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I S A A C Jan 27
I re-read the thoughts that used to plague me inside
it still hurts to see those words strung into those sentences
I can still feel the depression, I can still feel the internal divide
I can still feel like that, time to time
I re-read my trauma in a blackened ink
re-reading it making it sink in deeper, I can see clearer now
I hope that in a year I will feel the same way
about this maze, I'm in
about this cage, I'm in
maybe I will break the door down on my way back in
no longer tethered to the way that it is
instead reimagining what the day could've been
with a little more confidence, a little more trust
with a little more dominance and more sword thrusts
Poetic T Sep 2020
We spend to many fractions

taking away or adding up the

Times are incomplete,
          but we must always
divide every moment so that

everything adds up to the equal
                         breath that we aren't

in control.

But we are but numbers,

                in an equation of now.
Irakli Beria Sep 2020
You can't imagine
How glad I am
For every single meter
Walked with you


You won't be able to imagine
How I feel sorry
Early or late
Will be divided...
Alicia Moore Jun 2020
Let us change the course of our kismet
By dividing our steel tongues
amongst the crowd
And spitting upon the roots
with sonorous rage.
Inspired by the BLM movement.
Vera City May 2020
One simple phrase to tear us wide
Make us writhe and squirm
Three­ words to promise eternal hold
And leaving us aching, and sobbing to death

Make us writhe and squirm
Pleading and crying for a reprieve
And leave us aching, and sobbing to
Ripped at the seams and naked

Pleading and crying for a repreive
As hostility becomes mundane
Ripped at the seams and naked
Lies the passionate monogamist

As hostility becomes mundane
Dual passions are fuelled by the
                                             state of  bliss
Lies the passionate monogamist
Cannot see for the rage

Many hear them...
Three words that promise eternal hold
"Divide and Conquer"
One simple phrase to tear us wide apart
Mansi Apr 2020
Why are humans
Divided in race, ethnicity,
****** orientation, or gender?

Why can't we be united
In our brokenness?
Every single one of us is broken
Not in the same way or from
But still broken

This quality should unite us,
But why does this
Always draw a wedge
Between us
This is the time to stand united not divided
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
This Distance Between Us
by Michael R. Burch

This distance between us,
this vast gulf of remembrance
void of understanding,
sets us apart.

You are so far,
lost child,
weeping for consolation,
so dear to my heart.

Once near to my heart,
though seldom to touch,
now you are foreign,
now you grow faint . . .

like the wayward light of a vagabond star—
obscure, enigmatic.
Is the reveling gypsy
becoming a saint?

Now loneliness,
a broad expanse
—barren, forbidding—
whispers my name.

I, too, am a traveler
down this dark path,
unsure of the footing,
cursing the rain.

I, too, have felt pain,
pain and the ache of passion unfulfilled,
remorse, grief, and all the terrors
of the night.

And how very black
and how bleak my despair . . .
O, where are you, where are you
shining tonight?

Keywords/Tags: distance, gulf, apart, divide, foreign, faint, gypsy, saint, loneliness, broad, expanse, barren, dark, path, black, light, shining
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
The Divide
by Michael R. Burch

The sea was not salt the first tide ...
was man born to sorrow that first day,
the moon a pale beacon across the Divide,
the brighter for longing, an object denied,
the tug at his heart's pink, bourgeoning clay?

The sea was not salt the first tide ...
but grew bitter, bitter ... man's torrents supplied.
The bride of their longing forever astray,
her shield a cold beacon across the Divide,
flashing pale signals: "Decide. Decide.
Choose me, or His Brightness, I will not stay."

The sea was not salt the first tide ...
imploring her, ebbing: "Abide, abide."

The silver fish flash there, the manatees gray.

The moon, a pale beacon across the Divide,
has taught us to seek Love's concealed side:
the dark face of longing, the poets say.

The sea was not salt the first tide ...
the moon a pale beacon across the Divide.

NOTE: "The Divide" is essentially a villanelle despite the non-formal line breaks.

Published by Neovictorian/Cochlea, The Eclectic Muse, Freshet, Better Than Starbucks, Sonnetto Poesia, The New Formalist and Pennsylvania Review

Keywords/Tags: Villanelle, sea, salt, first, tide, moon, pale, beacon, Divide, love, concealed side, dark side of the moon, longing, passion, desire, lust
TheKindling Mar 2020
Two faces stare lovingly at one another.

Once unified, they were


Broken by time.
By the world.
By force.

A great chasm eroded between them.
Each tear drop another waterfall.

Each face made from the destruction of the other.

One cliff face across from another,

For Eternity. Separate. Alone.


A boy stands above an ancient tomb.

A tomb of two lovers doomed to death.

Behind the boy is a girl.
A pretty girl with cute freckles,
Kissed by the sun.

The sun as orange as her hair,
Smiling a new day to the boy.

Together they cross the chasm.

The boy lays himself down across the gap.
Happily the girl walks across his body,

Learning him through every footfall.

Living years in seconds she crosses.

Walking past ancient warning signs.

Signs of those who crossed the bridge before,
Those who ran across,
Those who crushed his hands,
Those who cracked his spine
His hands
His soul.

She stepped foot on land,
Grabbed the boys hands.

They made eye contact and for a second the world stopped.

The two cliff faces looked up at the boy who was a bridge for hundreds.

Then they wept as the girl dropped his hands.

Plumiting the boy down.



Deep below the tears of long ago.

Time went on.

The boy recovered.
Brushed clean,
Walked the path discovered,
Atop the ravine.

There he sat.
Brushed clean,
Waiting for the next passenger.

To never look back.
This is a rework of an old poem that never lost its meaning.
Clay Face Feb 2020
Disconnect, disjoint, unified, detached, distant, afar, separate, divorced, abstracted sovereign, removed, apart.

There’s a feeling, I have between us.
And please do share if it’s mutual,
and please do share if it’s intentional.
But we’re whatever words you’d use to say,

If I shook your hand the urge to wash it,
would overwhelm you. Overcome you.
Control you.

This stench you contrive around me,
this taint I have upon my skin.
Is only in your eyes.
Wipe them clear or steep in your lies.

I’d love to connect with you, live with you, laugh with you.
But this separation, this gap you spread.
Isn’t in my best interest.
To be down right honest.
I don’t ******* care for it one bit.

The removal you push, is displeasing.
It’s un-easing.
******* sick of it.
Sick of wasting time on it.
100 years or less.
You push us apart, there’s no time for it.

You divide into cliques.
A pyramid’s not hard to climb,
you just have to be ignorant, and self loathing.
But you can rest easy, you’ve climbed to the tippy top.
Where reality escapes you, and your induced separation clings to you.
But you hold it as tight as it holds you.
I can leave you alone up there, But accept my pity for you in your:
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