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tap Mar 2015
She was made to satisfy the greed of everyone else.
Josh Morter Mar 2015
Living the dream or so it seems
Riding the waves, cascade after cascade
Jumping through hoops,
going round loop de loop,
like a roller-coaster
Believing you've got closer
To what:
you're supposed to do.
what you,
perceive to be
what you,
intend to see.
Knowing that, this is your goal.
The thing that drives your soul.
To reach to the sky,
stretch up to the stars,
float upon the clouds,
make yourself proud.

Because this is your dream.
it's something that means,
everything to you.
there's nothing that you wouldn't do, to reach the heights of success.
Continue to achieve your best.
Push through till there's nothing left.

Because this is a passion, a craft, a choice.
Don't listen to nay sayers,
down players,
people who say:
This isn't the way to go,
this is something you should know.
And it is something you know.
Why wouldn't you.
It's drummed into you day after day,
you get used to the people being that way,
it's a hard business.

Okay, okay
I get what you're trying to say but I don tell you day after day;
That your job is monotonous.
A corporate chain,
whose only aim
is more money to gain,
from your daily pain
of trying to maintain the face of joy
when your boss walks by
and asks how it's going.
With a nod all knowing you reply
"It's going great Mr Johnson."

Yet in your head you weep
And wish to retreat, back to the age when you could openly phrase a strong affirming gesture.
A finger raised to the sky,
Stating ******* and goodbye.

But you don't.
You nod and say "yes"
Cause that is your best
There's no passion inside you.
No craft that will drive you, to achieve.
So stop for a minute and believe
Believe in the strength of desire in your heart
let me take my path, leave me alone and then start on your own.
Another poem from a year or so ago, this one in regards to the lifestyle choice I have chosen and how people have no right to discredit you for a choice that is yours to make.
Brittany Wynn Jan 2015
Ana
My friend Ana has many followers.
She feeds us promises and fills our dreams
when we cannot, will not, sate the cries
of our bodies because those are easy to hush
during the din of day, but not in the void,
night when

my friend Ana comes through a glowing
screen in the form of thigh gaps, community forum posts,
and calorie counting apps where our intake dwindles,
anticipating the moment we take in the waist of  our skirts
so maybe that boy with the blue-jean eyes notices
our size 0 because on a scale of 1 to 10, we don’t fit.

My friend Ana remains forever in our minds,
teaching us to listen to our inner strength as muscle tone
ebbs, seething when we reach for some bread, but loving
the sweat-drenched skin as we run nowhere on a treadmill that we believe leads to a salvation as perfect as the symmetry of ribs—

of cheekbones that jut out from a thin and beautiful face
which smiles at muted murmurs and falls as I look
in the mirror at bodies shaped so divine, you might see
premature grace because
Ana never dies.
JadedSoul Sep 2014
That yellow lightning bolt
You have new notifications
truly; like my personal brand of ******
my personal, digital addiction;

I eagerly log in
to see which stranger now approves,
of the turmoil deep in me
to see which stranger considers me worthy;
worthy of “following
worthy of paying attention to

Your poem started trending
Which one?  True Love?
OH WOW!  Strangers like my work?
should it even matter?
does it even matter?
**** straight it does!

Why?
I’ll tell you why;
People liking my poems means I’m not alone
if I’m crazy, I’m not the only one,
it means that somewhere in this upside down world
understands something about me

Following me means that my voice matters
if in ”real life” I don’t matter
if in ”real life” I’m stepped upon
at least here, people think me worthy

Others can at least identify
it means that I am not alone
it means that I might not be that crazy
it means that somewhere on this Earth
another heart beats –
another flame flickers
against the cold, dark of the World

Really, it communicates that I matter
that I too, have a place in the world
I wasn't prepared for how addicting HP is.  For how cool it is that there are others who see the world like I do
Luna Jul 2014
I’ll bear my chest unto the sky
so strike me down before I die
I’m waiting for a certain sign
For my idols to align
We fish swim in air thick as blood
The ground instead is caked in mud
Clean this dirt from walls and skulls
With weapons sharp and turning dull
We’re under control, unwillingly
From my bonds, please, deliver me
We seem to have been invaded by outside forces. Send help
Martin Narrod May 2014
The likes of you I can't describe,
Yet I love to eat between your thighs.
The melody you spake to me
Unfolds my greatest sovereignty.
I crave to quaff all of your spit,
And swallow every drop of it.
Don't cheat me of your tasty flesh,
Those bare and supple ****** *******,
Your eyes that follow my firm gaze,
While we kiss and lick and misbehave.
I need to feel each piece of skin,
Smashing girl and boy parts over and over again.
It's such a treat to eat you whole;
I'm obsessed with eating 19-year-olds.
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Grace Apr 2014
If I didn't know any better I think you have fallen in love with me

You always seem to fall in the cracks and disappear in the shade
You are always following me around and tripping on my toes

You track my every movement and see my enemies and fears

You see all of my mistakes, adding them up and waiting until you can prance and take me with you to the firey pits of Hell or the golden white paradise of Heaven

I am never by myself-you're always around
Hiding in the most obvious places and watch every moment of my life pass by without a single comment

You're at home where most people are scared
You are always dark and dreary but in the night you turn light
Cheerful
At the candlelight you bring on a spooky vibe
Showing me your soft edges and your mysterious side

Some days when the sun is just right you get shy
Disappearing behind me
I look for you like a dog chasing his own tail
Always too far out of reach

My family doesn't true me
They always talk to you
The girl I always leave behind

To fill up the room
A soft blanket

— The End —