or worry." So meek and humble banter, but filled with agitation, uneasiness, or worry.

"That will never do/ Political shrieks,/ But yet is self-exposing." Is saying that I won't resort to talking about politics in my poetry (I think very negatively about bringing politics into such a beautiful medium, hence the word choice "shrieks"), but by bringing up the subject of politics at all, I poked fun at myself with "But yet is self-exposing." I'm playfully teasing my own poetry.

Each line either has 5 or 7 syllables per line, but I chose not to bother with a meter; I felt too much organization would both limit what I had to say and also give it a much less worrisome feel to it.

"Stew to Stories, Maybe Soon..." is me saying that I hope my sleeping problems will be resolved and will stop worrying me.

A poem about letting go of all worries and appreciating the simple things in life, like being able to see the stars in the sky. Main character sits with his girlfriend to appreciate the tranquility of the present. Comments about the neighbors, big businesses, and the economy help paint the picture of the setting a little bit, hinting towards being poor.

Though you may fail once or twice, or maybe a lot, you'll never succeed if you never try.

Flibbertigibbet - a chattering or flighty, light-headed person.

I've always tried to sound smart by quoting books or poems, reciting history books and retelling stories. It takes some intelligence to memorize, but it takes a lot more to create and to constantly push yourself to be more creative.

This poem discusses how, though we write poetry, there are few who are great poets. I describe a great poet as being one who writes about the tragedies inflicting them, or who writes about knowledge that they can truly understand from their experience. There are some out there who claim to be a great poet simply because they write about their bad days, but I know that they secretly wish for those days simply so they can write about them. Great poets are not desperate for attention, but are instead simply venting their emotions.

We're slaves of consumerism and celebrate the overgrowth of capitalism (emphasis on overgrowth. I like capitalism, but to an extent).

A story of a person with many phobias and is trying to deal with all of him/herself. As they gradually step closer and closer to insanity, they finally break.

Iambic tetrameter

Freudian Slip.

My first shot at concrete poetry. The image is supposed to half of Satan, as if peaking from the shadows. The italicized lines are one of his horns, the bold is his body, and the regular, unformatted text represents his arm.

My works lately have been revolving around Christian themes because in recent years, my brother has become a very strict and devout Christian. I myself am not a Christian, but since I grew up in a Christian household, I know enough to write the kind of poetry to make myself feel closer to my brother.

Comments about this Digital Age and how stories are spread for the desperate need for viral content for marketing purposes.

Inspired by this article: http://www.cracked.com/photoplasty_761_the-22-most-misleading-viral-photos-explained/

My daily life at the apartment complex. I hate these neighbors.

The title "The Great Divide" is inspired by one of my favorite movies "The Land Before Time". In the movie, a massive earthquake divides the land, separating the dinosaur children from their families, called "The Great Divide". I use that term not to say that I'm isolated from my family, but that I'm isolated from everyone.

The title is in reference to the movie "Tideland", where the dad is a ****** addict.

I haven't been on Hello Poetry in a while, but now that I have come back, I'm loving the new layout. Good job to all who helped with it!