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kylie Mar 2020
he is a tattered heart with blood-stained teeth. he needs you to be silk sheets and a pink sunrise, but you are neither of those things. rather, you are canvas constructed of guilt and hot desire. he ruins his ****** hands down your neck, your *******, your thighs. you learn to love the taste of all the hurt he's caused because it's

all for you.

he needs you to be a proper woman, strong and dignified with rose petal cheeks and a bounteous womb, but you are nothing more than a glutton, consuming every spewed whimper born through impatient fingers grasping at his royal bones. you dig your nails into his flesh, you burn constellations into his back, you make sure his eyes are closed.

you are nothing that he needs, but you are everything right now. you wear the revelation like a drunken king adorns a crown: with pride, with arrogance, without feeling its weight. you straddle his waist and sink onto a throne made for a worthier queen. there is red hot blood in his veins, golden ichor in yours—you are not of the same world. the stars rattle when he breathes your name.

they die out when he considers how you are not the one they should be burning for.
PiLomus Jan 2020
Thousands of words with,
Diverse meaning.
Convene together,
to releate a feeling.
Twist them little,
they will make bleed.
Twist them more,
and there spring a new creed.

An ocean of sounds,
But none ascribe me.
To embellish a constant ramble,
voices starts to play scramble

In this expanding tangle.
How to become amble,
like a perennial flow.
Words are finding,
their true meaning pretty slow.

Dreaming an oasis in the dessert of differences.
A world where inferences,
spread beyond the sky
So one can converse the language of I.
Sometimes words can't express what one wants to say.
MSunspoken Jan 2020
I may be mute but I can promise you this,
I know better than most,
of this long dark abyss

I watch from afar,
all the mistakes that you make
-
and how you hastily cover them
adding icing on the cake

Though I may not be perfect
and my throat is made of ice,
I have a voice of silk,
simple yet precise

A house made of brick
I stand strong in the presence ,
of the tiny cardboard cookie-cutters
-
built weak without foundations

so kiss my hands
and bow at my feet,
bending to my will\
and admitting your defeat
Nina Oct 2019
When I'm on my phone,
I'd stop what I'm doing
Just to reply to your messages first
And if I'm away,
Your text messages are the first that I'd reply to
But sadly
That's not the case when it comes to you
Since i know you're always on your phone
But I'm the last person you'd reply to
And I'd have to wait til the next time you look at it again in order to get a reply
See that's the difference
You're my first priority
But I'm not even a priority to you
Ju Temo Oct 2019
It seems our friendship ends here,
My friend
Let’s split this orange in two
Keep your half and don’t share it
Nothing left we want to mix together.
It has always been coming quietly
Probably from the moment we shook hands
The time has now arrived
Even as we try to elongate our texts
Force our voices with concern
Still waiting for the exit

We knew from the second
We walked different paths
That the ground would tremble,
And the cracks rise.
The gap has been widening
As the sun and moon switch places
Even if we ignore it and
Throw a smile across the divide.

The pretense now
Makes my skin crawl
Escape from this strange web
Coating around us is urgent
I know you have your stuff under hands
And want to keep them away from me
Here,
I’ll give it all to you on a gold platter.

But for some reason it won’t cross the table
It’s frozen to the touch,
I cannot get it over.
Unwilling to put down our dignity
Laid on the napkin exposed to the other
Making this process extend
Pulling out without an end

Continuously balancing
The thin string wobbling into the dark
Struggling as I carry memories on my back
Missing pieces increasing its weight
As it slips down I wonder who you are
Grudges I thought buried
Now splitting through the earth

It seems our friendship ends here,
My friend
The air has grown too toxic to breathe
I can no longer see you through the divide
Let us not even try and leave it at that.
Who will be the one to say it first?
Just look around for an excuse
Drop a bubble of silence
Hoping to set off a bomb of meaning
Nobody has to take responsibility
Let us escape.

Laughs abounding while
We crossed the dark streets
Now mock me
Showing only unknowing youth
There to fill a space where
I now realize you were thin air.
As fleeting as a passing joke
An initiation for the future..
What I thought was so tight
Loosened itself at a touch
And left the past at the back
As we walk through the tunnel.

Time has passed by
And swallowed us whole
Still falling down its’ throat
Passing by brief glimpses of moonlight
It’s dark sides showing up at my face
Always changing paths
I won’t hand you the compass
As I land at on my feet,
I want to enjoy the walk without you
Dusk is setting down on the streets
I see we are on opposite sides
Of the sun glazed windows

No longer able to meet each other’s gaze
Through the bright shine
Shut mouths full of words
That weigh on our tongues
The coat now fits us well,
Straightened out on our shoulders
Should now be able to walk
Pass by each other with a nod

It seems our friendship ends here,
My friend
Let’s buy two different train tickets
We don’t want to join the other
The seat beside me will be reserved.
But nothing is going past my lips
Let’s hurry up, the bell is ringing
Exchange phrases of good wishes
Both curious of our destinations
We’re adults now
Let’s board and leave
Ju Temo' is a freelance poet that is inspired by songwriting. All other poems can be seen at: www.feelapoem.com
Nadia Jul 2019
City trees, weak and stunted,
bear relentless mockery by
country and wild cousins,
though everyone agrees that
suburban trees are least
esteemed, paltry excuses
overcompensating for their
deficits in diversity (of size or
shape) with excess pageantry

