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Raven Feels Aug 14
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, memory loss is impossible to the sense of smell:)

ancient perfume box
left somewhere in a classic loft
opened moments in a meet
to an old of an old sweet
memory in a tape on a leash in fear
like a flashback of brief to four years
disclose the good not the sad
never the bad
already made sure to wear
on the days of happy in mere
and now the odor
smells a swift of colors
once in each while
go back a little in miles
a tickle to the nose
something out of Beethoven's ears
souvenirs the precious chandeliers
things the mind randomly chose
several pasts when my pen couldn't write
and the piano served a beam of light
in an ocean
sinking deep with no motion
escapes
from each New Year's mistake
for the lifetime spaces
of the turn from the tackling faces
pink floral promises
of better opposites
fragranced to keep a stay
afraid a glass would slip away

                                                               ­                  ------ravenfeels
You sleep in a golden box, it seems,
On India patterns of rose and tangerine.
The brightening sky sends amber light
Through ecru lace and lowered blinds.
I imagine your lithe limbs stretched out
Beneath the coarse blanket you love.
Your rustic side has always shied
Away from luxury and ease.
Sometimes you even refuse to eat,
So I tempt you with a favorite repast
Things meant to break unwarranted fast.
And often, I ask you to show me
Your lean limbs and boyish length.
As you poise upon the scale
That balances youth and strength.
But at night you leave our tryst
And drive a phaeton of amethyst
To a place no longer gold,
Where you make diamonds out of coal.
Where they drain you 'til day is dawning
And batter down your soul.
Yet it seems you revive each morning
In your pretty box of gold.

July, 2021
Omar Acevedo Jul 14
change consciousness with another


ashes turn to plastic

giraffes play wack a-mole

i’ll miss you when you’re gone


messages dart his eyes

playing with the devil’s knife
living down,
in the darkness
of my mind
between infant cries
connecting lies
and infernos burning haunted lives


i wish no one
the pain
of a box of broken matches
Kitty Jun 3
Does my skirt provoke you?
Are you scarred by my top?
Does the length and depth define me,
Could I do a better job?

Am I made by what I wear?
An outfit I compose
The paint I layer on my face
The cut of my clothes.

You say I have no self control,
No power of restraint,
You place me in a little box
A student with a male teacher or peer.
It’s her fault he could not.

Hold himself away from her
Chain himself to the chair
labelling her his object
Instead of averting his stare

I’m not defined by cloth it’s purpose is warmth
Nor the body underneath
It is me and my intelligence

Does my existence provoke you
Fill you with disgust
Because my ability to choose
Is simply not good enough

For the standards you set me
The body I must have,
To be considered ‘pretty’
To be considered ‘bad’

My skirt can not be to short
My shirt not to deep
Because a low neckline
Will prevent my ability to speak

Does my happiness provoke you
My confidence in who I am
Because it’s taken a long time
To love myself
Ananya May 27
The eerie calmness in the air
Called me foreward towards you,
The distinct voice of my scruples,
Holding me back.
I should have stopped,
I wished to stop,
I didn't stop.
Bringing the evil in the world
In contrition I was left alone,
The only thing I had,
Was what I trapped,
The sense of hope lying in the box.
What was going in Pandora's mind after she let the evil out?
Brumous Mar 31
Knowing how vast the world is, makes me feel petrified
Yet, I am still in the mind box that I hide inside

I feel that if I take it off;

I'll see the fear and abomination
that always corrupted me on the outside.
So, I chose to stay within the walls of this box;
Instead of going through the fortress pain.

I knew that it has already destroyed me within.
neth jones Mar 28
vagrancy forms the pupil
loitering firms a study
a passenger of the seasonal influence

believe in the homeless
the pigeons and the litter
lovingly observe the unhandled gaps
in our gathered mouthings

believe in big babies
believe in display
the posters
walls
malls
the money bleed
that we are sincere to
and the signals that thread us
to one single box

invited and isolated
housed
unhoused
on vacation
and vacated

inattentive pupils
Juliana Mar 18
A glass box, sitting on the wooden shelf carved
by an unknown soul, in an unknown time.
The box is solid, invisible, humane.
The creature who lives there is trapped,
yet he does not know anything else.

This box, his glass prison, is his whole world.
His freedom, his nature, it is here he travels
from one side of his spaceless cage to another,
searching for a purpose; a meaning.

Yet how can there be any meaning
when one’s life consists of a water jug,
filed down wood trimmings, a few brown
pellets, and a spinning wheel.

The wheel, and its monotonous motion,
saddens me. There is no destination, no
ending goal, just energy wasted on a lifetime
of potential. The poor creature had such
potential. If only he could leave his cage.
Bailey Mar 8
Go to your happy place
Says the cold white wind

I look around
White space stairs back at me
And then I see the box of lost and found

Beaten and battered
I look inside the dusty box of lost
And wonder if my found is inside

Turns out
The box is empty
Brumous Feb 26
Your love is a music box,
a melody that surrounds me;
it intoxicated me.

Love me now,
so that I can feel safe

Love me now,
so I feel complete

Love me now,
so all worries bid goodbye

Love me now,
so I won't be wanting things;

Things I can't have

Love me now,
so I won't be paranoid

Love me now,
so I can escape this everlasting winter snow

Love me now,
so I can be in your arms

Love me now,
so I won't feel like an empty vessel

Love me,
like those people with happy endings

Love me,
so I can feel warm

Love me now,
so I can breathe

Love me now,
so I can see

So I can live...
Yet I can't force you, not because I know that it is wrong
I'm just too tired now.
this is pretty much a fail or something. But, the music I am listening to right now makes it seem so perfect, a lullaby.
The title of this is the title of the song in the game
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