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veritas Aug 2018
red stains, fading, cracked, scented

     if i kissed your prints, would they kiss me back?

sighs, thoughts, spaces between prints

     spaces between words, between parted lips and floating thoughts the world! is so crowded with space but yours is the one i want to fill .

     but where are the lines? lines of loss, lines of lawns, lines of ink and rips and more stains and letters, in the hands and on the pavement

where are the lines?

why won't you go there?

why do you hover in these foul, indomitable spaces? why do you seek that which you should not?

     if the shadow of lines slinks in your quiet expression, then why are you still here?

     if the echo of your soft face lingers in my hands, if the whisper of your breath and the heat of your skin still singes my own, then why do you disappear?

lovely wraith, lovely memory of a thing that once was, why do you sit so alone?

because i am coming to your space, and if you can see me, of shadow and fog, then i will meet you there,

     on a line of our own.

>because it's a death premeditated and i can see it unfolding,

     sharp wounding painful

and the discourse in the sky is telling me so, yet why do i keep walking west?
lots of questions (this isn't a poem of answers. don't look for one).
jinx Aug 2018
too early
too late
“are you sure this is what
i’m supposed to do”
didn’t sleep
can’t eat
“you overthink”
true
jinx Aug 2018
slippery word
you say it like you mean it
by which i mean
you don’t
scratching at my lungs
cool
lifting up your tongue
cool
i do what i say i won’t

cool
Ron Gavalik Aug 2018
That bartender poured my bourbon
and took an interest in my life.
'What's wrong, pal?
You can tell me.
I have all the answers.'
'Great,' I said. 'I don't know
any of the questions.'
For the rest of the night,
he left me with my typer
and silently refilled
the bourbon.

-Ron Gavalik
Hit my Patreon or let me starve. The choice is yours. Patreon.com/rongavalik
Indra Aug 2018
Three souls hang in balance with a choice to be made.
A battle between what you know and the start of something new.
Craving desperately for what you’ve had,
Believing that body be the one you deserve,
Fearing the other soul to be mythical,
Mere imagination.
One, you gaze upon with beauty and grace,
While the other radiates in your eyes,
Swells your heart and reigns over your mind.
The longing for a familiar touch,
But the surging impulse for a touch of this new universe before you.
The want to taste lips of the one you know,
Yet you pine evermore to savor lands unexplored.
Three souls hang in balance with a choice to be made,
Will the old continue to reign,
Or will this new one finally be saved.
Ndanyanyukwa Aug 2018
I hope they know that I was writing.
I hope they know that poetry was the reason why I could fight it.
At night with my broken heart trying to fix all the pieces that have broken apart.
So do we call this art?
Or is this just the start? Of finding all the answers left from the people who have left their mark? Will we ever know? Will they ever show? The love they once had for us which taught us about growth.
I highly doubt so.
Emotions on low, that every single person I've met asks me why I don't glow. I guess this is the part where I start to explain, how I am still alive and how I manage to stay sane.
"you learn to numb the pain" caused by people, circumstances and something's you can't mention in vain.

If pain takes me away, I want you to proudly say that you knew somewhere that I was writing and I'll be okay.
life is worth living. sometimes it will take others longer to realize that.
I keep getting asked "are you okay?"
Good question.
When will I finally be pretty?
Good question
I'll cut my hair and fake a smile
Hoping someone will stay a while
Why am I such a crybaby?
Good question
they say a broken heart is one that's been loved
But I guess nothing's perfect.
Who am I?
Good question
The best questions are the ones without answers.
I've been gone for a while please forgive me
Josephine Wild Aug 2018
Confusion emits laughter.
I laugh it off and move on.

I'm driven to discover
new tools that amuse
my brain to function,
to thrive,
to move.

Daydreams are abused.
Stabbing thoughts shift my mood.

Fresh dew departs grey eyes.
Countless thoughts
prove sterile.

Confused.
Time continues. Nothing moves.

I'm driven to discover
new tools to amuse.

Looking for answers.
Eyes comb through
pages of news,
info and clues.

Time drives and flies by.
It is lost in my mind.
fatima Jul 2018
tell me
as i know nothing
clueless as it is
everything is just unknown

as i want to know things
to understand, not to be mad
i want to be open
in everything i want to know

so tell me
as i am clueless
like a child full of woes
am curious enough?
just tell me if i'm bothering you.
Dennis Jul 2018
On the thread of thought
one encounters many knots.
How to undo a knot?
You take perspectives,
look from left, from right,
above, below.
You think and think and think,
fiddle, fiddle, fiddle.
Yet no answer comes to mind.

The next step; you ask a friend:
This knot I have, what is the answer?
They think and think and think,
might even give an answer.
Does the knot get disentangled?
For the greatest knots this does not work,
no matter how many answers you will gather,
the knot remains.

But then there might come along a man,
who will give you peace of mind.
A sage who thought and thought and thought
for years and years and years,
and they will say:
This is a knot indeed.
And thus you look at your thread of thought again,
the knot’s still there.
But you feel the thread
and it feels smooth.
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