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Diesel Mar 4
My sweet strawberry,
I breathed in your scenty life
I tasted your sweetening ber'
I cherished your fruit delight.

I pleased your roundabout hour,
I leaved your stretchy bed flower;
I savored your seedy ripe,
My strawberry in the night.
Nat Lipstadt Apr 2020
~for the men and women who fish to feed the soul of others~

this spring we will not walk Central Park.  The cherry blossoms and the new buds will go unobserved, and just like a
felled tree
in the forest, their birthing,  weeping, and silent dying, will go unheard.

but the roses come!

delivered by Whole Foods, red roses included with our food order,
for red roses are a vital staple, a gift of the globalized logistical feat that feeds we eight million prisoners, a red beacon to all currently

held in solitary confinement.

The men who bring them from the Netherlands, and the men from the Caribbean who deliver them, they by virus, as of yet, have not

been felled.

and I turn my mind’s eye to the mountains of heaven asking
“From Where will Come Our Salvation?”^

heaven answers with a wry awry, why Whole Foods, of course!

the cut roses pass in a few days, their heads slumped over, victims of their own virus, the inevitability + cyclicality of time.

but the petals, pose a question,
as they too are
felled and fall,
how is our death different from yours?

neither I, or the quietus of the empty streets,
even heaven,
have a ready reply;
for all of us are
felled, fallen,
by an onerous, hungry

^ Psalm 121:1
Crystal Freda May 2018
Waiting for the sun,
but all we get is rain.
It peeks through one day
and the next it storms.

Its a lot like life.
Waiting for the good,
but all you get is pain.
Every chapter repeats.

Rain, rain, rain,
can bring flowers,
, but can also bring floods.
Life is full of flowers and floods.
Mystic Ink Plus Apr 2018
I am carnivorous
On Sunday to Tuesday

I am vegetarian
On Wednesday

I keep fasting
On Thursday

I am Omnivorous
On Saturday

Find time, when I can
Party to Hell
Genrea: eXperimantal
Theme: Identity on transition  |  Executive privilege
mythie Dec 2017
I have a very limited diet.
I survive off sweet and nutritious thoughts.
The compliments that taste like candy.
I devour them whole.

Put a little icing on me.
I could use a personality.
What do you want me to be?
Something sour? Or something sweet?

Cut me open, limb by limb.
Tell me good things.
Eat me and tell me how good I taste.
I crave the validation.

The bad thoughts have my stomach tied in knots.
I puke them out until I'm hungry again.
I could use some sweet things.
So all your thoughts get shoved down my throat.

Order anything you'd like.
I'll be whatever you want.
I'll make sure to consume perfection.
You are what you eat after all.

Am I good yet?
Am I too much, too little?
Too sweet, too savoury?
I will take in your thoughts and make you happy.

I'm filling up on too many thoughts.
But I'm starving.
I'm overeating all the nice things you say.
My insides are an overflowing shipwreck.

What flavour is my personality?
Should I just scrape it off?
Everyone will like me more without it.
Everyone will like me more without it.

Devour me whole, tell me I'm pretty.
Take a bite of me.
Call me the perfect identity.
Do you enjoy me?

I purge your thoughts and change my flavour.
Why aren't you happy?
My stomach is empty.
I've forgotten who I used to be.
'thoughtOutLoud Jun 2016
When I saw you,
My stomach was rumbling ,
I dont know what it is ...
It feels like someone punch me in it.

Every lunch , when you're around
I can feel the pain ,
deep down in my ribs,
I can hear the screams
the scream of my silent stomach

but then I knew it was just a Hunger
The time I felt tummy hurts
Those that needn't the doctor
Those of hunger strikes in me
I clinged to worry for myself
Before my life discovery.
Was too used to pizza and burgers
Nothing from my own homeland
Though in my search I fell in a direction
An improved variety tabled for us
Down the table I sat, not popular to the world but my tummy signed in
Lost my taste buds to only this
To that I ate like a hired thief in full bites
The bells of Hawaiian, becon, chicken, sausage, all for One
  A Rollecks.....
Marked my anniversary of love for snacks
The place whose memory runs in my blood
The Ugandan Nemo's,
Imprisoned my love for Rollecks
One of a kind shared without regrets
Notes (optional)
I am not a big fan of chocolates,
I am not a big fan of cheese,
I am not a big fan of snacks,
I never can drink any sodas,

Yes, I consider myself different.

I never had been drunk,
I never overeaten foods,
I never went out night,
I never had been involved in a community,

Yes, I do feel that I am different,

at least I saw it from my narrow point of view.

But I'm no different from the others,

One thing that everyone has been doing for months and years,

Writing poems in Hello Poetry,
expressing each story, or just some random words.
I don't even know what I'm talking about :/ Good Day!
Joel Todero May 2015
if you had to talk without speaking would you touch, or just try and mouth the words? i will go through and like all your Instagram photos at once. i don’t care about the path less traveled, i am making my own path. i am trailblazing through the woods towards a destination that is completely unknown! often i drive my mom’s Chrysler van and crank the volume to the max. i’m sorry mom. i drive through the woods and put the windows down and let wind fly through my hair. i love driving through the woods almost as much as i love cities. catch me in the strangest places at the strangest times. i am in a restaurant on my laptop typing this and having a vanilla malt. this is diary entry #447. i have so much to tell you, there’s still so much that i haven’t said. well, if i had to talk without speaking words, i think i would touch.
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