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Johnson Oyeniran Feb 2021
What bothers me the most about humanity,

Is the sad fact that we're natrually petty.
Zywa Jun 29
Visitors give me,

as a sick person, knowledge --

of human nature.
Novel "de vrije vogel en zijn kooien - De geschiedenis van een domicilie" ("the free bird and its cages - The history of a donicile", 1957, Simon Vestdijk), chapter 3-3

Collection "Inmost"
Mica Kluge Aug 2021
“”Hope” is a thing with feathers...”
Only, I don’t think it is.
See, feathers mean it’s a flighty thing
And belie its true belligerence.
Hope may yet have feathers,
But forget not the claws.
Hope is a thing with brambles;
Hope has a tendency to stick in crops.
This little burr adheres to the underside,
Never noted unless poked.
It clings tightly in the smallest gap
And can’t be ignored once evoked.
Now, I grant you, Hope may seem rather rare,
But lay on your stomach at night; you’ll find that it’s there.
I haven’t written in a long time. It’s for a lot of reasons. Sometimes, I just don’t feel like I’m good enough. Sometimes, I lack inspiration. Poetry, as it was once said, “is the spontaneous overflow of human emotion.” And that’s what this was. I’m terrible at meter. I have to break out a dictionary to know how many syllables a word has. But following a conversation this morning regarding covid and human nature, this erupted from me in the space of 5 minutes. I haven’t changed it; I haven’t edited it. To the world, to the politicians, to those I love, this is the only message I have about the pandemic. Take it as you will. And thank you, as ever, to the extraordinary Emily Dickinson.
Banana Mar 2021
We’re all afflicted with the same blindness,
grabbing at objects in the dark,
Fighting because we don’t know better
Lyn-Purcell Oct 2020

Vibrancy seemingly drains before our eyes as we age
as beating hearts become things so gaudy
It never fails to break me though,
for people to be seen as a mere colour,
and not someone like me


I'm back!
Jeez, things were really picking up on my end.  [And still is, tbh]. But I dont want to be lost in my own head as such so I want to continue writing poetry.
This one has been in my written diary for a while now.
B.B.C. stands for  'Beauty Beyond Colour'
There is beauty all around us, we all just have to be willing to see it.
The world seems so much brighter as a kid. I really miss those carefree years.
Now, it seems so bleak and harsh and just judgemental.
No one is without flaw, we are all human. All beautiful in our own ways.
But I'm someone who believes that the things we learn, we can unlearn as well, if we are willing. But we need to understand that that in itself is a journey. Granted, it'll take time but it's well worth it in the end. All that is needed is patience and persistence.
I just want to live as honestly as I can, in truth.
And to see and appreciate all beauty beyond colour.
This applies to my fellow man as well as nature.
I will be picking up next week with the Women of Myth, I just need to extend my list. I want to shake things up.

Hope everyone is staying safe and well!

My regards to all your loved ones, stay healthy and hale, all!

Much love and airhugs, yall!

Be back soon, yall!

Lyn x
Why is it that
being childish
is always discouraged
why can't people
the child inside them
why can't people
just see the magic
around them
like a child does
why can't people
love a the
little things of this world
Phoenix Black Jul 2020
Softly, softly through the undergrowth
Padding through the reeds
Eyes fixed on the gazelle
As it blithely drinks and feeds

It knows nothing of my approach
It sighs, munching up its fill
Not a single sound my body makes
As I stalk towards my ****

Stupid lions intimidate
But I seem almost tame
Remember silence can be deadly
Roaring lions **** no game
Nica Monet May 2020
Why do we default to living inside our heads?
We think of the future
and when we reach the end,
do we look back at our life and see that we planned everything ahead?

We tend to base our futures with the knowledge learned from the past
But wouldn’t that just lead us nowhere new,
but right on the same path?

As kids we’re programmed to think that our present; now makes our future.
What we’re not told is how our past disrupts and unfold,
itself right in front of us.
As a reminder to fear what’s near our grasp.

So live in this moment, breathe it all in
Our past may shape us but everyday we choose a mask that has the power to molds us.
During this quarantine, I encountered my inner demons. My attempts failed so I seized a new perspective.
Mystic Ink Plus Nov 2020
Fault In The Stars
Spaced Two Loners
In A Making
Genre: Minimalist
Theme: Zodiac
b e mccomb Mar 2020
the flowers will still poke
up to bloom this spring

and empty airline bottles
will still litter the sidewalks

and good and bad
will still reside
in all of us

and the struggle
between them
will still wage war

or perhaps
because of
what falls apart
or comes together
all around us
copyright 3/18/20 by b. e. mccomb
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