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Karijinbba Aug 2021
My heart flat lined today.
No ICU needed.
it's the only way to go on.
Transformer Cimi Death my other name says my Mayan zodiac
birth chart and I go flat,
in a terrible amnesic shock.
when reality hits I no longer remember nor feel pain
I am sustained by a strange
heart rhythm beat.
I did it once before
very long time ago and
it worked for years.
phychogenic amnesia
There's no feeling no love
no hate no hope no dreams
no waiting for love to be real.
No bridal chambers no gold key
exists to open this gold lock.
My cave of wonders is sealed.
In essence it's another
kind of passing on.
I need it here,
not to stay flat on line.
By: KArijinbba
Wilkes Arnold Mar 2021
Depression is an overused word
It might make an easy rhyme
For poets who labor under the impression
That they can climb to the heights of expression
By showing no discretion with each and every
Narcissistic emotional self-obsession confession.

But of all the poetic depression transgressions
From the front of the procession
To the straggling indiscretion
The worst and least touched on
Is that it's boring...

Depression and talk of it
Leads to the inevitable compression
Of each and every tidbit
Or texture that prevents a poem from becoming a lecture

It flattens the curve
It scans the sculpture
A man of depth dwindles to a nerve

But depression doesn't let them see how it narrows their view
The circle it drew around appropriate questions
Ignore the censor and suppression
Be vigilant of the slightest dispossession
Starting to understand this oppression?

Don't let it convince you that you can see more clearly
From the bottom of a pit
You have no idea what you're missing
This became more of a psa than I intended. Written with the utmost compassion.
Avoid boring people - james watson
Anthony Pierre Sep 2020
Getting nowhere!

One whole Earth
round and flat

Here's a balloon
Here's a plate

Reminds me
to celebrate with

An oblate pear
on steroids and
a flat Greek cake

A stupendous combination
The great Earth debate.
Is it round like a ball?
Is it flat like a plate?
bloodKl0tz Sep 2020
Instead of the joy of coming into a port and stepping onto land, land
That is familiar and loving
In love
With having my feet home again
The earth below rejoicing
After so many months at sea

I am instead adrift.  There is unbroken horizon
Spread out vast all around me
My eyes ache in my head from only seeing the sun, only seeing
The flat blue waves

I am so ANGRY that I am unloved I am so ADRIFT without my home port
I call out and the wind pretends to be an answer
All I want is to be longed for
For someone to pace
For someone to watch the sea

Instead, two separate lives, one at sea, one at home.
Amanda Kay Burke Apr 2020
We made a number of mistakes

On an emerald-dotted trail tripped and fell on our faces

Lost in our selfish fog

We landed somewhere foreign
Someplace frightening

As we counted footsteps to safety we somehow became separated from each other

Wearing smiles like souvenirs from a location we would never visit again
I've not done much traveling but the grandest place I've visited is your mind
Patterson Feb 2020
I lay awake
hour after hour
while you did the same
in the very next room.

You've told me before just
how apprehensive you become
when the page is empty
and the stakes are high.
You have high hopes,
but when you bade me
"good night and sleep well"
I did see the flicker
of doubt-insomnia-excitement
hiding just behind your tired smile
like a candle in the wind.

It is near impossible to sleep
when you lie awake,
when love lies awake
in the next room.

But I am a coward,
afraid of losing you
long before I can call you mine.
And so I while away the hours
wondering if you want me
to walk down the passage
and crawl into your bed
just as much as I do.

We lie awake instead,
praying that sleep takes us
and carries us across the boundary
separating yesterday and tomorrow.
To take you to a bright tomorrow
me; into another lovesick Monday.
But sleep evades us
It is near impossible to sleep
when I know you lie awake
and love lies awake
in the very next room.
So our first night in the house. Before the crush died of course. Why is it so hard to **** a crush?
Garrett Johnson Oct 2019

The candy lights won’t come back on.
My boots have been swallowed.
The table cloth chess players.
Roped into hallowing out their arms.
It’s ok the blankets don’t know any better.

Garrett Johnson.
Opposite loft blues
JT Nelson Jun 2019
My tire was flat...
But only
on the bottom.
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