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poisoned elixir Nov 2020
I AM SICK
OF LOSING POEMS
TO
502 BAD GATEWAY

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
can this bug please be fixed? every so often i go to publish a great poem and then half of it is lost because of this
so many things Nov 2020
bug
it is so hard to know what you want,
what you're trying to say.
you're like a little bug with wings
that won't quit bumping into my eyes
and buzzing in my ear.
but a cute bug
one that reminds me of the ocean and summer camp and being in love.
i would put you a a mason jar
with holes in the top,
so you can breathe. (duh)
and i would take you to my favorite fields
and alleys and stores.
show you all the things that make me happy
and try to make you happy too.

but i dont think
you would like being in a jar.
even one with holes in the top.
repost ~ because i **** now but i was cool then ~ cute lil' bug
Mitch Prax Jun 2020
The love bug
is not kept in a jar
but left to roam from afar.
The love bug
must be set free
to see if it was meant to be.
Joy Apr 2020
T all grapevines entwine with the
O verhead wires and lead to
U nwilling leaves now home to a
G iant green guest with the
H olographic horrifying eyes.

T roubled dreams the bug is dreaming.
I mpossible luck keeps it away from
N earby spider webs and
Y ellow giant villains.

T angled in untangled thoughts of
H orrid dreams of hope
I t sits on its green leaf and is
N ow watching flowers bloom.
G ratefullness swells its tiny heart.
Escapril 2020
Bhill Apr 2020
chaos has a silver lining
don't be afraid and quit your whining
we're all in this, at the very same time
we will get through this but it's a tough climb
wash your hands, don't touch your face
distant yourself and keep the pace
the bug won't win if we do what it takes
let's kick it's *** and put on it's brakes

Brian Hill - 2020 # 95
We can do this.
Elsie Plum Mar 2020
You won’t read my words because I flounder in them
I’m lost or something
It’s clear and just as boring as the ones who
Pretend to be
So I wrote this dumb thing trying to say I’m better than them and nobody knows it but me
It’s the truth!
Anybody’s truth is theirs to hold
They believe they’re just like me
So they are just like me
They hold themselves above all else
The difference is that they strive for truth
and count the tallies that make truths truthier
There are moments I’m truly miserable but does that really make me better than others
Or just a whiny ***** that can’t pull myself together after nothing really happens at all. Who am I to say  
My nose itches and I’m far away from home yet laying in bed like I’m so warm
Is everybody else crazy or is it me
I stole that
8:19 am
Star BG Dec 2019
Ink is the heroine and pen the needle that moves guided by my fever. The ink pulsates within transmuting into words and phrases. My heart expands racing with visions. The side effect... a written poem that perhaps will give some peace. Peace from my addiction to live before it starts all over again. It is an addiction many a poet had to fight over centuries. Their lesson let it flow let it grow.
I wrote this in response to Suzanne Berlinsky response to my other poem Writing Bug (part one)  Thanks
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