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Siyana Oct 11
If I were a boy, you'd like me so.
I wouldn't feel sad about the way you let me go...
If I were a boy, you'd hold my hand in public,
you wouldn't worry about what the rest of the world thinks...
If I were a boy, we'd be together right now..
You wouldn't be with him, and my heart wouldn't make a sound...
If only I were a boy...
Nadia Oct 7
Neighbourhood bash
In a flash
We dashed
We splashed
Garbage thrashed
and cached
We conquered trash
To earn our sash
See you at the rehash
Poets are an interesting bunch,
All half mad at least.
I say I love poetry
When the words tear me up inside,
Stealing every breath.
I say it soothes me
Even as it burns me,
Begging to be released.
"We all know we're crazy," I say.
"But we choose this life
Because we can't live without the fever dreams
Or syllables controlling our every move."
The non-poet stares at me,
Uncomprehending.
Poetria Sep 22
(i)

i can learn how you verse, how you speak

but my tongue holds no honey as sweet

then to speak, linearity i seek

still, in poetry my colour won't bleed

yes indeed, i decieve to be seen;

my tongue will take lifetimes to heal

(ii)

now you see: i unravel, revealed

half-strange and a weapon, my speech

but i practiced pretense to be near

my defence for the self that i fear

so you see: i am only part here

in these pieces, i'll never be real
this poem was born from a journal entry i was writing, that was explaining my first journal entry in more detail.
Sciresen Sep 8
We bask in the burning sun no longer shadowed by trees or softened by layers of cloud and dust. We relish the heat and gloat of our strength.

"I can bare the sun."

"Look how weak its rays dart forth."

The palm tree dries its delicate arms, and the willow falls with a final exhalation.

Man doth need no shade, for a strong man weathers the sun. A great mountain boasts before the wailing shimmer, and the roses soak up the heat at their leisure.

"I am my own person."
"I am strong and independent."
"I don't need anyone."

But the roses cry without the rain, and the mountain crumbles before the trembling earth below.

The sun withers them all alike. It burns the fields and torches cities. It churns and wails and scorches the lilies.

Oh man. Poor man. How do you plead? For you built no well you lonely sinner. You lie in pain, but you cut down your shade.

You need the sun. You need the rain. You need the shelter, the friend, and the pain.

The rose was born for your pleasure and the sun to keep you warm.

So, sob in the rain, but the palm was born for shelter. Burn in the heat, but the willow reaches out.
As an American, I know who deeply ingrained independence is in our culture. We live and breath for the strongest individualism. We uphold the self-made man. We praise the single mother who made it all on her own. And these are wonderful success stories, but they should bring us to tears!

As an American who travels a lot and has lived in multiple communal cultural contexts, I understand the need for one another. I understand the baffled looks when I explain Americans habits to pay each other back to the cent. I understand the pain in my friend's hearts when they hear me talk about the beauty of a strong and independent American. They hurt. They see pain for me. They see immense loss for my American brothers and sisters. How could anyone want to be so independent?

As a guy who met a girl, who thought he loved a girl, who was told by this girl after dating for some time that she was "just too independent - always having one foot in and one foot out - afraid of commitment - wanting to make her own way in life..." I understand the pain too.

I am the willow of this story. Millions of people in Asian and African cultures would see themselves as the willow in this story. And my poem is to Western culture. More specifically, to America. Most specifically, to you.
shamamama Sep 12
So What Exactly is Permaculture?

may not look like much to you
the messy garden,
a **** might look ready to pull out, you see it
cover the kale,
however it serves as a magnet for the beneficials,
the ones keeping vigilance
over  caterpillars
who love eating
dark leafy greens

permaculture
penned from Bill Mollison (cocreating with David Holmgren)
the genius behind the word and the
understanding of “permanent agricultural system” hence permaculture
harmonious integration of landscape
and people
with sustainability at root of it

coining the term, after spending time in nature
and wanting to mimic nature  on the farm
it's all about relationship
it's all about respect
“Care of earth-and all life systems,
care of people
setting limits to population and consumption,
cooperation, not competition is the very basis of  existing
life systems and their survival”

why is that tree towering over that funny looking bean?
she is madre de cacao
mother of chocolate, planted over the cacao
trees giving shade and protection as chocolate grows
sweetly in shadow of mama glyrcidia

we welcome worms,
we welcome toads,
wasps do sting, but carry off caterpillars
even centipedes as long as they live in the garden
(please don't come in the house)

