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MisfitOfSociety Aug 2019
Eating the universe’s cinnamon roll,
Trying to bite into the center.
The edge is not so sweet,
But it is worth all the effort.
Derrick Jones Jul 2019
One and one does not make two
Each combination is something new
No one is quite alike you see
So one, one, and one is not three

Two and two sometimes makes four
But it can make so much more
Two and three is sometimes five
Or it can make you feel alive

People are complex
Concave and convex
Multiplicative
Distributive
Bound to perplex

So put the calculator down
Take a look all around
Equations have their use
But reduction can be obtuse

I am indivisible
I am not invisible
I can make any move
I’m a number you can’t prove
For more poetry and essays, follow my blog on Medium at https://medium.com/words-ideas-thoughts
Thanks for reading!
Regina Fable May 2019
another hull breach
most of her fortune slips away
suckled by the undercurrent
her shanties are bottlenecked messages
entangled in self-accusation
listing through distress and tide
she flags toward more sympathetic waters

love is the bright iris of balmy weather
a ballast for threadbare optimism
she makes berth in tiny lips
that pardon her insufficiency
emptiness, a welcome refuge
projected under the twinkle of satisfaction
mirroring devotion
Ylzm May 2019
flowers bloom unseen,
dolphins, at birth, swim;
elephants lived long and never forget;
butterflies’ epic round trip migration,
a transgenerational relay team.

unnecessary perfection is not;
futility is a most grievous flaw.

beauty baffles,
complexities confound;
constantly wonderful and amazing:
a language, alien to human wisdom,
secrets, inaccessible to knowledge.

a fantastic picture darkly perceived
shape and colour counts as comprehension.

but truths revealed to an innocent child.
the newbie failure complex(ity)

the poems come torrentially,
hurricane, waterfall & tornado are working adjectives
worthy of the task, yet unequal to the unlimited army
of the written dead of unread poems and poets
that occupy the nether of blog, podcast, and poetry sites,
orphan stars in the un-salvaged junkyard galaxy of verbiage

a faceless wight, once alive, now permanently dead,
we shuffle march, chanting each our own newbie poem,
onward soldiers to ignominy and glory so fleeting,
we are forgot before we are remembered

this is life in poetry,
or better yet,
the worst of it, (sigh)
this is the poetry of lives


all for nought,
nought for all,
at least we pass our prison time
in the company of fellow strugglers
poem #1
Aliah Brimhall May 2019
I am empty yet full
I see your face and hear your voice
Drained and filled
Dismal and wonderful

What is this power
And Why do you hold it
All i want to do is run
Direction unknown
I never want to forget
But i don’t want to think.

It could be over if i let it
But i don’t have that power
Time possesses that.
I don’t want it exercised

My beauty how you are the light
And the darkness
I love you and hate you
And every emotion in between

Complexity at its finest
I wrote this poem about a girl I fell in love with one summer.I hope you enjoy!
False Poets Feb 2018
complexity bias

how you love to criticize my poems
as too long and overly complex

poor me, I’m no genius, don’t prosper by exploiting
unrecognized simplicities, rather deconstruct the
intricate complexities that I flatter myself are the me-sinews

Writing is a **** temptation -
we focus on the 10% that is complex and ignore the easy 90%

perhaps this once I will surrender my bare bones
put aside the rich, satisfying of cave diving, urban spelunking
word caressing tongue verbiage rich tapestry exploring -

give you the plane of plain where nestles my destiny: nesting near motionless where the couch is my kingdom and cold cereal is
easily digested and there are no consequences

I am a member of a discriminated-against minority
we have no charismatic leader, no marchers anywhere, and government programs say
hey you’re free white and twenty one plus, get the crap out of
our faces,  you useless piece of rhymes with **** and includes dirt, though I shower twice a day to keep myself occupied

25 years old, a high school dropout, of course I’m white,
my occupation is playing video games and making sure
my supply of opioids is adequate in these great United States
where I was born

there are fewer jobs than none that my application survives
a first glance discardation, and now my disability preempts
any demand to pretend there is gainful employment in store in
my future

this reductio ad absurdum is a technique to expose the fallacy,
ah what’s that you say no interest in hanging about,
on your way out, of course, of course,
we are the wrong flavor of downtrodden

my life is simple - simplistic in its a chaotic entropic way,
order slowly declines into disorder

my rituals are a fight against slip sliding down, falling off the
the Herzog continuums
and the poems are desperate hand holds to prevent my
going, gone under

so forgive me if I tax you without possessing not the
requisite taxing authority

you hone in on the obvious disparities and my contradictions

resenting my sending you this bill of extravagant length

compose with me and a mean will be located and to sleep I go,
perhaps to undress my dreams and explicate the wealthy multiples of complexity in the simplicity of a junkies life
A woman in awe
of her complex emotions,
she’s fearful but raw.

Lies and devotions
fuel her struggle from within,
is he deserving?

She wants genuine.
Which master is she serving?
Her heart or her mind?

This is what love is.
In contradictions she’ll find
she wants to be his.

He fills up her heart
so if she makes space for doubt,
she’s scared he’ll depart.

Her feelings throughout
tell her this love is certain,
but still she’s afraid.

Behind the curtain
hide all the worries she’s made.
It’s such a pity.

What a heart can hold
exceeds its capacity.
Trusting love is bold.
Instagram @insightshurt
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
Buy "Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life" at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
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