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War
The laugh bubbles up although the bubbles inside of me are full of salt water
Something that I cannot let free so it rubs against the inside of my eyes
It stings
I want to fall, and my knees threaten to collapse
Just like my heart years ago, but that’s just history
So I laugh with my face in my hands, shaking
Quaking
Thoughts run past me in slow motion, but yet the words cannot be read
Their lips become screaming silent sounds that fall like bombs
Holding my hands beside me, but I wish I could hold it to my head
These rolling waves become tall tsunamis but it hits so… soft
It storms, yet the sound that escapes is not a call for help
It becomes a song that is listed as happy on the ever-changing playlist
I wish for them to know but the words just build up and free themselves inside me
Trying, failing to be
What I want to be before death’s deadly kiss
Two years ago
I wrote I didn’t get

gender.


Two years ago
I said
not everyone
is interested in

boys.


Two years ago
I wished people tried to

understand.


Two years ago
I didn’t understand
why people

cut.


Two years ago
I thought others
deserved better

than I do.


Two years ago
I thought

death
was better sometimes.


Two years ago
I said
it would be

okay.


Two years ago
I claimed
I was doing

better.
I wrote this poem after reading my diary from that time and yeah I guess a lot has changed, but some things stay the same.
We post to find a better life
A purchase with no payment
A silver crystal shell of hope,
Golden red letter sealant

Our folded wings to lug the chain
Shine glitter on the pavement...
Our broken home to elevate
The fragrant cheapest moments

Delivery is paramount...
For delight undeserved

It’s worth it to perch it -
To be rich in earth’s ****

The bitterer, the better...
Gut wrench hope through this twister

Till we blether one last measure,
To post into the litter.
write little. overwhelmed by the "competition,''
those who birth litters of poems by the bushel,
but let us serve you morsel, a petites bouchées,
a fingertip to both lips, sensately fulfilling, the
need mutuel, thus, we are both self~satisfied,

as I search for words of comforting arousal,
that relax simultaneously & invigorate, for these
are the dualities of our innate inanities, the things,
that can never be satisfied without a compromise
of nerves and plaisirs, clashing leaders, who both
are needed to satisfy the larger human diction of
conditions;
sometimes they exist in the same universe,
sometimes they exist at the same time,

sometimes they exist  only in the mind,
and not the cells of the body human,
whereby the inputs must be inserted,
to reach the boiling *** of overlap,
but if this tease, doth please, even for
a secondary second, that we are both
blessed
EllieeRosey Aug 12
In shadows deep where silence dwells
A heart once lost in private hells
With whispered pain, the scars did show
Yet from these wounds, a light can grow.

Each tear that falls like morning dew
A testament that battles true.
With every dawn, a chance to mend
To seek the strength in love.

Hands trembling, I let go of the past,
embrace the warmth, and breathe at last.
In colors bright, my spirit sings
As hope unfolds on fragile wings.

The road is long, with twists and turns
Yet in the struggle, my spirit learns.
To find joy in simple grace
In every step, I find my place.

So if you feel the weight of night
Remember, dear, you’re not alone in the fight.
Together we’ll rise, through pain to soar
With hearts united, we’ll heal once more.
I write on paper,
A lot more,
Since the last six months,
It feels better,
Than staring down a screen,
Where I tie my artistry,
To the last echoing words,

I wish I let them pull me out,
Of all this,
Much sooner.
My cousin gifted me a book of writing prompts I love, those plus a new notebook have been filling my writing fix.
eliana Aug 6
Little eyes, they are always watching
As I go through fields of sunflowers and clouds of crows
They see everything I do
Little eyes

Little ears, they are always listening
As I whisper words that I throw around like pebbles into a river
They hear everything I say
Little ears

Little hands, they always do what I do
As I pick up the burdens of this life and hold them tightly to my chest
They copy everything I do
Little hands

Little mouth, they always talk as I talk
As I cast my words into a sea of disregarded lies and careless feelings
They say everything I say
Little mouth