How did that small hill get there?
oh, the hugelkultur?
the place where we buried bent spoons,
broken buckets, rotten 2 x 4s,  piles of sticks,
and tennis shoes that flap,
cardboard, large logs,
pillows with no life, and the like, then
covered with soil and planted trees atop
We threw and grew it there

When we mulch, how muchling the chickens love the mulching
They kick and the spray all the mulch away,
Till bare naked sits the soil around the new tree
So, we love the coconut fronds we layer on top of
our pile, leaflets bind round their ankles –no more
kung fu chicken kicking straw

Community plantings,
as seen in forests layerings, moss and ferns at the bottom,
seem to naturally come when conditions just right
just the right moisture and temp,
invites next layers of herbs, low plants,
small trees then large trees
then the overstory
forest garden

Thank you  Mr. Mollison
For your observations and sharings
May you rest in the garden of peace
Bill Mollison passed away Sept. 24, nearly 3 years ago. Homage to his genius, and love of nature and humanity
To all the kids from 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, and all the others who were told they're to young to be a poet.

To all the theatre kids who can't sing but do it anyway

To all the people who post vines, memes and jokes on here.

To all the people who post poems while they're in class, or in the middle of the night.

To all the people who are open and proud about their sexuality and gender.

To all the closeted people who still post poetry about it.

To all the people who quote songs, movies and musicals.

To all the people who post the conversations they have with their friends.

To all the people who were told they're bad at writing, bur do it anyway because they like to.

To all the people who are unsure about their writing.

To all the people who support all these kind strangers online.

To all the people who support all poetry, no matter what gender/age/sexuality the person has that wrote it.

To all the artists that wanted to try something new.

To all the people who have known this site for years.

To all the people who are new here.

To every poet I haven't called out,

You make this community even better. I love you.
Y'all are amazing and valid, I love you.
CKute Sep 2
Is it real or is it fake, whatever it is, it's a mistake.
Am I still living or am I just barely alive.
Everything seems so fragile and dangerous like the edge of a knife.

Do I make the right decision or should I just submit to total submission.
Do you value my words or will anyone else, what even is that question if I don't even do it myself.

There's nothing left to lose and the emptiness inside me is still growing, which might be a good thing, cause it makes it easier to choose.
I could search for something or someone nice or just continue to live in this world of disguise.
But I really feel like it doesn't matter, I just hope that it someday gets a little better.

Despite all this negativity around and within me, I know that life can be worth living and just as breathtaking as watching the sun sinking into the sea.
Dealing with depressions and mood swings isn't easy and sometimes hard to explain, I just pray that my last bits of hope for change will still remain.
I just want my feelings to be free and finally get rid of this aching agony.
The rage, the grace, and the ferocity in between,
This relationship promised, to be nothing but pristine,
Calling out to me desperately, yearning to meet,
Now this is a bond, to which I could always retreat.

There it goes navigating, through the undergrowth,
Creating dense and lush bonds, tied by an eternal oath,
A stream giving life, to everything in its path,
This is a land that lives, beyond the clusters’ aftermath.

The stream takes us, to the hinterlands of civilization,
Technology absent, in the face of more than one distraction,
The blood red soil, furnishing the steady stilt houses,
This is where humanity comes to life, in many disguises.

Ambition stronger, than a finely brewed espresso,
A life seeped in tradition, transcends the status-quo,
Manifesting in the coffee, that shoulders the community,
The elements convene here daily, with sincere loyalty.
This piece is a dedication to wonders of nature and communities, often indigenous to those lands, that are so well integrated within the comforting confines of mother nature. Although the inspiration for this comes from many sources, it particularly refers to many elements of Laos – a country in Southeast Asia.
CKute Aug 7
I am an empty body with no feelings, it feels like my emotions are beneath tons of sealings.
I can't laugh, I can't cry, I just want to say good bye.
I've been hurt, used and left alone, now writing this text while listening to a sad tone.

I have no purpose, no meaning. My Life feels like a nightmare which I am eternally dreaming.
I can't wake up, cause I am not asleep. Everything feels so unreal but yet hurts so deep.
I am locked in my room, I can't see the sun, cause my curtains are closed and so am I, just waiting for the day I die.

  I have nobody around, cause everyone just leaves me at some point and I guess that's fine, as I am dropping a tear in my glass of wine.
I want to go out and live my life, but I have no strength or any motivation.
I rather sit here the entire day and question my creation.

I hate nobody, but that's me. As I am hating myself the nobody.
I can't even think straight or logically anymore, as my heart feels so sore.
I was trying to escape negativity, but it always caught up.
I wasn't fast enough and at some point I've stopped moving.
I've accepted my life, I know it will not change as I am finally giving up on this hope I held.
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