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ixamxaxcrybaby Feb 2018
She stares at nothing,
Not because she is thinking.
She just want to wipe those stress,
Her mind want some rest.

She cares in little things,
Not because she is perfectionist.
Her mind controls her,
That makes her overthinker.

She didn't cry infront of the crowd,
Not because she is strong and proud.
Being judged is her greatest fear,
So she always keep that escaping tears.

She didn't tell her secrets and story,
Not because her friends are boring.
She want to keep it,
So no one will talk about it.

She don't want to be in crowd,
Not because she don't want to be loud.
She is afraid to have temporary friends,
Being in crowd makes her exhausted.

She didn't talk every time,
Not because she is shy and not fine.
Less talk, less mistake,
Motto that she always take.

She want to stay at her house,
Not because she is lazy and louse.
She just feel that every people around her,
Judging and looking down on her.

She run in the middle of the highway,
Not because she wants attention and fame.
She is just tired,
Living is so hard.

She cut her wrist,
Not because she want to live in drama.
Her mind is like a beast,
She wants a period, not a comma.
I am just a beginner in writing poem. I am just expressing my thoughts and writing down it in a beautiful way. Please, correct me if I make mistakes. Like wrong use of words, punctuations, etc. I want to have some friends here. Just dm me
no emotionally ecstatic experience compares
   to the seminal instance
   whence spermatozoa
   (from profuse *******) beget

the miraculous propensity
   to procreate despite the steep odds
   female fertility fosters potential impregnation
   fusing the hereditary debt

of feral, fiery, fomenting friskiness
   fueling fancy free footloose fornication
   prior to seminal fertilization union
   sans ova doth induce fret
full ness in tandem with

   diametrically opposed exultant sensations
   (biologically, embryonically, microscopically,
   et cetera) seismic shocks inject  
when deliberate intent arises to disregard

   applying prophylactics choice
   plying reproductive roulette let
which analogous fruitful uterine plain
   bastes the "cooking" egg omelette  

which impregnation upends cessation of "self"
   first and foremost asper desire to breed
wrenching role of "me" as operative
   of webbed world de jure upon
   consummating that most miraculous deed

necessitating yet for the fecund female relief
   from messy menstrual cycle
   she becomes temporarily freed
that perhaps a novitiate (or even a gal practiced
   in the euphoric family, she instinctually
   abides prenatal signals that heed

without feeling debased, harangued, lectured
   pedagogical, polemical, puritanical, et cetera blast
assessing copulation enjoyed gloriously,
   ineluctably, kinesthetically
   lectured by elder, especially cast

in thee reel life drama, that nine months
   til offspring utters initial whimper
   elapses exceptionally fast
emitting a radiant golden halo wishing

   to bottle confluence of hormonal secretions last
ideally fully awake to the birthing process,
   when juiced the first stage of maternity past
cuz every moment thee inconsolably

   (perhaps colicky infant)
   gets first dibs to suckle,
   which round the clock nursing
   consumes moments many vast.
an average of 2,830 cubic meters

per second of rich silt

forms an alluvial plain

spreads outward in a fan shape


from sedimentary deposit whereby

ancient Egyptian civilizations got built

adorning arid topography invaluable

like aorta pumping blood at the nape

of the neck, yet analogous context


engendered engineering feats without guilt

whereby artisans, craftsmen,

early geographers illustrated in frieze and drape

frozen timeless statuary exhibiting

phenomenal abilities to the hilt


associated from mainspring within

fertile crescent swollen like a plump grape

which longest river often overflows

banks whereby coveted materiel gets spilt


feeding the rift valley and allowing,

enabling and providing peoples to dominate

flooding the history of mankind

with accomplishments that marvel even today

epitomized by innovations -


alphabets, wheelwrights, pyramids, etc lives did create

baffling historians how each mortise and tenon

snug as a bug in a rug mortise and tenon block

construed edifices persons did intricately lay


perfect with near geometric exactitude

ranks as wonder of webbed wide world great

faint hints of daily trials and tribulations

recorded for posterity in clay

or shards of broken pottery pieced together

coupling revelations a mosaic plate

which functional artifacts

provided dietary staples

to pagan spirits populace did pray.
anotherdream Feb 2018
How
How do we live,
Without expectations,
Only to drift,
No revelations.

How do we lie,
Just to ourselves,
So we don’t find,
Our own special wealth.

How do we ****,
All of our dreams,
We know our will,
We know we’re kings.

How are we loud,
But then so silent,
Fear makes no sound,
But it’s so violent.

How are we kind,
Just to give help,
But never will find,
The love in ourselves?

How are we lonely,
But have so many friends,
When we are the only,
Ones to feel bent?

How are we alive,
Just to feel dead,
Only to whine,
Filled with regret?

How do we speak,
Words of no depth,
But then when we leave,
Meaning gets fed?

How do we fly,
Just to come down,
Never to pry,
And never be found?
How does this happen?
Patricia Feb 2018
1.
Dear Whitney,


I was a thought in my mother's imagination when you were in your prime and now that I'm in mine I need you back more than I need mine. You would've known what to say when that man entered my sacred space. Can you believe they haven't figure it out yet?

Whitney you danced for you and no one else. No one could love you like you did, not even your devoted fans. You let no one call you broke and call you a crack fiend. Instead you powdered your face and continued on with your day. But baby yours isn't translucent.

