Let the fireflies of your creativity
Don’t cast shadow on what is meant to shine

Blois 3h

So, I discovered that she do likes poetry.
Only she likes other poetry, not mine.
And it is not that I need her to like
what I write per se (I mostly don't like
what I write myself), is that she don't like
what I write about her. And that is critical.
Because love is also an artistic impresion
and we only like the art that affects us.

Oculi 13h

I thought I was finished
But I told you myself, an end is a beginning
So here we are again.

I'm not the same person you've been reading.

Since then I've died and was born again.

It's always a difficult process, you know...
Living, dying and living again
It's like leaving yourself to die
It's like ending your life only to come back.

Never is it a good sign when you're sorry for yourself dying.

I heard my last heartbeats and my first as well.

So I'm here again.

The same body, the same voice, the same face and words...
Well, hello again, friend
I'll be your noise for the evening.

scooby 14h

Put a poem here fuckface!
Even if you don't know what that shit is
(it's a collection of words, organized
and broken into

and stanzas
like this!)
Put a poem here fuckface!
Even if you don't know how to type!
(you take your finger,
assuming you have one
and if not
that's ok
use whatever you prefer,
and press down on one
of those little squares
you know,
the ones with the
letters on em)

Put a poem here fuckface!
Even if you don't know any white man poets,
dead or alive!
(You don't need em,
you could read em
on the account of background
and cultural appreciation,
but you,
you're enough)

Put a poem here fuckface!
Even if you don't think you're good enough!
(You are, fucker,
and I am the president of poetry saying
it is true,
but ultimately you will,
grow to be your own champion,
maybe not now,
but I can tell you how)

Put a poem here fuckface!
Even if you don't know how to be your own champion!
(You'll become one by
putting a poem here fuckface!)

So, put a poem here fuckface!
Go! Go! Go!

sorry 4 the swears, if you are under twelve don't show this to your mom!

In every artwork
She is reminded of him
Her wonderful muse


paraluman (n.)
a muse that inspires artistically
deery 2d

living life , like reading a book
read over and over
knowing it forwards and backwards
understanding the beginning and end
I want a different book

give me new life

skin covered in shadows
a dead winter leaf bouncing against a flourishing summer tree
                                    catching the handle of a spider string
holding onto the living as if
                     it can escape its crumbling burial
             only can a field of soft, mumbling earth
                             call sleep more swiftly than a mattress
within the green and blue sphere are textured tints that release
            wifts of genuine air spilling into half-filled industrial lungs
                      can art be felt when eyes don't open?
as closed eyelids fall humble to the glowing yellow light
            answered silently with a curl of the lips

Tori 7d

I find it to be quite amusing
The thought still alludes me,
how you sir could become my muse...

The images swirl in my dreams
...taunting things
like a ghost they're haunting,
as Hamlet's father the king
it would seem....

There is never a why or a how
...even now
no decision to bring it about,
yet the face of the muse wears a frown...

The image arrives in a hearse
...it's a curse
never rid of the face, though it hurts,
let it come and bring with it a verse...

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