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Jammit Janet Jul 8
#64
Attacking life in my own way
Embracing new ideas
Sculpting words out of clay
Removing the needle from the hay
Trusting the universe
To listen to what I have to say
Morgan Vail May 9
Oh, lovely,
Lately,
He’s feeling bird-like.
Oh, starry eyes,
Wistful hills.
Oh lovely,
Lately,
She’s feeling lovely.
Caretaker,
No one is home tonight.
Smiling face.
Go home, lovely.
Won’t you please?
Morgan Vail Apr 21
Some of the days seem so short
And some so dreadfully long
All depending on the time I spend
At night under an ill-begotten sun
Love, though deep, strangled at the hem
My life, my being ripe at the core
Completely sin, dyed, and then
Washed up on white marble shores
And while I find myself astray from the path
Walking the ragged mountainscape
I simply walk some more at last
I seem to have found my escape
Jace Apr 3
Gender was a stupid creation

Who decided just because I have, well...
Certain bits
That it means I should wear a skirt?
Or a dress?
I mean what does it matter?
Why aren’t we just all the same?
I don’t want to choose
Because getting it wrong
Means doing again...
Styles Apr 1
May my words touch you
in ways you have never conceived.
Taking your breath away,
until you can barely breathe.
Give you everything you want
and things you forgot you need.
If not a full thought,
let me place just a seed,
You are what you are,
and even more of what you read.
So do as you may
with these words,
enjoy as you proceed.
My pleasure is yours
and together,
this cycle we feed.
Grace Haak Mar 8
To start your mornings with
blood on your hands
smearing across pages
is
incriminating
and inspiring
And you must know
if you were to slice open
my veins would also
spill black fountain ink
If you were to sever my tongue
my hands would speak
for me
Go ahead and gouge my eyes
I can still see
And when I die I desire
to be cut as a cadaver
All the words visible
under paper-white skin
so they will know, too.
I do not aspire to be a skeleton
with brittle bones
I want blood
to pour with every pinprick
of a pilot pen pressed
on a page
But blood makes people squirm
Blood makes people gag
so I intend to
leave this world
with a crime scene behind me.
Let them shake and shudder
for they know not
the life they’ve lost
They live in fear of papercuts
and I carve myself open
again and again
And I will continue to
until I bleed out
and my ink dries up
If it sounds violent it’s
because it has to be
The world could use a
few more bloodstains
Makes it more uncomfortable
Makes it more interesting.
Wild and Wispy
or so they say
Willful and Wise
that may be true
Witchy and Wonderful
Could it be
Or so it seems
They may be
Seeing me
from looking in
Or looking through
It could all be true
© Jennifer L DeLong 3/4/2021
Maria Etre Feb 22
When I met you
over
&
over
the pronoun transformed to
"mine"
I feel breathless at any speck of thought —an idea— crossing my mind. I am restlessly wishing for something, prying for crumbs, and my mind is slowly sinking. Breathing words for oxygen, concepts for nutrients. I am a starving girl in a desert of words.
—famished for nothing, anything, everything
Eternity Dec 2020
When the sentences resigned,
the words retired
and the ink dried
Am back !
I miised writing and to be with you all dear poets again !
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