Sister Houston you died when we needed you most. It was you who could lift every voice with just yours and sing for all the colors in the wind. You left me all alone before I got a chance to fall in love with your overbearing spirit. There was no room left in my body for God after I filled myself with hate.

Whitney I never learned how to love. I tried listening to the legacy you left on my iPhone and reading articles on how to be better. I been screaming for somebody's love for so **** long that I'll dance for anybody. In this story, I've become you Whitney. This is The Bodyguard now and ol' boy from Field of Dreams is coming for me. To you my love, if you build it I will always love you.

And lastly Whit, what's the afterlife really like? Is worth it? You know, leaving me behind?
Matthew Scott Harris (the second offspring
and only son of Boyce and the late harriet harris)
made his unheralded debut on a brutally cold
January thirteenth.
     Once awareness blossomed
within thee Iris of each eye, Mother Nature with
proclivity to become most grounded when basking
in the seasonal pastel of sounds and smells.  
This predilection a rose and stemmed from self-propelled
exposure to fauna and flora.
     All creatures great and small found him bedazzled, de
lighted, fixated, harmonized, kindled, moored, ogled, quelled,
seduced, tantalized, vaunted from biodiversity.
His father - employed as a mechanical engineer with
general electric - heard the powerful lungs of this gangly new
born prior to being permitted to cradle said infant.
     Born in Cincinnati, Ohio, this sole son spent the majority
of his existence at two rural areas fifty plus four years ago.
     Audubon and Collegeville the geographic names of said locales.
     His ability to adjust from one than another grade school evinced
early signs of difficulty.
     Extreme shyness in tandem with a congenital speech defect (sub
mucous cleft palate) seemed to alienate him from other classmates.
     As an outside neutral observer, i watched with gut wrenching agony how he seemed socially detached and rarely invited to join in any reindeer games.
     Yes, a gross degree of taunting left him without friends.
     Lack of confidence and ultra reticence offered manna to bullies.
     Matter of fact, this vulnerability and susceptibility being
the pluperfect target, thee oafish goons i.e. enemies all against
a once upon a time puny punt able person unfortunately at  
receiving end of verbal slings continued all thru public education.
     He graduated without any vocational idea (despite an ignoble
attempt to fail - and yet got promoted nonetheless), and then endured parental wrath equal ultimatums with scathing expletive filled lectures.
     The absence of clear-cut goals found him enrolling and withdrawing
from countless colleges and/or universities.
     Delay with interpersonal success accompanied like a dark shadow creeping closer like the edge of night.
Lydia Feb 2018
take care of yourself
and know it's ok to have different feelings
reconnect with doing the things you like to do without your spouse
give yourself a break
don't go through this alone
establish new relationships, hang out with your friends and make new ones
don't put yourself in emotionally hard situations
pay attention to how you feel
don't include your kids in the conflict
things will go back to normal, even if it's a new "normal"
things I've been googling lately
(I wrote this light hearted communique years ago when thy youngest of deux darling demure offspring found more enjoyment then she would as a soon tubby celebrating nineteen orbitz round mister Sun).
-----------------------------------------------------------­----------------------
Just my luck on a freaky Friday, while living in another world unfettered from the parent trap that a life-size machete conveniently available to fend off mean girls racing in their life-size love bug christened “Herbie fully loaded” while cranking up the song “ultimate” somehow found me to get a clue that raven-symone a prairie home companion.

Please pardon this bard of Belmont hills for brazenly barging into your life – without even so much as a gold plated invitation. The nerve of this nattering nabob of Narberth to perform a google search in an effort to pay homage to such smart as a whip wealthy woman, whom maintains lustrous beauty even whence approaching the half century longevity chronological benchmark.

A whim to scribble stream of consciousness thoughts about the mother of one constantly caught in the infamous cross hairs of media blitz krieg must induce chronic ferocity against this plague of tabloid locusts.

Such scrutiny seems to be the price one (and/or her/his kith and/or kin) must unfairly pay to be in the limelight of fame and fortune.

As one absolutely anonymous any man ambling along the boulevard of broken dreams, I envy luxurious lifestyle of the rich and famous as all my children (two teenage daughters) freely scamper away from dark shadows indicating the edge of night as the world turns.

Also, no great expectation (by dickens) goads me (an ordinary mister mom manning the ongoing – nearly infinite – needs and wants of thy fourteen and twelve year old lasses, whom contribute immensely to a more purposely driven life no matter they present untenable wishes.

Back in the day when this papa could afford plethora of fios cable channels, but mainly thru the subtle influence of thine younger offspring (who will celebrate her thirteenth anniversary of existence on this temporal plane or rather oblate spheroid in space), I chanced to watch television programs with Lindsay Lohan as one (if not) the leading actress(es) and found the characters she portrayed quite entertaining to escape the cares and concerns of an uncertain global state of affairs.

These days, aol headline pages incessantly splash with minor infraction(s) that inevitably lands your lovely Lindsay incarcerated for mere misdemeanors no doubt stoking the fires of fervid frenzy within your being.

Only heartfelt commiseration found me to tap out this missive (while a golden opportunity existed to co-opt our only macbook – while the spouse soundly sleeps and thy progeny preoccupied with interpersonal connections) to express said sentiment of compassion and adulation for a most superlative maternal role well done.
Colm Jan 2018
Never forget
Though you will
That you are a mountain
Formed by two forces
Meant to last
Slowly moving
Clearly never
*BUT NEVER STILL
Be not content with what they call you. Call to yourself and you will respond.
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