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g Dec 2017
dear you,
i’m writing this
to ask you
to plead you
to beg you,

please stay with me
for one last time
before it all
comes to an end.

i look forward
to your prompt reply.
regards,
me.
structures are good, things that don't change are good.
anon Sep 2017
If life were like Internet history
I wouldn't be here
And neither would you
I'd have deleted us from my history
And never seen you again

If life were like my email
I'd have endless lists of friends
Following me everywhere
Asking how my day was
And being "always there for me"

If life were like Spotify
I could hear what I want
And skip what I don't like
A song for the day
To carry me through it all

If life were like Facebook
I wouldn't be sad anymore
And you could move on
Once it all becomes "complicated"
Afterall, I can just delete it later

If life were like a video game
I could be the best
And you the worst
Because I couldn't fall for you
If you were only pixellated

If life were like an avatar
I could shape you up
To be the perfect image
And when I get tired
Just delete you like you did me

If life were like a video
Your voice would play on and on
Forever in my mind
Until I eventually realize
You pressed pause and I never knew
Jenny Gordon Jul 2017
Haha, it's funny looking at this now.  L8:  that little email, oh my.


(sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCXCVIII)


Where midnight'd feign a silence 'til I'd thence
Roll back the covers to at last avail
Me of lying down for good, ah how the pale
Eye of that moon rose twixt those treetops' dense
Black lacework, shivring in a keener sense.
Although we knew twas folly to detail
Aught, how I sent my Joey, like to scale,
Notes on whatever, to shrink from it hence.
Or, no.  I squinted as it peered as twere
At me, the ghastly calm fit for sweet dew,
And rose when dawn's first shafts began to stir.
What are the dreams long since forgot as due?
For if I shrink from building castles your
Sweet intrest culls, will that make all come true?

15Jul17a
His note...that handwritten thing you treasure forever, oh when he finally answered that email of mine...what was it Nathan said about communication?
MU Apr 2017
From: me@present.now
To: you@future.me
Cc: all@hellopoetry.com
Subject: Questions

Dear You,

You surely know
That you are not
Unique...
Do you?

You always act
As if you were
Alone...
Are you?

How many times
You thought you’re right,
And weren’t?
You learned?

Why do you think
That time will change
You while
You don’t?

How many years
You think you've got?
Much left?

Then why you act
As if life will
Go on,
Forever?

Best,
Me.
P.S: They say, we can’t foresee the future until we shape it with our own hands...I say, relatively speaking, we can always foresee it. If we work ******* shaping it, then we know how it will look like. And if we don't, then we know that it will look like our current reality, since we are who we are, unless we change.
Tess Calogaras Mar 2017
Words like water,
oh how the speech can delay.
Dripping eloquent but lost to rivers,
indulged in deluge,
overwhelmed in expression, comments and decree.
I want you here,
oceans away.

How can I touch the chatter,
be diluted in a voice.
Move me with your extract,
alluded, trembling from afar.
Waking up to different sides of the moon
I need you here,
sunshines away.

and the blades from petals still stabbed
like it was torture
though it crumbled in effect
why the trouble for pistol flowers
when aching is within a splinter.

Something so beautiful,
lost to an operating system.
Quiet rumbles, not big enough
to make a sound.
Even if I screamed,
my vocals typed to characters,
you would not,
could not hear my strain.

Efflorescence,
our love it blooms.
Flourished in email, video plays, stills.
Across the ocean I came,
to wake up in the sunshine,
with the moon at our side.

Sprouting up new love,
greater than we thought equip.
Even through storms, snow, rain,
I am ecstatic here,
your body I call my house,
your smile I call my home.
Copyright Tessa Calogaras
2017
The Trumpoet Feb 2017
So they hacked some computers.
"No big deal" you may say,
"Since their influence steered things
toward the right way"

"They just didn't respect us,
that's why the attack.
So I place all the blame
on the Dems and Barack"

"So we'll get nice and cozy,
Vladimir and me,
since there is just so much
upon which we agree"

"We want to be strongmen
who'll shape history
and we're both such examples
of virility"

"And we'll handle the media
through fear and attack
to ensure truth and balance
shall never come back"

"Admiration and power
is what we adore,
it's the one greatest cause
that we truly live for"

So, Mr. Trump...

