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Zack Ripley Jul 18
Whoever needs to hear it:
abuse is abuse no matter what kind.
Physical, mental, verbal, ******,
none of it is OK. It will never be OK.
Whoever needs to hear it:
men, women, non binary,
however you identify yourself,
just because you "can take it"
doesn't mean you should have to.
Whoever needs to hear it:
you didn't do anything to deserve it.
Whoever needs to hear it:
you have nothing to be ashamed of.
It's OK to ask for help.
And Whoever needs to hear it: you matter.
Ylzm Apr 18
I've walked and savoured
Seen the magic and ate the food
Sight and hearing may deceive
But taste, fragrance and touch
Directly speaks and to you alone
And by same measure I know
The liars, the blind, and the fools
For their fruits are without taste
Even as plastic fruits are for eyes only
I think I know that I've gone too long
I forget the day and also the way
I stand long for the time I think I know the place that I have to know more
Maybe I get lost
Maybe I know I get lost
But I am still thinking I know that I've gone too long
And trying to come back
Do you mind if I come back?
Do you still accept me back?
In your heart, in everything I've done before
Indonesia, 17th April 2021
Arif Aditya Abyan Nugroho
Steve Page Apr 8
Listen like you're deaf
Like your very breath is dependent on
turning up every sense to the maximum
become one with each and every sign
this aint a talkie so align your whole self
to complete concentration
embody the revelation
until you're full in the face of emotion.

Listen like you're deaf
and then you'll hear the whole person.

Speak like you're deaf
Like your very breath is dependent on
turning up every sense to the maximum
become one with each and every sign
this aint a talkie so align your whole self
to complete concentration
embody self revelation
until you've released full emotion.

Speak like you're deaf
and then you'll show the whole person.
Inspired by Sound of Metal (film).
He cannot hear
I just now realized
He's deaf to it, it's all disguised
Everything, all of it, is crystal unclear
What's up is down and what's far is near

The radio boils
The microwave sings
The telephone listens, while his ear rings
But he hasn't noticed, his ignorance is loyal
To his strange world of backwards turmoil

His eyes tear up
At the toasters dull ding
Oblivious though, to orchestral strings
Crescendoing, divinus, in joyous buildup
An Ode only heard as a course hiccup

Puts books to his ear
But hears no voice
Thumbs through jibberish, but his hands hold Joyce
The steak tastes like spam and the wine of beer
He's deaf to it, all of it, everything I fear

He runs in squares
And lounges in circles
Tears down hopes, and builds up hurdles
Will flail in shallow water and fall up stairs
Then write love letters to hate-affairs

Has two left feet
And no right moves
His rhythm and soul have lost their groove
It's tragic, greek, a heart that offbeat
Might mistake victory and chance for fate and defeat.

He's wrong. What's more?
He's oxymoronic
His light-hearted prose are mostly sardonic
Wouldn't know an apple from an adonic core
Or discordant beats from euphonic score.

He's deaf to it,
Yes ears and all.
Despite what words I might here scrawl.
It will never get through to that dumb misfit
He's deaf and blind and full of ****.
The ending is a work in progress
He cannot hear
I just now realized
He's deaf to it, it's all disguised
Everything, all of it, is crystal unclear
What's up is down and what's far is near

The radio boils
The microwave sings
The telephone listens, while his ear rings
But he hasn't noticed, his ignorance is loyal
To his strange world of backwards turmoil

His eyes tear up
At the toasters dull ding
Oblivious though, to orchestral strings
Crescendoing, divinus, in joyous buildup
An ode only heard as a course hiccup

Puts books to his ear
But hears no voice
Thumbs through jibberish, but his hands hold Joyce
The steak tastes like spam and the wine of beer
He's deaf to it, all of it, everything I fear

He runs in circles
And sits in squares
Drowns in shallow waters and falls upstairs
Nothings left of romance when passion dulls
But crippled hopes and shattered hulls

He cannot hear
He just now realized
He's deaf to it, it's all disguised
Everything, all of it, is crystal clear
What's up is down and what's far is near
Ending is a work in progress
I'm not just listening to words,
I'm also listening to the use of your words,
Your tone of voice,
The way your body moves,
I'm listening for those subtle ****** expressions you make,
I watch your hands and i watch your eyes.
I listen to your eyes
And i hear everything you don't say in words!
It's funny how it always turns out it's always you it's always you
You're the one who captivates my soul makes me hope for more
Staying away has been hard but it's what I've had to do
To see if you really cared if you really wanted more
Now I just don't know I just don't know
Will we ever be more than we were before
I guess I honestly just don't know I just don't know
But here I am wanting you waiting for you
Time has been
passing by
So when will I hear from you I guess I just don't know I just don't know
© Jennifer L DeLong  🦏2/27/2021
Emma Pratt Feb 3
my cold dead heart was made
absolutely empty
so,
they tell me i can
take a knife to it

though

it would be,
for me,
easier
to face myself

with my soul
having been stained
inspired by the fragments of Sappho
clmathew Jan 10
"Silence is the only common language." - James Baldwin

This silence
started December 26th, 2020

Our days are filled with words
words around us and on us
words that embrace and pierce
words comprehensible and strangely made.

Among all this chaotic cacophony
sits each of us with our own words
spoken and unspoken
understood and not understood.

Now it is the frayed evening
and the one thing I can offer
is to listen to your words,
to bless them in my own way
like the abbot at compline
in the monastery dark and deep.

Then we both will part
into the silence of the night
the silence that surrounds us in the womb
and greets us when we cross over at our ending

this silence which is
our only common language.
Sometimes I look back at poems, and know just where they came from. Other times I look with wonder and have no idea. There is a monastery near here that is very special. Compline is my favorite time to be there.
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