Little feet
As I walk down the highways of shadows and allies of sunshine
They follow me wherever I go
Little feet
As an older sibling, my parents have always told me that I should lead as an example because my little sister is watching, listening, and acting like I do. Because of this, I try my hardest to set a good example for her. She helps me strive to be a better person but sometimes i feel like im failing.
Soul Jun 26
Rough; Charged;
Tall as Mount Everest;
Boiling blood in
waves of rage;—
You blow them
all, by a gentle
breeze;—
Back on to
your cozy lap.
Is that all
because you
want to build
a nest;—
Not perfect
but, but a
better one
of phoenix
feathers?
At first sight, you may not get the hidden deeper meaning which I tried to interpret. It may sound incomplete, but it is not...
From this poem, Ode to the seas, it conveys the Bond of a Family & how it differs. I guess, even you have some kind of problem happening in your family. Just think for a second about this I say, during your whole time, haven't a single problem arose in your family? Have you ever thought about why its so? Why its not perfect?...
In my opinion, as I try to convey in my poem, perfect families mean that they have no such thing called family bonds...
Ken Pepiton Jun 20
I ran into all any man in his right mind, at 77,
may take as my peace,
made, not earned,
used shiny keys,
fully functional,
- used to defuse confused war loyalties
- spiritually de re ligimating unlegitimating
- locking try by first reaction, feel
- peaceable, if launched, real
- easily entreated, sublime
- breathe, smell taste test

It is just what the doctor ordered, manufactured
consent,  the matrix, is mental, same rate of consume
balance
on compute it takes
to imagine me

doing this

when wound
tight, and loosed

spinning spiral inneracting

in all its military ways, he can do
what he did,
snap
from any where, since ARPA went Defensive
and swallowed our core reason, Isaiah calls,

all involved
in believing the God, who gave us

hands, gave us minds that can
use hands, and use
both qwertywise
whole bodies
of like minded children
to become, faithful reproductions
of the average child, perfectly average, born

where all children are above average

in Lake Woebegone,
too lowly
by degrees

life is different north of me

mind space, mud on y'face,
back off,

demazed leave taken, my life
to make up, redeeming waited ages,
as I read along, taking my time  
to account,

Why did I not try
to sell, not as much fear
of rejection, but warning
from Kenworthy,

can you believe that, that, guy was a Marine,
clerk typist, in Vietnam, in 1968, football
scholar, played with Roger Staubach;

AI say, ain't so, you remember a lie wrong
Kenworthy is and maybe was, a lying spirit,

y'gotta try guys with war stories,
and lying spirits, worshipping
in full on make believe,
serve, and die.

Pretending to have been, and being
as with any lie, defended, long enough,
all pride pledged to defend any story told;

this is why we always hate, we learn,
aha, we watch haters hating, we learn,

Naked Jungle, run away, live alive ever learning
what would you ask for on earth, that you may,

you know,
you may picture your whole reality,
you can think and try to think and do, at once,

it may be as good as I could be, but only as much

as there are no records that prove Kenworthy real,

but his Staubach connect crossing links,
to the recluse who created Catcher in the Rye fans,

Kenworthy, told me, he threw rocks, at J.D.



Now, as I was fishing for a verification see,
I came upon on a lie I believed, that I learn,

looking up Staubach, the timing, ain't right,
so, maybe Kenworthy played same high school,

no, Staubach was New Mexico Military Institute,
yeh, Kenworthy woulda bragged about that,

so. What if a person, seeming sane in every way,
so common it is a story arcing trope, in every way
so wondering, once, level, fundamental every way

silly wishings things were become thinkable, now
blessed peace, thunk war weary, peaceable answer,

San Diego Hollenstein, warrior ready, sent
to Switzerland,
with his silver wings and green beret





-- not in this reality,
this is really science, confictional precepts,

certain things seldom are
certain other things always are
certain choices occur alwise been

we wu wei iching trusting maybe so am big as us is

It should be fun to be old, not stupid, in a world,
not stupid, sharing a tool unimaginable, a mere century ago.
While musing, I tried a memory I had of a story I was told, and found, with an appropriate, got me chuckle, the whole thing was a deranged person reinventing himself, inside the bubble of all I knew at the time, that's a lesson.
Kyla Jun 17
better is the biggest fairy tale of all time
the mirage in the desert before
a promised land i’ll never reach,
predestined to dwell in the wilderness
with my gloom my doom
i run i move in search of better
i cut i purge i cry
i therapy i forgive i help i give
i try
yet still better eludes me
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