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Mike Virgl Dec 7
"Heavy appendage lying above,
Your weight equals your allure

Simple leverage outside to in,
Your potential follows behind"

I said while chained to the center
Bearing my burden as I did

"Your extremities lean too far south,
Weakened your zenith splinters

Your midpoint, threatened from end to end,
Is all that neither shall bear"

The shoulders of man began to bleed,
At the axis, where a silent atlas stood

"Hold the earth and tether it to fit
Hold the end up to balance the plain

Hold each other and revel in peace
Hold fast to the fulcrum"

With these last words Atlas left
Leaving man to work
And Man alone
I wrote this poem about the political spectrum, as I feel it has not only become too violent, but people have begun to drift too far to either side and they are hurting the people in the middle.
Για νεκρούς στρατιώτες
Ρίξαμε τα όπλα μας
Σταματάμε να παλεύουμε
Αυτή τη στιγμή της μνήμης
Είναι μαζί μας
Αγωνίζονται μαζί μας
Έχω δει τις μητέρες μας
Πλήρη δάκρυα
Είναι τόσο γρήγορο
Πού πήγαν εκείνα τα χρόνια;
Οι μνήμες δεν θα τους αφήσουν να κλάψουν
Μόνο αν δεν επιστρέψω απόψε
For Fallen Soldiers
Peter Balkus Dec 3
I'll be waiting for him
sitting on the shore,
I know one day
he will come.

I don't care
about anything else.
I'll be waiting for him,
like if I was waiting for myself.
c Nov 29
I was always fearful
Of flying too close to the sun
For I saw how it had hurt others
Who flew near it

But then I laughed.

For why should I
Fear myself?
Harry Roberts Nov 13
Little Did I Know, A Lot I Could've Guessed, Guess I Should've Grown,
A Frame To Big For Stress.

Balance An Elephant On Your Shoulder,
The Darkness Grows Its Getting Colder,
Imbalance Is Outright It Can't Get Bolder,
The Machine Is Broke No Fix With Solder.

Disenchanted I Felt Stuck, The World Will Drain Away Your Luck,
All The Energy From You ******,
Bent Over A Table You'll Be ******.

Drenched In Hate You'll Swim In Styx,
From This Fire Their Is No Fix,
From This Day Your Left With Six,
A Week To Live I Hope It Fits.

A Scorched Charred Throat You'll First For Lethe,
Enchanted Waters To Make You Forget,
A Blank Canvas Will Be What's Left,
But You've Been Cursed To Hug Regret.
Harry Roberts - Styx © 13/11/18
Gracie Nov 12
i like to think of goddesses.
they're pretty cool if you ask me.
i'm obsessed with three main ones in particular:

nyx- goddess of the night.
selene- goddess of the moon.
asteria- goddess of the stars.

and yes, they are from Greek 'mythology'.
but i don't see anything mythological about them.

so maybe you might think that Asteria riding across the sky with a chariot of the moon is a little, unusual.
and maybe you think that it's weird how there are different beings controlling different things.
perhaps it's the idea that history has told you that all of this ideology is made up.

and you can think that.
but i don't want to.

because i find safety in the fact that i have my full devotion in several beings, all taking charge of all aspects of my life.

it's quite liberating actually.
not a poem, but more like a little rant about what i believe in, and how i don't care how strange it sounds to anyone else.
JJ Inda Nov 8
Out of reach,
I stretch,
but still
this craving
cannot be fulfilled.
waiting
on fate; selfish ******
-always wanting more.
Moirai; the fates in Greek mythology.
Helios
streaking hard
Ἠελίοιο βόες, Ēelíoio bóes
projecting offspring
generational rays of brilliance
Oh, how I delight in the taste of my lover’s scent
     as she cries out my name!
In my arms, a slender orchid worshiped to soft placidity,
     she murmurs do I still yearn for my virginity?  
And I whisper, my love,
     ten thousand times ten thousand times, no.

For what we tender feel in lost virginity
     is not for lost virginity alone.
Not for a shred of skin or a drop of blood;
     what human being mourns this?
That small ***** we feel is the eternal mortality
     of all lost first experiences.
Then let us thank the Gods they spare us, for now,    
     our last virginity.

Think now upon the family and friends we have lost
     to disease or hunger, to time
     or accident, to addiction or war.  
How shall we remember them if not their names?
How shall we speak of them?
Will you remember me?
     Or shall I become as dust in this temple?

Loudly, all my loves, hear me, come now with me!
Let us leave this temple for a time,
     walk with me to my secret garden
     where we shall remove these robes
     and look upon one another
     with the gift of acceptance
and where we shall place flowers in our hair.  

Where we shall hold hands and walk a bit farther
     to the river and bathe one another in the moonlight.
Then let us return here to celebrate the memory of the fallen
     as the Gods intended.
Let us remember the names,
     let us speak the names and lest we forget,
cry out their names.
A tribute to Sappho
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