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Humble Apr 6
When was the last time you were truly happy,
not merely existing but truly alive?
When was the last time you smiled sincerely,
not that rehearsed facade?

When was the last time you were honest with yourself,
embracing your flaws and strengths,
saying what was in your mind,
genuine and unfiltered?

When was the last time laughter flowed freely,
genuine and unrestrained?

When was the last time you spoke passionately,
about something you love deeply?
When was the last time you loved yourself deeply,
accepting every part of who you are?
When was the last time your heart was in sync with your mind,
free and unburdened?

So tell me, when was the last time you were truly you?
el Mar 28
a fire that needs kindling.
it’s dying out,
we’ve lost the tinder stick.
so i blow.
i fill up my lungs until they hurt:
my head spins and there is no air.
i do it again,
i don’t save any for myself.
i am dizzy.
the ash is swirling
up in the air.
my chest is going to burst.
the ash is settling on my skin,
tattooing the harsh reminder
of how much i give.
i can no longer see.
inhale. exhale.
i have done all that i can,
all that remains is my soul.
my heart has abandoned me,
my lungs have died.
my mind is on the outs with me,
she says i shouldn’t even try.
do i throw it into the embers, too?
perhaps that’s all it needs to stay alight forever,
but i am too tired now.
i never listen.
fire would = firewood
Oskar Erikson Mar 27
it’s only i get a little scratchy across my shins at 1:33
forehead against work desk
leant down to run a track on my legs
phone untouched, shortcuts retraced
HTT ..PS//
ishouldntcheckyoursocials.      us.

couldn’t make me an addict of loss
which really is the untapped potential
for the future internet of things
safari, waystone.
safari, favourer of webpage rerunners,
safari, guide me back to a bookmarked
cliff-edge of ache.

cookies know me better than my housemate who’s sweetness blocked his accounts before something broke and we’d have to talk about it.

once the whiter lines appear on shinskin like my algorithm
I can sit back up
if not satiated at least appeased
the sound my lungs make isn’t really laughing or crying but
a wheeze.
Ken Pepiton Feb 28
then the full corn, in the ear.

¿Has the seed faith evidence,
made the dedicated monk

useless, due to evolving knowledge,
horticultural returnings to old knowns,
bringing hope to survivalists,

intent on living on Earth, warless

for the ever after this?

No, fighting
for a faith that must be kept,
pristine, clean, cleared of science logic,
such has left all reason bleeding,
use the rags remaining from the old
folded and put away worlds
in storys held
stuck in the stars,
so we may remember, lest we forget.

Those who knew nothing as we ought
to have been knowing by Christmas,
all are forgiven, or nothing is true,

washed, cleansed from perceived stains,
white as new-fallen snow…

Deep Mind white room cinema effect,
preceding the ever after this…

you be come this far, alone.
You be edging up on after all's

been said and done, what you did's
been said to have done nothing,

nothing, thus
nothing done wrong,
nothing done to no effect.
What a release life offers for seekers willing to bet there is more than mortality involved in making peace with priceless joy at having one more day...
it seems to me
that breathing deeply
and counting to ten
just gives them
another opportunity
to irritate me
even more
I want to be wrapped up
In our own atmosphere
Our own fresh air
Where the breath
You breathe
My lifeline ..
So make sure
It's minty fresh
Well. That took a weird turn. Haha.
Maybe I'll redo this later.
Jodie-Elaine Jan 6
Good morning    body
I called you in for a meeting
you can’t sleep                         again
and I just wanted to tell you
        you don’t already seem to know
and no one can read your writing
you already know what you’re wearing tomorrow and you’ll pay the gallery in the morning

and    it's all fine
and you’re very much allowed to yawn     sigh    or take a
deep breath    

I know January keeps trying to go on
and on and on and on
like you’re not already over it
a few weeks ahead of yourself
like we’re not all stuck in Deja-vu
despite the fact that it’s fun to type out
soothing repetition
like a hot tea lavender oil or the last smile on the page
like a consoling yoga chant

it’s time you heard this
where are the words you’re hiding?
when you sit down and say you can’t do this again
I will tell you     I think this might be growing
it was you under the pile of clothes the whole time
holding the remote
murmuring prophetically in the corner
it was you    you see
you already said
you’re everything you know
you’re everything you need

Good morning    body
I called you in to talk to me
for us to meet each other

letters to yourself are the new shopping list

or at least
they’re calming to write when you can’t sleep.
poetry from Jan, deep in the midst of hibernation season
Spicy Digits Oct 2023
No-one tells you how big a wall
there is to climb
To demolish
the rotting family home,
Where they fearfully remain.

To them you are the wolf.
Zack Ripley Oct 2023
When someone asks you
"what did you do today?",
I hope you know it's okay
if your biggest accomplishment
is being able to say "I breathed."
Heidi Franke Oct 2023
To heal,
Journal they say
Like a worm in the dirt
Of my front lawn
Sliding, pushing through
Air pockets
Arduous, unending crawl
No words come
To mind
Where can I breathe

To heal,
Journal they say
Words don't come easy
They fly up like
Torn pages of a book
Riffed, stolen letters of some name
In the nameless wind
Grasping what isn't there,
A cynical continuing void

To heal,
Journal they say
My hands become deaf and blind
The pages curl and mold
Pen and paper inventing before I have begun
All I have is the deep
The deepest inside
That comes here
Traversing incredulity, while I

To heal, they say
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