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Teyah Nichole Jul 18
Me and my journal
Got those old country blues.
Turns out,
White hot heat
Doesn’t make
for a 'Brown River, Smile'.

So,
    I cried some.

Then bought eggs. And flour.
And sugar. And butter, for cake

    And made one.  

Because young life during hard times
In old country
Isn’t left with much else
to do–

    Just make something beautiful
    And hope to get through.
Came to me after crying into a cake I baked for not apparent reason.
I S A A C Jul 13
modern monarchs, recorded in technicolor
think its real, but its cake
think its real, but its fake
under the guise of god’s fate
modern monarchs, makeshift mothers
desperation at stake
where are all the fathers
under the guise of god’s fate, we falter
Ylzm Jun 29
It'll speak to you when you wake
Thus I wallow long in bed
Till I hear and duly feed
Then I'll rise and eat the cake

It'll speak to you when you wake
Even at times before bed
Then you're waiting as dawn peeks
To run with no time for cake

It'll speak to you when you wake
But ignore it before bed
In nightmares it'll haunt your sleep
Till you walk and forgo cake

It'll speak to you when you wake
Why study when time for bed
Books are weary but sleep's sweet
Thus you'll eat and keep the cake

It'll speak to you when you wake
If not you'll despise your bed
To roam and ceaselessly seek
For real food and not the cake
LC Mar 21
a frosting-filled slice
eaten one day is a treat -
fluffy, sweet, luxurious.

eaten every day -
nails encrusted with frosting,
cloying, drained, decayed.
These are my reflections on social media - in two haikus.
Anais Vionet Nov 2021
The storm is over - no, not last week’s nor’easter - midterms. I hope you survived.

New England seems to be one, big, storm-of-the-month club. Campus is 5 minutes from Long Island Sound and I like to go watch the mesmerizing roil of the ocean when a storm’s rolling in.

The choppy hazel undulations, opaque as enamel, seem to coil-up - then suddenly slap the shoreline breakers as if testing their resolve. The wind whipped salt-water patterns, like folds of linen. The wind and salt water mist in your face feels as sharp and violent as glass shards.

The sun occasionally pierces the clouds like a knife strike only to be healed in moments. The whole scene is beautiful, immense and uncontrollable - like eating cake by the ocean. (song reference).
Where i lived, in Georgia was nowhere near the beach
Wedding Cake

I’m waiting for the day that I can shove wedding cake in your mouth
Eighteenth part....
Raven Feels Apr 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, don't hide it---we miss them:|


me being a runaway flying in the black hinges

  soaring in the twinkling skies

I crave you as a hungry wolf that knows no boarders of freedom

in there in the shady street

as I dive into my vulnerability you sense my need

you sense my desperation

its like you read my locked lines

among the flowers of the highs

in the publicity of tamed crimes

you have me

running on rage

screaming on blades

the cake comes and you appear none

lying down

hating the crowds

the bargaining weight of these suicidal sounds

where are you???

nowhere to be found

leave me in yells when the time ends and dwells

this is a first in a hell

do you intend to choke me to death again???

it is me who you pressed undamned on your wided chest

and carried it all away in a mild stance

when no one dares

to a slightest bare of your cans or cares

don't forget me still not lying

still breathe for your touch

and your essence on that spot

just tell me where

and my heart will voluntarily beware

to be awaiting a hold of torments in the bliss of fair

when you mindlessly gear

affording to disappear

a night changes its shades into a million gleams

you seem to draw on my warm sheers


                                                                                        ------ravenfeels
Kieran Messer Apr 2021
Sat before a cake, I ponder
What life has stored me yet:
Trains delayed;
A mortgage repaid;
Perhaps a holiday, or two.

Entrapped by colourful balloons,
But certainly not grounded,
I look forward,
Though seldom back.

I look forward,
In pleasure;
In fear;
Nonetheless in hope.

Hope that we all emerge
From behind closed doors,
Safe as the houses in which we have stayed;

Hope that there's a role for me
In a company,
In my society,
In our world;

Hope that love embraces me
And shows the way
To a better love,
A better life;

Hope...
That this cake actually
Tastes rather nice.

I should probably start on the cake.
It looks scrummy.
Wait... I'm 21 now? ****.
Simon Mar 2021
They once said that "a piece of cake, is a slice at the beginning your life"...
But is that even true...at the very most end of the spectrum, from which your heart beckons too the very mind that surpluses the very objects (from which is can't find itself in the mess of truthful results), that begin to truly shame the result of even trying to piece things together, time after time...?
NO!
Which are exactly why things don't need to be remembered from right off the bat.
That's because a piece of cake is the truthfully defining reach from which we can't solve the very most bottom remedy from straight out from under our very heartstrings. Heartstrings in the very form of how our very life began. When you were too busy fighting objections too win over your very mind's eye (at the very center of opportunity itself)!
Basically, the very end results, begin with a single fraction of those very "to-do" list heartstrings...that don't truly account for the most interesting of logical finds. Simply put, it literally calls forth (the very claim of one's own arrival) at the very hands of remembering what it was truly like too live again!
Except, when you tasted the very cake that belonged deep in your own heart.
And a heart that is truly beginning anew, again. But with a twist, you see....
Nothing is really the same, after from which you taste this newly found piece of cake, that slices off one end of its own self...and disregards the rest, after the final aftertaste had reclaimed it's own glory.
This is mostly because you think you feel what the mind's eye REJECTS the claim like a chronic storm of results for the such displeasurable spectrum.
Now you know when you slice a piece of cake at the very end of one's own life, and take that slice at the very beginning newly found account...for it is a truly newer start at the very beginning of something entirely new.
A such tasty treat for a definite psychological and philosophical and emotional hunting trip full of joy!
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