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Cyan 6d
If I had the guts
to stand barefoot before a rolling tank,
I wonder if I’d also be concerned
about the feeling of dirt
between my toes
a little bit
less.
Hot shower in the morning
pancakes and strawberries
hot chocolate and honey
Oh, I miss doing poetry.
Fifty-one lines exactly,
Counted on my arm,
As always.
Kind of ironic,
Since I was clean.
For fifty-*******-one days.
Alexis Jul 1
and if the rules of the church
are the only way i'll get into
              "heaven"
well,
         to hell
                    with that .
Alexis Sep 8
but dear,
if we humans were only ever meant to be beautiful

we wouldn't have been born in
the dirt .
you don't need to change .
Ackerrman Sep 5
Well done,
Just like everyone,
I have my
Uniform,
My clean shirt,
My clean mind.

Getting older now,
Cold,
When lonely-
Stay clean!
Build a future
I never thought I would see.

Step back,
Step forward,
But moved,
Always moved,
Though stagnant-
Not sterile.

Focus!
Don’t drift to decay,
Stay!
In the room,
Now,
No psychosis!
Grace Haak Sep 3
it's white
so pure
so fresh
so clean
so tell me why the red that flows
looks like a scar, so mean?
it's sparkly
so fluffy
so new
so light
so tell me why the red that flows
looks just like blood, so bright?
it's racing and racing
and flowing and falling
leaves a scrape and a streak
as it runs down the peak
a strange sled of red
down a white snowy head
Makayla Aug 30
Here's my notion, poetry is mean't to be an extension of the consciousness
It's supposed to be passionate, painful, it's mean't to be felt
The sun doesn't always have to shine, but it does, the rain doesn't always have to fall, but it always does
The moon is always there, watching over us
The trees are always there, quite literally giving us life
The squirrels, the birds, the caterpillars, we tend to swat them away sometimes, but they are always there

My notion, everything outside is there, for the time being it will always be there, apart of us
Much like poetry, its an extension of the most beautifully dark places in our minds
We are passionate about never letting someone's thoughts go unheard, hence our community
But have we forgotten where we extend from?
Where we gain such beautiful ideas?
The sun. the moon, the dirt, the water
They are in pain, and in extension so are we
We feel the burn of the forests, we call it anger
We feel the death of the coral reefs, we call it grief
The connection is loud, its rough, and we are losing it
That is my notion
Cyan Aug 24
Your skin is only so deep
and can’t be cleaned beyond a centimeter
or so.

But arteries and veins run deep through thousands of miles.

And dialysis
of your bitter, liquid bits
will clean you nearly
beyond recognition.
everything is so messy,
i feel this aching pain when i'm at home, and when i'm out with friends i feel lonely.
my mind feels like my bedroom, a right off.
sure, you can tell me to clean it and i can try,
i can want to clean it but no matter how many times i shove that ***** laundry back into a pile; and no matter how many times i throw everything out,
it all comes back out sooner than later. i crave a tidy life, i tidy mind and a tidy room, but it's so hard to keep up with.
i would rather let sleep cradle me in it's gentle arms for the rest of the day, and do it tomorrow.
though, tomorrow never comes and thus my room and my mind stay the same.
a vicious, but comforting cycle.
i like it when things stay the same, i like it more than i should.
all i've had my whole life is change,
now i find comfort in static, i find comfort in knowing what's going to happen tomorrow.
i find comfort having routine even though the cycle i'm in is destructive and makes me hate myself, it's hurtfully comforting.
that doesn't make any sense but here's something that might,
feeling something is better than feeling nothing
negative or positive
maybe that's why i stick around you.
you don't help me clean, if anything you make even more of a mess, but that keeps the routine going.
i'll clean tomorrow. then turns into tomorrow. then tomorrow. then tomorrow. then...
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