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Jeremy Betts Jun 18
I've stopped telling myself there's still a possibility it'll be okay
Honestly,
Mostly only because I've run out of things to say
That and I am tired of lying to myself everyday
There must be another way...
Either that or I just don't know how to play
What do the rules say?

©2024
Joshua Phelps May 16
If life is a living hell,
And living is a privilege,
Then surviving is a show-and-tell
Of who’s got the most,
And it’s never the ones struggling
To stay afloat.

If this is hell,
Then what can be worse than this?
Who really wins when it’s all
Make-believe and pretend?

The rich get richer,
And we all keep drowning in debt,
Expected to just take it.
Jeremy Betts Apr 26
"It's not a bad life,
Only a bad day"
To which I respond right away,
"Okay,
But what if it's everyday?"
Their reply?
"That's just life"
"Oh, ya don't say"

©2024
Nat Lipstadt Mar 3
8:28 Sunny Sunday Marching 3rds
(3/3/23)

<>

as per usual,

(tho my fingers strangely type ‘per Isaiah’)

commencing at my beginning with no
direction home, an entitled title asking
for complete composition, and your
attentive compensation, threatening
to sue for “failure to finish,” a crime
for which I’ve served many a year behind
the bars of my ever increasing
TO DO file

but struck am I this morn by the poetry
of the common place, the phraseology
that we use without momentary cognition,
the every~day verbiage that, within lies
perhaps veins that deserve mining for
nouveau riches

and we get what we deserve,
no more, no less, but when
I inquire who has decided this
measured cup of justice and
painted the lines of liquid fluidity,
or just vanilla inspiration, a one
hand clap and a mocking hoot is
returned  reverberating as in an
empty spelunking cave

we are all experts in the ordinary
diurnal doors that require opening
by morning, closing by night, while
waiting for that “break that would
make it ok…from the wreckage of
your silent reverie”^


yesterday was my birthday,
no, it was not, but I’ll pretend
to have that right to make the
summary judgements that the
spirits and harlequins, who,
now revealed as my silent mockers,
none
the less, no more, no,
lessening,
I am rendered,
split asunder, by the sentence I’ve self~
impose down on my conscience and
constitution

balance does not require balancing,
more bad than good, wrecked and wracked
by the un~proportionality of my unbalanced
imbalance, what flaws, what traits,
what genetics,
what misapprehensions, foolishness, led me into
this straying straight life, of no more, no
less

and I quit here for the answers do not appear,
and that voice says you need a shave, go!
look in the mirror and revelations will dance, emanating from your eyes who bear witness to all,
no more, no less




^ Sarah McLachlan, “Angel”
Malia Nov 2023
I can’t breathe,
Pressed down by the weight
Of meticulously staying
The same.

It’s a hammer
Coming down on me
It never stops.
A cycle, it never stops.

How can you stand it?
The mindless mundanity
Dragging us down in
A haze, eyes wide open.
I did a challenge to write a poem spontaneously, no cheating or planning!
there is water
somewhere on my right
i can hear it
the gentle patter
of what must be
a delicate fountain
hidden amongst
the foliage and flowers
of freshly bloomed lilies
or falling from a feature
at the water's edge
there is a far-distant
rumble of jet engines
undoubtedly drawing
trails of vapour
across an otherwise
unblemished blue
sounds of traffic
dulled to almost nothing
a background hum
barely noticeable
even the unfamiliar
shrieking of a siren
as it passes by
cannot overpower
the drawn-out strains of violin
the rasgueado strum of guitar
the echoed stomp and clap of dancers
performing or practicing
in front of the monument
to a public figure
of some kind
that i would likely
not recognise or be aware of
on the other side of the park
a clock tower bell
chimes the hour
two o'clock
setting a fluttering
of birds to wing
chattering on the breeze
the seemingly constant
pattern of clicking heels
and scuffed steps
along the nearby path
tell of an exhaustive
cosmopolitan life
a dog begins barking
as i open my eyes
reminding me of home
Lalaouna Amina May 2022
ado
myself urges to understand
with no capacity to bear despair
i try to rest somewhere
between the thoughts
i am unable to sense sweet words:
a full well illusion
engagements with People
EngrMakata Mar 2022
Ordinary days
no more,
Only if you just have
STAYED EVERYDAY.
Lalaouna Amina Jan 2022
Trivia Snippets?
Garlic, Onion, and Potatoes
  (Small List in The Kitchen)
Thyme or Mint
  (Every Night Drink)
Full Names of Poets
  (Long list on The Desk)
at midnight
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