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Ray Dunn Oct 4
As Atlas rises above the world
He looks down
and kneels

As you enter the bottleneck
You give in to the flow
and yield
Whittney May 26
what’s the fastest lie to come out of your mouth when you’re standing on the edge of a mistake that could catapult you into a crevasse even the most experienced alpine climber couldn’t escape—-and once you’ve gotten stuck, would you cut through the tendons of the lie Or would you continue to dig down deep and end up on a Jules Verne adventure tale fueled by a fib—-maybe it’s a small untruth, like the tiniest microorganisms under the microscope- a micro lie- one that will make you trip over your tongue like a pebble on an otherwise clear path——it makes you fall, maybe scrape a knee or an elbow, then you forget. Until the scabs start to itch, and when you scratch them, they bleed the truth
Oskar Roux Dec 2018
Let the world be the rubber
And you be the glue
I'll bounce off others and stick to you
Catch you when you fall
Pick you up again in the winter
Even tend to your nasty splinters
I'll be the one that gathers your rosebuds in spring
And be your cooling shade in the summer.
And when
Sticks and stones
(Against you)
Will crack and splinter,
And words for your beauty will never leave me
Remember ravishing is what you are,
As I am ravenous
(How do I know)
Because it takes poetry
To know poetry

And that is just what you are.
Poetry in motion
Tried to make a spin on old nursery rhymes and how one needs to defend themselves in some cases. they way that some women do, inspires me and this is what that is about.
I know,
Your door will stay open for me
As always to let me in
To savour the repast
That awaits me on your dining table
Laid out for me;
Hungry I am.
At the table, I will surely recount
The jollity of our younger days,
Protected and cajoled we were then
By those to whom we belonged
Which is why we had no care
For the tomorrows that we did not wait.
I will not talk
About the later harsh years,
Each day was a rusty nail driven deep,
Tacked to the old boards we already were.
I will not talk
About our failures and sorrows;
Our eyes are dry.
I will only talk about
The repeated ebb and flow of time
We feared,
About the tides that did not take us away.
J Ann May 2018
Do you ever just wonder?
And sit there and ponder
What life would have been like
If we would have all been alike
Oh it would cause so much damage
Even though it seems like the perfect image
Everyone saying the same thing
Wearing all the same bling
Oh it would be bittersweet
Because everything would seem so complete
Yet it would cause so much confusion
Almost like an allusion
So one should step out of the box
And become unorthodox
Do you ever just wonder?
And sit there and ponder
Sun Drop Feb 2018
Alcohol hanging on breath.
Going 90 in a 65,
High on speed, but not ****,
Finally feeling alive.

Sirens blare, heat following,
He called the cops, what a *****.
Yelling at her, hollering.
It'll take more than a snitch.

Takes a turn way too quickly --
You hate to see that happen.
Rolls over topsy-turvy,
Six flips, going on seven.

Vehicle gets located,
Bodies have yet to be found.
Seat belts inoperative.
Flung 'em bout 20 feet down.

Report: "One woman, one man,
Fatal car accident." Crushed.
"Female had bottle in hand,
Both suspects found dead in a bush."
diverged from my usual style a bit because I needed to write about a car crash
Francis Rowell Dec 2017
you treat me so sweetly,  your favorite doll

you always play so carefully

you put me away in the closet when you're done with me

and when i rip,  you gently sew me back

you always forget that dolls have feelings, too, though

and you just get mad so easily

you always are physically ever so soft,  but verbally you just destroy me

you always just put me back in my box

but can't you see i'm hurting?

you only see the outside

never the tears

i'm just a doll
good dollies don't cry,  good dollies can't cry
i'm just a doll

so you leave without a second thought

i've been in your closet for so long

i'm all but a forgotten toy now

it's so cold in here

why have you left me to rot?

i cannot move,  you must know this

i can only sit and stare

i'm just a doll,  can't you remember?
i'm just a doll
i'm just a doll
I actually spent quite a while revising this, which is pretty abnormal for me. I normally don’t communicate like a normal human, but I guess I am, now. If I’m doing this, I might as well say— this is most likely going to become a song.
Neuvalence Dec 2017
Reviles gnaw on her somber thoughts
as she hangs between beige curtains
tightly thick around her neck
absorbing lachrymal crystals under her eyes
Her many faces retreat—implode under
pressure—like glass borne on a cliff
As for her, herself, come forth many
holding stones—boulders to her—
ready to strike this candle;
intimidated by fire, she melts
And as the flames are roused
watch her re-harden: an exquisite tragedy
G Rog Rogers Nov 2017

Definitive semblance
of allegorical allusion
That unto the masses
in abject delusion
Replete with the
studied sacred illusion
of cosmic worth
for every cosmetic remedy
of indolent intrusion

Yea Right.

Characteristically docile
Accused and convicted
of arrested development
Screeching Hell awaits
the plentious harvest
of the crop of fools
Arreared in impetuousity
and impulse for that
most deviant sake

Yea Right.

Drowning awash in misery
Choosing to swim on alone
Thinking they then
are the chosen one
They then the center
God society et al
ad infinitum?
That most aberrant
Human Secular



Lauren Jul 2017
Pitter patter
And flee the
Dribble drabble of life
It sets up a scribble scrabble
In my mind-game
Bonus points for melancholia
Ever the same.

Aim to use all your letters
--use your words!

Use others’ words
Because intersections in the criss-cross of life
Are intersections in Venns of chance
And we build off these improbabilities
These words of others.
Others, mothers, brothers
Decadent thoughts
My mind-game wroughts
--a vivid world

But see.
It is grey.
It is cold.
It is wet.
And you are ever alone
In your head.
So I return smiling
and haunted
to a dark morning.
The poem is about getting stuck in your own head on a rainy day and trying to write down how you feel. It alludes to Denise Levertov's "To the Snake".
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