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Makenzie Marie Sep 2019
Forgive yourself
We all get let down sometimes
Maybe you let someone else down
Maybe they let you down, too.
Hand in hand with uncommunicated expectations.

And it doesn’t have to be one person’s fault.
Carl D'Souza Jul 2019
Is civility
a good-willed politeness
to other people?

Is the benefit of being civil
to a person I disagree with
that I maintain
my joy and happiness
and the other person’s joy and happiness?
Aaron L Osgood Jun 2019
My friend has a baby and she's crying on the phone
She called me up in the park sitting all alone
Telling me about her problems as I'm writing this poem
Not every family show love to their child yet we still complain
About not having everything we wanted we can't relate the pain
A young girl thought her family loved her then a baby came
The baby smiled when he notice the family but don't feel the change
He's too young to understand life as things evolve it's never the same
Now the young girl became a young mother and her mother is ashamed
The young mother has a lot on her brain her son, the struggle, and a lot of blame
Life seems to get heavy if you can't release the stress
If you decide to commit suicide then you failed the test
The young mother is planning to leave with her baby from the nest
Everyday she's talked down in ways i didn't believe
Her mother told her the life she's living now she wont achieve
The things the young mother told me now I see why she has to leave
——————————— 
Since I'm a good friend like no other I actually care
I pushed my problems to the side and told her I'll be there
She never cried on the phone with me before so I had to go
I washed up, put my clothes on, and walked out the door
We chilled, We talked, We Walked back and forth
She took me on a journey of her life from then to now
I don't know how she could still breath...the pain she allowed
A strong young woman with a beautiful son....
 
Aaron Osgood
I wrote this for a friend in the 2010. Then she realized she was pregnant and sometimes family don’t agree. I have not spoken to her in a while.

This was copied from fb page.
Colten Sorrells Jan 2019
baby all I wanna do
is try and get along with you
why do we have to fuss and fight?
can't figure out, it's just not right

I know I slept in kinda late
I'm sorry, I don't feel so great
I'm trying to change the way I feel
but you just don't see the appeal

I can't be still, I can't be lazy
and you look at me  like I'm crazy
or worse, like it's some kind of crime
to build myself and **** some time

I'm sorry that I can't sit still
it's just the way I have to deal
I go too far, I get obsessed
but if I don't, I get depressed

at least, if I work out a bit
I won't feel like a *******
lie to myself, at least that way
I had a good, productive day

and if I went to meditate
at least, I got my thinking straight
but with all this, you're just annoyed
with everything that brings me joy

can we start over?
baby, please
I love you
I don't wanna leave
but when you
start to act this way
it really pushes me away

can't play guitar,
can't take a ***
without you finding fault with me
and that's just how
you make me feel
I gotta doubt if you're for real

so tell me, baby
what did I do?
I'm trying so hard to get along with you
don't wanna go,
I wanna stay,
but I feel like we need some space

to meditate,
to cook and clean,
to work off nervous energy
why does it have to cause a fight?
and cut into my sleep at night?
my anxiety, ADHD, and bipolar are all ******* with me at the same time today. Sorry if I'm getting on your nerves, I'm really trying to get my **** together.
SimpleWritings Dec 2018
one of the hardest things in life
is to simply accept someone
for who they are

one of the easiest things in life
is to strongly hate them
for not being able to change

choosing the hard one
will help you grow

choosing the easy one
will help you destroy

but what if accepting someone
for who they are means loving them
more than loving yourself?

what if accepting someone
for who they are means accepting
violent hellos and condescending goodbyes?

06/06/2011
Erin C Ott Jun 2018
She says she doesn’t have the strength within herself to write poetry.
Yes, her. The one who so often nourished me with song
til my soul began to learn how to hunt for itself,
whose word carried weight in leading me to pick my own instrument,
albeit one of a different tone,
as the key in keyboard became prominent for the first time
and the sound of purposeful fingers upon it could be considered,
only in the right light,
synonymous to the plucking of strings, just as rooted in emotion.

Yet she's the first to say that she herself can't do it.

Thing is, I suppose we’re politely at odds on the matter.
She favors poetry that’s sharper, with a cleaner cut,
that’s message is immediate and jarring
as a conduit running from soul through skin,
or a loose-lipped diary finally freed from lock and key.
And when she declared it, I started to consider what my poems seem to me:
Blackberry bushes (but kinder, I hope)
that snag and immerse just long enough
to make me feel I’ve had an effect.
I’ve used writing to expel my most gnarled feelings
to any passerby who’s maybe felt the same.
Like crying in a mirror:
alarming, but oddly refreshing,
and an indefinite reminder that our aches are never only our own.

Still, I'm not sure why it blows my mind
to hear that even the most glamorous hearts,
who wear confidence as a summer breeze that's always in their favor
and who inspire, from beau gestures to sleight of hand,
are included in those who find themselves pacing back, back and forth,
begging curbside at the dime store
for a scrap of the same feed that convinces a heart to pump ink.

But she says that any art that's enjoyed is worth it.
So while she seeks out words that bare the bones,
I’ll stay and make a meal of the marrow,
hollowing them so that the poetry may have a rightful place
to reverberate as hymns in a universal monastery.

But hell, like I’m any old soul.
I dress nicer than I otherwise would,
turn to the mother who told me I don’t meet her lowest standards,
and ask for a critique.
All for the moment when she greets me at the door with a legendary G#.

...Now please, could you spare a dime?
Dedicated to Elise, who, when faced with my tangled mouthful of flattery, somehow saw through to the part of me that’s actually worth a ****.
George Krokos Jan 2018
It's a place where you would rather not be
engaged in a quarrel and unable to agree.
Between two strangers or with one you know
in a display of words disagreement to show.

A sad state of affairs and opposite of harmony
usually about something they did not foresee.
Ending with both parties not seeing eye to eye
and very often it's without a clear reason why.

It could be one taking more and giving back less
to the other who considers the matter in distress.
Or perhaps ignoring to do what should be done
in our duty to one another that incurs a bad run.

If a lack of trust or deception has been at play
there are suspicions that don't easily go away.
'Honesty's the best policy' known and cherished
without this relationships only end up perished.

Especially when there are two interests at stake
one against the other much trouble they'll make.
Keep away from being at loggerheads if you can
as it may end up in a fight with your fellow man.
_____
Written early Dec. 2017.
Amber C Aug 2017
the silence was never there.

thick, thin, a continuous disturbance—
created by one of us in a fragile ice skate dance
you sigh and the air swallows it
while i am left to watch if i do the same
or break

thick, thin, a feverish disturbance—
almost as fast as lightning, a broken trance
has me hurling hurtful words, an argument that cannot win
you point out the flaw in my ways

thick, thin, descriptive of skin—
your steps i will not to follow, a path
i do not want to take
a calm exterior is what i fake
to keep the composure i've powdered on

thick, thin, a relationship between suns—
stars that never go out
flares that never end
heat that never really shushes
in the silence of space

thick, thin, a wire we walk on—
tired and aching, we balance
we balance, angrily, fists in *****
sadness washes over us in rain drops
on a tightrope that never ends
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