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M Vogel Jul 22
I see you  in the layers
between the layers--

One,  stacked atop
of the other,   but none
losing their God-given, loft

I see your tears--  watering
a Universe,  parched..
.
Wanting to say  that it
knows,  the true color of  rain
or the difference  between  

good..
and the bad,  kind of pain.

I reach  for you
and you dissolve..  evaporate--

like you were never, mine.
Were you ever,  mine?
my beautiful Tristen--
the last  shall be first <3
"It's just a thought."
"It's just an image."
But still I make the demanded pilgrimage.
A triple lock.
A double check,
Compulsive look under the bed.
Oh, how strange!
Silly me!
Yet, I go.
I must repeat.
Therapist says I have OCD.
preston Dec 2020

"From the days of John the Baptist until now,
the kingdom of heaven has been advancing forcefully..
and the violent, seize it by force."

--Jebs

ahem..

By 'his scrawny little neck' she grabs him
and  pulls  Him,  from  his  Throne--
"******' know it all..  he don't know ****.."
blurts out  she--

the all-seeing,  ever defining one.

The paint on her war-brush
is the blackest of blacks..
as she  brands  me for

      the  o r b it i ng   of her
      that  I  so clearly  lack


And an ability that is all hers,
not mine--
      The one, self-given..
      the  power  to define.

And, she wonders where mine came from;
me-- who was once a mother's son..
As I  ******  the grown-up  a l l  of me
into every  unhealed  part of her
      that  f e e l s   just like dear-old Mom.


I was young once, my beautiful
helplessly.. (almost hopelessly)  subject,  to it all
        --but no more,   my sweet
          ever-painting,  honeybee..
That black, babe-- it don't stick
                         no,  not no more.


Ah, Baby..
   ...   can you hear me..?


For forty days and nights Pete rode and did not stop
till he sat high upon an icy mountaintop
He watched the hawk on a desert updraft, slip and slide

Moved to the edge..
and dug his spurs  deep into his pony's side

Some say Pete and his pony vanished over the edge,
and some say they remain frozen--
high up on that icy ledge.

The young Navajo girl washes in the river,  skin so fair
and braids a piece of Pete's buckskin chaps into her hair

I'm Outlaw Pete..
Outlaw Pete,

-- can you hear me?
https://youtu.be/CKJtyeidL7Y
M Vogel Dec 2020

"From the days of John the Baptist until now,
the kingdom of heaven has been advancing forcefully..
and the violent, seize it by force."


--Jebs


ahem..

By 'his scrawny little neck' she grabs him
and pulls Him,  from his Throne--

"Fucken know it all..  he don't know ****.."

blurts out  she--
the all-seeing,  ever defining one.


The paint on her war-brush
is the blackest of blacks..

as she  brands  me for

the  orbiting  of her 
                          that I

    most clearly,  lack.


And an ability that is all hers,
not mine--

The one, self-given:
the power,  to define.

And, she wonders where mine came from;
me-- who was once a mother's son..

As I  ******  the grown-up  a l l  of me
into every single part of her

     that feels,  just like mom.


I was young once, my beautiful
helplessly.. (almost hopelessly)  subject  to it all

   --but no more,  my sweet
     ever-painting, honeybee.



That black, babe-- it don't stick;
no, sweet love..   no,
no   not no more;

Ah, Baby..

can you hear me
can you hear me??

...   can you hear me..?


Some say Pete and his pony vanished over the edge..
some say they remain frozen high up on that icy ledge.

The young Navajo girl washes in the river,  skin so fair
and braids a piece of Pete's buckskin chaps into her hair.

I'm Outlaw Pete..
Outlaw Pete,

can you hear me?
https://youtu.be/CKJtyeidL7Y
Graff1980 Nov 2020
I cannot seem to write
without rhyming.

It is not a simple matter
of timing
but has become
my mental wiring.

I find other
non-rhyming
poets so inspiring
so deeply
neurally
firing,
sparking
inspiration.

But my brain
has lost the ability
to make any poetry
without playing with
rhymes.
Francie Lynch Oct 2020
"Write, edit, re-write.
Post, edit, repost."
My finger prints are fading fast;
I thought they were here to last.
They used to linger where I'd please;
I've lost them now on laptop keys.
Adi N Sep 2020
Hello cosmos,
I ask for forgiveness
for every act of compulsiveness.
Chad Young Sep 2020
I have five appendages: head, arms, and legs.
More complex than oneness: what of the
six joints of every leg and arm, or the seven vertebra of the neck?
Thus, looking at the body becomes more and more complex
until I revert back to where my body evolved from a single-
celled organism, which in turn came from water.

Emotions are like appendages, there are also five simple emotions.
Looking at them react together is very complex to follow each motion.

Then, to complete the divine triangle: body, emotion, and, knowledge, which is born of unification.
Virtue are singularities of all three together.

Spirit is service,
compulsion is a virtue of youth and vitality.
It is excess of enjoyment. It knows
less limits and adheres to less stillness.
Insanity is the virtue of enjoyment that is converted
to pain: a pain for others, if not sorrow for me.

Thus, when I am continually the object of my own
insanity, it can be hidden.  But when it affects others,
it becomes mental illness.
A night of regret due to ignorance.
Fiona Jun 2020
i want to stop
checking my body,
wiggling the door ****,
counting the fatalities,
searching my symptoms,
and asking for reassurance.

i want to be able to leave,
not doubting
that i turned the straightener off,
that i shut the toilet lid,
that i locked the door.

i want to be able to sleep at night
without tapping
the doorknob
to make sure it's locked,
or else someone will break in.

i don't want to
be scared
when i see the number 13,
or be unable to
wear a certain sweater
without the fear of being sick.

but instead of staying habitual
i have become avoidant.
Wanna make a deal?
Let's make a deal.
It's just one time.
Don’t do it.
Do it one more time.
Wanna make a bet?
Turn the dial to 5
Watch what happens when you don’t listen.
But you’re gonna listen.
Why wouldn’t you?
It's just one more time.
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