The enlightened ones, city and
suburban, wave manicured
tips, speaking in whispered
thrums - how relieved they are
not to be unprotected forest
trees, in constant danger of the
ravages of capitalism and neglect

The forest trees laugh at their
ignorant cousins - they know
the freedom of the wild places
where true peace can be found;
they will gladly face the danger
proudly rooted, in wild ground

The older trees, between naps,
wheeze of many, many
springtimes ago, of cleaner air
and bigger trees, of simpler
lives and clearer skies and
creatures long since gone;
they know change will come,
And change will go, and
Still they will root on

NCL July 2019
Eloisa Sep 2019
I earned your contempt just
because I did not march to your music.
You sentenced me to hell
because I did not sing with you.
You even questioned my social philosophy
and even my religious conviction.
I will not ever return the hate and the contempt.
But however many holy words you speak, read, write and believe; it is useless unless you value human service and kindness.

To teach, to help a stray animal, to smile and assist a stranger, to work for your family, to plant trees, to give to the needy—these activities do not need explanation about theology.
Every one of these just needs anyone of us,
as humans—to reach out, to give a lending hand,
to care and to believe in the existence of faith and humanity.

I had mistakes, wrong choices, troubles, failures, losses and fears in the past that taught me lessons and flared my passion
to seek spiritual guidance.
I went astray but I listened to my inner voice that helped me back on track.
I’d still probably be in the darkness had I not known how to cultivate my emotional side.
The guides, the path, the doors
will be different for all of us.
But a lot of our spiritual encounters happen in the ordinariness of our daily life.

My spiritual moments have not just happened when I closed my eyes.
They happened when I cuddled my kindergarten students in school and when I watched the water flows in the river
and the birds sing.
They continue to happen when I do long distance parenting and do  
my duty as a mother,
when I smile and greet my neighbors
and even when I admire colors everywhere.

The world has many colors my dear,
beautiful colors and I have the profoundest respect to even the bleakest and the lightless.
Let us be inspired by the plants who come together and thrive peacefully in a garden.
Let’s see beyond our beliefs and differences and embrace each other’s colors and uniqueness to add beauty to our existence.
My friend, the way we give the gifts of faith, humanity, kindness, friendship and love to the people around us is how we save the world.
This is my simple religion. There is no need for temples; no need for complicated philosophy. Our own brain, our own heart is our temple; the philosophy is kindness.
Dalai Lama

It is wonderful how much time good people spend fighting the devil. If they would only expend the same amount of energy loving their fellow men, the devil would die in his own tracks of ennui.
Helen Keller
Yeah I know, you care
I appreciate it
But you don't fully understand me
You're not capable
That's not a slight on you
It's a fact
I don't blame you
For what you give is special
But I'm more than any one can handle
And you've a lot of learning to do
To perceive as I do
You probably don't want to
Who would?
But you're as necessary as me
That doesn't mean we should marry
Nothing's so simple
That's the point - I'm complex
But you call it unstable
No - I have mastered me
And you're still just a baby
Don't ask me to goo when I Gah
I don't ever want to go back down
The pain remembers
So venture forth
But don't rely on me
I'm not your baby
But I still love you
I just don't mistake attachment for love
Let's hope
Not anymore
Love is higher, farther
I pray for the future
Not just the now
I have needs
Too
Who can fulfill them?
Not-a-me, Not-a-yoo!
Fear of lack / FOMO limits us more than not accepting limits does.
Jay M Sep 2019
He's got the sweetest eyes
Chocolate brown hair
Sweetest little smile
That lasts a while

I've got sad eyes
Brown hair
Weird little smile
That easily slips away...

Is it too much to ask
To just be thought of?
To feel the fondness
In return?
I guess the problem is;
I'm not the girl
Anyone would dream of.

- Jay M
September 18th, 2019
Ki Danshaku Sep 2019
She...she responds to a soothing bath.
He...he prefers a different path.

They each disrobe from the day's affairs,
the formal restraints they each do share.

Their clothes lay scattered about the floor,
both stand naked at a tiled shore.

She eases herself into this sleeve,
a temperate knitted liquid weave.

He guides the stream from it’s perched spout,
the water finding the perfect route.

His face is wet, his eyes are shut tight.
She prefers ambient candle-light.

She gently sponges her supple skin.
He grips the soap...oh, so masculine.

She contemplates his rugged terrain,
he puts his hands out to feel the rain.

His caress yields a lathery foam,
her fingers begin a downward roam.

He too diverges, or so rather,
deviates from the task to lather.

Much attention in just one region,
cleaning can’t motivate this legion.

His thoughts of her, and her thoughts of him,
nothing stops what’s about to begin.

Tremors start from her head to her toes,
a smile blossoms as she plateaus.

He feels the pressure stiffly increase,
it brings to him an immense release.

She savours the last rippling quiver.
His knees weak from such an endeavour.

They catch their breath, and resume their chores,
have they been remiss in these detours?

Excuse the news they misuse shampoos,
they choose to amuse with such taboos.

One can’t ignore in the aftermath: he takes showers
... and she takes a bath.
Written by request for an anthology of like-topic stories.
This poem is dedicated to the molar mass of 18, and is 18 syllables wide and 18 sentences tall.
This is my one and only poem.

'One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do
Two can be as bad as one
It's the loneliest number since the number one'
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