When you're there in the Oval
and Europe's alarmed
'cause in Prague and in Warsaw.
the Russians, well armed,

have crossed o'er the borders
and come to reclaim
their former domininons,
then who will you blame?

So why this great bromance?
What's your motivation?
Why would you align
with Vlad and his nation?

Could it be business ties?
Or maybe high debt?
Or maybe dark secrets
you wish they'd forget?

I do not want to think
that it could be such things
but the Russians sure look
like they're pulling your strings.
You can also see this and my other Trump poems at: www.trumpoet.com
Link to video of this poem: https://youtu.be/VvZzczQhNEY
Written January 15, 2017
spamming your email inbox
with messages that harass
none of them do you wish
to have on your receipt's pass

these sorts of communications
you haven't requested
though the pushy sender thinks
of them you'll be invested

do you ever recall asking
for bedeviling telegraph cables
to be jammed into your
receiving stables
eight inbox emails were
received by me on Saturday
with a link direction
how to access a poet's http-bay

these sorts of messages
are very similar to spam
I can't remember asking
for this butting in ram  

as soon as I see the
red ink dot com address
that's my cue not to
peruse the sender's press
LjMark Nov 2015
6 months at sea, on a cold cargo ship..
2000 containers, stacked as even as the dishes in grandma's cupboards..
Checking the lines, tightening the bolts that the sea slowly loosens..

At the days end, bunk time, a precious 12 hours till next shift..
Plugging a laptop into an old jack in my bunk..
Only 3 text emails a day, routed through the sat-link on the bridge..

I check the local listings in Miami, hoping to find an email friend for the voyage..
I notice the name Jamie on the local listings, I knew a Jamie once, a girl from school years past..

I type hello, pleasantries enclosed, hoping for a reply..
The next day a reply, small talk, Jamie's sweet..
She isn't the same Jamie I knew, but we connect and keep writing each day..
Jamie and I get close, writing long emails, few secrets kept..

5 1/2 months pass, Jamie fills my mind each day..
Only 2 weeks until i come home, counting hours now..
I email Jamie, let's meet when I get home..
The screen goes blank, Jamie doesn't reply to my message..
3 days, nothing..
What did I say, what went wrong, why..

Saturday an email waits, it's her..
I'm sorry, I've been so sad this week..
I've let you think something about me that isn't true..
I lied, and I won't be able to hide it if you ever saw me..
And… Well… I love you… And I selfishly led you on..

I'm in the dark I said, I don't understand at all..
I don't care what you look like, how did you lie..
Jamie hesitates.. 5 minutes pass..
Because I'm a guy, not a girl like you thought..
My name sounds female, but is a guy's name too..
It just happened, then it was too late to tell you, we got so close so fast, you would have stopped writing..

Are you serious.. What, you're gay..
Yes…
I slam closed the laptop..
3 days pass, we arrive home tomorrow..
I'm calm now, I thought things through..
I email Jamie one last time..

I'm still upset, but I guess I understand now..
When I get home tomorrow we all leave the back of the ship, walk the block away to the parking lot..
You can sit in the park by where we walk past, if you want to see what I looked like..
But I have no words, I'm still so confused..
I just want to go home..
So tired..

We dock at 7am and all head down the walkway to the parking lot and our cars and taxis await..
Feeling so sad, my head looking down counting cracks in the sidewalk, to keep from crying..

I notice a guy standing alone away from the walk just watching everyone leave the ship and walk past..
I glance a second time, he's still looking toward the ship..
His face is red, with tears, I know it's him..
He never saw me walk past..

I stop, turn and look towards him..
He sees me, and somehow knows it's me to..
From the distance between us I see him mouth the words, I'm sorry..
I silently say, I know..

I drop my bags to the ground..
Walk up to him and we hug, sobbing for a long time..
Let's go home I whisper..
But you're not Gay..
It doesn't matter I say..
When it comes to my heart, I don't care..

by Lj Mark 2015
Not really a poem, a short story formatted like a poem. All fiction, with some traces of a dream I recently had.
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